#i was so ready to go to bed like an hour later than usual and then aabria said 'you maybe want someone with you on your side of the table?'

[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || part two || part three || this is part four

The weeks following your first 'date' with Simon were full of going on little walks together, but most of all? The pings, to say the least. He would text you so often it came as a shock to you he even had a job. You found it amusing, sure, maybe even annoying, but you hadn't anticipated the sheer silence when he was 'away with work', as he put it.

You had guessed that meant deployed or something of the sorts... and it worried you, yeah, but your feelings for him were still new and you didn't want to get hurt if anything was to happen.

You'd been excited when he'd promised to write to you a few days before he left, but as the days flew by with nothing more than some bills, bank statements and late birthday cards dropping through the letter box it occurred to you that Simon Riley had been too blown away when he first saw you in your house to remember the road name, and far to drunk when he first spoke to you to remember the number on your front door.

So Simon sat there when he wasn't fighting or in briefings and had downtime (which was rare) writing letters he knew he couldn't send away, partly because it was a risk to send stuff away and partly because he would just blank on your god damn address every single time.

He didn't even have his phone because of something to do with trackers and intel and it was all a bit of a fuzz of unconfirmed information that Simon had explained to on a walk a few days before his departure.

This is what worried you. You obviously knew the dangers, and you two weren't even 'official' yet, but you would have liked to be updated. You couldn't help but feel a bit sick when your mind travelled to the horrors his job could boast.

Prior to his deployment, you and Simon had got to know each other a little better, which only made your nerves worse now you had more of a bond, plus you had gotten to see the less flustered version of him. You'd mostly talked over the phone but had also gone on a few walks together. It felt weird; missing someone you'd so quickly fallen for. You could only hope as the days blurred into weeks then into months.

Then, two months later, Simon was back. He'd been resting and getting medical support for a day or two before he journeyed home, and his first thought? It was to retrace his steps down that one road to that house with the open window that had changed everything. He could have slept, unpacked, done anything, but all he wanted to do was to see you.

You groan as you hear a knock against the door... you'd just about drifted off after hours and hours of tossing and turning, your head reluctant to rest. Trudging downstairs, you pull on a hoodie over your pyjamas. "Who the fuck..?" You murmur, clicking on the hallway light and unbolting the door, ready to dive back into bed.

"What?" You grumble as you swing the door just a crack open, your eyes widening and breath hitching at seeing that tall frame and skull mask. You slam it shut, fumbling to unlatch the door and burst it open, flying into the bulky man's arms and screaming.

Simon grins under the balaclava, stumbling backwards slightly as you bounce onto him. "You alright?" He asks, his voice so nonchalant even as you wrap your arms around him. Probably still trying to seem cool for you.

You pull back, face still covered in shock. "Fucking alright? That's all you have to say?" You cry, voice a few pitches higher than usual. "Fuck, Simon... you said you would write!" You mumble, leaning back in to hug him. Part of you wanted to say there forever, holding him there and squeezing him as hard as you could, but you knew you should probably invite him in. So that's what you do.

His mind flicks back to Soap's so called relationship advice, the words "honesty is key" in that loud Scottish accent rattling through his mind. "Okay fine," He grunts, avoiding eye contact. "I hate tea. Can't bloody stand the stuff."

"Well," Ghost replies, shoving his hands into the big pockets of his tactical jacket as he steps inside, shutting the front door behind him and following you to the kitchen "I didn't know your address," He admits, smirking as you raise an eyebrow at him and snicker. "Oh yeah," You chuckle slightly, trying to refrain from smothering the poor bloke as he takes a seat at your table. "Tea?" You tilt your head and glance at the kettle.

"I hate t-" Simon bites the inside of his cheek and curses under his breath. Fuck... He thinks, realising him lying about loving the drink would probably wean him into having it regularly. "Tea's great," He nods, noting how you raise your eyebrows, expression sceptical.

Simon nods, rubbing his eyes sarcastically. "It's probably too late to walk home, aye," He says, eyebrows raised.

You huff with amusement, flicking the kettle off and rifling through your cabinet. "I'm out of coffee,"

You and Simon chatted for hours, sitting at the table. At first, he was jittery, but he soon relaxed, trying to stop staring at you, although this was hard as he finds you so breathtakingly perfect.

A few hours later, you tilt your head and smile at Ghost as he yawns. "You must be tired," You say softly, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah," You respond, scratching your neck with a mock confusion. "Lucky I have a double bed, eh?"

And with that, the two of you curled up on the mattress, Ghost pulling you towards him, arms firm around you as he let the gentle rise and fall of your chest guide him to sleep.

"You're sure?" Asks Ghost, his nervous expression from the coffee shop returning to his face. He was still terrified of scaring you away, but wanted nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and just hold you. You nod, smiling gently. "Come on." Taking your hand, Simon follows you upstairs to your cosy room, allowing himself to relax, stop being awkward. The decoration alone made him feel at home, probably because it shone with your personality.

Love. Simon was sure that's what that feeling was... the one that had seized his whole being since he first set eyes upon you.

Never in a million years would he have predicted this if he was asked about his future a few months ago, but here you were, two awkward and unsure people falling in love from nowhere.

thank you sm for reading! I hope you enjoyed part four..! if anyone wants a part five, I'll most likely do it, ( I just need to figure out what I'd write... probably something about the letters) but yea if u want that just let me know.... also, feel free to make any asks for fics u would like to see :)

sorry if my posting is irregular for a while! I'm back at uni and work after the Christmas break so very busy

[kingstealer]

aabria going, "as aimee who maybe wants to have a friend sit by you soon" is going to haunt me for the next two weeks. i can already tell.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[orionremastered]

could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep

this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have

Masterlist

Oblivious

Dick Grayson

The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.

Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.

"What are you doing here?"

The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Where is he?"

You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.

"He's grocery shopping."

"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.

Jason Todd

A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.

You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.

"What are you doing in my house?"

The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.

"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."

"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."

Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.

Tim Drake

Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.

After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.

You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.

The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.

In your bathroom.

"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"

"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.

"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."

"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."

"You never told me that," you say.

"It's a recent thing. Sorry."

You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.

Damian Wayne

"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."

Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.

When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.

You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.

Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.

"Oh. Oh."

It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.

It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

part 2 here!!!!!

[sagi-tori-ous]

Simon sighs, his left hand coming up to press against his anguish ridden face. He had just gotten off the phone with work and it was expressed that they needed him there earlier than his allotted time.

He knew you wouldn't take the news well, early mornings were your favorite time to spend with him. Simon wasn't an early bird like you even though his profession called for punctuality. He loved the bed you'd share, snuggling up to you till his alarm shrieked through the master bedroom, every so often tempting him to throw it afar without care. Nevertheless, he knew what mornings meant to you. There was always a reason why he dragged himself out of bed an hour, almost two before he had to leave the house. There was an obligation, one where he had to sit at the round oak table with you perched on his lap, your surroundings smothered in the scent of the steaming cooked breakfast and freshly brewed tea you prepared, faithfully.

"fuck me," he groans, dragging himself around the spacious bedroom, begrudgingly getting ready for the day, "s'gonna be so mad."

Simon could hear the faint pitter-patter of your feet as you danced around the kitchen, fretting over what you should cook today for the both of you.

"Baby!" You call out, looking through the ingredients, "Pancakes and bacon? How bout it?" The thought was a bit mouthwatering, there weren't many things at the moment better to you than some syrup-covered buttermilk pancakes and crispy bacon.

"y'know I'm fine with it." Simon calls back, fastening his attire promptly, "Everything you make is delicious." His attempt to butter you up.

Which doesn't fall flat— you soak it up as if you were just like the pancakes you were preparing, dubious as ever to what was in store for your morning. You noted that the tone of his voice was preppier, more awake than usual. You briefly questioned why he even was fully awake, seeing as you were usually the one to drag him out of bed in the morning. Literally.

Simon, still dwelling in the bedroom, shakes his head, stumped on how to go about this, in a way wanting to just slide out of the front door and ultimately deal with the consequences later but that'd be too rude. Too disrespectful.

"Love," Simon calls out to you, the combat boots strapped to his feet sounding thunderous as he finally rounds the corner into the quaint ivory plastered kitchen.

"yes," you sing, your mouth upturns into a small smile, "I'm actually almost done. I had already made the dry mix, remember before that recipe I found, I just had to add the eggs and but-" Your sentence falters as you gaze up at Simon, eyes going up and down taking in his wear, you weren't a fool and picked up on the circumstances quickly.

The pout that pulled your lips down was instantaneous. "No."

Simon steps towards you, "I know love, they just called me. There s'nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

"mornings are for us." You whine— you didn't want him to go. You wanted to finish cooking and take your rightful seat in his lap while you fed both of you breakfast. You wanted his heavy head to lay on your shoulder, leaning up occasionally to nibble on the bites of food that you pressed to his lips. You wanted his muscular arms to wrap around you, holding you tight against his broad frame as you babbled about any and everything. You wanted that every morning and wouldn't be subjected to change.

"I know," Simon repeats, attempting to move closer to you but the attempt was futile. You blew air into your cheeks, slightly puffing them as you turned back to the stove. "the food." you grumble.

Yes, you knew what Simon's job consisted of, you knew that it required of him to be available at times, even if they were inconvenient. Were you being unreasonable? Slightly. Could you see through your heedlessness? Not at the moment. You couldn't help but feel wronged like this was to spite you.

The silence lingered for some time until you broke it, "when do you have to leave?" you reluctantly ask, absentmindedly tapping the fluffy pancakes with your spatula.

"got'to be there by 6," Simon glances down at his wristwatch, "I should be out the door in the next 15 minutes." His gaze was swift to shift back to you, perturbed by your behavior.

Your shoulders hump, movements becoming a tad more aggressive, "Well guess I have to hurry." The comment is not as endearing as it seemed, there was a snarky nuance to it.

Simon wasn't oblivious to your attitude, he knew the little backhand comment was supposed to be a jab at him but the animosity didn't resonate. He found the slightest of amusement with your current demeanor. The almost undetectable smirk was amiss from your view since your back was to him. He found your displeasure the least bit adorable. Anger wasn't a reoccurring emotion for you, there was no familiarity but when you did encounter it, it could be misplaced at times.

You were upset and it showed easily; it was evident in your expressions, fluid in your movements. Regardless of how you felt, you still packed the heaping breakfast in his sack, and bottled up his piping hot tea, momentarily wishing for him to burn his tongue later on, before pushing his belongings into his hardened chest.

Your hands momentarily brushed against his pecs, recoiling from the touch as if he'd burnt you, dramatics in full effect until your wrists were clasped in one of his large worn hands, reeling you back into him.

"I'll be back," he reassures, looking down at you even though you refused to look up at him, " y'know this." His declaration falls on deaf ears, yet still, he pushes forward, inching his lips closer to your forehead to leave his standard kiss, "I always come back to you." He whispers, lips almost flush with your skin.

Before he can, you pull away, an action that shocks you both. It was unfamiliar to you both, upsetting in many ways but no more than the other.

"stop being a brat," Simon says, his eyes now hard, glaring "You've been playing this little game for too long. Enough." His gaze is unwavering as he once again inclines towards you, his pace treacherous, but to his displeasure you still deny his affection, pulling away from him, prompting him to snag your chin between his fingers, now forcing the eye contact.

"Keep on, y'know this is a game I can play really well."

Later that day...

"feels s'good," your voice whines, breath hitching ever so often from the stimulation Simon gave you. Your head is fuzzy from his calculated touches, eyes unfocused from the momentous pleasure, "m'gonna cum."

"like hell you are," he reproves, "keep those legs up."

Simon's right hand latches on to your thigh, applying a bit of pressure as he nestles between them. He fists his angry cock in his other hand, purposefully nudging your clothed cunt in the process. His movements were harsh, self seeking, paying no mind to your throbbing pussy as it drooled through the thin fabric of cloth that separated your bare flesh from his.

"brats like you don't get to cum." He condemns, his voice laced in the disappointment he felt, "don't deserve t'cum."

Your thighs trembled under his hold, "I do, I do." you cry, chest rapidly rising as the knot in the pit of your stomach grows, begging to be undone. He was ruining you, he was showing you why certain games were too dangerous to play.

"but you don't," he grunts, he fucks his palm faster, crowning your aching clit. The hand that was on your thigh plants you, knowing as you try to roll your hips and meet the thrusts of his cock.

"please! please! Si!" You beg, tears threatening to fall, "mmm fuck-" His bottom lip slips between his teeth, he blatantly ignores your pleading, instead he focuses on his orgasm as his hot cum paints your cunt through the skimpy cloth. His touch is gone as soon as he's sated, leaving you high and dry.

"like I said, brats like you don't get to cum."

Press this 💨❄️❄️

[erwinsvow]

we need more moment where shy!reader was studying and practicing new things to show rafe!! ik that girl is so kinky and it’s always the shy girls <33

YESS omg i srsly love that drabble when i reread it im like she was cookin.. i feel like shes the type to try to prep herself with a dildo bc she can never take all of rafe but imagine he found it n was like ?!!?

really—your boyfriend was too big. it was excessive, and though you could never find the words to tell him to stop or slow down—mostly because you didn't want him to—he always did anyways.

no matter how much you insisted that you could take all of him, rafe didn't like to listen. so you were stuck in a conundrum, and your choices were either lying to your boyfriend that it didn't hurt or accepting the fact that he'll never be as rough with you as you want.

you were willing to sit down and accept a lot of things without a fight—but this was not one of them.

one discreetly wrapped delivery later, you had yourself your very own rafe-sized dildo—a pretty pink color and of such a size that it had your insides churning with anticipation. about half an hour later with the use of some lube and lots of work, you were successfully able to fit about three-fourths. it wasn't perfect, yet, but it was a work in progress.

you didn't want to overdo it and end up insanely sore either, and you were beginning to realize even half was enough to have you cumming over and over again. so much so that you almost forgot about the date you had planned with rafe for that night—scrambling to get up and get ready.

that night, after a nice date and way too much ice cream, you realized you were too fucked out from your afternoon activity to go for another round for rafe. it was no big deal—except it happened the next day. then the day after that. and the one after that.

you had mastered the rafe-sized dildo, and you could take the entire thing after week of practice. but it also meant that it had been a full week without your boyfriend fucking you—something that hadn't happened since you had lost your virginity to him.

a little too clueless around rafe like always, you hadn't realized anything was wrong. rafe was on edge—pent up and unable to keep taking out his frustration on the golf course after almost breaking one of his clubs—but you didn't really notice.

you were waiting for tonight, after another date to show him your new-found skills, but of course, he didn't know that.

getting ready in your bathroom, blasting music and doing your makeup, you don't even hear the door open to your bedroom. rafe came to get you early, knowing you would need more time but way too antsy to wait alone in his car.

he sits on your bed, listening to the muffled music from behind the closed door. he's not impatient with you and hardly ever like this, but the current situation had left him more desperate to see you than usual.

leaning against your headboard, he feels something under your pillow. lifting it to move whatever it was—knowing you, the book you had been reading last night—his jaw clenches when he sees it. a dildo. not just any dildo—a huge dildo. under your pillow like you'd just been using it or something.

the pillow stays in his hand but he has an overwhelming urge to chuck it across the room. was this the reason the two of you hadn't had sex in a week? were you finding pleasure from some stupid toy instead of him?

"rafe?" you ask, stepping out of the bathroom and staring at the scene in front of you with big eyes. you're distractingly pretty everyday but even more so today with a short skirt and done-up face for the date he's not sure if he'll be taking you on.

your face burns with humiliation—stupidly realizing you hadn't put the damn thing away after last night. rafe is looking at you and then looking back at your bed, his fist tight around your pillow.

"um, i-"

"do you wanna explain? i'll give you five fuckin' seconds to explain-"

"no, it's not what it looks like-"

"really, kid? what it looks like is you're fuckin' this stupid thing instead of me. y'know, i'll just fuck off and you can have fun-"

rafe stands, not really angry but still sounding like he is. it's more pent-up frustration bubbling up, but you rush over to him anyways, looking so panicked he feels bad the second he said anything. he can't stay mad at you for longer than a minute.

"it's not what it looks like, i swear-"

"what is it then, huh?"

"i was just practicing! i was just trying to get better for you. see, it's yours." you motion to the toy still on the bed.

"huh?" rafe asks, looking between you and the bed.

"it's you. see. it's like... your size. um-" you get flustered again, shutting up in the fear that you've just said something to rafe that you should have kept to yourself. "i'm.. sorry?"

"no you're not."

"no, but i feel bad. are your feelings hurt? i'm sorry."

when rafe glances back at you, tearing his gaze away from the bright pink that's beginning to hurt his eyes, he realizes how sad you look, thinking you've done something to upset him.

"no, m'fine. just.. tell me next time. it was a jump scare."

"okay.." you stay still infront of him, awkwardly playing with your hands waiting for him to say something. you're a little concerned rafe's still upset, but he doesn't seem to look it, rather looking at you expectedly.

"what?" you question immediately, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"what? get on the bed. you've had enough practice. time for the real thing."

[giannaln4]

Sick

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Your sickness got in the way of a romantic day Lando had planned for the both of you, but to him, making you feel better was way more important than anything. (3.1k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, sick!reader, mentions of throw up, extremely cheesy, fluff

a/n: i was supposed to post this last week when the request was made, i'm sorry it took me so long anon but i hope you like it! also i did make it a little longer and more dramatic than i had to. also this is the first request i post!! i have one more but please keep sending more ideas, i love reading what you have in mind

check out the original request here!

-> Prequel

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

Lando had been sick last week, and you did everything to take good care of him, as much as you could. You carried medications with you, made sure he drank enough water, and gave him tea to help him feel better. You even cuddled him every night to help him sleep.

He was extremely grateful that you made sure to take good care of him. Having to give everything on track sure made it a little difficult, but he did get better eventually, and he said it was thanks to you.

What you never considered, though, was the fact that his sickness would get to you, but the next week, you felt it, and it was even more evident the night after the Austrian Grand Prix.

For some reason, it hit you harder, and the fact that you had been travelling so much didn’t help. You wanted nothing more than to sleep for days until the sickness went away, but Lando had other plans. With how busy he usually is, he always makes you his priority when he’s away from the track, so before going to bed, he shared the plans he had for the next day, including some activities that required you to get ready and leave the comfort of your home.

You both valued your time together, and you could tell how excited he was to take you out and spend the day with you, something that would also help him to take his mind off the events that took place that weekend, so you said yes.

The next morning, you felt him leave the bed, kissing your forehead goodbye as you turned around to face him.

“I have a little something to do before our date, but you can meet me at the restaurant so we can have breakfast together, yeah?” He whispered. You just nodded, and he kissed you again, whispering a little ‘I love you’ before leaving your room.

You went back to sleep as soon as he left, but the sound of your alarm woke you up an hour later. You grunted as you turned it off, looking at the time, knowing you had to start getting ready if you wanted to make it on time for your date, but your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t even leave the bed. 

Your current state was unfortunate, to say the least. A pounding headache, a runny nose, a sore throat, constant sweating, and intense body pain. There was no way you could go out.

It broke your heart to have to cancel your day with Lando, but you knew your body couldn’t take it and that he would understand.

Before notifying your boyfriend that you wouldn't make it, you looked up your symptoms to make sure you didn’t need to seek medical attention. The last thing you wanted was to end up at the hospital; you never liked them. You quickly came to the conclusion that it was a simple cold. You should’ve seen it coming; not only did you take care of Lando while he was sick, but you hadn’t been feeling the best the last couple of days and brushed it off, thinking you were just tired.

You sent him a long text explaining that you were sick and apologising a million times for cancelling the romantic day he had planned, feeling terrible for failing him.

You fell back asleep almost immediately, but sadly, not for long. Your body temperature suddenly dropped, making you shiver, so you brought up every blanket and tried to cover your entire body with them, but stopped when you suddenly felt hot again.

You were sure you had never been this sick; you were uncomfortable, your throat was incredibly dry, and your whole body was sticky from sweat. It even hurt to sneeze. You let out a loud moan in discomfort, and a few seconds later, you heard the door open.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were awake, and I didn’t wanna bother you,” Lando said softly, entering the room. He was holding a few blankets and pillows that covered his face, but you knew he had a worried look on his face. You covered yourself again, up to your head; you didn’t want him to see you like this, not when your hair was an absolute mess and your sleeping shirt looked like you took a shower in it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had something to do,” you asked under the blankets.

His eyes softened when they hit the lump on the bed as he placed the stuff by your feet. “Don’t worry about that; I’m done for the day.” He approached you and kneeled next to you. “Hey, how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. I don’t wanna get you sick again,” you replied, your throat hurting every time you spoke.

“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t care.” He joked, but you remained silent. “I assume you didn’t have any breakfast yet.”

“No”

"Well, I bought you some soup. You should eat it while it’s still hot, it will be good for you.” He stared at the blankets, waiting for you to come out or at least say something "Baby, come on, let me see you.”

You appreciated him being there to take care of you; it truly warmed your heart, and all you wanted to do was show him how thankful you were, but what if he got sick again because of you? What if you look so bad right now that he will break up with you on the spot? “I don’t look good,” you finally muttered.

“What?” He chuckled, thinking you were joking.

“I’m sweating an insane amount; I can feel my hair sticking to my face.”

“Let me braid your hair so you feel less sticky on the face. I promise you’ll feel better.”

You thought about it for a moment and figured he wouldn’t leave even if you directly asked him to, so you uncovered your face slowly and shyly looked at him. “I feel really ill.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what hurts.”

“Everything. My entire body, the headache is terrible, and I get really cold, but after a second, I feel like I’m boiling.”

He touched your forehead as soon as he noticed your blushed face. “Baby, you’re really hot.”

“I know that,” you joked with a smirk on your face.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his laughter. “Good to know your sense of humour remains untouched.” He stood up and left the room, coming back in a heartbeat as he held a bowl of soup. “You’re gonna eat your soup while I braid your hair and I promise it will make you feel at least a little bit better.”

“My hair is all covered in sweat, though.” You sat on the bed, waiting for him to give you the soup.

“That’s okay. It’s hot, so please be careful.” You carefully took the bowl from his large hands, and you could see the steam that came off of it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes avoiding his as you blew on the hot liquid.

“You might feel hotter for a moment, but this is good; you need a lot of fluids. Now, I’m gonna sit behind you, okay?” You nodded, making enough space for him.

He struggled a little to get behind you, moving softly so he didn’t make you spill any of the soup. “Are you comfortable?” He asked when he finally settled.

“Yes”

“Ok, should I do one or two?” He started brushing your hair. You were right; you were sweating a lot, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to take proper care of his girlfriend, just like you did when he was sick. 

“Two”

“Okay. They might not turn out the best, though. I’m not a great hairstylist, but they will help.” You chuckled, knowing he was right, but that was the least of your worries. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to figure out how to put two braids on you without pulling your hair or making your headache worse. "Done,” he said, getting back on his feet and taking a good look at how you looked with braided hair. His heartbeats began to increase. “You look really cute,” he said as he tilted his head, admiring you.

Your face was burning, and it wasn’t the fever. “Thank you. I actually do feel much better.” And you did; you were surprised at how lighter your head felt without all that hair resting on your face or shoulders.

“See? I told you.” He then kissed his fingertip and tapped your nose with it, making you melt at his touch ”Finish your soup. I’m gonna see if we still have that humidifier.”

He stepped out of the room once again, leaving you alone. Somehow, you already felt better, even though everything hurt the same. But you had to admit that the hot soup was a good call.

Once you were done with it, you laid back down carefully, not wanting to ruin the freshly styled hair. And only a few minutes later, you heard the door again, “No luck with the humidifier, but this will help too.” You paid attention to his hands. He was holding a bucket and a dry cloth in one hand and a bottle of water and some pills in the other. “Just this one last thing, and I’ll let you go back to sleep,” he said, as if he was bothering you; you didn’t feel like he was. If anything, it was the other way around, and you should be the one apologising. He put down the bucket next to the bed and waited for you to sit again, this time paying attention to your damp shirt. “Why don’t you change into some new clothes?”

You looked down at your shirt and felt embarrassed when you noticed how much it looked like you had been drowned in a rainstorm. It didn’t look that bad before, but it must’ve been the hot liquids. “Okay,” you agreed, about to get up, but he stopped you.

He wandered around your shared room, grabbing clean clothes that he believed would be comfortable for you to wear. He didn’t want you to feel too hot or too cold again, so he went for a happy medium. A shirt and underwear. You probably shouldn’t deal with too many layers anyway. “Here, I’ll help you change.”

He helped you with everything, which you were really thankful for since your body was too weak and in pain to do it by yourself. Tossing the dirty clothes somewhere in the room, he proceeded to grab the pillows he had previously set on the bed and started arranging them around you to make your uncomfortable state a little more pleasant.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, looking down at you, and you nodded in response, “Sure?”

"Positive.” Even your voice was weak.

After you were settled, he grabbed the pills and handed them to you, going for the water bottle next “This is for your headache.” He waited for you to take them and watched you get comfortable again. He then reached into the bucket and completely submerged the cloth, making sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. He stroked it over your face a few times. “You’re all good now. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

You looked up at him in pure admiration, “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me,” you rasped out.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my sick girlfriend?” You could swear you had literal heart eyes right now. “You took care of me when I was sick, and I´m pretty sure this is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, but you should probably get out of here. I don’t wanna get you sick again, your home race is next.” 

He shook his head and sat on the chair that was a few feet away from the bed. “What if you need something and I’m not here?”

You smiled at him again, but suddenly remembered what you were supposed to be doing. He must’ve noticed the change in your face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling next to you again as his hand rested on your cheek.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“For ruining our date.”

“Darling, we have a lifetime ahead of us. We have plenty of time to go on dates.”

Those words made you feel a million things at the same time, tears threatening to leave your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replied, his smile so big and sincere that his dimples made an appearance. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

You went back to sleep, and luckily this time you managed to rest for hours. In the meantime, Lando stayed on the bed next to you, doing some work to stay busy and awake, while he kept an eye on you in case you needed him. 

The hours went by, and your fever went away, finally. You woke up around 4 PM, slowly opening your eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness.

You scanned the room looking for Lando, but he was nowhere to be found. You figured it made sense that he left. You didn’t really expect him to stay there all day and waste his free day just to be with you.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You groaned in pain and fell on your back again, strangely still feeling tired even after sleeping for hours. Before you could try again, Lando was entering the room.

“You came back,” you managed to say.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just getting you some tea.” He approached you and touched your forehead, relieved that you weren’t hot anymore. “How are you feeling?”

"Better,” you replied, not so sure you wanted him to get worried. “I guess my throat still hurts.”

“I figured, but this honey and lemon tea will help with that.” He smiled at you but when you didn’t move, he could feel the worry come back to him “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like tea.”

“Tell your cold that.” You pouted like a little kid, but Lando’s face remained neutral as he waited for you to take the cup. “I know you don’t like tea, but I promise this will help. Besides, weren’t you giving me tea all the time when I was sick?” 

You gave in and took it, knowing he was right, and honestly, you would do anything to ease your sore throat.

You started drinking it, slowly but surely. It didn’t taste as bad as you remembered, and you started wondering if your mom was just bad at making tea. “Would you cuddle with me? If it’s not too gross.” You asked out of nowhere.

“Gross? Why-?”

“Because I have been sweating a lot, and it’s not like I took a shower yet,” you explained, a little embarrassed.

“Were you grossed out when I was the sick one asking for cuddles?”

You answered immediately, “No, but you weren’t this sick.”

“C’mon, don’t be silly.” He was happy you wanted to cuddle. Since he got there in the morning, he was concerned that you just wanted him out of there. Carefully, he got in bed with you, sitting against the headboard and getting into a comfortable position. He waited for you to lay down and nestled you between his legs, with your back against his front.

“Thank you for staying with me. I feel much better with you.”

“Really? Because for a moment there, it felt like you didn’t want me here.”

“I do, I really do. I just-” You stopped for a moment to think about your words “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Y/N, you know I would never think that.” He was brushing your check.

“Still, you wasted your free day and stayed here all day… for me. We couldn’t even go out like you wanted to.” You then felt guilty about your realisation. “Did you eat something today?”

“I did; I ordered something while you slept. I wanted to get some lunch for you too, but I wasn't sure for how long you’d be asleep. Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “I’m still tired.”

Lando had been sick before, and he knew it was exhausting to deal with it, but he doesn’t remember a cold taking him down like that. Still, he agreed to stay there with you while you went to sleep. Again.

A while went by, and he didn’t notice when you started to drift off, but when he felt you shivering on top of him, he opened his eyes quickly.

You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering, but your skin was so hot that he could melt chocolate on your forehead. He knew that your fever coming back and your temperature going up so quickly were bad signs.

“Y/N?” He whispered, softly moving you, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm?” You hummed. You were holding the blanket tighter and closer to your body.

“How are you feeling?” He kept a low voice, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“I’m freezing.” He was about to embrace you again, but was interrupted when you abruptly sat on the bed. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He followed your actions and reached down for the bucket that was still next to the bed and placed it between your legs. ‘Not good,’ he kept thinking, rubbing your back for comfort “If that’s the case, then you’re worse than I thought, sweetheart; we might have to go to the doctor.” You didn’t like the seriousness of his voice.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“Well, I don’t care whether you like it or not; your fever is coming back and you’re feeling nauseous. I don’t think that’s normal for a cold. You are literally shaking.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep a little more.”

“I know you don’t want to, but we really need to see a doctor.” You didn’t say anything, hoping he would just forget about that, but of course he wouldn’t. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’re here with me right now, aren’t you?” You stayed silent. “Come on, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, and I promise you’ll feel better, okay?” You nodded. You knew he was taking care of you, good care of you, but anything related to sickness, doctors, or hospitals scared you for some reason. “Hey, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me. I promise,” he said, raising his pinky in front of you, satisfied when you locked it with your own.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I’m not usually one for miscommunication as a trope but hear me out:

Arthur thinks he and Merlin are together because Merlin says shit like “you’re my destiny” and “two sides of the same coin” fairly often.

He even looks fond or proud whenever he calls Arthur a prat, and pet names never suited them. He considered it once but it just felt weird. “Idiot.” Changed to “Idiot <3” when they finally got together and that suits them much better than Darling or Babe or whatever else.

And it’s not like he doesn’t say romantic stuff back, all: “you’re the bravest man I ever met.” Or “you’re the best friend I have and I couldn’t bare to lose you”

Meanwhile, Merlin pinpoints the same moment Arthur believed they started dating as when Arthur started acting more affectionate and Merlin’s crush got dialled up to 11.

Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, so he pushes his luck occasionally and will hug Arthur after a long day or will lean on him if they’re eating together on a hunting trip. Merlin absolutely cherishes these moments, but he’s secretly wishing they meant as much to Arthur as they do to him. (Spoiler alert: they do.)

So they must be together, Merlin just can’t be bothered with titles and with everything that happened, Agravane and Morgana betraying him, it would be ideal to wait for an announcement of their relationship.

He gifts Merlin clothes, new boots, will leave flowers in his chambers and asked for the cook to make more of Merlin’s favourites so he can steal food from Arthur’s plate because he claims it tastes better when it isn’t his food.

Arthur gave Merlin his mother’s sigil, for crying out loud. They’re obviously together.

And even better, (you can pry demi or ace Arthur from my cold dead hands) they don’t even need to be intimate beyond the occasional hug or soft gestures like Merlin brushing the hair from his face before Arthur goes to sleep at night and Arthur doing the same whenever they’re not in the castle and sleeping next to each other. He was worried at first, but Merlin never expected it, which Arthur just takes as: “And how stupid to worry? who knows him better than Merlin? Of course he would already know Arthur didn’t feel comfortable with that sort of stuff.”

Then one day, a delegation comes to Camelot and one of the foreign knights is flirting with Merlin. Arthur sees, and he doesn’t usually feel any need to act on his jealousy because he trusts Merlin, but this knight isn’t flirting in the way Gwaine does that’s just part of who he is, and Merlin looks uncomfortable. So he calls Merlin over to him, starts acting like a prat, and keeps Merlin “busy” all night by keeping his goblet full or usual servants duties.

Then later, Merlin thanks Arthur but says he doesn’t need to worry and he can handle himself. Arthur, finally relaxing after being ready to start a fight for the past three hours, pulls Merlin into a hug and kisses his forehead, because let the medieval gays be soft sometimes. He whispers something like, “I know you don’t like talking about it, and that you’ve said you don’t need a title, but you shouldn’t have to handle everything on your own.”

Merlin pulls back, looking shocked and confused. Then they actually have to talk about everything.

Merlin’s just fine with actually dating the guy he’s got a massive crush on and now he’s more willing to instigate hugs and affection. (Arthur just thought Merlin wasn’t going to push him to not make him uncomfortable but secretly wishes that he would instigate more) They end up sleeping in the same bed in Camelot too, because cuddles and softness, something Arthur wanted for a while but didn’t know how to ask for.

Basically all the problems in the relationship that Arthur was worried about but kinda felt “it’s already more than I could hope for” so didn’t want to bring up get worked out naturally and Merlin, who was previously worried about his friendship getting ruined if they changed the dynamic too much, is shocked by how little actually changed now that they’re together. He just gets to hold Arthur’s hand, can be less subtle about stealing from his dinner, gets to relax and gets an Arthur that’s more clingy and soft now that Merlin knows he’s allowed to reciprocate affection.

They still tease each other, they’re still two idiots sharing a braincell that they occasionally give to Leon to babysit, they’re just more open about being in love now. (More open to each other, anyway. Literally everyone else in Camelot knew long before they did)

Bonus points if they’ve been talking about their relationship and having the important conversation with each other the entire time, just without actually talking about it. Merlin asking why Arthur suddenly changed how affectionate he is and Arthur saying he thought he was allowed. Merlin’s just like “cool, as long as you’re okay. I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable and relaxed.” And glad there’s no love spells or anything sinister going on. Arthur says he doesn’t like Merlin flirting with Gwaine, even if he doesn’t mean it, and Merlin agrees to stop if it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t think too much into it, just thinks Arthur doesn’t like the casual flirting and believes that relationships are important so casual stuff isn’t super comfortable. Merlin is still friends with Gwaine, just makes less jokes about going home with or marrying him.

Like, they’re having entire conversations and maintaining a fully functional healthy relationship, they’re just fucking idiots at the same time.

[puckstories]

Sweet Girl | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Dad!Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); None I believe. Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy + birth (ish), only edited once

Summary; The three times Quinn spoke to your belly + the one time he spoke to your baby

Word Count; 5.5k

Author’s note; I love this fic so much, I might make it a universe since I'm a sucker for girl dads + I'm not ready to give baby Scar and Quinn up (: As usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for all of the support! -Honey

When you heard a knock on the door, and opened it to find a package from Amazon sitting on your doorstep, your first thought was that it must be for Quinn. It wasn’t unusual for him to order things online, especially when he was on the road and needed something shipped to the house. And though you often used his Prime account to order things for yourself too, this time you were sure you hadn’t ordered anything recently. You bent down to pick it up, the familiar brown box light in your hands as you brought it inside.

Glancing at the label, you furrowed your brow slightly. It had your name on it, but nothing about it gave you any clue what was inside. Shrugging it off, you left the package on the nightstand by Quinn's side of the bed, figuring it was something he'd ordered for himself, maybe some last-minute necessity he’d remembered while traveling.

The hours passed, and with the Canucks playing in Minnesota on another road game stint, you didn’t give much thought to the package sitting by the bed. It wasn’t until later that night, after the game, that you got a FaceTime call from Quinn. The familiar ping of your phone lit up the screen, and you smiled as his name appeared. You answered quickly, eager to see his face after missing him more than you'd care to admit.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling softly when his face appeared on your screen. His hair was still damp from his postgame shower, strands falling messily over his forehead, and the sight of him looking relaxed in his hotel room after a win sent a warm feeling through your chest.

“Hey, baby,” Quinn replied, his voice soft, but with a touch of fatigue. You could tell he was still riding the post-game high, but the exhaustion of the season was starting to creep in.

You both spent a few minutes catching up—him telling you about the game, the energy in the arena, and you sharing small details about your day, filling in the little gaps left by his absence. The conversation flowed easily, like it always did, but then, as the conversation lulled, Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly, like he’d remembered something.

“Did you get the package?” he asked suddenly, his voice casual but with a hint of elation as he adjusted the phone, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily confused. "Package?" you echoed, your mind flipping back to the brown box you’d left on the nightstand. "Oh, yeah! That came this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I just left it on your side of the bed."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s lips, but he shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you through the screen. "It’s not for me," he said, his voice a little lower, with that familiar warmth that always made your heart flutter. “It’s for you, for us. I ordered it.”

Surprise flickered across your face, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly curious. "Really?" Your heart gave a little skip. Quinn wasn’t one to make a big deal out of surprises, but when he did, they were always thoughtful, something that showed how much attention he paid to the little details of your life.

He nodded, a small grin pulling at his lips as he watched your reaction. "Yeah. Go open it," he urged, his voice playful now, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you as you stood up from the couch and padded into the bedroom, phone in hand, feeling suddenly giddy. You picked up the box from the nightstand, shaking it lightly, though it didn’t give away much about what was inside. Setting your phone down on the bed so Quinn could still see you, you grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and sat down on the plush comforter, carefully slicing through the tape, your curiosity growing with every second.

"Any hints?" you asked as you opened the flaps of the box, glancing up at the screen to see him smiling.

"Not a chance," he replied, his voice filled with that playful mischief that always made your heart skip. "You’ll see in a second."

Inside the package, nestled among the packing paper, is a small green-and-white box that immediately catches your eye. You pull it out, flipping it over in your hands to examine the front. The box is labeled "Bellybuds," and your brow furrows slightly in curiosity. You’ve never heard of it before, and the image of a pregnant woman with small adhesive speakers attached to her belly leaves you wondering what exactly this is.

You hold it up toward your phone, angling it so Quinn can see the box through the screen. "What is this?" you ask, amusement coloring your voice as you turn it over again, your fingers lightly tracing the packaging.

On the other side of the phone, Quinn's face lights up, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "It's headphones... for babygirl," he says, his voice warm and filled with excitement, like a child presenting their favorite toy. "We can talk to her, play music, and stuff. Thought it'd be nice for her to hear us more clearly."

A small laugh escapes your lips, the sound light against the stillness of the room, as you glance down at your baby bump, gently resting your free hand on the slight curve of your belly. You look back at the screen, shaking your head affectionately at him. "But we already talk to her all the time," you say with a smile, "do we really need these?"

Quinn shrugs a little, but there’s a certain softness in the way he does it, a sheepish look crossing his face. His grin doesn’t fade, though—if anything, it only deepens as he watches your reaction, his eyes bright with affection. "I figured it could be fun," he admits, his voice quieter now, the tone laced with a hint of vulnerability that tugs at your heart. "You know... just something special we can do. I thought maybe she’d like hearing music, or hearing us talk to her in a different way."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words, a gentle wave of affection washing over you. The thought of Quinn, so excited to connect with your unborn daughter, to create memories and bonds even before she arrives—it fills you with a deep sense of love for him. He’s always been thoughtful, but there’s something about this moment, something about the quiet sincerity in his voice, that makes your heart swell.

You lower the box slightly, your hand still resting on your belly as you glance down at it again. The idea of playing music for her, of letting her hear the rhythm of your favorite songs, or of Quinn’s voice as he talks to her when he’s away on trips, suddenly feels incredibly sweet and meaningful.

"You’re so sweet," you murmur, lifting your gaze back to him, your voice soft and filled with affection. "I didn’t even think of something like this. But I love it."

Quinn’s grin widens at your words, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a flush of pride washes over his face. "I’m glad," he says, his tone lighter now, clearly pleased with himself. "Figured it was something a little different. Plus, I can play her some good music while I’m gone. Gotta get her used to my playlists early," he adds with a chuckle.

A snort escapes you, as you shake your head. "Right, because I’m sure she’s going to love Counting Crows just as much as you do," you tease, your smile growing as you imagine him curating a playlist of all his favorite songs just for her.

"Hey, she’ll have great taste, thanks to me," he replies, feigning mock offense, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s enjoying the playful banter as much as you are. "She’s gonna be the coolest kid around, trust me."

You roll your eyes with a grin, but your heart swells with warmth at the thought of the two of you already imagining what kind of music she’ll like, how she’ll react to the sounds of your voices. It makes everything feel more real, more tangible—like your little family is slowly but surely coming together.

You open the box carefully, pulling out the small circular speakers, running your fingers over the smooth surface. The adhesive pads are meant to stick to your belly, gently transmitting sound into your womb.

"You know," you begin, your gaze flickering back to the phone screen, "I think it’ll be really nice. She’ll get to hear your voice more often when you’re away for games... it’ll be like you’re still here, even when you’re not."

Quinn’s expression softens at that, his grin fading into something more tender, more intimate. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet warmth. "That’s exactly what I was hoping for. I hate being away, especially now. But this... I thought it could help. Like, she’ll know I’m still with you two, even when I’m on the road."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can feel the emotions welling up inside you, your eyes watering as you look at him. The way he talks about your daughter, the way he’s so thoughtful and attentive to both of you, makes you fall in love with him even more. You bite your lip, a smile spreading across your face as you press your hand a little more firmly against your belly, feeling the weight of your daughter resting there.

"She’s going to love hearing your voice," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "And so will I."

1

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn’s voice is a low, soothing murmur, barely above a whisper, as he speaks into the microphone of his phone. "Daddy here," he adds softly, his tone filled with warmth and tenderness, like every word is wrapped in love.

He shifts carefully on the bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb you from your deep sleep. The dim light from his phone screen casts a soft glow over the room, the only sound being the quiet hum of the fan and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. Quinn settles back against the pillows, adjusting himself so he can be closer to you, his body leaning into your side.

His free hand reaches out, fingertips grazing the soft fabric of your tank top before gently coming to rest on the curve of your baby bump. His touch is light, reverent, like he’s afraid he might wake you if he presses too hard. But even in your sleep, the warmth of his hand resting on your belly sends a sense of comfort through you, as though even unconsciously, your body knows that he's there. His thumb starts moving in slow, gentle circles over your bump, a calming rhythm that has become second nature to him—his way of connecting with both of you.

His eyes soften as he gazes down at the swell of your stomach, where your baby girl is growing, nestled safely inside you. The sight still fills him with awe every time he sees it—the miracle of life forming between you both, the quiet anticipation of becoming a father. He leans closer, careful not to disturb the Bellybuds that are attached to your bump, the small adhesive pads delivering his voice directly to the baby through the connected cord in the phone.

"Just wanted to let you know how much I love you," he whispers softly, his voice low and full of affection. "Before I go to sleep tonight."

The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile as he speaks, his thumb continuing its gentle movements over your belly, tracing slow, lazy circles. He takes a deep breath, letting the moment wash over him. It’s something he’s done often lately—these quiet talks with your baby girl before bed. He knows she might not fully understand, but the thought of her possibly hearing his voice, growing familiar with the sound of her dad, fills him with a sense of happiness he can’t quite put into words.

"I had a long day, and I know you’re probably resting too," he continues, his voice steady but filled with a kind of quiet wonder. "But I couldn’t let the night end without saying goodnight." He leans forward just slightly, brushing a soft kiss against the top of your belly, the warmth of his lips barely touching your skin. "I can’t wait to meet you, sweet girl. Every day, I think about what it’s going to be like when you’re finally here with us."

There’s a pause as he glances up at you, still sound asleep beside him, your breathing steady and peaceful. The room feels still, but in a way that makes everything feel more intimate, more present. His eyes flicker back down to your belly, the small life growing inside, and he feels the overwhelming sense of love flood him once again—an emotion so strong it almost takes his breath away.

"I promise I’ll always take care of you," Quinn whispers into the microphone, his voice dropping even lower, as though he’s sharing a secret just between him and his daughter. "And your mom, too. We’re a team, the three of us. And I’m gonna do my best to make sure you have everything you need, to keep you safe, and to love you more than anything in this world."

His hand moves slightly, his palm now resting flat against the curve of your belly, feeling the faint, subtle movements beneath. Sometimes, when the timing is right, he can feel her respond, little kicks or shifts, as though she knows he’s there. It’s in those moments that the reality of fatherhood feels most real to him, the little reminders that soon, she’ll be here in his arms.

"You’re already so loved, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he speaks into the microphone, his gaze never leaving your bump. "Your mom and I... we talk about you all the time. What you’ll be like, what you’ll look like. I think you’re going to be perfect. And I can’t wait to see who you become."

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and Quinn takes another breath, feeling the warmth of your body beside him, the closeness of your shared space. He glances back at you, his heart swelling with affection as he takes in the peaceful look on your face, the way you look so serene in your sleep. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing lightly against your skin.

"I’m so lucky to have you," he whispers, his voice barely audible, meant only for your sleeping ears. "Both of you."

For a long moment, Quinn just lays there, his hand resting protectively over your belly, his heart full of so much love he can barely contain it. He thinks about the future—the late-night feedings, the first steps, the endless love he’s ready to give to both you and your daughter. It all feels so real, so close, and he can’t help but feel grateful for everything you’ve built together.

After a few more moments of quiet, he shifts slightly, letting out a soft sigh as his hand lingers on your bump one last time. "Goodnight, sweet girl," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice full of tenderness and love. "I’ll see you soon."

2

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here." Quinn speaks into the microphone of his phone, the sound laced with a soft chuckle as he follows you around the kitchen, making sure the Bellybuds stay securely attached to your baby bump. Every step you take, he mirrors, careful not to let the wires tangle or the pads come loose.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile that tugs at your lips as you shuffle around the counter. "Quinn, I’m trying to cook," you say, your tone a mix of amusement and exasperation as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"It’s not my fault Mommy got out of bed before I could say good morning, right, sweet girl?" His grin widens as he speaks into the phone, leaning in slightly as though your daughter, nestled safely in your belly, can hear him more clearly that way. There’s a lightness in his voice, full of the kind of joy that comes naturally when he’s talking to your unborn child—like he’s already practicing the loving banter he’ll share with her once she’s here.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you move back to the stove, carefully flipping the strips of bacon sizzling in the pan. The kitchen is cozy, the rich, savory smell of breakfast filling the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee brewing on the counter. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a golden glow across the countertops, and the whole scene feels peaceful, wrapped in the simple comfort of a Saturday morning.

Quinn trails behind you, keeping close, the ever-present grin still on his face. His eyes are filled with that familiar playful glint, the one that tells you he’s not taking any of this too seriously—but at the same time, you know just how much these moments mean to him. He takes every chance he can get to bond with your little one, to talk to her, even if it’s just silly things or affectionate words whispered against your belly. It’s something you’ve grown to love even more about him during this pregnancy—how committed he is to being present, even before she’s here.

You shuffle across the kitchen to grab a plate for the bacon, and as you do, Quinn follows closely behind, adjusting the Bellybuds’ cord as you move. You shoot him another glance, one eyebrow raised, even as a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for morning skate?" you ask, your tone teasing as you gesture vaguely toward the clock on the wall.

Quinn shrugs, leaning casually against the counter, his hand resting on your bump for just a moment before he drops it back to his side. "Nah," he says with a playful smirk, "I’ve got a few minutes. Besides, what’s more important—hockey or talking to my daughter?" His eyes sparkle with mischief as he shifts his focus back to your belly, speaking directly into the microphone. "See, sweet girl? Daddy has his priorities straight. Morning skate can wait."

You let out another huff of amusement, shaking your head as you plate the crispy bacon. "Priorities, huh?" You glance at him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. "I’ll remember that the next time you’re in the playoffs."

He laughs, the sound rich and easy, and steps closer, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist from behind, careful not to disrupt your cooking. You feel the warmth of his chest press against your back, the familiar weight of his body comforting as he leans his chin gently on your shoulder, peeking around to watch you cook. His hand slides down, resting protectively over your bump, his fingers splayed across your belly as if he’s trying to feel every little movement she might make.

"I promise," he murmurs, his voice softer now, his lips brushing your ear, "she’ll always come first. Even during playoffs."

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, you pause in your task, turning your head just enough to catch his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, that quiet kind of love that’s always been there, but seems to have grown even deeper during this pregnancy. You lean back into him slightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back, and for a brief moment, everything feels perfectly still.

"I know," you murmur, your hand resting on top of his as it cradles your belly.

The moment stretches on for a beat longer, before Quinn presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls back with a playful grin. "But seriously," he adds, "we can’t have her growing up thinking she's not the light of my life."

You laugh, the sound bright and easy as you turn back to the stove, flipping the eggs that are now starting to sizzle in the pan. "No, we definitely can’t have that." You agree, amused.

Quinn leans against the counter, still keeping a close eye on you as you move around the kitchen, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, just watching, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Besides, I think she’s already going to have pretty high expectations for you," you say, glancing at him with a smile as you finish cooking, setting the eggs and bacon on the table. "Talking to her every day, following me around like a puppy..."

He shrugs again, not even trying to hide the grin this time. "Hey, I’ve got to make sure she knows she’s got the best dad in the world, right?"

You shake your head, laughing as you move toward him, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he pulls you close. "I think she’s going to know that no matter what," you say softly, your eyes meeting his, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the kind that’s full of love and gratitude, the kind that says more than words ever could. "I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but full of warmth.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. You glance down at your belly, where the Bellybuds are still securely attached, and grab his phone from his hand, bringing the microphone to your lips. "And I know you love daddy too, right sweet girl?"

3

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here," Quinn whispers softly into the microphone, his voice a murmur in the stillness of the night. The house around you is silent, save for the faint rustling of the trees outside the window and the gentle sound of your breathing as you sleep peacefully beside him. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm, golden light over the room, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of comfort.

Carefully, Quinn adjusts the Bellybuds, making sure the small adhesive speakers are securely attached to your growing belly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he does. Once satisfied that everything is in place, he leans back against the pillows, settling himself beside you and letting out a quiet, contented sigh.

"You're due to come see me and Mommy very soon," he begins. His free hand moves to rest gently on your belly, the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin as his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over the curve of your bump. "And we're so excited to finally meet you."

The smile on his face widens as he speaks the words aloud, the reality of it sinking in more and more with every passing day. His heart swells with emotion, a mixture of excitement and nerves at the thought of holding his daughter in his arms for the first time. He’s imagined it a thousand times already—what it will feel like, what she’ll look like—and yet, he knows nothing can truly prepare him for the moment when she finally arrives.

"We have your nursery all set up," he continues, his voice full of pride. "Mommy picked out the prettiest colors and decorations. And she bought you so many cute outfits... I know you’ll be just adorable." His words are filled with affection as he thinks about the hours you spent meticulously planning and decorating the nursery. He remembers the way your eyes lit up with excitement every time a new package arrived at the door—tiny clothes, soft blankets, little shoes too small to seem real.

Quinn chuckles softly to himself, his thumb still moving in slow circles over your belly. "I can already picture you wearing those little onesies. Mommy’s got good taste," he says with a grin, though his voice softens as he adds, "You’re going to be the most beautiful girl in the world, and I can’t wait to see you."

The room falls into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His gaze drifts back to you, watching as you shift slightly in your sleep, snuggling deeper into the blankets. He loves these quiet moments with you, when the world feels small and the love he has for you and your growing family feels like the only thing that matters.

"You're our first, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, as if he's sharing a secret meant just for her. His thumb continues its rhythmic motion on your belly, grounding him in the moment, the connection between the three of you palpable. "So Mommy and I... we might not be perfect. We’ll probably make mistakes, and we’re still learning. But I promise you, we’ll always try our best for you."

The sincerity in his words hangs in the air, a promise that he knows will shape the rest of his life. Fatherhood is something he’s thought about for so long, and now that it’s just around the corner, the weight of it feels both exhilarating and humbling. He knows there will be challenges, sleepless nights, moments of doubt—but he also knows that the love he feels for you and your daughter will guide him through it all. It already has.

"Daddy loves you," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice filled with all the love and devotion he can possibly give. "So much. And I can’t wait to show you just how much when you get here." He leans down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your belly, his lips warm against your skin.

+1

Scarlett Eloise Hughes was born on July 2nd, arriving into the world at seven pounds, four ounces, with the tiniest tuft of brown hair and the clearest green eyes you’d ever seen. From the moment you heard her first cry, a quiet, delicate sound that filled the room, your heart swelled with a love so overwhelming, it felt like nothing else existed beyond that moment. Time seemed to slow as the nurses moved around you, murmuring their congratulations as they swiftly began their work.

The delivery couldn’t have gone smoother. It was as if Scarlett herself had been eager to meet you and Quinn, arriving just two hours after you checked into the hospital. Your contractions had come on strong that morning, starting as a dull ache and quickly intensifying until you knew it was time.

But even considering the relative ease of it all, you were exhausted—utterly spent in the best possible way. The rush of adrenaline from labor, the flood of emotions that came with bringing new life into the world, had left you physically and emotionally drained, but also more fulfilled than ever before.

You watched through hazy eyes as Quinn, who had been by your side every second, stepped forward to cut Scarlett’s umbilical cord. The nurse handed him the scissors, and though his hand trembled slightly, his face was full of awe. You could see the tears glistening in his eyes as he gently snipped the cord, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was such a simple act, but in that moment, it felt monumental—like a bridge between pregnancy and the start of your new lives as parents.

Once the nurses had gently taken Scarlett away to clean her off, weigh her, and perform the routine newborn checks, the room felt quiet, almost surreal. You lay back against the pillows, your body heavy with fatigue but your heart full of love. Every so often, you could hear the soft sound of Scarlett’s tiny cries as they swaddled her in a warm blanket and placed her in the bassinet.

Then, at last, they brought her over to you.

The moment they placed her in your arms, everything else melted away. Scarlett was so small, so delicate, her skin still slightly flushed from the effort of being born. Her tiny fingers curled reflexively into a fist, her eyes blinking up at you as though she were trying to focus on the face she had yet to fully see but already knew so well. The warmth of her little body pressed against yours made your chest tighten with emotion, and as you gazed down at her, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Hi, Scarlett," you whispered softly, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned your forehead against hers for just a moment, taking in her scent, that unmistakable newborn smell that was somehow both sweet and comforting. "We’ve been waiting for you."

Scarlett blinked again, her tiny lips parting slightly as she made a soft cooing sound, and in that moment, it was as though your entire world had shifted. Every hope, every dream, every little piece of your life had led to this—this beautiful, perfect baby girl in your arms.

You shifted her gently, positioning her so you could nurse her for the first time. Her tiny mouth latched onto your breast instinctively, and the sensation was both strange and wonderful all at once.

It was breathtaking moment, just you and her, connected in a way that felt profound to you. You could feel her little body relax against yours as she fed, her breathing evening out, her tiny fingers resting against your chest.

Tears filled your eyes again, and you glanced over at Quinn, who stood watching silently. His eyes held a mix of emotions—joy, admiration, and a deep, unwavering love. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment she was born, but now, watching you nurse Scarlett, that smile softened into something more tender, more meaningful.

Once Scarlett finished feeding, you gently lifted her and cradled her close to your chest, marveling at how perfectly she fit into your arms, like she was meant to be there all along. After a few moments, you met Quinn’s gaze and smiled softly.

"You're up next, daddy." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn nodded, his throat visibly working as he tried to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to overcome him, though you could see the eagerness in his eyes.

"Take off your shirt," you added, remembering the advice about skin-to-skin contact. You wanted him to experience that bond, the warmth of her small body against his, just as you had.

Without hesitation, Quinn pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He stepped closer, his movements careful and measured, as though he were afraid of disturbing the fragile moment. Gently, you passed Scarlett into his arms, watching as he settled into the chair beside your hospital bed.

The second Scarlett was in his arms, her little body resting against his bare chest, something changed in Quinn. His entire posture softened, his shoulders relaxing as if every ounce of tension had melted away. He held her with the utmost care, his large hands supporting her tiny head, his thumb brushing gently across her back as she nestled against him.

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he gazed down at her in awe. "Daddy here."

Scarlett’s small hand flexed against his chest, and Quinn let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned his head down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.

The sight of them together—the love radiating from Quinn, the peaceful way Scarlett settled into his arms—filled you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness. This was your family now. The three of you, together, bound by the deepest kind of love.

Quinn rocked gently in the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett’s face, as though he were committing every detail of this moment to memory. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I love you so much. You have no idea."

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you watched them, your heart full to bursting. This was everything you had hoped for and more—a moment of pure, unfiltered love. "She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Quinn glanced up at you, his eyes shining with tears of his own. "Yeah, she really is."

[3seven-gambler]

#⌁꒰You using theiɾ shiɾt ; JJK men꒱

⋆ word count: 1276 ⋆ genre: fluff, suggestive. ⋆ includes: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, higuruma hiromi, toji fushiguro. no specified pronouns. ⋆ a/n: this is my first writing in months, so bear with me pls(╥﹏╥) -~~~reminder that english is not my first language~~~

࿐♡Ꮐꮻꭻꮻ Ꮪꭺꭲꮻꭱꮜ

Gojo had -surprisingly- woken up before you after a rough night you both share. He put on some sweatpants and made his way into the kitchen, deciding on preparing breakfast for both of you. While he was making your favorite dish, he sensed a presence behind him.

-"Good morning, beautiful" he said while turning around to face you. -"How's my princess/prince doing?" he then took complete notice of your choice of clothing that morning, this being one of his shirts, which showed just enough of your body for him to go feral. He could see all the marks he had left the night before all over your tights, as well as some of the marks in your collarbones, marks for only him to see (along with some others that might be for the public eye).

-"Seems you like what you see" you said with a sleepy but teasing voice.

Satoru kept looking at you for a few more seconds. He dropped what he was doing and walked over you, grabbing your face softly with both of his hands. -"You look stunning" he said with a soft smile while giving you small pecks all over your face, and then he gave you a grin -"Maybe I should fuck you more often~"

-"Gojo this is the fifth time we do it in less than two days-"

࿐♡Ꮐꭼꭲꮻ Ꮪꮜꮐꮜꭱꮜ

Geto was reading a book while laying on the bed of your shared bedroom. He was patiently waiting for you to come out of the shower so both of you could cuddle for a while before preparing dinner.

-"Hey, sorry for making you wait" You suddenly say while opening the bathroom door.

Suguru drifts his eyes from the book to your figure, watching as you grab one of his shirts to put above your breath taking body.

-"Don't worry, my love, I don't mind waiting for you." He said while staring at you.

-"Is something wrong?" You said as you take notice of his staring.

-"Mh, no, not at all." He said smiling fondly at you.

You crawl into the bed and Geto leaves the book by his side, turning your way to hold you. You notice how he still has his eyes glued to you. Before you could ask again, he spoke.

-"Maybe I should toss all of your clothes and make you wear mine." he said while softly while caressing your tights. -"But at the same time, if you wear my clothes everyday, I don't think I could hold myself..."

࿐♡Nꭺɴꭺꮇꮖ Ꮶꭼɴꭲꮻ

For Nanami's dislike, he had to go home later than usual. It was Friday, meaning that you and him were going to spend time together. Every weekend you would spend time in each other's houses, and this time it was your turn to stay in Kento's house. He phoned you earlier, telling you that he was going to be late and saying how sorry he was. You brushed him off saying it was ok, that you would make dinner alone for you both. He told you it wasn't necessary, that he could grab some food on his way home but you insisted of making it yourself.

Later on, you went to his house. Opening the door with a spare key he had given you a while ago, you made your way inside. Before starting to cook, you went into Kento's bedroom to get change into more comfortable clothes, but noticed that you haven't brought your pajamas.

-"Oh, what should I use then?" you asked to yourself. You looked up and saw a pile of old shirts that your boyfriend usually uses in the comfort of his house. You smiled mischievously and grabbed the one he uses the most, and then you were ready to start making his favorite dish.

A few hours later, when dinner was almost done, you heard some noise coming from the front door. -"Y/N, I'm here" you heard your beloveds voice.

-"Kento! Hi! I'm in the kitchen!" You said happily.

Nanami quickly made his way into his kitchen where he was greeted not only with an amazing smell coming from the oven but with the most stunning view he had been waiting to see all day. You, all cute in his shirt. Wait, his shirt?

You took notice of this and said -"I'm sorry for this." You said grabbing a bit of the shirt -"I forgot my pajamas at my place so..." You couldn't finish since Kento's lips were on yours.

-"Move in with me." He says in a pleading yet mandatory way.

࿐♡ꮋꮖꮐꮜꭱꮜꮇꭺ ꮋꮖꭱꮻꮇꮖ

It was late. As it usually happends. And he knew. But he couldn't do much about it. Work has been more troublesome these recent weeks, and all Higuruma could think about was coming home to you. He was more than thankful to have found someone as patient as you, since this is not the first time he comes home late. As he goes inside the house, he calls your name, quickly making his way to the living room. His anxiousness calms down when he sees your angelic sleeping form, hugging a pillow as if your life depended on that. He lets out a soft chuckle and before waking you up he takes full notice of what you were wearing.

-"Of course you grabbed one of my shirts" he said smiling to himself. It isn't the first time he sees you in one, since you had asked him a few times before for his permission to wear one. But every time he sees you wearing his clothes, he gets giddy with excitement.

-"Hmm? Hiro?" You said almost in a whisper.

-"Hello baby, I'm home" He said sitting by your side.

You let go of the pillow you were hugging before and you sat on Higuruma's lap, hugging him instead.

-"I missed you" you said hiding your face against his chest.

-"I missed you too sweety, you have no idea how much I did" he said hugging you back.

࿐♡Ꭲꮻꭻꮖ 𝖥ꮜꮪꮋꮖꮐꮜꭱꮻ

He told you not to worry about the rain, since he was sure that it wasn't going to drop. The both of you had planned to go out on a date, but it seems that the weather had other plans for you.

-"I'm never trusting you with this again!" You said while running to his place.

All he could do was laugh. When you were both at the entrance of his flat he said -" 's just water, sweetheart"

-"I know that! But I'm all soaked wet and cold!" You said pouting.

-"Mhhm? Is that so?~" he purred into your ear -"I think I can help with that~"

You just push him away from you -"You can help me by giving my dry clothes" you said crossing your arms.

-"Whatever... You can grab something from there" he said pointing to his bedroom.

You went on and opened the wardrobe door. You were about to grab just one of his regular black t-shirt when you notice a white shirt hanging out there, being one of the only -if not the only- white piece of clothing there. You quickly changed and went over where your boyfriend was.

-"Are you going to take a bath?" You asked to get his attention.

-"Yeah, wanna jo-" he stopped talking as soon as he saw you -"Where did you find that?"

-"There" you said pointing to his bedroom as he had done before. -"Do I look good?" You said playfully smiling.

Toji felt no shame as he scanned you from head to toes. He suddenly grabbed you and tossed you on his shoulder. -"T-Toji?! What are you doing?! Put me down!"

"You, me, bath. Now." Is all what he said.

❥ 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. || 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖱𝖤𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖳/𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖲𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖤.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

If You'll Have Me

A/N: Finally, this is here. Got this request back in March I think so anon, here ya go, sorry it took so long. Pairing: Megumi x Fem! Reader *(Both are 21 here) Warnings: Angst, breakup, pregnancy

It rained the day Megumi broke up with you. He sat there on your sofa, looking detached and apologetic, and you felt like your heart might choke you to death, the way it pounded frantically in your chest.

“I gave you everything!” You whispered furiously. “I supported you! Waited long hours for you to get home, without knowing what may have happened to you! I looked after Tsumiki when she became bedridden!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Megumi’s eyes are like dark tunnels, with not a trace of warmth or emotion in them. “With everything that’s happened…I don’t feel like I’m worthy of you.”

“Oh, how noble of you!” You spat, feeling utterly humiliated. “I suppose you’ll say it’s not me, it's you?” 

“It is me. I see the fear in your eyes whenever I leave you for a mission. I hear the pain in your voice when I tell you I’m coming home late. I hate being the person that makes you feel that way. You’re such a good person. That’s why I think you’d be better off without me.”

“Get out.” You managed to squeeze the words past your tightening throat, your eyes stinging painfully, tears spilling from them. Wordlessly, Megumi gets up and walks towards the door.

Perhaps you’d been daring him to go because your heart stopped for a second as he got to the door. Part of you wished he’d stop, look at you, and gather you close, saying he couldn’t live without you. You’re begging him with your being to not throw this away. 

He’s supposed to stop, isn’t he? He’s supposed to realize he’s being irrational, that there’s no one better than him for you? You were a pair, meant to be. His look haunts you as he turns the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” he says brokenly, before disappearing into the rain. 

You stood there, watching the downpour, feeling your heart crack and splinter, like a delicate teacup that had fallen from a shelf, no safe hands ready to catch it and prevent it from falling to its doom. 

.・。.・゜✭・.

A month later, you feel exhausted, more than usual. Getting out of bed feels like a chore. Your back and feet hurt, and nothing stays in your stomach. You try everything. Soup, saltine crackers, toast, applesauce. Whatever you ate made you nauseated and dizzy. 

You started worrying you had caught a really persistent form of the flu, but when your period didn’t start, you felt a wave of dread. 

Now, as you stared at the positive pregnancy test in your hands, you felt like someone had torn your body open, invisible wounds reopening and stinging afresh, chaotically spilling your feelings everywhere. 

“You need to tell him.” Gojo leans back in his chair, assessing you critically. You look at him coldly, cursing his six-eyes technique.

“I do not. And it’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is. Believe me when I say Megumi will not shirk his duties as a father. It would devastate him if he ever gets to know he has a child and that he was absent from its life.”

“How can you possibly assume that?” You cross your arms over your still flat belly and glare at him. Like it wasn’t bad enough that you were Megumi’s ex, now you were knocked up with his baby. “He wanted nothing to do with me. That man was barely able to keep promises to me as his girlfriend. What makes you think he’s going to step up and be a father to a child he probably doesn't want?”

“Because he knows what it’s like to be that child,” Gojo says the words quietly but with a firm edge that had you staring at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“Has Megumi ever told you about his dad?” Your silence says it all and Gojo narrows his eyes. “He’ll probably want my head if he ever finds out I told you this but I think it’s necessary.” Gojo sighs deeply and continues.

“Megumi’s dad loved him. But he simply wasn’t fit to be a parent. He abandoned Megumi and Tsumiki. Megumi was 7 years old at the time.”

You blink back tears as Gojo continues. “Megumi grew up as my ward. I don’t pretend to be his dad, but I can’t just let this slide. I understand you probably harbor resentment towards him, but cutting him out of this decision isn’t the right way to go about it.”

“I don’t want him to feel like he has any obligations towards me because of the baby. That’s the only reason he’d try to get in touch with me now, right?” You can’t forgive him for deciding to walk out of your life just yet, no matter what his childhood was like. 

“How long do you think you can keep this a secret? Megumi might not be around that much anymore, but you’ll start to show soon enough. If not me, someone else will tell him.”

Your expression hardens and you stand up with steely resolution coursing in your veins. “Thank you for your opinion. But the last I checked, though it takes two to make a baby, it only takes one to raise it.”

You pack your belongings and urgently move out of Tokyo by the end of the week.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Surprisingly, no one comes to bother you. You start over and manage to find work at a small accounting firm as a secretary. Your boss is sympathetic to your situation and doesn’t give you a hard time about needing maternity leave. Everything is going well despite the constant worry about running into someone from the jujutsu world but so far, nothing has happened. Your tummy swells and grows, the baby healthy and full of life. It brings you joy, knowing you carry this little being inside you.

One night, you wake up with a strange feeling inside your abdomen. Worried that the stress was getting to you as you entered your eighth month of pregnancy, you restlessly forced yourself out of bed and tried walking around the small apartment to ease your nerves.

It was a curious sensation, like something unseen was flowing through your veins, not sinister but a little unsettling. You place a hand on your swollen middle in hopes of soothing the baby then freeze when you feel the flow of cursed energy in your womb. 

You’d heard it wasn’t uncommon for sorcerer babies to begin regulating and channeling their cursed energy in utero, but it filled you with awe at how familiar the energy signature was to Megumi’s, vitality coursing under your fingertips as you felt it kick and turn. 

A soft rustling has you turning in panic, a gasp escaping your lips as you see 2 dog-like figures padding over to you from nowhere, their eyes glowing in the dark. Up close, you recognize them as Megumi’s divine dogs, their tails wagging as they approach you.

Motherly instinct has you clutching your stomach and angling away from them. Had Megumi finally figured out the truth? But the dogs’ demeanor didn’t seem to match that scenario. If anything, they looked curious and friendly. One of them finally gets close enough to nose your belly with its snout, before nuzzling the bump affectionately, which the other one mirrors. You watch in silent fascination, then feel a surge of energy from your womb. 

The baby was responding to the dogs. 

They recognized it as their owner. The dogs weren’t here because of Megumi. The baby had subconsciously summoned them. With a shaky hand, you pet both of them, seeing their eyes close happily. They bring back memories of Megumi and your eyes fill with tears.

“Does he want to be a father?” You ask them. They look at you with intense yellow eyes and before you can say anything else, vanish in a blink. 

.・。.・゜✭・.

The day the baby arrives is one of the happiest and emotionally draining days of your life. You lay on the labor bed, gripping the sheets as the contractions relentlessly come and go, each more painful than the last. 

You almost scream, not from the pain but in shock, as something noses your hand. Turning, you see the divine dogs at the side of the bed, unseen to the normal humans. You could’ve wept with relief, knowing you weren’t quite alone. You pet them and grip their fur as you finally deliver your baby boy into the world. 

The small pink bundle was a miniature of Megumi, the beautiful black hair plastered to its little head, screaming with the rage of life. With shaky hands you accept him, your heart so full of love you feel like it could burst. You’re so occupied that you don’t notice the divine dogs quietly padding outside, tails wagging, as someone lingers near the door.

Megumi has tears in his eyes as he hides just outside the room. He sees his child, and you, the person he loves and cherishes. You’re cooing at the baby, getting him settled down to suckle, his little hand wrapped around your finger so tightly.

Megumi balls his hands into fists feeling his fingernails dig into his palm, emotions raging through him. He’s so glad the two of you are healthy, and there’s regret for his mistakes of the past. He understands why you left Tokyo. You were a proud woman, independent, determined to not need him after he’d broken up with you. It wasn’t like you to grovel or beg. He was sure if the baby hadn’t summoned the divine dogs by accident, he would’ve never found you. 

Yet he felt like an intruder, an outsider, unworthy of entering the room. He understands what he broke the day he left and it eats away at his soul knowing that he was the reason you didn’t come to him after finding out you were pregnant. It had taken so long for you to let your walls down, to learn to depend on him finally, and in an instant, he had taken that away from you, the one thing you had avoided for so long; the need to rely on others.

It was that which drove you, the shattered dependability, and he remembered how long it had taken to reassure you to be less guarded on that front. He was awful, no better than his own father. But he had to try. He knocks on the door.

You turn, breath catching when you see him in the doorway.

“Hi.” He tries to not let his tears show, but when your eyes fill, he can’t contain himself. He closes the gap and embraces both of you as you sob uncontrollably into his shoulder.  

.・。.・゜✭・.

Megumi sleeps on the sofa, taking care of his child with such tenderness and love. He relearns everything about you, appreciating all that you are. It takes time but the relationship rebuilds steadily.

“How did Gojo not rat me out?” you ask one evening as Megumi cooks dinner while you cuddle the baby on the sofa. 

Megumi pauses, and looks over uncertainly. “He did.”

“He did?” 

“Yeah.” Megumi’s voice is low. “He told me and said I’d regret it if I didn’t try to find you. I was a coward.” He turns the stove burner off and faces you. “I never stopped thinking about you. You were the best thing to ever happen to me. I still believe I’m not your equal, and I never will be. You were my home base. The single person holding my life together. How much more could I ask you to do?”

He joins you on the sofa, taking his son into his arms, rocking him softly as he starts to doze off. “I was so scared to ask you to forgive me. I felt like a hypocrite, reassuring you all these years that it’s ok to depend on me, and then taking that security away from you. I was the worst kind of asshole. But I knew I couldn’t be a deadbeat father. I looked for you. But you did such a good job covering up your tracks. Honestly, if the baby hadn’t summoned the divine dogs, I probably would have never caught on.”

The baby yawns and drifts off to sleep in his arms. Megumi stares at the little face, unable to forgive himself for what he almost missed out on.

“I want us to be all right. I want us to be a family. Can we?” He looks at you with doubt, knowing if you said no, it was well within your right.

You take the baby from his arms, carefully settling him down in the portable bassinet next to the sofa, and take Megumi’s face in between your hands.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice choking up. 

Megumi pulls you against him tightly. “I love you so much. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure to live up to being your equal.”

You nod, letting your tears flow freely.

“I love you too.”

all dividers and banners by @/ cafekitsune

@estarlias @daswanj @actuallysaiyan @whatshernameis

@byul9158 @mirrors-musings @Mangiswig

@that-goth-bisexual @connorsui @jadedjane @darkstarlight82

@soft--cherry @galactict3a @hunnie-lily

[fairlyang]

Ready 🕷️

w/c: 712

pairing: husband!miguel o’hara x wife!reader

tags: 18+ smut. halloween special<3 giving out candy, he’s thinkin, breeding kink, pregnancy, unprotected sex (duh), creampies, dirty talk

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

being miguel’s wife where you loved decorating for the holidays and being as extra as you could. so for halloween you found those cute inflatables to put in the front yard so the kids would know you’d be giving away candy.

you found such a perfect couples costume he found it hard to say no to because of your excited face.

he heard the doorbell ring and the trick or treaters have started for the night. he went downstairs from getting changed to find you bending down holding the bowl of candy to small kids.

you were complimenting them on their superhero costumes then waved goodbye. you shut the door and turned around to find your husband as handsome as ever.

“a real shame about that wig…” you joked and stepped forward to him, fixing the orange ascot.

“you’re fucking crazy if you thought i was gonna wear a blonde wig…” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“well it seems i’m just more committed to the cause then.” you tease and pull away.

the doorbell rang once again and you quickly went towards the door, opening and gasping at the little princesses in front of you. their little hands reached into the bowl and it warmed your heart.

miguel was watching you closely, eyes softening and a small smile appearing on his lips just imagining you as a mom. you’d be the best, the most nurturing mom ever.

it’d be the cutest thing to have a daughter and for her to look just like you, your mini me.

this conversation has been talked about plenty of times, always going back and forth if you’re really ready.

but watching you be so sweet and affectionate tugged on his heartstrings way more than he expected. it usually did anyway but tonight was just different.

he was ready.

you closed the door and turned to look at him again, this time his facial expression was much different.

he looked at you in your daphne blake costume, looking so gorgeous in that purple dress and matching heels, that not so cheap looking wig and he knew what you’d be doing after all the candy was done.

it was a brutal two hours later that he was finally able to take you into your bedroom, lift your dress up, rip your pink tights, and ensure you’re coming out of the bedroom pregnant.

he had already came inside you once doggy style on the edge of the bed, then had you ride him which had you tired too quickly so you were just grinding back and forth. you quickly came up with the bright little idea to spell his name with your hips repeatedly and by the third time he realized what you were doing, having no choice but to cum again.

after placing a towel beneath you so the cum can leak out for a few seconds is when he decides to flip you onto your stomach.

so now you were fucked out of your mind, makeup destroyed, wig barely intact as he fucked you prome bone style but making sure his body was barely hovering over yours. you were feeling so sensitive but at the same time didn’t want him pulling out because he was fucking you so good.

he was hitting the right spot with every thrust, going even deeper than before, practically hitting your cervix as you moaned out for him, “fuck baby- p-please-“

he moaned into your ear then kissing the side of your neck as he felt his cock twitching again. if this didn’t make you pregnant, he’d just have to try again tomorrow. the whole day if that’s what it takes.

he was determined and mind set.

“gonna be so pretty when you’re pregnant baby.” he grunted and you clenched against him.

you both moaned, going back and forth with dirty words, “yeah? gonna make sure you fill me up baby?”

“it’s what you deserve, my love.”

“please don’t stop-“

“c’mon, let’s have that family we’ve dreamed of.”

“please give it to me-“

you turned your head to kiss him and with the sloppiest of thrusts and slow kiss, he spilled his last load into you murmuring sweet i love yous as you both came hoping three rounds would be enough

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Let our lips lock, baby - K.MG

💋Who; Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 💋What; Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3 💋Wordcount; 9.8k 💋Warnings; Profanity. Pet names from them both(baby/sweetheart). A single solitary thigh spank. Oral(female receiving). Gyu gets a little posessive over reader for a second but it's more amusing than anything. I don't think there's actually anything specific that needs to be mentioned? But do let me know. They're on very equal grounds throughout this entire story and I love that for them <3

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; The intention is to sneak into Mingyu's apartment(get let in by Wonwoo) and set up banners and balloons ready for when he wakes. And then you'll cook him a meal like he's been asking for and give him his birthday gift. You don't really have a plan for what happens after that, you assume you'll just hang out, you really don't expect a confession and to wind up in his bed.

Ao3 Link -2024 Masterlist-

A/N- The biggest juiciest thank you ever goes to @sluttywoozi for being so supportive as I wrote this! If it wasn't for you, sweetheart, this would just be soft hours, not sorny hours 💖💖💖 And just the svthub members in general for being actual sweethearts like wtf pls save some sweet for the rest of the world okay <3

ps. scroll to the very bottom to see a very serious birthday edit I made of Mingyu instead of writing this :))

🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈

Honestly, it's a little worrying just how easy it is to sneak around the apartment without detection. You had known that Mingyu is a heavy sleeper for quite a while now but it still concerns you that you literally managed to enter his room, tidy the little mess and set up decorations all while he slept obliviously in his bed with his mouth wide open in a sign of good sleep. Still, it makes everything all that much easier.

"Ohmygod, hyung!" The thrilled gasp edged with a just-awake roughness, alerts you to the fact that Mingyu has finally woken and spotted the decorations in his room. A few seconds later, he is stumbling through the apartment in search of his flatmate but instead finds you in the kitchen. "Oh, you're not hyung." He mutters dumbly, eyes wide. Yours are too but mostly because he is in rather skimpy little boxers and nothing else.

"I'm not," You confirm, staring without blinking at the extensive beautiful skin exposed to your eyes. Not that you have never seen Mingyu topless before, or even in shorts, but this is something else entirely that you have only dreamed of until now.

And then Mingyu realises what he is wearing, or more specifically what he isn't wearing and squeaks before rushing off with an embarrassed blush burning up his neck and cheeks.

When Mingyu returns ten minutes later, he is freshly showered and fully dressed, much to your disappointment. But at least he isn't just in sweatpants and a hoodie like you had expected; he's pulled on his nice jeans and a crisp plain black t-shirt that clings to his torso and is perhaps more devastating than seeing him bare. At least when he was bare it was less like being teased with something just out of sight. Either way, he is out of reach in every way.

The outfit choice makes you tilt your head a little in puzzlement. "You put on your date outfit." You comment, knowing that the jeans and t-shirt combo is a very common choice for Mingyu when he's going on a casual date with someone.

"You look nice, I thought I should too," Is his simple response as he shrugs and walks over to put his arms around your waist from behind and finally greet you as you usually greet one another; with a hug that is perhaps a little too lingering for the nothing-more-than-friends status you both claim to have. Which is true, nothing has ever happened between you two that passes platonic; it's just the fact that you want it to and if your mutual friends can be trusted, so does Mingyu.

"You said you like this dress," You inform, turning back to the food that you are working on. "And regularly complain that I never make an effort when I hang out with you. Seeing as it's a special occasion, I figured I should grant your wish, birthday boy." You tease and feel him grin happily against your neck where he is still tucked down into like he favours. It always amazes you how such a giant man will shrink down for extended periods just to give affection to those he cares about. "Go sit at the table, this'll be ready soon. Your breakfast, my lunch." You muse, pointing out that it is already almost 1 pm, but you had honestly expected as much. Mingyu is notorious amongst your friends for sleeping into the afternoon on days when he doesn't have to get up. And he always takes his birthday off to allow that luxury.

"Ah, you finally agreed to cook for me." He coos and squeezes you happily before letting his arms unwind, hands sliding over your waist in a way that has you suppressing a shiver. Either he doesn't notice your little shaky inhale or simply chooses to ignore it as he relocates over to the dining table.

"I asked what you wanted for your birthday, you said you wanted me to cook for you." You remind, glancing over as he gasps and picks up the little ribbon-wrapped box on the tabletop while he sits down.

"Is this for me too?" He looks over at you with big eyes full of innocent excitement. He's so fucking cute that it is honestly a giant problem for your ability to keep a level heartbeat.

"Mm, of course, do you see another Mingyu here?" You raise an eyebrow, and then he notices the tag with his name on and giggles embarassedly. "Happy birthday, Gyu."

"Thank you," He breathes out, looking at you fondly for a few long seconds and then turns down to the box. "Can I open it now?"

"Whenever you want, it's yours." You confirm, turning off the heat to dish up the food onto two plates.

"Ah, after food." He decides, putting down the box to jump up with every intention of helping you; though you tut disapprovingly causing him to lower back to his seat like a scolded puppy.

"It's your birthday, let me dote on you."

"You dote on me anyway." He pouts slightly as you carry the plates over to put on the already cutely laid table, down to a little vase with fresh flowers in it. Mingyu has obviously noticed them and knows they're from you, Wonwoo wouldn't buy flowers for their apartment after all, but Mingyu does not have the mental capacity to point them out. It's too much for his poor smitten heart to handle after waking up to birthday balloons and banners, and then seeing you looking so beautiful cooking in his kitchen domestically. If he's forced to voice anything in regard to the appearance of his favourite flowers, he is pretty sure he'll do something stupid like confess his undying love for you and ask you to never leave.

"Yes, and you do it too, but today is about you, birthday boy." You retort and make a move to sit down. Mingyu is on his feet before your ass even touches the chair, just so that he can tuck you in like he always does. You let him have this one and just roll your eyes at his inability to not take care of you, even on a day entirely about him.

Soon Mingyu is making happy sounds in his seat on your adjacent left as he thoroughly enjoys every mouthful of food. As much as Mingyu is a foodie and savours his food in general, he still tends to practically inhale whatever is in front of him when he hasn't eaten in a while, but he is genuinely taking his time to absorb every flavour and texture of this meal. It makes your heart flutter to see the genuine appreciation he has for what you cooked for him.

It occurs to you as you take a photo of him enjoying his food to send to the group chat, that the scene very much looks like a date. Your friends all know what Mingyu tends to wear for dates and if they know your own outfit of the day- which Wonwoo at least does- then they will also know that it's one of your own date looks. You stare at your screen for a second then lock the device as you decide against sending them anything despite having agreed to send update pictures. You had already sent photos of the decorations in Mingyu's room though so that will be enough, right? You know that it most certainly is not enough where your nosey friends are concerned. Still, ignorance is bliss.

For the first time perhaps ever, you finish eating before Mingyu so just sit back and watch him contently. He knows that you're watching him and keeps grinning closed-lipped at you, not at all bothered by your attention. He isn't a hypocrite, he has watched you eat his own cooking in such a way many times before and will continue to do so. Mingyu knows exactly how wonderful it feels to witness anybody enjoying your own cooking, especially those you care about. And Mingyu knows that you care about him an awful lot, he is just kind of in denial that the care had long ago stretched way past platonic territory.

As soon as Mingyu puts his cutlery down on his empty plate, you jump up to take the dishes away making him whine. "I was about to do that!" He complains, pouting at you, his left hand wrapped around his glass of water that he barely managed to touch before you dart away with the dirty dishes and distract him from his drink.

"No, you weren't, birthday boy." You sing-song, rinsing off the dishes already to put in the dishwasher ready for later in the day when it will be full enough to warrant being turned on.

"Are you really going to do everything for me today?"

"Yep, whatever you want, I'm at your disposal, Gyu."

"Whatever I want?" He mumbles, more to himself than you, which is good because you don't hear his voice over the gentle clatter of dishes being placed into the dishwasher. All he can think about is getting the one thing he has wanted almost since the very day he first laid his eyes on you. Your lips. Your hands. Your body. You in your entirety. You by his side always so that he doesn't have to face the ache of watching you walk away ever again. But he can't ask for that, not even on his birthday.

After washing your hands, you return to your place at the table and lean onto your elbows on the tabletop. You don't notice the way the position accentuates your cleavage but Mingyu certainly does. It takes everything in him to not look down at your chest. "Are you going to open your gift now?" You prompt, nodding towards the little box.

"Oh, yeah!" He perks up and reaches out for it. "Though you really didn't have to get me anything, you already cooked for me and that's the best gift I've ever received."

"Don't be ridiculous, Gyu, it was just a meal. Not even a particularly exciting one either, you regularly cook much more extravagant meals for me." You pout a little, feeling guilty about the meal you made for him. You had spent weeks trying to come up with something special to cook for him; you had even made a secret groupchat with some of your friend group who you thought would be helpful and not just ignore the chat, to send recipes and ask opinions. It had actually been Seokmin in the end who had not quite snapped but got fed up with your consistent worries over the planned meal and told you that Mingyu wouldn't give a single fuck what you cooked, he just cared that you cooked it. Seeing Seokmin speak up like that made you finally listen to the reason the entire chat had been trying to talk into you, so you stopped looking for something fancy and just cooked something you are confident in already.

"It's not about that," Mingyu speaks, looking at you earnestly. "It's about the act itself; cooking something for me no matter what it is, shows you care. That's what I care about, not the meal itself. Though it was delicious and I really hope you cook it for me again." His smile turns cheeky by the end making you let out a soft laugh.

"Mm, just say when." You agree, smiling when his whole face lights up. You playfully scrunch your nose at him. He returns it without hesitation.

A moment passes between you, not a new moment but one you have both felt many times; a moment with something meaningful floating in the air between you. But as per usual, neither of you are brave enough to reach out and capture it.

At the same time, you both look down at the box still in his hands to redirect your attention to something that doesn't feel quite so big in your chests. Carefully, Mingyu pulls on the ribbon to untie the bow that you had spent a good half an hour trying to perfect that morning so that he can then pluck the lid free. After moving aside the tissue paper Mingyu's eyes land on the jewellery within. His expression melts along with his posture. With a cautious hand, he reaches out to touch one of the silver chains.

"I hope they're what you wanted; you were very vague when you said matching bracelets. I don't know who you intend to wear them with, but I hope you both like them. And that the design isn't entirely opposite to your intention." You worry a little at the end, your own gaze settling on the little double hearts on each somewhat dainty chain. Jeonghan had given you a look as if you were crazy when you had shown them to him last week; he insisted that Mingyu would break the chain within the first day of wearing it. But you know they are much more resilient than they look after extensive testing on them both. You are confident that even Mingyu's accident-prone self won't destroy the chains, yet even if he does, you'll just buy him more. Any many as he wants. So long as he's happy, you'll buy him anything his heart desires. "I just know you like love heart designs and everything else didn't really suit you in my mind."

"They're beautiful." He breathes out then scoots closer to you and holds his left arm out over the table top. "Put it on me, please?"

"Sure," You agree even if you're confused about why he isn't waiting until he gives the matching one to whoever his intended recipient is. Still, you pluck one of the bracelets from its secure seat in the box to wind it around his wrist and clasp it in place. Your fingers trace over the chain and his skin for a second before you start to pull back. But Mingyu quickly, though gently, grasps your right hand to tug it closer to him. "Gyu," You murmur with widened eyes when he pulls the remaining chain from the box. "Gyu, I didn't buy it with this intention." You explain rapidly, worried that he thinks that you expect him to give the other to you purely because you had purchased the matching pair.

"I asked for it with this intention." He admits eyes focused on the chain he ties around your wrist. "Why do you think I asked you to get me matching bracelets if not to share with you?"

"I don't know. I've bought you stuff to match with the guys before."

"Mm, true," He agrees and looks up at you though his fingers remain on your wrist tenderly. "But I wanted these for us; something I can wear every day and have a reminder of you, so I can look down and feel better because I'll be thinking of you."

"Gyu…" You breathe out. His words hold a lot more weight than anything the pair of you dare to utter to one another; like he has finally reached out and caught onto that thing between you and now he is offering you the chance to reach back out. But you don't know what to say, how to reach out without risking the weight of his words not being what you hope.

He stares at you for a moment, lip between his teeth as he chews on it a little with nerves filling his chest. He's already said it, there isn't any going back now. So he decides that if he can't go back, he should keep going forward and take that leap that he truly hopes with everything in him will end in your open arms. "You said whatever I want, right?" He recalls. It takes you a second to understand what exactly he means but then you nod. "Well, I have something that I've wanted for a really long time, something only you can give me. But I don't want you to give it to me just because I asked and it's my birthday. Okay?"

"Uh, okay?" You reply, confused yet very hopeful that whatever his request is, it will be enough that if you reach out, your hand will find his own doing the same. "What is it?"

"Will you kiss me?" Your eyebrows lift in surprise as your heart races in your chest. "And not…not just because kissing is nice and you haven't kissed anyone in a while so you're happy to kiss for that reason." You don't even care that he has bluntly mentioned your lack of any kind of action in the past months. "But because you want to kiss me and not because I'm one of your closest friends or just for a sexual thing but because you like me and want me the way that I want you."

Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "And how do you want me?"

"By my side from now until forever as mine, and me as yours entirely."

"Really?" Your voice is choked and there are tears in your eyes from his sincere words.

Mingyu's own eyes look as if they are gathering tears too. Though his aren't wet just because of the rapidly growing cloud of something between you with his hands deep inside as he tries to direct it to your own touch. He's fucking petrified that he is ruining everything between you yet he hadn't been able to stop talking and let his truth flow free. He will never forgive himself if his honesty pushes you away; he'd rather have you as nothing more than a friend than not at all, so long as you're still such a big part of his life.

"Yeah, I-I'm kind of really in love with you," He admits with a weak chuckle. He tries to lighten the mood with a smile but it's much too shaky to do the job.

Luckily though, you don't notice, you're already darting forward to lean over the table and kiss him utterly overwhelmed by his confession and the swell of your heart to have the mentality to voice anything in response. You hope your lips against his will suffice until you have your full faculties back.

For a handful of seconds, Mingyu remains frozen solid in his seat, eyes wide on your own closed ones closer to his face than you have ever been before. He had hoped you'd react positively, but he hadn't dared to expect it. The hope itself had seemed like a dream. So it takes him a few seconds to fully register that you have just fucking kissed him despite all he said. You two have such a solid mutual respect for one another that he knows that you will never play with his emotions in any way. It's that mental reminder that has him jerking back to reality. His hands fly up to cup your face as his eyes close and he finally kisses you back with a soft groan.

Considering that the kiss had been rather one-sided for its start, it isn't a sweet kiss by any means. It's passionate from the first second that his lips press back against yours; both of you are full of so much emotion for one another for so long that it's being released all at once.

You hadn't intended to get carried away in the way Mingyu's tongue caresses your own or how he regularly lets out little low sounds from the back of his throat to show how pleased he is by the way that your mouths move with this same pure need for one another, but you do.

Only when you find yourself on his lap, table edge pressing into your lower back and his erection grinding up between your spread legs, do you actually recall that you hadn't meant to do more than just kiss the man until you gain your mental clarity back. Not that you do gain your mental clarity back but you've both pulled apart to desperately refill your lungs even without stopping your hips moving against each other.

"Gyu," You manage, holding his face firmly and looking into his heavy gaze. He licks his lips but doesn't respond verbally. He's at least staring at you intently enough that you know he will hear you even over the lust thick in his veins. "I'm in love with you too."

All at once, Mingyu falls still and blinks at you in dumb surprise. He hadn't expected you to say as much; even if you do feel the same way, he thought your return confession would come later. You know, after he's fucked you until you can't walk without thinking of his cock every single step. "You are?" He asks, not because he thinks you'd lie, but just because his blood is not circulating around his brain enough for him to have the ability to decipher if it's just a horny hallucination fuelled by his own love for you.

"Yeah, have been for a while."

"Oh." Another few empty blinks at you before he beams and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. "I love you so so so so so much, sweetheart. You'll be mine, right?" He leans back to look at you with big eyes full of love and a hint of pleading.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." You agree, beaming right back at him with your arms around his neck. "For as long as you want me."

"How does forever sound?" Mingyu offers with a cheeky smile.

You take a moment to just admire him, admire the man who owns your entire heart and soul. "I'm not sure it's long enough." You will happily dedicate an eternity to loving Kim Mingyu but even then, you aren't sure that it's long enough in comparison to the devotion he deserves.

"But it's a start."

"It's a start." You agree with a single nod. He smiles adoringly at you then lifts one hand from around you to cup your cheek tenderly and leads you into a kiss. This one isn't like the other, there's no lust in this, even if it still burns in your very blood and clearly in his too based on the bulge still pressing against you. All the kiss contains is pure unfiltered love, and you hope to have many more like it in your future together. And you're positive that it is going to be a long and happy future.

The longer the kiss goes on, the more the lust trickles back in. Soon enough, you're grinding against each other looking for friction and to feel one another closer.

"Baby," Mingyu pants out, gripping your hips tight to force you to a stop. You pout at him confused and rather offended. "There's something else I want. For my birthday."

"If it's to fuck me, you have my very enthusiastic consent." You reply immediately and try to move back in to reunite your lips but he holds you still making you whine. "Gyu,"

"No, it's not. Well, I mean I do want to fuck you, a lot but that's not what's on my mind right now." You pointedly look down at the borderline obscene bulge in his jeans then back up at him. He giggles a little, kind of shy and very out of place but so fucking cute that you can't help but smile in return.

"Okay, what do you want, birthday boy?" You coo, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"To eat you out." You raise an eyebrow at him. You thought he'd ask for a blow job if anything, not for him to go down on you. Not that you're against that at all. "Can I?"

"Mm, sure, baby, whatever you want." You agree. He grins then abruptly hoists you up onto the table making you yelp in alarm at being manhandled out of the blue. Once again, not that you're against that at all.

"I've wanted to get my mouth on you for so long," He admits breathlessly as he watches his hands smooth up your spread thighs in front of him. "Thought about how you'd taste, dreamed about it." He slowly pushes the skirt of your dress up and up and up until it's bunched at the crease between your thighs and hips.

You watch him stare at the seat of your panties for a moment, his fingers pressing into your thighs and mouth open. "For someone who's wanted this for so long, you're taking your time getting to it, baby." You tease, tapping his chin causing him to snap his mouth shut embarrassedly while flicking his eyes up to you.

"Shut up, I'm overwhelmed," He mumbles, tilting his head towards your hand so that you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his lips so he presses a kiss to it without thought.

"Overwhelmed in a good way?"

"The best way," Mingyu confirms, nodding in your hold. "I just found out that you love me and now I get to touch and taste you. It's a lot, I'm not sure I've even absorbed that you love me yet."

"Will it help if I say it again?" You tease, leaning down towards his face. He straightens as you lower as if drawn to you without him even needing to consciously move his body. You have only just come together but already, it's so natural to you both.

"Only one way to find out."

Instead of saying the words, you press your lips to his. You kiss him softly, slowly in a way that makes his breath hitch and his fingers tremble a little against your skin. With just a hint of sweetness. "I love you, Mingyu, more than I can put into words."

"I can't either." He agrees and brushes his nose against yours softly before pressing a flutter of a kiss to your cheek, and then another a little lower. "I'm not good with words," Another kiss below the last. "I never have been," He continues to speak in between creating a trail of his lips over your jaw and down onto your neck, trying his utmost to carve a path of his love into your skin in hopes of it reaching your very centre and finding a home there. "And I'll spend my whole fucking life trying to find them for you." His lips are at your collarbones by now with little flashes of his tongue to taste every inch of you he can. It sends your stomach both fluttering and burning. "But for now, let me try and show you instead." He pulls his mouth from you to stand up and hover over you with both of his hands finding your face to direct your gaze up into his own.

You nod a little in agreement. "Show me, Gyu." You encourage on a whisper before his lips are back on yours, tongue sliding into your mouth as he encourages you to lay back against the tabletop without once breaking the kiss.

And then in true Mingyu fashion, once you are flat against the wood and he reaches up to prop himself up over you, he knocks over the vase of flowers.

He shrieks and flails to try and catch them but the vase topples over, spilling water out over the wood and thanks to his failed correction, in your direction. You just stare dumbly at him. It all happened so fast. One second you're making out with your boyfriend and the next, you're soaked and not in the ideal area. Luckily, it actually isn't an awful lot of water but having it over half of your face and chest really is not enjoyable in any way.

"Ohmygod, I am so sorry, baby," Mingyu rushes out when he looks at you instead of the mess of stems and petals over the table amongst the water. "I didn't mean to get you wet!" You raise an eyebrow with a suggestive grin. Instantly, his worry goes and he laughs. "This is the wrong kind of wet." He muses and plonks the vase down so that he can wrap his arms around you and pull you upright against his chest. "Will you be upset if I ignore the flowers you bought me to take you to bed and make you wet in the other way?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"I think I'd be more upset if you focused on the flowers."

"Good." Mingyu lowers just enough to get your thighs up around his waist and his hands under them securely before lifting. "Always wanted to pick you up." He admits off-handedly as he traipses through the apartment.

"Why?"

"Because…you let Seungcheol do it that time but no one else." He pouts and you giggle, absently playing with the hair at his nape where your fingers lay comfortably. "Don't laugh at me." He whines. The slap of his palm against the underside of your thigh isn't hard and doesn't hurt at all but the point gets through. Even if it is entirely contradictory behaviour to his sulking.

"Yes sir," You reply, a tease but your voice is serious. The only sign of the playful response is in the way your eyes sparkle on him. He gives you an unimpressed look but quickly breaks and smiles. Though seconds later, the smile turns into a smirk and he tosses you onto his bed.

"You look good in my bed." He grins, eyes darkening as they roam you from where he stands at the side of the bed with his hands on his hips.

"Look better with you on top of me, come on." You settle with your head on the soft pillows and spread your legs invitingly while pulling your skirt up higher. Mingyu is between your thighs in seconds, chest flat to the mattress and face alarmingly close for the speed at which he moves. For a second, you really think that he's going to collide with you; although you have wanted Mingyu's mouth on for a long time, that would certainly not be how you fantasised. "Ohmygod, I thought you were going to faceplant my vagina for a second." You admit in a relieved exhale. He snorts a laugh then shuffles a little closer so that he can press a kiss at the crease of your inner right thigh over the edge of your panties.

There aren't any further words exchanged between you, just a moment of heated eye contact before Mingyu adjusts his position and pulls the seat of your panties to expose you to him. He takes a few seconds to burn this image of you all slick and bare for him in his mind; something for him to look back on when he misses you.

Because he knows he will. He missed you before he even had you and now? Good luck ever going a day without him whining for you in some way.

You let him look even if it makes you blush and squirm a little, half shy, half aroused at the intensity of his burning gaze locked between your spread thighs. He isn't even holding your legs open, just resting his left hand on your inner thigh without any pressure while his right keeps your panties aside. If he was anyone else, your thighs would've closed already but this is Mingyu, the man you hope to spend a lifetime with, so you figure you shouldn't be shy with him. He'll see it all eventually anyway.

Just before you can change your mind and try to encourage him either verbally or by reaching out and pulling him in, he leans down and licks a broad stripe over you, pulling your wetness onto his tongue and making you inhale sharply at the sudden wet touch. He groans deeply and his eyes almost roll back as he sucks the flavour off of you from his own tongue to swallow down. And then he's back, diving right down with his left hand moving to use his thumb to hold you open and give him easier access to lap at the arousal trickling from your hole.

He doesn't really give you any chance to think, just grip the sheets below you with your mouth open and eyes shut while he devours you with more enthusiasm than you could've ever expected. If you didn't think it before, you certainly do now; Kim Mingyu is the personification of your wettest dreams. The way his tongue travels over your folds hungrily, lips joining to suck and kiss wherever his heart desires, is so fucking sinful in the best of ways. You think he may very well suck your soul out of your clit at this rate and you'll thank him for it.

"Gyu," You finally manage to make a sound beside the whimpers and moans he skillfully pulls from your throat in a way nobody could, not even yourself and you truly thought you knew your body through and through by this point. But boy were you wrong. And for the first time, you're very fucking happy to be proven incorrect.

And apparently, calling his name out of the blue is not a smart move because he immediately leans up to look at you with wide eyes of concern. "Yeah, baby? You okay?"

"Don't fucking stop!" You wail in complaint, reaching out to knot your fingers into his hair and force him back down. Though he's more than willing to get his mouth back on your dripping pussy and lowers easily under your hands with a pleased groan. "Don't stop," You repeat on an exhale, watching him devour you as if it's his sole reason for existing. You wish you could watch him for longer but your neck quickly starts to hurt from the awkward angle so you flop back down and let your eyes close again.

Mingyu glances up at you for a second then also closes his own eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. He has imagined this so many times before; how you'd taste on his tongue, how you'd feel against his lips, but nothing he imagined can hold a candle to the haven he's discovered between your thighs. He knows he could happily spend all day with his head between your thighs and his tongue buried in your pussy. He wonders if you'd let him. Not right now, he thinks that would be too much for your first day together but in the future. Tomorrow? Yeah, he'll ask to do it tomorrow, you can both call in sick to work as far as he's concerned.

Honestly, Mingyu is too lost in his own actions to register the way your legs are pulling in either side of his head and your moans changing in pitch and frequency. He only notices when suddenly he has a thigh pressed to either side of his head and you're pressing down against him with a call of his name. His eyes fly open to watch you arch off of the bed as your orgasm shocks through your body. He doesn't mean to groan lowly where his lips are wrapped around your clit but he does and the vibration is too much when you're barely through your climax so you scramble to push his head away. "Sorry, sorry," He pants out, crawling up the bed to hover over you while you slump down, eyes closed and chest heaving. He lowers onto his elbows on either side of you to kiss your neck softly while he waits for you to catch your breath back. He isn't expecting anything more than this and would be happy if you wanted to just leave it here for today, but he's sure as shit hoping you'll let him put his cock in you even for a moment. At this point, he's sure it won't take more than just a moment or two for him to cum anyway, his dick is throbbing in his boxers, pressing against his jeans in a way that he's only now realising is actually a little painful.

The second your breath is back, you tug him up to lock your lips together. His are a little damp and sticky still but you find you don't mind tasting yourself when it's on Mingyu's tongue.

You don't wait long at all before reaching down for the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up. He leans back to give you a questioning look, more to make sure you're certain than anything else. You continue to pull it up so he maneuvers to allow you to remove it from his body.

"You're insane, you know?" You murmur out awed as you take in his defined torso. For the first time, you can touch him to your heart's content so you run your palms over his newly exposed skin, memorising the warmth, the dips and ridges of him.

"What?" He laughs confusedly, looking between your bodies and taking in how your hands look against him, how your skin tone compliments his own perfectly. Like you were made to complement each other. For each other. As he looks up at you and observes the reverence on your beautiful features, he thinks perhaps you were. It's that thought that has him lowering back to your lips again before you can even answer his question. He has the sudden urge to love you in every way he possibly can; not that he never does, but right now it's less of the usual consistent buzz and more like a heated thrumming right under the surface of his skin.

You let out a little surprised 'mmh' against his lips yet don't hesitate to kiss him back. Your hands first lift to hold his face but then they move back down, over his pecs and abs all the way to the waistband of his jeans where you tuck your fingers underneath in a silent request. He groans a little and presses against your hand in wordless consent so you quickly open the button and pull down the zipper so that you can snake a hand underneath and palm at him over his boxers.

Mingyu immediately pulls out of the kiss with a hiss and a low curse. "Baby, I'll cum if you touch me." He warns, locking pleading eyes on you. You can't quite tell what he's pleading for though. Not when his words say one thing and his hips rolling against your palm tells you another.

"Isn't that kind of the point?" You muse, lifting a teasing eyebrow.

"I don't want to," He pouts. Without hesitation, you pull your hands away and hold them to yourself. "No, I didn't mean to stop." He whines.

"What the fuck, Mingyu?" You complain, pinching his nipple making him yelp and squirm away a little but only for a second as he returns right back. Always drawn to you and unable to hide it anymore, he doesn't want to hide it anymore. Wants the world to know if at all possible.

"I mean I don't want to cum like that." He explains, soothing your displeasure with a few sweet kisses to your forehead and temple. "I really want to be inside you."

"Oh," Your expression swiftly shifts into understanding and then delight. "I really want you inside me too, Gyu."

"Yeah?" It's kind of comical the way his eyes light up in pure excitement. More like he has been offered his favourite food, not to fuck you. Well, considering the enthusiasm with which he ate you out earlier though, you may very well be his new favourite thing to eat.

"Yeah, so get naked." You confirm with a giggle that only grows when he scrambles off of the bed to shed his clothes. He stumbles multiple times in his haste and honestly, you're too fucking endeared and in love with this giant clumsy idiot to do anything but sit and watch him with a stupid grin on your face.

He only notices that you have not done anything but sit upright when he turns to climb back on the bed entirely naked and spots you watching him. "You're not naked." He comments, a fresh pout pursing his lips.

"I got distracted watching the man I'm in love with," You explain smoothly. Mingyu's cheek flushes as he smiles at your words, his heart swelling with his own love in his chest. He's not sure he'll ever get used to hearing you admit to your love for him. He doesn't think he wants to get used to it.

He climbs up onto the bed further and reaches out to the hem of your skirt. You get up onto your knees in front of him and lift your arms. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before removing the dress from your body to toss it to the floor carelessly. Later he will worry about the creases in it from being on the floor, but right now he can't think about anything but you.

"You're so beautiful." He exhales heavily as he roams his gaze over your bra and panty-clad body. You're glad you wore one of your nice matching sets today, you think he deserves to see your nice lingerie for your first time together at least.

"So're you." You reach around your back to unlatch your bra. Mingyu's eyes widen in interest for a second then he moves in and pulls the straps from your shoulders so that he can also discard that piece of clothing, leaving you in your damp, slightly stretched-out panties. "How do you want me?" You ask as you hook your thumbs in the waistband, but Mingyu bats your hands away gently so that he can have the honour of stripping you naked.

"On your back." He murmurs as he works the material down your thighs.

"Don't want me to ride you?" You offer, his eyes snap up to you and he goes very quiet and still for a few seconds as the mental image of you bouncing on his cock assaults his mind. And then he's shaking it away with a physical shake of his head and nudging you down to your earlier position so that he can remove the last item keeping you from being as bare as him.

"Not right now, I'll cum too fast." He admits, settling between your thighs on his knees and just looking at you with his hands on your inner thighs just above your knees. "Might cum too fast anyway." He confesses in a mumble making you choke out a laugh at his abrupt confession. "Will you break up with me if I cum as soon as I feel your pussy on my cock?" He asks, looking genuinely worried at the thought and like he seriously wants an answer.

So you take a breath so that you don't laugh again and shake your head a little. "No, Gyu, I won't break up with you if that happens."

"Promise?"

"I promise." You assure, squeezing his hands a little. His left moves up to grab yours in return and lace your fingers together on your thigh.

"Okay," He relaxes as he accepts your words as truth then looks down to focus on his right hand as it moves from your thigh and to between your legs. "I should've stretched you earlier when I had my mouth on you." He realises, prodding at your entrance with his lips slightly protruding in concentration and a little regret at his lack of forethought destroying his plans of sliding into your pussy any second.

"Do you want me to do it?" You offer. Two of his fingers slide into you in answer making your breath catch but then you laugh a little at his reaction.

"No, nobody touches this pussy except me." He argues firmly, already working to move his fingers within you, in and out while scissoring them with his only goal to stretch you enough to comfortably fit his thick cock inside.

"I-I can't even t-touch my own body now?" You ask, amused but his fingers in you feel too good for you to actually put any emotion into your voice. You vaguely hope he doesn't take it the wrong way and does understand that you're trying to joke with him, but mostly you don't care how he takes it so long as he keeps stretching you out in that way. It's a rushed job, you know that, you can tell that he obviously only wants one thing right now and this isn't for giving you any pleasure, but it still is. Maybe it's the way he's being a little rough about it without actually being rough, he's giving you the chance to adjust to his fingers but he's already adding a third and jabbing them into you sooner than you would yourself.

"Not like this," Mingyu answers, eyes still on his task between your thighs, though now he's seeing the way you're leaking even more and he's sort of clicking back into the fact that he should consciously be making this good for you. Though the slick sounds mixed with your laboured breathing and intermittent soft moans tell him that he doesn't really need to try to make this good for you. But next time, next time he'll make you cum until the sheets are soaked down to the mattress before he puts his cock in you. "Are you on birth control?" The question feels entirely out of the blue so you can't be blamed for not answering and just blinking at him for a second. He slows his hand to a stop and lifts his head when you don't answer. "I really want to cum in you." He explains.

"Oh, uh, no. I kept forgetting to take it." You answer and feel genuinely bad when his expression falls. He looks kind of heartbroken. "I plan to get something else soon though, so in the future you can."

"Okay," He smiles agreeably then removes his fingers from you to reach over to his bedside table, open it and rummage inside to find a condom.

"You'd have more luck if you let go of my hand." You muse watching him struggle to open the foil packet with one hand, the corner of it carefully held between his front teeth.

"No," He refuses around closed teeth. There's a victorious sound from him when the foil rips open. He spits out the ripped piece of the packet to the side and you watch the corner flutter away knowing he will be annoyed at himself for littering his floor later. "Uhm," His lost mutter draws your attention back to him. He's kneeling there, the tip of the condom pinched between his fingers as he stares between it and his erection. Clearly, he did not think this through.

You huff a soft almost silent laugh before you sit up and move his hand to his dick so that he can hold the condom and allow you to roll it down his length. He bites his lip and tries to not let your touch get to him.

"Teamwork," Mingyu giggles when you lean back and look up at him. "We make a good team, right, baby?"

"Mm, the best," You confirm, tugging him down by the back of his neck to connect your lips. Mingyu's free hand brushes appreciately over your arm before he starts to lean forward, urging you back slowly until you're against the mattress and he's over you with his right arm holding him up, his left hand still locked with yours but now it's by your side.

You can feel his erection against you, the latex sliding against your thigh until you lift your legs to nudge him over a little by his hips. He presses down, gliding his cock over your folds and catching on your clit. He can't really get the position right like this though, not to slide into you. Mingyu lifts your connected hands up to the pillow beside your head so that he can move his weight over to his left elbow and get his right hand between your bodies. He grasps his erection loosely, just enough of a grip to line himself up with your dripping hole.

"Ready?" He breathes out after leaning up enough to look down into your eyes. You nod without hesitation so he pushes in. He's only an inch into you and he's already convinced that your pussy is the greatest pussy that has ever or shall ever exist.

As Mingyu gradually feeds his thick length into you, you have the honour of watching his face contort beautifully in pained pleasure. He's trembling and his gaze is unfocused even as he stares back down at you with his mouth dropped open wide without a single sound coming out. You're not even sure he's breathing, and honestly, you're not sure you are either.

The stretch of his cock against your walls is utterly mind-numbing. You've had your fair share of sexual partners in the past and plenty of sex toys to keep yourself happy otherwise, but nothing, absolutely nothing has ever felt the way Mingyu feels tucked up snug inside of you. You're not sure if it's because his cock is just that good, big in all the right ways without being too big, or if it's just that you're in so fucking deep with this man that anything he does feels ridiculously good. You're leaning towards the latter, though you are pretty certain that he has the most perfect cock to have ever graced this earth, if not the universe.

When Mingyu's hips finally press up against you signalling that he is fully sheathed within you, you're half certain that you can feel him in your stomach and absently press down with your left hand just to test that theory. You can't feel him, but you can imagine it all the same and wrap your arm back around his neck loosely.

"You okay?" You whisper when he remains that way, eyes still unfocused on your face and both hands on either side of your head where his right is gripping the pillow with everything in him.

"No," He chokes out, finally blinking alert. "Feel so good," He slurs. "Don't wanna cum yet, wanna stay in you forever."

"You don't have to pull out right away." You soothe your hand over the back of his neck, fingers digging into the muscles a little in an attempt to calm your overwhelmed boyfriend. "And I don't have any plans today so we can spend as long as you want in bed and you can fuck me again later when you're ready."

"Really?" He perks up a little. "N-no plans?"

"No, baby, I wanted to be available for whatever you want to do today. Granted, I thought it might be a drive or trip somewhere, not sex."

"Would you rather the trip?" He teases with a little smirk as he slowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock along your walls that try to keep him in place. His smirk wavers.

"No. Fuck me." You reply knowing he really can't hold out anymore. You really don't want him to either. He nods and thrusts back into you.

You expect him to move fast and frantic, to chase the pleasure he has been dancing along the precipice of for a while now. Yet Mingyu fucks you slowly, rolling his hips deep into you and then all the way out until his tip is barely in you before sliding back in. He fucks you like he's got something to prove. It reminds you of his earlier words, that he wants to show you what he doesn't yet have the words to say.

"I love you," You blurt, suddenly overcome with the urge to say it.

Mingyu stills for a second then surges down to kiss you passionately, spilling his response into your mouth wordlessly as his hips return to work. Now though, he barely pulls out before fucking back into you. It's more of a grind than anything, his body pressed close enough that his pubic bone is applying pressure to your clit in a way that is shattering you from your mind to your lower stomach.

Very quickly, the pleasure is too much for either of you to make your lips work further so Mingyu leans up, propping himself up on his right elbow on the pillow, his fingers threading into your hair to hold you as his body continues to make your body burn brighter with every passing second. His forehead presses to yours for a few seconds before he lifts his head and looks to his left. You look over too, wondering what could draw his attention right now when he's fucking you like no one ever has before.

At first, you don't understand at all, all you can see in his line of sight is your hands. Which is nice, sure, the sight of your fingers locked together as he shows you how much he loves you with his cock buried deep within you and grinding against more sensitive spots than you ever knew you had before, though you don't understand his laser focus. But then you find the matching silver chains on your wrists, the hearts almost pressed together with the angle you were holding each other and you understand.

Those bracelets were always supposed to be a sign of love for him, even if you didn't know it. He had asked you to pick out bracelets for you to wear together so that he could always have a piece of you with him and you a piece of him. You had exchanged hearts, metaphorically and quite literally now with the physical representations tied securely around your wrists.

Something about that very thought sends you tumbling into an intense orgasm without you realising it's going to happen until the blinding pleasure is washing over you. Your hands both grip Mingyu, one in his hand and the other around his back and drawing red lines into his shoulder blade. You're not even aware of it, of how you call his name and clamp down around his cock as you gush over it, promptly sending him spiralling into his own mind-numbing orgasm.

It's minutes before either of you return back to earth.

You're back first, blinking away the tears that you hadn't realised had formed until now. Mingyu is pressing up against your chest with his head on your shoulder and the only movement of his body is his back as his breathing starts to even out. It hits you that you missed his orgasm; you had always wanted to know what he looks like during such intense pleasure, but you missed it thanks to your own. You frown a little though a quick glance at your still connected hands reminds you that you are his and he is yours, therefore, this will not be your only chance to see his handsome features contort with pleasure.

"I love you but I also love breathing." You point out after a few minutes of tracing patterns on his back with your left hand. At first, his weight on you hadn't been too much but it seems that your gentle trails on his sweat-sticky skin have made him relax a little too much and let his muscle-thick frame lay heavier on you.

"Mmm, can we still cuddle?" He requests, making no attempt to get up though he does do his best to lean more onto his right elbow again even without lifting up from your shoulder.

"Of course." Though he still doesn't get off of you. "Are you going to move, Gyu?"

"But then I won't be in you," You can hear the pout in his slightly muffled voice, even if you can't see it. "You're all warm, s'nice."

"So you'd rather cockwarm than let me breathe easily?"

He hesitates then giggles when you tug on his ear with an offended gasp. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" He leans up entirely onto his elbow, freeing your torso from him. "I will always pick your health."

"I should hope so." He scrunches his nose at you playfully. You return it without hesitation.

Although he hadn't wanted to get up initially, Mingyu goes to the effort once off of you to go all the way to the bathroom, once he has disposed of the soiled condom, where he fetches a warm damp cloth and a dry towel to clean you up first, then himself. You expect him to return to your side but he saunters off again, allowing you to once again marvel at his exposed ass as he walks away, and returns with a couple of water bottles and an armful of snacks.

The water makes sense, you think, but the mass of snack packets is a little questioning so you raise an eyebrow at him while you shuffle to sit up against the headboard and accept one of the bottles. "What?" He innocently replies, putting the other bottle down on the side table to free his hand and allow him to set up the various snacks there too. "You said we can spend as long as I want in bed, I just want to be prepared, sweetheart."

And well, you can't really argue with that, nor his cheeky endearing smile so you just laugh softly and hand over the open bottle to let him swallow down some of the cool liquid himself before he climbs up onto the bed and wraps his arms around your body to hold you in the way you had both wanted for so long.

Later, when you both have your energy back and Mingyu is no longer constantly on the verge of cumming too soon, he presses you back down against his bed all over again so that he can see every expression on your face as he takes you apart piece by piece just to see how you work at your very core. He learns all of your curves and edges so attentively and allows you to learn his in return.

By the time you're once again laid side by side much later, tucked up in each other's arms tired yet sated, you're certain that somewhere along the way, your pieces got mixed up and Mingyu found himself a permanent home in your chest. He had taken a piece of you for his own and given you a matching piece of him in return.

You can't see it, but it feels an awful lot like his heart. Silently, with nothing more than a soft kiss on his shoulder, you vow to him that you will spend your life protecting it with everything in you. And you're confident that he will do the same with yours as his lips press to your head in return.

🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈

A/N- don't forget to reblog if you enjoyed the story; it involved multiple moments where I almost quit so the show of support would mean a lot and motivate me to write more! & let me know what you think, that'd be grand too pls. I literally haven't written smut in years tho so be gentle on me I am babie <3

Happy birthday to the biggest babyboy 💋💖

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 2: The Neglect

The drive to the airport only made you feel more nervous about living here; you’ve only ever known Goodsprings, a town so small you could see everything in less than an hour, and now here’s a giant city that makes you feel like an ant. Even Vegas seems small to Gotham. And if their size wasn’t bad enough, the buildings’ weird stone creatures looked like they were waiting to fly off and scoop you up.

Luckily, your Daddy’s house is outside the city, surrounded by a wall with large fields behind them. It made you feel a little better that you wouldn’t be surrounded by so many people all the time.

“And here we are, Master Y/N,” Mr. Pennyworth says as he pulls up in front of the massive mansion.

You get out and start to feel even more nervous. This isn’t a house, it’s a castle! Like the ones Momma showed you when she was researching stuff for her books. You’d probably need a map just to find the bathroom!

But, Mr. Pennyworth climbs up the stairs to the front door and you don’t want to make him mad, so you follow behind him. He opens the door and you’re inside a massive room with a giant grand staircase with a long red rug leading up to a second level that you can see leads to other places in the mansion.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Master Y/N. If you’ll follow me to your room, please.”

He leads you to the second level and down a few hallways to a room on the other side of the mansion. As you walk, you can’t help but think that all of Goodsprings could live here and there still be lots of room left.

“I apologize for the walk, but as Master Wayne and I have been the only two long term residents of the manor, the rooms meant for the family have not been in a suitable state for quite some time. And since it’s been some time since we’ve had guests stay over, the usual guest rooms have been repurposed for storage. I’m working on having one of the family bedrooms ready for you as soon as possible so you’ll be close to your father.”

“It’s alright,” you say, your voice almost a whisper. You really didn’t expect the butler to be so nice to you. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He frowns a bit, but says nothing before opening the door to reveal a room smaller than your one back home. A bed sits in the far corner of the room with a dresser directly in front of it, a big tv sitting on top of it. There’s a door to the right where you enter the room.

“That door leads to your bathroom, Master Y/N. We have some time before the movers come with your belongings. Would you like to see the rest of the manor?”

“No, thank you. I think I wanna sleep after we put everything up.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. If you want, I can handle collecting the boxes while you rest. I can leave them outside your door for you to deal with later.”

“I can help, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He seems a little surprised that you insisted on helping, but he says nothing before leading you back outside where a delivery truck stops behind the car. Since all you had was a few cardboard boxes that had nothing but clothes, toys, stuffed animals, books, and decorations, it didn’t take long to bring it all to your room and set everything up. As you look at your new room with all your stuff in it, you can’t help but feel like none of it belongs here.

That you don’t belong here.

“Do you need anything else, Master Y/N? Perhaps something to eat?”

“No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I just wanna sleep.”

“Very good. But just know, when you wake up, you will be eating something.”

You just nod and close the door, turning off the lights before crawling into bed. As you get settled, you can’t help but notice how cold the house feels. Yeah, you’re not in Nevada anymore, where it can go over a hundred degrees in the summer, but it’s like the house blocks any kind of heat, leaving only the cold. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You wake up, dreaming of your Momma yelling for you and being in a car when something slams into you, and when you look around your room, you’re greeted by absolute darkness. As if the sun had completely disappeared. You jump out of bed and rush to the light switch, slapping it. When the lights come on, you realize that the lightbulb above you is dim and without the sun, it barely lights up your room. Wanting to be where it’s bright, you run out of your room and down the hall only to find the rest of the house is just as dim as your room, almost like no one in this house likes the light. Your little legs carry you down the same route you took earlier today and fortunately, the foyer is completely lit up by a giant crystal chandelier.

You run down the stairs and into another hall near the staircase. You pass by large room after large room and finally find yourself in a fancy kitchen, Mr. Pennyworth standing in front of a giant refrigerator.

“Master Y/N,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Yes sir,” you say, not wanting to worry the man.

“But you’re out of breath. And you’re sweating.”

It’s then you notice that your forehead is slick with sweat and your chest is heaving. When you look up at the butler, you can tell he’s obviously worried about you.

“I got scared,” you admit. “I woke up and it was so dark.”

“I would imagine since it’s nighttime.” You jump a little at that. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours. I would’ve waken you up, but you looked like you needed the rest.”

“I haven’t slept so good since Momma…” You can’t bring yourself to say it. “Left.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, my boy.” He walks over to you and bends down to your height. “I could tell that you and your Mother were close and losing her so sudden is something no one so young should go through. I know that she can never be replaced, but I promise you that Master Bruce and I will be here for you and will help you with whatever you need.”

You feel the empty feeling that’s been with you since Momma died shrink just a little bit. Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought.

“Alfred,” a deep voice lungs from behind you. You both look back to see a tall man with black hair and blue eyes standing in the hall. “I’m about to head out.”

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Pennyworth says, standing up. “This is Master Y/N. He’s awoke from his nap just a moment ago.”

You feel your heart stop at the man’s name. This is your Daddy? A million different questions swirled around in your head, like what was he like, what’s his favorite thing to do, did he remember your Momma?

He looks down at you. “Oh,” he says, a blank look on his face. “Hello.” With that, he turns around and begins walking down the hall. “I’ll be in touch, Alfred. From the sound of it, it’s gonna be a busy night.”

You feel your heart split in two at the way he just completely ignored you. Did you do something wrong? But you didn’t even say anything!How can he be bad at you if you haven’t said anything? You do your best to not cry as you look up at Mr. Pennyworth, who’s very angry.

“I’m sorry, Master Y/N. I know he’s throwing himself into his work to deal with Master Jason’s death, but that behavior is absolutely unacceptable. I’ll make sure he apologizes for that in the morning.”

Unfortunately, your Daddy didn’t say he was sorry when you woke up that morning. In fact, he wasn’t there when Mr. Pennyworth brought you down for breakfast, his work said there was someone important at one of his offices outside the country, so he hopped in his plane long before you woke up.

You were hurt, but Mr. Pennyworth said that he’d make sure that when things calmed down, you and your Daddy would have a long talk. You could do nothing but nod, trying not to cry because all you wanted was your Momma to walk through the door and take you back home. You got even more lonely when you started your new school, Gotham Academy, which is where all of Gotham’s rich people send their kids; Goodsprings Elementary wasn’t even half the size of this school and to make things worse, you had no friends here. That’s not to say that people didn’t want to talk to you, somehow news got out that you, the love child between Bruce Wayne and some unknown woman, were attending Gotham Academy, older and younger students shared your the moment you walked through the door. Hearing them ask you about your Momma only made you miss her more, so you stayed quiet.

They found something new to latch on to later in the week when your Daddy adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose parents were just as well known as him; his parents were killed in a plane crash and Daddy took him in. When they found out that the famous Tim Drake was now the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you were forgotten about. They asked him what Wayne Manor was like, how’d he feel to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, and other questions you didn’t really understand.

You were excited about Tim joining the family, though; you often wonder what having a brother would be like and you two were very close in age. It would be nice to have someone other than Mr. Pennyworth to talk to. Maybe the two of you could play Pokémon together!

You walked up to him the day Mr. Pennyworth told you that he’d be living at the manor with you, excited to get to know your newest family member, but that excitement quickly died when he took one look at you and walked away, like you weren’t interesting to him. You tried over and over to get him to like you, to get him to play with you, to at least look at you, but he just pushed you away (very harshly). And if things weren’t bad enough, he and Daddy spent every night together, locked away in the library.

It wasn’t fair! You were here first and had yet to talk to him, but Tim gets to spend time with him! And every time you tried to join, they just pushed you away, like you were some kind of fly buzzing around them. When that door closed, you wouldn’t see them until the next morning, so they were probably watching movies in there or something just as fun. You lived with three other people and you somehow felt more alone than ever since Momma died.

You met Dick a year later, around the anniversary of Momma’s death. At first, you were excited because Mr. Pennyworth said he was very friendly and had grown up in a circus before being adopted by Daddy, so he could do all sorts of tricks. Maybe you’d finally have a friend who wasn’t the butler.

Unfortunately, this ended in disappointment, too. Sure, it started off nice, he greeted you warmly (at least more warmly than your Daddy or Tim had) and ruffled your hair. You were so happy, you thought you’d explode. Finally, you had someone that you can spend time with.

“Dick,” your daddy said in his usual tone less voice.

“Sorry, baby bird, gotta go! We’ll hang out soon, though, promise!”

“Soon” never came though. He came over a few times during the day to spend time with Tim, either helping him with homework or taking him to Bat Burger, but never you. He always said that he promised to hang out with Tim and he’d do the same with you, but after the fifth time it happened, you stopped trying. He also spend time with Tim and your Daddy in the library at night, none of them coming out for the rest of the night.

Barbara came into your life little bit after Dick. When you saw her rolling in her wheelchair, you felt bad and offered to push her around. She snapped at you, saying she was fine and didn’t need your help. That was the first, last, and only time you talked to her. When you saw her spending time with your “family” in the library, you weren’t even hurt because you had grown used to it.

Cassandra and Stephanie came in around the same time when you nine. Stephanie was a burst of energy and it actually surprised you; Wayne Manor seemed to cancel out all noise and forced anyone inside it to be silent (at least that how it was for you) and she seemed to be happy to meet you. That lasted all of a week, though, and she quickly lost interest like a puppy that had grown up and was no longer cute to its owners.

Cassandra looked at you once, like he was trying to solve some mystery, and that was it. Alfred told you that she was mute and you did your best to learn ASL to better communicate with her. You picked up some of the basics, but not enough to carry on an actual conversation, so you opted to carry a little notepad with you so she could write things down, but when she kept ignoring you in favor of interacting with the rest of the family, you got the message. And when she and Stephanie spent time with your “family” in the library night after night, you stopped referring to Bruce as your Daddy. It was clear he didn’t want the title.

You had Alfred, anyway. Spending nights baking, helping him with his chores, and talking about your day over tea was enough for you.

Jason came back (from the dead) when you were ten. You met him when you caught him trying to sneak into the mansion through a window instead of coming through the door like a normal person (then again, you’ve long since realized that no one in this place is normal. Except Alfred.). Your meeting ended when he gave you a black eye and told you to stay away from him when all you did was say hi. You cried the entire night because you had school pictures the next day. It was a while before Jason started making regular appearances, but when he did, you weren’t surprised to see him spending nights in the library. When he glared at you, his blue eyes turning green, you asked Alfred to let you eat in your room and the man agreed to bring your meals to you.

When you were fifteen, the last one of join the Wayne Family was your biological brother, Damian. And the day you two met, you became convinced he only existed to make your pathetic life a living hell because the moment Alfred introduced you to him, he pulled an actual sword on you, giving you a small scar on your left cheek. You could do nothing but fall on your ass and look up in horror as this ten-year-old boy from hell raised his sword, spouting some nonsense about him being the “true blood son,” that you were “nothing more than the son of a harlot,” and how he will “be the one to inherit his father’s legacy.” For a moment, you thought you were about to be killed by the little bastard when Bruce appeared from out of nowhere and carried him off, Damian shouting threats and insults at you the entire time.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” Dick said as he helped you up. “Are you ok?”

“What do you think,” you shouted at him. “That monster just sliced my face with a sword and tried to kill me!”

“Hey, don’t call him a monster,” he responded, give you a look of disappointment. “He had a difficult upbringing and he’s having to get used to Gotham and living with us. You should try to be a good big brother and support him.”

For a moment, you thought you suffered from a stroke and had misheard him, but the look on his face said you heard him correctly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? He tries to kill me and I’m suppose to just let it go?”

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Y/N.”

You deemed the “conversation” a lost cause and leave, Dick calling out to you before going to the wing that holds the master bedrooms. Fortunately, Bruce kept bringing in other people to be a part of this demented family, so you were stuck with the tiny guest room that didn’t even have a window. But, it was far away from them, so it was a good trade.

After that, it seemed like Damian made it his mission in life to make your life hell. You couldn’t pass by him without him insulting you, hurting you, or bringing up your Momma, which would lead to you crying your eyes out. And when he started collecting pets, he would send them after you, Titus and Alfred the Cat chasing you throughout the manor, forcing you to barricade yourself in your room.

That leads to today: you accidentally dropped your Momma’s pen while walking to the kitchen and unfortunately, Damian was around the corner, watching the entire thing. He was able to move faster than your eyes could follow and before you knew it, he had swooped down and grabbed it just as you were about to. You look up in horror as he stares down at you with his usual smug and condescending expression as he waves the pen around, clearly mocking you.

“Your reflexes are slow and pathetic, inferior. You’re a massive disappointment to the Wayne bloodline.” He stares at the pen with disgust. “While this pen is poorly made and lacks any craftsmanship, it’s still more than a failure like you deserves.”

You stand up to your full height, trying to ignore the burning desire to tackle the little brat and bash his stupid head in. “Give that back to me. Now.” You realize you’re practically grinding your teeth to powder.

“I don’t take orders from you, inferior,” he bites back, his green eyes glaring at you. “You’re far beneath me. I come from two perfect bloodlines and that makes me superior to you by rite of birth. Your whore of a mother somehow managed to slither her way into my father’s bed and bring you into the world. You might have Wayne blood, but your tainted blood dilutes it.” He gets in your personal space nod even when looking up at you, he still tries to assert whatever dominance he thinks he has. “We will never be equals.”

You use this opportunity to grab the arm holding your Momma’s pen. As expected, he does not take kindly to this.

“You dare lay your hands on me,” he screeches, wrenching his hand away.

You don’t know how, but the little shit has impressive strength. Sure, you’re not an athlete (you’ve stayed roughly the same height since you hit puberty and can’t build muscle mass to save your life), but he shouldn’t have this kind of upper body strength! But, you’re determined to reclaim the pen, so you grab his hand with your other one and start pulling with all your might, doing whatever you can to break his grasp of it.

“Let go of me, you filthy interloper!” With a big tug, he breaks your grip and you can only look on in terror as he walks over to the kitchen window. “If you want this pen so much, you can look for it out there!” In a flash, he opens the nearby kitchen window and hurls your pen outside, where a massive downpour drenches the yard.

You can’t help but look on as it flies far from the mansion and out of your field of vision; on the ground, you see a ripple in the middle of the massive lake of rainwater and mud that the storm has created over the last three days of nonstop rain, indicating that your precious pen is now underwater.

In that moment, you feel nothing but immense sadness at your pen’s loss and unbridled rage at the one who did caused it. Every last thing he’s done to you flood your mind and you feel your face becomes incredibly flushed, your vision goes blood red in rage, and hot, angry tears stream from your eyes; before you know it, you’re right behind him, his back still turned to you from throwing your pen.

“You son of a bitch,” you shout at the top of your lungs, causing him to turn his head as you quickly deliver a swift backhand to his left check, the sound of your hand striking him echoing in the kitchen.

You know he shouts something back, but you’re so filled with rage that his words fail to reach your ears. You know he’ll retaliate and probably get in trouble with Bruce and Dick, but you don’t care. You’re pissed off and want nothing more than to inflict even a small amount of pain onto him, so that he’d feel even an ounce of what he’s made you feel since you two met. Using your height advantage, you grab both his shoulders and with all your rage-enhanced strength, you shove him to the floor, loving the sight of him wincing when he lands on his rear, but instead of looking up at you in fear like you wanted, he has a pissed off look.

Realizing that finding your pen is more important than dealing with him, you sprint to the door, throw it open, and dash into the rain, not caring that your clothes were completely soaked after only a few seconds and the wind froze you to the core. All that matters is finding that pen, the only piece of Momma that you were able to take with you, something so precious to her she refused to go anywhere without it.

Except that day, when she was taken from you and your life fell apart.

You wade through the many puddles, your socks providing no support so you stumble and fall, getting even more wet. But you pick yourself up and keep running until your at the puddle far from the house and that’s when you get on your hands and knees and start waving around hoping to touch even a little bit of the metal. You feel nothing, but you don’t let up, moving around the puddle, not caring that you’re getting more and more soaked with every second and that mud is slathered over your arms and legs.

“Come on,” you shout to yourself, getting more and more upset. “Come on, where are you?”

Finally, you feel something small, metallic, and cylindrical. You latch onto it like a lifeline and pull it up so hard the force of it makes you fall on your back, the puddle covering your entire body. You quickly sit up to see Momma’s pen. Wet and covered in mud, sure, but it’s back where it belongs. Now that the urge to find it is over, your senses quickly catch up and your realize your freezing, shivering, and soaked to the bone.

You run back to the mansion and when you close the door, you see that everyone is in the kitchen, all their eyes on you. You look at Bruce and see him mad, you look at Damian and see a shit-eating grin, and you look at Dick and see disapproval.

“Did you slap Damian when all he did was ask you for a pen,” Bruce asks.

That little shit’s convinced them this is all your fault. Of course, you should’ve known that he’d make you the bad guy and deflect any blame on his part.

“He didn’t ’ask,’ he took—“

“But you did slap him over a pen,” Bruce cuts you off.

“Yes, but—“

“Wow, I’ve done some petty shit, but this beats all,” Jason mocks, acting like this was some show and not you being ganged up on.

“That’s so uncalled for, Y/N,” Dick chides you. “There’s no need for you put your hands on Damian, especially for something so small.”

Your breath hitches and all you want is for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. They say nothing to you and ignore your existence for years and now, the one time they notice and speak to you, it’s to do this?

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjects. “You’re not being fair. I believe that pen—“

“Alfred, it doesn’t matter what’s so special about the damn thing, it’s just a pen.” He holds his hand out to you. “Give it to me. Damian asked for it and after what you just did, he’s going to get it.”

You see Damian’s grin grow and your rage comes back.

“Hell no,” you mutter, slipping it into your pocket. You see everyone’s eyes widen while Bruce’s frown gets more intense at your defiance.

“What did you just say?”

You can tell he’s pissed at you defying him. Oh well, you’ve already dug your grave, what’s adding a few more feet to it gonna do?

“I said hell no!”

“Oh, man,” Jason cackles. “You done fucked up, kid!”

“Go to your room,” Bruce says with clenched teeth. “You’re grounded.”

You quickly leave the room, wanting to put as much room between them and you as possible. As you leave, you hear them talking about you, asking what’s wrong with you, how childish you are, and other stuff you really don’t want to hear right now. When you close your door behind you, the dam breaks and you fall to your knees, letting out a wail and allowing tears to stream from your eyes like a waterfall. The last time you cried this hard was when you were told Momma had died and it’s in this moment you wish you had been in the car with her now more than ever.

A knock at the door brings you back to your harsh and uncaring reality.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred calls from the other side. “May I come in?” You get up and open the door. “Oh, my dear boy.”

You allow him to come in and he closes the door behind him before bringing you into a tight hug, which is when you resume your crying.

“I hate them,” you shout in between sobs. “I hate them all!”

“I know,” he says. “I tried to tell them after you left the room, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Alfred,” you say, pulling yourself together enough to talk coherently. “When I turn eighteen, I’m going back to Goodsprings.”

He pulls away and looks at you. “I understand why you feel that way, but it’s been ten years since you left, Master Y/N. If you go back there, you’ll be alone.”

“I’m alone here, Alfred!” You pull away from him. “Ever since I came here, they’ve made it clear that I’m unwelcome here! That I don’t belong here! At least back home, I’ll be surrounded by memories of Momma.”

“But this has been your home for ten years.”

“This isn’t my home, Alfred. It never was and it never will be.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he pulls you back into another hug. “I understand. I’ll miss you dearly, but if going back will make you happy, I’ll wish you all the best.”

You can do nothing but cry. You’ll miss Alfred, the only good thing to come out of going to live in this godforsaken city and this manor from hell, but when you need to get out of here. The sooner you leave Gotham and get back to Goodsprings, the better you’ll be.

A/N: thank you all so much for the likes and comments on chapter one! I really didn’t think that so many people would like it, but here we are! I hope you all continue to enjoy this series!

Tag list: @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin