#it's always some time after i eat something

[leclerc-hs]

romantic chocolates? - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader summary: in which you and your best friends brother accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolate OR you and oscar get so fucking horny while on a yacht in the Maldives. warnings: smut smut smut, all smut basically. oral, p in v, dirty talk, language, marking kink, slight voyeruism, exhibitionism??, not sure what else...NOT PROOFREAD! (might be some typos) word count: ~3.9k author's note: SURPRISEEEE ITS OUT EARLY (I worked hard over the weekend lol) hope you guys enjoy!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OSCAR EVERRRR (aside from a one shot i've had sitting in my drafts for months lol) comment and let me know what you think!!! xoxo

ln4 cl16 mv1 op81

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You’ve always had a sweet tooth.

Everyone knew it. Oscar especially. He used to tease you over it when you were younger. Would point out when your fingers were sticky with something sugary.

He never said it unkindly. Just amused. Soft. Something like you’ve got chocolate on your face and then passed you a napkin you didn’t ask for.

He’s always been like that. Gentle. Kind. The boy who was never loud. More of a listener than a speaker.

And he never made you feel silly. Not when you cried after falling off your bike and scraped your knee. Not when your towel slipped. Not even when you accidentally spilled juice all over your shirt on a long flight. He just handed you a new one from his backpack like he knew it’d happen. 

You’d grown up like that. 

And now here you were, years later. Sunburned and salty on a private yacht in the Maldives, still with a sweet tooth and one of his old McLaren shirts he gave you when he first got signed. Pulled over your bikini.

His sister, your best friend, left on in the morning for a tour with the rest of the group. Something about history and snorkeling. You’d both waved your hands declining. Something about being too burned and too sleepy for it. 

“She’s going to get bored halfway through,” You sip on your drink. “Probably will call us in two hours.”

Oscar gives you a shrug. “I give her one.”

“She said it was a once in a lifetime experience.” You throw up your hands while repeating her words. Mocking her almost. Smiling.

“So is sitting here.”

And you laugh.

He’s sitting across from you, towel slung around the back of his neck, sun catching his shoulders. His hair is damp. Skin flushed from the sun. No shirt. Just a pair of swim shorts and bare feet.

You shift slightly where you are. Curled up in the shade. Bare legs stretched out. The oversized shirt clinging to you just a little too much where your bikini top was wet.

He glances at you when you move. Doesn’t speak. Just tracks it with his eyes. And looks away again.

His hand reaches for the table. “What’s this?”

You look over. 

A little box. Dark. Red ribbon wrapped around it.

“Some welcome thing, I think.” You shrug. “Dropped it off yesterday.”

Oscar pulls the lid open, brows lifting. He picks up a wrapped square, amused.

“Well, well.” He says, looking at you. “Your kryptonite.”

You grin. “Shut up.”

“You gonna pretend you didn’t spot this the second we sat down?”

“I did not.”

He tilts his head, giving you a look.

“Mm, you’ve got that look.” He says.

“What look?”

“The one you used to get before stealing cupcakes at birthday parties.”

You roll your eyes, but blush. Cheeks reddening. “I did not steal…”

“You did.” He cuts you off. Already unwrapping one of the chocolates. “Always had sugar on your hands. Icing on the corner of your lips.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he tosses a piece toward you.

You catch it.

You watch him bring the chocolate to his mouth, tongue darting over his lip without thinking.

Peel open your piece and press it to your tongue. It melts fast. Rich. 

You hum, licking a smear of it off your finger. “That’s actually really good.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

You glance up and catch him mid-swipe across his bottom lip. Looking dazed. Distracted.

Then he blinks, clears his throat. And nods. “Yeah, pretty good.”

He closes the lid of the box, slides it to the side. Then leans back, looking at the water.

And you sit there with him. Across from him on the cushioned benches. Chewing slowly. Feeling that heat bloom beneath your skin.

It’s soft at first.

Then deeper.

A warmth in your chest. A pulse between your thighs.

The wind sweeps your skin. And the fabric of your bikini suddenly feels too damp. Too thin. Too tight.

You swallow. Trying not to fidget.

Oscar hasn’t moved much. His gaze is still on the ocean, but it isn’t really. And you watch the way his jaw flexes. The way his foot shifts on the deck. Like he was grounding himself.

He doesn’t look at you.

And he always looks at you. 

You shift again. Cross your ankles. Press your thighs together.

You glance at Oscar again.

And his lips are parted. Just a little bit. And his brow is slightly furrowed.

You sit up slightly. “You okay?”

He shifts. Then clears his throat, blinking. “Yeah. Just…hot.”

You nod slowly. “Same.”

He leans forward, breathes out. But his fingers twitch. And you notice as his back muscles roll slightly as he drops his head down, towel slipping down.

He stays like that for a few seconds. Then rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

His voice is quiet. Flat. “What was in that chocolate?”

You don’t answer right away. Because you’re fucking throbbing now. And your bikini is definitely soaked.

“Do you feel…” He swallows, throat bobbing. “Strange?”

You nod. And then remember he isn’t even looking at you. “Yeah.”

His jaw clenches.

He shifts again. Still not looking at you. And that’s how you know something is wrong.

Because he never acts like this. 

You’ve seen him flustered, sure. After a race, dealing with the media, around too many people. But never like this. Not this tense. As if he’s afraid.

“I didn’t think chocolate could….fuck.” His voice cracks. And he laughs under his breath. 

He grips the bench. Looking like he’s in pain.

“I think I need to go inside.”

And he stands too fast. Towel falling down. Hands clenched at his sides as he turns on bare feet and walks toward the main cabin.

You stare at his back. His shoulders. And he disappears down the stairs.

You’re so hot that you could cry. Unbearable.

You press your palm flat to your stomach. Like it’ll help.

But it doesn’t.

Because it’s not just the chocolate. 

It’s him. Oscar.

Gone for less than a minute and his voice is the only thing in your head. The way his mouth looked when he licked the chocolate off his thumb. His hands. The muscles of his back straining as he leaned forward

The silence stretches heavy.

You make a quiet sound in your throat. Barely audible. And you can’t sit still. Can barely think. Can’t stop seeing him.

Your hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. You’re hesitant at first. But then trail your fingers to the center of your ache.

And your hips lift off the cushion. A heavy breath escaping.

Your other hand grips the bench as you rock slowly against your own fingers. Over the bikini. Slow circles. Each one, pressing harder.

You let your head fall back. And the sky above is almost blinding.

“Oscar…”

You don’t even realize you said it out loud. It just slips. 

And a few moments later, you don’t even hear him come back. Your fingers still at your bikini. Rubbing.

You lift your head. He’s there.

Flushed. Hair ruffled like he ran his fingers through it a million times. Eyes fixed between your legs like he’s in some sort of trance.

He just stares. Doesn’t even speak.

“I can’t stop,” You whisper. Honest.

“You’re…” He blinks. Voice low. Stunned. Like he just walked into his favorite fantasy and doesn’t know what to do. “You’re fucking touching yourself?”

You nod. And he groans.

“To me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” You whisper.

“Jesus.” His hands twitch at his sides.

You shift, spreading your legs a little wider without meaning to. Unable to stop rubbing the tight circles.

“You look so pretty like that,” He mutters.

You tremble. “I need help.”

And his eyes widen.

“Please,” you whisper. “I can’t…Osc, please.”

He groans. Hands dropping to the front of his swim shorts, palming the hard line of his cock through the fabric.

“Come closer.” You plead.

And he stares at you with wide eyes. Flushed. He doesn’t move. At least, he doesn’t at first.

But then his gaze drops back down to your legs. Spread open. Your fingers rubbing slow, desperate circles. And his hands twitch.

“I…” He says, but he’s already squeezing himself. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oscar…”

“I shouldn’t be seeing this,” his mutters. “And I shouldn’t be this fucking hard.”

Your eyes fall to where his hand squeezes against his cock. Like he’s trying to fight the ache between his legs.

And you whimper. Hips jerking. “I can’t. I need….I need help.”

His hand squeezes himself tighter.

“Fuck.” A pause. A few silent moments of heated stares. “Do you know how many times I used to think about this?”

His voice has gone rough. And you blink at him. Heart stuttering.

“I used to jerk off in my room and feel sick after,” He whispers. “Because it was you. My sister’s best friend. Always walking around in those tiny shorts. That blue bikini. Always so fucking sweet.”

Your fingers slow. Jaw falls slack.

“I’ve thought about it,” His voice shakes. “Fuck. I’ve thought about this. When we were younger.”

Your breath hitches.

“Thought about your pussy more than I should’ve.” He mutters. “Wondered how soft you’d feel. How tight. If you’d let me take my time or if you’d beg me to fuck you rough.”

Your back arches.

“Wondered what you’d sound like when you come.” He continues. “If it’s all breathy. Or if you’d cry. If you’d say my name.”

“I’d press the pillow over my face after so no one would hear me,” He admits. “Every time.”

You gasp.

“I would.” You gasp.

His hand pushes harder into his cock. Groaning. “I’ve thought about fucking you with my tongue. Holding your legs and licking you for hours.”

You press your fingers even harder.

You whimper, other hand reading for a pillow or something to grab onto. “Osc, please.”

“You want my fingers?” He whispers. “Right here? Want me to fuck you with my hand?”

You nod. Repeatedly. Fast. Almost pathetic.

Oscar lets out a whimper. And then he’s kneeling in front of you before you can blink. Hand still pressing into his cock. The other trembling as his fingers brush your thigh.

“You’re so warm.”

Your hand falls away and he replaces it instantly. Pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric. Groans loudly when he feels it.

“Fuck, pretty…” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ dripping.”

And then he pushes the fabric aside, stares. Pupils blown. “God, look at you…"

You shake your head. “Please.”

“I’ve thought about sliding my fingers into you since I was seventeen,” He pushes them in. Half-laughing. “Thought about curling them deep and slow….hearing you moan just like that.”

Oscar swears under his breath, leaning closer. Jaw locked tight. “I’d keep you like this for hours if I could. Legs spread and needy….mine to play with.”

You cry out. Rocking your hips.

And he curls his fingers. Watching your face.

“Yeah?” His thumb circles your clit now. Slow. “Right there? Knew I’d find it.”

And you careen forward. Hands flying to grab his shoulders.

“Come for me,” He mutters. “Right here. In my fucking shirt. On my yacht. On my fingers.”

And you do.

Hard.

And he watches every second. His lips parted. Cock throbbing.

And then he drags his fingers out of you slow.

Brings them to his mouth. 

Licks them clean. Eyes locked on yours.

“Taste better than I ever dreamed,” He says softly.

And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck. Pulling your lips to his. Kissing you like he’s starving.

His tongue licks your mouth like its his. Like he already knows how to pull those sounds out of you and wants to hear every single one. 

And his hands slip down your body. Down your shoulders, over your ribs. Brushing the dip of your waist. Until he’s gripping your thighs.

“Wanna see bruises here,” He says. “Want people to see bruises and know.”

He stays kneeling between you, chest heaving.

“You’re soaking, baby.” His voice cracks.

He leans forward. Kissing your inner thigh. And then opens his mouth, sucking hard. Pulling a moan from you.

You feel the bruise forming as he licks over it. Sucks it again. Fingers pressing into your skin, gripping it.

“That’s one,” He mutters. 

He leaves another one. Higher. 

Then a third on the other leg. Right by your cunt. So close that it makes your hips jerk into his mouth.

And then he’s standing. Grabbing you under your thighs. And lifts you. 

Laying you down on the table. The welcome basket crashes onto the deck with a thud, but neither of you acknowledge it. The box of chocolates dangling on the edge.

He grabs it.

“What are you doing?” You ask. Breathless.

He doesn’t answer. Opens the box, takes out a single piece and holds it up. Gaze dropping down to your cunt spread open for him.

“Need to taste you with this,” He mutters.

He leans over you. Pressing the chocolate between your lips. “Bite.”

You do.

The sun’s hot against your skin.

And then he kisses you hard. Tongue lapping against yours, sharing the chocolate. You both moan and groan into each other before he’s dropping back to his knees.

“Look at you,” He breathes. “All messy. Want my mouth, baby?”

You nod.

And he leans in. Licks you.

One long drag up your slit.

You cry out. And he groans into your cunt. Licking you. Tasting you.

“Fuckin heaven.” He drags a hand to your leg. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

“Oscar…”

He doesn’t stop. Just hooks his arm under your thigh, and pulls you closer to the edge. Legs over his shoulder.

And buries his face in your pussy.

You grind into him instantly. Chasing every flick of his tongue.

Your hands fist into his hair, dragging his face closer against you. And he moans. Wrecked.

“Fuck,” you yell. “Oscar…oh my…fuck.”

He drags his tongue through you. Flicking your clit over and over.

“Keep fucking my face,” his voice is hot.

“You sound…my God..Oscar, you sound obsessed..”

“I am.” He grunts. Fingers curling in you as he nudges your clit with his nose.

And then he pulls one arm away. You barely notice it. Until you hear it and look down.

He’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it fast. Leaking.

He jerks his cock faster. Hips twitching into his own fist as his mouth works harder against you. 

“Gonna come,” he confesses. “Gonna come from tasting you.”

You cry out.

“C’mon…” He urges. “Let me taste it, yeah?” 

And it breaks you.

You moan into the open sky. Grinding against his face. Jaw slack. Eyes squeezed shut.

And then he groans, standing up and comes hard onto your cunt. 

Hot, messy ropes of it. Spilling over you. 

And then he’s dragging you off the table without a word. Not giving you time to even breathe. Panting. 

His hands tight around you, and then he’s spinning you. Forcing you to face the ocean. Chest hitting the metal railing. 

And he’s behind you. Silent.

You start to turn your head, “Oscar…?”

“No.” He says. Voice rough. “Stay just like that.”

His hands drag your shirt up. Slow.

His name in bold letters stretched across your back.

He groans. Violently.

“I should’ve fucked you in this years ago.”

Your breath falters.

“Fucking knew it,” He grabs a fistful of the shirt, twisting his hand in it. “Knew one day you’d bend over in this and I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You feel the heat of his body behind you, shoving your bottoms down with one swift flick of his hand. Cock thick and heavy. Dragging through your folds, collecting his come and your wetness.

He groans. You shake.

He presses forward, hips rocking against you. Grinding into your thighs.

“You’ve no idea what you look like.” His breath is heavy behind you. “Bent over. My name on your back. Come still dropping down your cunt.”

And you bite your lip. Arching into him harder.

One hand grips your hip, the other fisted around the shirt.

“You wore this shirt for years like it meant nothing,” His voice quieter. Mean. “Didn’t think about what it did to me every time you wore it.”

“Osc…” You attempt to say his name, but he shifts his hips into you harder and your voice cracks.

He laughs.

“Now look at you. Dripping all over me. Wearing my name like you belong to me.”

He sinks in slow. So slow that you feel every pulse. Every ridge. 

And you whimper. He groans behind you. Like he’s in pain. Like he’s trying so hard to not ravish you.

But when his hips meet you, and he’s bottomed out. He just….stops.

Breathes in heavily.

“Fuck.” He says soft. “You’re so fucking tight around me.”

His fingers dig into your hip even harder. Bruising. Marking.

“You’ve ruined me,” He laughs. “Y’know that?”

And you don’t even get a chance to answer.

Because he pulls back and slams into you. Hard.

You cry out, hands gripping the railing that your knuckles turn white.

His pace isn’t gentle at all. It’s feral.

“Fucking ruined me,” He says again. “You in this shirt….you in my fucking name..do you even know what that does to me?”

You moan. So loud. And his hips smack into you. Over and over.

“You’ve been walkin’ around in it for years.” He spits. “Like it’s nothing.”

He thrusts deep, angling his hips at a better angle. “Like I haven’t been dreaming of fucking you in it since I gave it to you all those years ago.”

You’re babbling now. Unable to breathe properly. Your entire body trembling.

His hand slips from your hip and slides up your spine. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down. Just a little bit harder. Forces you to arch even more.

And fuck, he nearly collapses when he feels you clench tighter around him.

“You should see yourself,” He grunts. “Squeezing around me like you’re desperate to never let me go.”

And he’s lost all rhythm. He’s just slamming into you. Cock so deep. 

“Can’t believe this is real.” He’s panting. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you in my shirt. Pussy covered in me.”

Your orgasm is close. And you’re shouting. Moaning. 

"Bet she'd lose her mind if she knew what a slut you were f'me..."

You cry out. He feels you teetering on the edge. 

“Don’t.” He snaps.

And you cry, “Oscar…please.”

“You’re gonna wait.” He demands, fucking into you more rapidly. 

And he’s losing his mind. It’s sooo good. 

“Say who’s inside you.” His hands squeeze the back of your neck. “Say it.”

You gasp. Jaw falling slack. Chest pressed harsh into the metal railing. “You…Osc..fuck, it’s  so good..”

You sob out his name and Oscar fucking snaps.

“That’s it, baby.” 

His hips hit you faster. Deeper. The filthy sound of it heard over the waves lapping the hull. 

You sob into the railing. 

He leans into you, head falling forward.

“Gonna come,” He chokes out. “Gonna come right inside you. Stuff you full. Let it leak out.”

And you break.

Orgasm ripping through you. Violent and hot. Back arching so hard into him. You sob out his name. Your walls clenching around him in a tight grip.

And he crashes with you. Body shuddering. Cock throbbing. Spilling into you.

He’s still panting against you when he pulls out. And it’s a fucking mess in between your thighs.

But before you can say anything, he’s dragging you upright. And you’re stumbling as he drags you across the hot deck. Hand across your stomach. Keeping you close.

And then he’s shoving you into the rinse off shower.

He reaches up. Turns the handle. And the water is so cold that you gasp from it.

Oscar laughs behind you. “Too cold?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Asshole.”

And then he turns the temperature warmer, and then it’s all steam and heat again. 

You expect him to rinse you off gently.

Instead, he grabs the shower head. Detaches it from the hook. And pulls your back against his chest.

“Gonna clean you up.”

You’re about to ask what exactly he means. But then he;;s nudging your legs apart. Brings the shower head straight to your cunt. 

And you jolt forward with a sharp cry.

The heat. The pressure.

“Oh my god…Osc,” You’re mumbling.

And he watches you. Holding one leg to keep them apart.

“Stay open,” his voice is soft. “Wanna see you come again.”

And you whimper. Begging. “Too much…fuck.”

But he doesn’t stop. Just tilts the shower head just right. Hitting your clit.

“Thought I’d have to work harder for this,” He mutters. “But you’re soaking already.”

“Fuck…fuck.”

"Y'like this, hm?" He whispers into your ear. "Being used like some filthy secret?"

Your hands reach behind you and slip their way into his hair. Pulling it. He groans. Rutting his hips into your backside for some friction.

“C’mon, pretty.” He grunts. 

And the water just keeps hitting you. 

You sob. And then crash again.

Your legs shake. Cunt clenching around nothing.  But he holds you up, turning you to face him. Pressing your back against the wall.

He finally sets the shower head down. Lets it spray onto the deck. 

And then his hands are back on you. One at your lower back, one gripping your thigh, pulling it up to wrap at his waist. You balance on one leg.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Y’okay?” His voice gentle. Caring.

And you nod, pressing your head into his neck. And his heart stutters when you lean into him. Like he can finally breathe.

“I’ve got you,” He whispers.

And then, he sinks back into you.

Slow. Gentle.

Your mouth falls open. The stretch still almost unbearable after everything. But the way he slides in, feels too fucking good.

You gasp. Digging your nails into his skin. And he cradles you against the wall.

He moves slow. Rocking. No rhythm. And he feels massive. Thick. 

“Oscar,” You hush into his skin. “You feel…Y’feel so good.”

He nods. “I know, baby. I know.” And his voice is a whisper. 

He grinds deeper. Barely moving but pressing into you. “Can’t believe you’re still this wet…” He grunts. “Still want more? Want me to stuff you full again, hm? Fuck you til it leaks down?”

You nod. Mouth open. Moaning.

“C’mon,” He pants. Hips jerking. Cock throbbing. 

It’s quick. The feel of you wrapped around his cock. The overstimulation of the stretch.

You both come quick. Crying out into each other’s skin. Soft kisses in between the moans.

And then you’re both laughing. Smiling at one another.

-

“Holy shit…I’m dying.” Your best friend announces. “Never let me go on another tour ever ever again.” 

Oscar snorts from beside you on the bench, looking at his phone. “Told you you’d hate it.”

“You didn’t say I’d almost drown.”

You keep your face still. Sipping your drink.

And she plops down on the lounger across the deck, sighing.

And for a moment…it’s quiet.

Until Oscar leans in slightly, elbow brushing your arm.

His voice low. “Y’think she noticed?”

You glance at him. Shake your head.

“She’s never been less observant,” You whisper back.

And he grins. One of those fuck-you grins that makes you stutter.

And you hold back a smile.

Your best friend groans across the deck. “God, I feel disgusting. Should we order dinner in an hour?”

Oscar clears his throat. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” You say.

And then you lean, just slightly, into his side. Just enough that his thigh is touching yours again. 

He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t stop smiling.

"Hey, what happened to the welcome basket?"

Oops? taglist (holy shit SO MANY OF YOU ILY): @landoscarinthefastlane @dudenhaaa27 @330bpm-whiplash @xoln04f1xo @sainzluvrr @minjiahyung @madicecream123 @star73807-blog @simpfortoomanymen @art-h1ve @annaswrites00 @forumlabee @butterfly-daisies07 @nothereneverherever @widow-cevans @suns3treading @fmejenson @megatrilss1885 @10iceicebaby @sh1nedreamsm1le7 @ptrickbateman @chasingosc @uuoozzii @idkwtdwml123 @pinkdeadtopia @chiara8104 @ellie-bellie-29 @piastri-my-boy @1-of-my-many-obsessions @8junejpg1 @jaydensluv @astrlape @idontknow0704 @whistlef0rthechoir @op814kitty @asmoothoperator @illicit-affcirs @lilith-123321 @teddybearbeth @saudianna @skylyn-vais @fleurdangz @angxedxtz @marekmybeloved @liafics @dxrlxb @gabyasworld @treebranch23 @drysdalesv @morganalatina21 @bigcatharmony @ilovemuppets @acina27 @angelabunbun @megatrilss1885 @ilikecarsalotsometimes @roxanne-ragnvindr @euphoriapillz @luminouskalopsia @trinity2058 @livsturnioloo @wdsara48 @ini3103 @shimmermotorsport @marslovesran4eva @wherethezoes-at @monsterdesandia @mythicalmaven @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @ella284-3 @landossainz @redcrescentmoons @jaeger-chan @altaccount283927 @ericasdumbworld @aerie717 @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ysavelelelel @phillza-my-beloved @thenalovescars @zicosbitch @scaroscar8115 @wertyuizxcvbnm @needy02 @dessashippr @quill-vy @o6hellnah @enchantedwaspwhisper @awesome-fandom-panda @biancathecool @lilorose25 @wowzees (not sure if all these worked but I took them straight from my comments on the sneak peak)

[dduane]

Just a local update

For those who'll be wanting to know how I'm doing: I think right now the line from The Right Stuff is probably apropos. I'm "maintaining an even strain."

I sort of have no choice, because there's a lot of bureaucratic stuff surrounding Peter's loss that has to be dealt with, and there's not really anyone else to fall back on: in terms of local legalities; this burden falls on me. (shrug) So, I'm keepin' on keepin' on. It's not easy, when half your world has ended: but there's nothing else to do.

Just repeating the news that I just edited into the original post about all this: the "funeral expenses" issue is now handled.

And I want to thank EVERYBODY who so incredibly generously has stepped up to assist. You are all, every one of you, in my heart right now... not least due to the many, many kind things you've had to say about Peter. Current events mean I'm going to be backed up on the thank-yous for some days yet. Please bear with me.

For those who feel inclined, the Ko-Fi account here is open as usual for those who might simply want to drop something into the pot tagged "GNU Peter Morwood."* I'm looking into his notes about his preferred charities so that I can split all such donations in those directions. (For example, P. lost a beloved cousin to childhood leukemia, so I'm looking around for appropriate cancer charities. ...But more of that later.)

In local issues: I'm still waiting for word from the coroner as to when Peter's post-mortem will be happening. (I had hoped it might be today, but there's no news yet.) Not much to be said about this except that the sooner that's all handled and resolved, the happier I'll be. Then other adjacent issues can start being dealt with.

At the physical end: I haven't been sleeping terribly well, but that's probably no surprise. My appetite has been almost nonexistent, but that at least is very slowly starting to recover (to the point where at least food is no longer a source of "no interest whatsoever" or of active distaste). Right now it seems I get better results from eating out instead of cooking in: so that's the way things will go in the very short term.

But for now, pretty much all I can do is sit tight, try to keep household business from getting out of hand (why does it suddenly take so much energy just to do the dishes? ...like I don't know perfectly well why), and wait for Forces Beyond My Control to get moving.

Meanwhile, let me take a moment here to thank everybody who's expressed concern about the state of my wellbeing (and that at a time when I care a whole lot less about it than usual). It's heartening, and I very much appreciate it. I promise to do my best to do right by myself, on all of your behalf. (Behalfs? Behalves? Pfft.)

Thanks again, everybody. —D.

*People are also reminding me that the financial health of the household's still-living member in the immediate future is also an issue here. 😏 Heaven forbid I should argue the point. If you want, tag such donations as "DD" and I'll note that. ...And thanks again, all. I can always count on y'all to look after me. ❤️

[jinxbabys]

cw: sub-bottom vi. fem-top reader. mean dom reader. degradation. strap-on referred to as cock. 1k words. men and minors dni.

synopsis: after the breakup, vi realizes you’re the only one who can give her what she craves.

a/n: rewrite of one of my old fics!

since your breakup with vi, there’s been numerous rumors circulating around campus—stories of her charming girls with sweet, romantic dates, only to take them home and leave them thoroughly fucked. under normal circumstances, it might bother you. except you know vi, you know how tightly wound she gets, how unsatisfied she must be, because it’s clear none of those other girls have put in the effort to actually fuck vi. 

you haven’t heard a single whisper about any of them actually giving vi what she needs, stretching her out the way she craves, pressing their cocks deep inside her tight pussy. you imagine it must be eating her alive. vi’s always had a greedy hole—an orifice that’s bottomless and sweetly pathetic.

besides, you’ve seen them; the women she dates. they’re harmless, prudish, well-mannered, pretty in a conventional way. not one of them could fuck vi properly. they wouldn’t even know where to begin.

so it’s funny, really—watching vi try to provoke you. the way she flaunts them like costume jewelry, hoping to catch your eye. but you offer nothing in return. no reaction, no flicker of interest or jealousy. there’s simply nothing there worth responding to.

which is why you aren’t surprised when vi appears at your doorstep a week later, shy like an abandoned pet. she’s blushing, trembling, her sea-glass eyes rimmed with guilt and some shadowy element of hope.

“can i help you, vi?” you ask, not unkindly, but with practiced indifference.

”i just—i feel bad about the way things ended between us,” she stammers, the lie crumbling on her tongue like wet sugar.

”mmm, you do?” your fingernails tsk-tsk against the doorframe. “okay then. will that be all, vi?”

when you begin to shut the door, vi thrusts her hand against the wood with a thud, face suddenly stricken with shame. “baby, wait i—fuck. i miss you, okay?” she reluctantly admits.

you smile. you already knew that.

that’s how vi ends up in your bed, silk sheets wrinkled like the petals of a crushed rose. her legs are held up to her chest and your strap is buried deep inside her cunt, pressing painfully against her cervix. it’s a fitting consequence for her betrayal—for being such a stubborn slut that she sought out pleasure in other people, instead of coming to you.

”you missed me, huh?” you murmur, thrusting sharply, your voice velvety with cruelty. “that’s funny. i heard you’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

the sight of her stretched open, pussy weeping around you, is so familiar that it nearly bores you. but no, there’s joy in it more than anything. the sadistic kind of joy one only feels when their favorite toy remembers its owner.

vi goes cross-eyed as you slam into her again, a noise halfway between a sob and a prayer tumbling from her open mouth. you touch her slit—just a trace—and she shivers, instinctive and pathetic.

“yes, yes—mmffuck!”

it’s overtly apparent; no matter how many girls vi brought home, no matter how many times she tried to replace you, nothing could compare to this. the realization fills you with a sense of pride; a deep feeling of assurance that you are, in every way, irreplaceable.

”fuck, baby, your pussy’s a mess,” you murmur in astonishment. after all these months, how could you forget what a sloppy, wet hole she has? “bet none of those girls knew how to take care of this greedy little thing.”

vi shakes her head with something like reverence, her voice catching. “ahh, only y-you—it’s only ever been you—hunghh—i swear!“

you meanly grope vi’s breasts, admiring the way her fat tits jiggle. once upon a time, the sight of vi’s naked body might have stirred something possessive in you—jealousy, perhaps, at the thought of someone else witnessing her like this. but now, as you watch vi unravel beneath you, all you feel is a quiet, amused detachment. an urge to murmur something soft and cutting about how pathetic she is.

her legs tremble as she holds them back for you, muscular thighs quivering with exertion. her puffy cunt is laid bare, exposed to you without shame. she looks like an easy whore, like she’d crawl across glass if it meant getting filled by you again.

you know vi—know her body better than she does herself. she needs to be filled, used like she’s a worthless doll, stripped of all purpose except pleasuring you. she needs it hard and unyielding and constant. from the look on her face—wrecked and anguished—you were right to assume that nobody else came close to giving her what she craves.

“you just needed someone to fuck you right,” you coo. “someone who knows what a sick little baby you really are.”

“yes,” she gasps. “please—need it harder, fuck!”

you relish in how desperate she is for you. vi’s so cute when being fucked open; demanding everything from you, whilst unable to give anything back but cries and spasms. it makes you feel delirious—fuckdrunk, even. all you can hear is the wet percussion of your hips against hers, and her high, helpless mewls. you’re hitting all the right spots, striking cords deep inside her gummy walls that make her jolt with electricity. you’re fucking vi in a way no one else will ever be able to replicate.

"fuck, vi... you're so tight," you notice, stunned, but still relentlessly jackhammering your cock inside her.

her pussy is creaming around your strap, leaking down the curve of her ass. her body—that magnificent machine of muscle—is locked up tight, close to tipping over the edge. her abs twitch involuntarily, plump breasts bouncing, arms trembling as she attempts to hold her legs apart for you, and her thighs—those strong pillars—quake like leaves in a storm.

vi squeals suddenly, pressing her hand against the taut plane of your abdomen—a futile attempt to slow your unrelenting pace.

”i’m gonna—gonna—ohhh!” 

her eyes roll, those bright coins of consciousness swallowed by the dark. vi’s tongue spills from her mouth, silly and helpless. her thighs snap shut instinctively but you pry her open again, unwilling to let her escape the pleasure you’re giving her.

“come for me, vi,” you say. “who knows if i’ll ever want to fuck you again after this, so make it count.”

taglist: @2ftall @jinxedbambi @mxchi-mxxn @g4ys0n @maddiluvsu @just4jinx @rhian88 @mars4hellokitty

[woso-dreamzzz]

Small

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You just want to play

You try to catch her eyes, bobbing and weaving on the bench to just get the smallest hint of eye contact.

She does a very good job of pointedly avoiding your gaze.

Next to you, Vic smothers her laughter.

You pay her no mind, trying to catch your mother...no, your manager's eyes.

She's not your mother when she's coaching or at least that's what she always says.

"Your time will come," Lia says from your other side with just a hint of amusement," Renée would be a fool not to sub you on at some point. It'll come. It's still the first half. Give her time."

But patience has never exactly been your strong suit. Impatient was your trademark, always ready and raring to go and always annoyed when other people weren't the same way.

You try to act casual at half time, leaning against the door of the locker room as you wait for your manager to arrive.

"No," Renée says easily when she catches sight of you.

"But-"

"No," She repeats," Not yet. We'll see how the second half will go and then I'll think about it."

You groan. "You never have to think about it with Kyra!"

"Kyra isn't a sixteen year old menace who thinks she's much taller than she actually is."

"I don't think I'm taller than I actually am! And...And Kim's small!"

"And Kim also doesn't try to pick fights with people almost double her height. You need to actually be able to play, menace, not just try to bulldoze the tallest person you see."

Your mouth opens and closes a few times but you come to find that you don't actually have a comeback for that one.

You are kind of small and you do tend to pick fights with people much taller and much stronger than you actually are. But that's not really your fault. If given more time, you're sure you could twist your behaviour into an excuse for standing up for yourself or something similar.

"But you'll definitely think about? Like you actually will and you're not just saying that?"

Renée sighs. "Your mother won't be very happy with me if she tunes in and sees you playing against someone like Renard."

You grin cheekily. "But Mum isn't here and you're not beholden to her rules? Because you're the manager and you'll do what's good for the team? And you know I can absolutely ball out in midfield if you let me?"

Renée rolls her eyes, lightly bumping you with her shoulder. "We'll see how the second half goes and if you don't complain, maybe I'll sub you on."

You grin to yourself as you finally slip into the locker room, sitting down in your cubby and reaching over across Alessia to snag some of the mini cookies Kyra's eating.

"What's got you so happy?"

"Mama said she'll think about subbing me on if the second half goes well."

Alessia snorts. "She's not too scared of your Mum to back out this time?"

Your face turns red surprisingly quickly. "It was one match! And she said sorry after!"

Kyra giggles, hand reaching out to pinch at your cheeks. "Are you sure you don't want to stick to the bench? Maybe we can find some cotton wool to wrap you in?"

"Leave me alone!" You bat her hand away.

It wasn't exactly something you liked talking or even thinking about. You didn't like the team bringing it up.

The way you were coddled that is.

You'd moved over to Arsenal's Academy when the family moved over from Sweden when your Mama got her job as Jonas' assistant coach. It's not exactly that you got in because of who she was because you were already in an academy in Sweden but Arsenal didn't make you do a trial or anything to join them.

It was only a matter of time before you joined the senior team but that was a bit awkward at first, the rest of the team unsure of how hard they were allowed to go with you in training when Renée was on the outskirts supervising.

They relaxed into it, of course, but those first few months this season had been awkward and now that they'd seen how Renée was only willing to play you against low ranked teams, the teasing about being coddled had never worn off.

Your height hadn't exactly helped in that matter. All it did was give Renée an excuse to not play you against good teams with height on their side.

But you wanted this. You wanted Champions League football and you wanted to play now.

You're between Vic and Lia again on the bench when half time finishes, head still bobbing and weaving like it would make Renée sub you on any quicker.

She meets your gaze a few times but her eyes give nothing away.

Eventually, Vic leaves your side grab a drink and you stubbornly cross your arms over your chest.

"This is so unfair."

"Are all sixteen year olds as dramatic as you?" Lia muses idly," You don't have to play this match, you know. It's not a bad thing. You're still a kid."

You bite at your cheek to keep silent.

You don't want to admit why you're so desperate to play this match. You don't want to admit why you're so desperate to show off your skills against an elite opponent and, bar Barcelona, Lyon was as elite as it got.

There's Dutch girls on both teams. The same Dutch girls that could potentially be going to the Euros in the summer.

You want to be one of them.

You want to represent the Netherlands in Switzerland this summer. You want to represent your country like your Mama once did.

But you don't want to say it out loud. Because that makes it real. That means your teammates will be looking at you differently. Renée will look at you differently.

You don't want her to be disappointed if you don't make the team.

So you don't voice your wants and you hope and you pray that you're being watched by the Netherlands coaching staff just like you're hoping and praying that you'll get subbed on today.

And then your time comes.

You rush through a warm up and wait for Frida to come off, slapping your palms against hers as you head onto the pitch.

Blood roars in your ears, a steady pumping sound as you jostle around in the box against people nearly double your age and your height.

They practically dwarf you but you're scrappy, twisting and turning and sending the person behind you in the complete opposite direction.

The ball comes in from a corner and then goes flying back up into the air.

Someone jams their whole body weight into your shoulder and you fight to stay upright.

Your head whips up to track the ball and somehow you find yourself in the middle of the group.

There's barely enough space to do anything but somehow your leg extends out.

Your leg extends out and you kick the ball on the volley.

It's like slow motion.

Your touch is a little off, under pressure and acting on instinct, so the ball doesn't quite go where you want it to.

Because it rattles the crossbar, bouncing over the line and into the goal.

You're sprinting to the corner flag before you even realise it, grabbing and shaking it as the excitement bubbles up out of you.

Arms close around your legs and you're lifted up into the air.

Leah's the one holding you, bouncing a little bit as you laugh and try to keep your balance.

"Come on!" Someone else cheers in joy next to you towards the fans, Steph, you think.

Adrenaline pumps through you as Leah finally sets you down onto your feet again. There's head pats and laughter and you're panting like you've run a marathon.

You feel like you've been running for your life with the amount of adrenaline and endorphins running through your system.

There was no doubt throughout the second half that Arsenal would be going to the final.

Your goal in the dying minutes of the match was just the cherry on top.

Through the celebrations, you chance a glance over at the bench.

Renée stands in front of it, the widest smile on her face and you find yourself settling.

"Come on," You laugh with your teammates as they give you head pats and ruffle your hair," We've still got another minute left. Let's just see this one out."

[keithyp00]

'*•.¸♡ Stupid Cupid, Stop Picking On Me ♡¸.•*'

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: slow-burn, romance, humor, fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, romantic tension, morning sweetness, vulnerability

Song Inspiration: Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis

Word Count:2.1K

Author Note: Hi again! This fic has been stuck in my head all day so here I am writing it and pushing some of my other fic ideas back a couple of days. My last one didn't do as well as I was hoping overnight so if you like this one please go check out Timeless. Thank you guys! (And Happy Mother's Day for those who celebrate!)

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

You weren't exactly sure when Bucky Barnes became your problem.

Maybe it was when Steve asked you- sweet, pleading Steve- to check in on him after the whole time-travel thing. Maybe it was when you saw Bucky sulking at a farmer's market like a feral cat trying to adapt to a domestic life, poking at ripe peaches like they had personally offended him. Or maybe it was when you found yourself holding two coffee cups and wondering why one of them always seemed to be for him.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered, tripping over a sidewalk crack. "Quit messing with my head."

Because how else could you explain? The flutter in your chest every time Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. The way your stomach flipped when he threw that infuriating little smirk your way- like he knew something that you shouldn't.

You should hate him.

He was moody. He didn't text back. He once told you that your playlist sounded like 'a sock hop and a migraine had a baby.' And yet, when he stood too close in the kitchen of your shared safehouse, or brushed his hand against yours when he passed the remote, you felt like a walking daydream.

______________________________________________________________

It was Tony's lake house, technically. But since he wasn't around anymore- and Sam insisted Bucky get used to 'civilian life'- you'd all rotated through it like some kind of Airbnb. For the last month, it had just been you and him. And your rapidly imploding patience.

"Can you not stare- no, glower- at the mailman like he owes you something?" You asked one sunny morning, squinting through the screen door as Bucky stood on the porch, his arms crossed like some sort of bouncer.

He simply didn't answer, which infuriated you even more.

You groaned, sipping your coffee and reminding yourself to not shove him into the lake. Because despite the grump, despite the sarcasm, despite the fact that he wore gloves in the middle of July sometimes- he was good. He was thoughtful, sometimes in ways that snuck up on you.

Like how he left Post-Its on your laptop that said, 'Eat something.' Or how he'd fixed the wobbly leg on your favorite chair without saying a word. Or how he stood outside your room every night, headphones in, until you fell asleep just to 'make sure it was safe.'

And yeah- maybe you noticed the way his hair curled after a shower. Or how his voice went all gravel and hush when he said your name. Or how he smelled like cedarwood and mystery.

But that didn't mean you liked him. Right?

______________________________________________________________

It was the pie that broke you.

Not your spine in a sparring match. Not the blackout you both endured during a rogue power surge. Not even the time he carried you through mud because you twisted your ankle.

No. It was the goddamn cherry pie.

You were baking. Sort of. Trying to, anyway. The crust was partially uneven, your hands were sticky, and you were muttering something about 'defeating the patriarchy through pastry.'

He leaned in the doorway, arms folded. Watching. Always watching.

"You're talking to the dough," he stated.

You didn't look up. "She's rude. She needs discipline."

Bucky snorted- snorted- and you stared at him like he'd grown another metal arm.

"Did you just laugh?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't laugh."

"Tell that to the dough," you snapped, cheeks hot. "What do you want, Barnes?"

"I smelled sugar," he said, shameless. "Was hoping you'd share."

You rolled your eyes. "I thought you didn't like sweets?"

His voice went low. Dangerous. "I like yours."

Your hands froze in the leftover flour.

And suddenly, you weren't thinking about the pie. You were thinking about the way he looked at you sometimes- like he couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss you or run. Like you were both a threat and a safehouse.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered again, flustered. "I swear to God-"

"What?"

"Nothing."

The pie actually came out fairly decent, the edges of the crust a little burnt, but fairly tolerable. And Bucky, he ate the whole thing, or most of it anyway.

______________________________________________________________

It got worse after that.

Every glance lingered too long. Every argument had an edge of flirtation behind it. You kept pretending not to notice the way he always found a reason to sit beside you. How his knees would bump beneath the table. How he started playing your music in the kitchen.

And when you finally snapped one night- pacing on the porch, wine in hand, muttering about how, 'he's ruining everything with those ridiculous blue eyes'- you hadn't realized he was standing in the doorway behind you.

He pushed his body off the doorframe and walked toward the railing of the porch, his expression incredibly too smug for your liking.

"I'm ridiculous now?"

You flinched, whipping around. "Jesus- do you sneak for fun?"

"Occupational hazard." His smirk widened. "What else did you say about my eyes?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Too quickly. "Shut up."

He stepped closer. "Make me."

You blinked. Then laughed. Loud, bright, and disbelieving.

"What are you, twelve?"

"I was," he deadpanned. "Once."

You rolled your eyes. "You're impossible."

And then he said it. Quiet. Honest. Barely audible beneath the breeze. "You make it hard."

You blinked again. "What?"

He cleared his throat. Looked away. "To stay... detached."

The wine slipped from your fingers. Luckily, the bottle was already empty.

You stared at him. At the scars on his knuckles. The lashes that framed those godforsaken eyes. The lip he kept biting like he regretted saying anything.

And you realized- he wasn't teasing.

He meant it.

Stupid. Damned. Cupid.

You stepped forward. He didn't flinch.

"I don't want detached," you said softly

He looked at you. Really looked. Like you were sunlight and danger and the last good thing in the world.

His voice cracked. "I'm not easy to love."

"I don't want easy either."

You reached for him. Gloved hand, then metal. He let you, but you heard his breathing stutter. And when you leaned in- testing the waters, testing fate- he met you halfway.

It wasn't fireworks.

It was softer. Stranger. The kind of kiss that steals your balance and leaves you wondering where you end and they begin.

When you finally pulled back, you smiled.

"Still think I talk too much?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

Then he kissed you again. Harder.

______________________________________________________________

Later, tangled on the porch swing with his arm around you and your head on his shoulder, you hummed a familiar tune. Under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear.

"Stupid Cupid, stop pickin' on me..."

He groaned. "If you start singing that in the morning-"

"You'll what?" You teased. "Fall even more in love with me?"

He didn't answer. But the way he pulled you closer said enough.

______________________________________________________________

You woke up with his hoodie under your cheek and a breeze on your knees.

The sun filtered through the curtains inside like a lazy golden hand, dust swirling in the air like dandelions. You blinked, registering three things:

You were curled up on the porch swing.

Bucky Barnes was asleep beside you.

His metal arm was around your waist like it belonged there.

"Stupid Cupid," you murmured again, though it came out softer this time. Less bitter. Almost... giddy.

His chest rose and fell in a rhythm you were already memorizing. Peaceful. Unarmored. Mouth parted slightly, lashes casting shadows, hair falling into his face.

You wanted to touch him.

Not in the hungry, let's-make-out-on-the-porch kind of way. You simply wanted to run your fingers through his hair. Trace the scar near his eyebrow. Press your palm to the pace just under his collarbone where he always kept his tension.

You settled for tucking his hoodie around his side, trying not to shiver from the early morning air.

"You're staring," he said, voice husky with sleep.

You yelped. "I-no, I was just-"

"Keep lying. You're adorable when you panic."

Your face flushed and Bucky grinned as a response. "So. We kissed."

You tucked your knees under your chin. "We did."

He finally looked at you, blinking slowly. "How do you feel about that?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On whether you're going to brood about it for three days and avoid me."

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. "I'd never avoid you."

"Really? Because last month you avoided Sam for hating on your music taste."

"That was justified."

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm- flesh, not metal. The little grin that flickered on his lips made your stomach tumble.

"So what does this mean?" You asked quietly. "Us. The... kissing."

He went still. Then sat up, brushing his hair back with one hand.

"It means," he said slowly, "that I want more."

More?

More of you? More kissing? More sleepless nights lying next to each other on a porch swing, tangled up in feelings too big to name?

You swallowed. "Okay."

His eyes searched yours. "Okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah. But you have to stop the staring problem, especially at strangers, I agree with Sam on that one."

"No promises."

______________________________________________________________

You didn't talk about it for a few days. Not directly, anyway.

But everything shifted.

He cooked breakfast before you got up- black coffee, toast, eggs that were slightly overcooked but made with obvious care. You found him waiting on the couch every evening with a blanket folded beside him like an invitation. He started brushing your hand every time you passed him something. Not an accident. Not anymore.

You tried not to let your heart explode about it.

Didn't work.

Especially not when he started calling you 'Doll' without a trace of irony.

Or when he found an old record player in the attic, fixed it, and played your favorite 60s vinyl like it was nothing.

Or when he got jealous over a guy in town who complimented your outfit and sulked for the next hour.

______________________________________________________________

It came to a head one evening during a thunderstorm.

You were barefoot, twirling in the kitchen while "Stupid Cupid" played on the record player- loud and cheeky, your voice warbling off-key along with it.

"Stupid Cupid, you're a real mean guy-"

"Jesus Christ," Bucky muttered behind you, towel around his shoulders, still damp from fixing the gutters in the rain. "You still know all the words?"

You spun, grinning. "I was born in the wrong decade."

"Clearly."

He crossed the kitchen slowly. Red Henley sticking to his chest. Hair dripping onto his forehead. You didn't realize you stopped breathing until he was right in front of you, blue eyes bright, towel abandoned.

"You like this song because it reminds you of me, huh?"

You swallowed. "Maybe."

His hand brushed your waist. "You like me, doll?"

You nodded, heart pounding. "Maybe."

"Then shut up and dance with me."

You didn't think. You just fell into him.

He swayed with you under the soft crackle of vinyl, your feet slipping against his boots, your laughter dying against the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm getting you soaked," he said into your hair.

"Can confirm," he mumbled.

He choked on a laugh. "It wasn't a question- god, you're a menace."

"Your menace," you whispered.

He froze. Pulled back. Looked at you. And then he kissed you. Slow, deep, reverent.

It didn't feel like the one you shared on the porch. This one felt like a promise.

______________________________________________________________

Later, after changing into dry clothes and curling up beside him on the couch, you whispered the question that had been living under your tongue for days.

"Do I scare you?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I mean... you never let people in. You barely let Sam in. And now you're-" you gestured between you. "Letting me in. Doesn't that terrify you?"

He exhaled. Then reached for your hand, metal fingers wrapping around yours.

"It does," he said. "But not because of you. Because I don't want to ruin it."

You stared at him. All of him. The scars, the war, the tenderness.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried."

He looked away. "I've ruined things before."

You tilted his face toward you with your fingertips.

"Then don't run," you whispered. "When it gets hard. When I yell because you left dishes in the sink. When I forget to say goodnight. Just... stay."

His jaw flexed. "You'd want me to stay? Even when I'm a mess?"

You smiled. "Especially then."

______________________________________________________________

That night, you fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to the storm fade into silence and his heartbeat slow to something steady. Something safe.

"Stupid Cupid," you whispered one last time into the dark.

And Bucky- half asleep, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm- mumbled back, "Yeah... but I'm glad he chose to pick on you."

[lolitalovess]

── .✦ sub, dom, and switch vi headcannons.

warnings: scissoring, pussy eating, strap-on sex, bondage, brat taming??, switch vi, down bad vi, surprisingly only 1 sub vi hc....? not proof read, yada yada what's new

an: putting multiple asks in one fic as headcannons because yeah... they've been sitting there for awhile

── .✦ switch!vi who's so down bad more than you think your fucked out brain could ever even muster. bad day at work? her hands are reaching to tug and slide off your underwear mid make out sesh, handing you the joint she rolled earlier that day, lighting it for you, and then hooking her arms under your thighs and burying her face between them after she's sat you down on the couch, all in consecutive order. (this one's for you @usuck, luv u mootie)

── .✦ switch!vi who is a size queen and is not ashamed about it. when she's tired and wants to be a princess, she always lays herself out like an easy whore, pulls you ontop of her and begs you to fuck her in-between kisses until you eventually cave.

── .✦ switch vi who guides the movement of your hips when she feels like being in charge, cooing praising little words in your ear, like "that's my good girl." and "there's my good girl. keep on doing that." when you're doing well.

── .✦ switch!vi who knows she has bog hands, and she uses them to always be groping you. you two go out for some drinks with a few friends? she's absolutely pulling you to a secluded corner or a bathroom stall to do nothing but feel you up. dancing together at the club? her hands are on your ass, practically fondling it when pulling you closer to her. you're riding her? her eyes are glued to your tits and the way they're continuously bouncing every time you lift yourself up and down, reaching her hands up to switch between pinching your nipples and squeezing them.

── .✦ dom!vi who always waits (im)patiently for you to wake up after she does, never being able to stop herself from practically grinding her pussy on your ass when she's doing so.

── .✦ dom!vi who mutters little "mornin, baby"'s when she feels you shift around and murmur something in question, her hand already managing to find it's way under your shirt to grope your tits, her heart shaped lips smiling against the back of your neck when she hears you complaining that you missed her.

── .✦ dom!vi who thinks her favourite way to get you both off at the same with her still being in charge is to scissor. she's always ontop, with one of her hands holding onto your leg that's hooked over her shoulder, and the other wrapped around your neck for both stability and to attempt to shut you up, though she will not hesitate to tie your hands up to the headboard and make you suck on her fingers the second you get bratty.

── .✦ sub!vi who gets wet at the thought of you marking her all over, and vise versa. if she can't feel the ache of the scratches you left on her back from the night before, she automatically has a bad day, and will nudge her face into your neck while shyly asking you if she can fuck you again.

who thought this day would ever come.. (too many of my moots bullied me into writing something, that's the only reason i did)

taglist: @korn-dawg, @marieeeluvsyou

masterlists

[cheapshrimpysheep]

In the Backstage

SUMMARY: He invites you to watch the inter-school Battle of the Bands where the Pop Music Club will represent Night Raven College and compete with other schools, one of them being Royal Sword Academy. But unfortunately, they come in second place. He also gave you a VIP pass to visit him backstage after the competition.

CHARACTERS: Pop Music Club 🎼 (Cater Diamond / Kalim Al-Asim / Lilia Vanrouge)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kiss; Comfort

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.330 words per character.

COMMENTS: The Pop Music Club was the first club with the cards released and the first one I wrote something about. But nowadays, and compared to what I've written for other clubs, I thought it was worth writing something new and better. Especially for Cater, Kalim and/or Lilia fans.

I hope you enjoy it. 😉

OTHER CLUBS:

But… We Lost… - Basketball Club (Ace / Floyd / Jamil)

Romantic Experiment - Science Club (Trey / Rook)

For a Quarter of a Second - Track and Field Club (Deuce / Jack)

Unlucky Overtime - Spelldrive Club (Leona / Ruggie / Epel)

A Rainy Walk - Mountain Lover Club (Jade) / Gargoyle Studies Club (Malleus)

.

You are at another Unbirthday Party in Heartslabyul when Cater announces that there will be an interschool battle of the bands. The Pop Music Club will represent Night Raven College and compete with other schools including Royal Sword Academy.

The other Heartslabyul students didn't seem very confident that Cater and the others would win.

“Aww, come on...” Cater says disappointedly. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

“Well... some of us have already seen the few concerts you've given...” Trey says with that polite smile. “That and...” He smirks “We also know how much effort you guys really put into your club.”

“Auch, you are such meanies.” Cater says sadly. “Do you really have no hope in us?”

“I wouldn't say we have no hope. I do hope you win.” Trey simply says smiling.

“We all want Night Raven College to win, that's not even in question.” Riddle says. “But Trey is right. The three of you have already let it slip that you spend your meetings eating snacks and talking instead of practicing. And I've also seen one of your concerts.” He says with that disappointed face that looks like he's about to sigh. “If you truly want to win against Royal Sword Academy you will have to put in some real effort!”

“I should have known the conversation would go this way." Cater sighs as he plays with a strand of hair. “But you're right, Housewarden. I promise we'll do our best. Anyway, I wanted to invite you all. Ta-da!”

Cater takes five tickets out of his coat pocket and gives them to Trey, Riddle, Ace, Deuce and finally you. “Front row! The best seats!”

“Hey! What about me?!” Grim complains.

“You both count as one student, so you only need one ticket. Isn't that cool?” Cater explains.

Both Ace and Deuce say they believe in Cater and the others to win. Ace because he's a bootlicker and Deuce because he's just that naive. As Grim begins to focus more on the food than on you, Cater gets closer.

“Hey, (Y/N)-chan~” He whispers to you. “You're going to root for me, aren't you~? I got you a special ticket.” He discreetly passes you another paper that said ‘VIP pass’. “You can meet me backstage after the concert if you want. You will make Cay-kun very happy if you do~” he winks.

Cater was really happy to see you in the audience, in the seat he arranged for you, along with the other Heartslabyul students. During the NRC song he looked at you many times.

To your surprise and that of all the other students who had seen them perform before, this time, they were actually taking it seriously. They were having fun as always, but you could tell they had been practicing and were trying hard to win. Lilia didn't even try to do his scream vocals or throw himself into the audience. Okay, he pretended he was going to do it, but just to startle the people at the front of the stage, he didn't actually do it.

The performance really went well, their best concert so far. But... unfortunately... Royal Sword Academy was better. At least for the jury who gave them first place, while Night Raven College got second... as always.

There was a buffet for the guests after the competition and both Trey and Riddle told you that you could leave Grim with them while you went to check on Cater. They could tell that he had worked hard and might be a little down from losing to RSA. They also agreed that you would be the best person to cheer him up if needed.

Using your VIP pass, you entered backstage and passed Kalim and Lilia in the hallways. Kalim was happy to have made it this far to the point of being ranked second among so many other schools with talented students and so was Lilia. But Lilia whispered to you that perhaps Cater would be more cheer up if you went to see him in their dressing room.

You do so and Lilia and Kalim head outside to meet up with the others. When you arrive in front of the door that Lilia indicated to you, you knock on it and tell Cater it's you. He casually asks you to wait just a second, and only then does he open the door for you.

“Hey, (Y/N)-chan~” Cater greets you with his signature smile. “I'm glad to see you using the VIP pass I gave you. I hope you enjoyed our show.”

You tell him you loved it and how it was the best they've ever done, at least compared to what you've seen.

“Aw, you’re so sweet~. We really tried hard this time. It was difficult to convince Kalim and Lilia to take this a little more seriously, but they did it for the school. Ha ha... It's just a shame we didn't win.”

“But you did won.” You say. “Second place at least.”

“Yeah... Second place... You’re right! We won one of the best places and I'm really happy about that. All our training was worth it!” He says with a big smile. “We should go celebrate with the others.”

But you don't move out of his way so he can go through the open door. You knew that was his happy mask and you wanted to talk to him alone, to try to get him to be honest with you.

“Before that, I liked to see your dressing room. I never saw what one actually looked like in real life.” You tell him.

“Oh, it's a little small for three people, but it's actually pretty cool. Come in, I'll show you.”

You walk in and close the door behind you, which Cater doesn't find strange. He shows you the dressing tables that they used to put on their makeup, the instruments that still needed to be stored in the boxes, the cart where their clothes were, etc.

“Cater...” You say almost interrupting him. He looks at you. “I know you're not doing so well. Lilia knows you're not doing so well. Riddle and Trey knew you might be a little sad after all your effort. You can be honest with me.”

“You're all so sweet to worry about Cay-kun so much. But I'm fine, I promise.” He smiles and winks at you.

“Okay. Then give me a hug.” You say, opening your arms.

He's taken a little aback and says that you're really cute, but that he's actually fine. However, you don't low your arms and say that you want to give him a hug to congratulate him on his performance. He sighs and ends up accepting.

He starts by giving you a hug like he always does. But then, the hug becomes a little tighter and more sincere.

“I’m sorry...” He whispers, close to your ear and with difficulty. “...I did my best...” His words were almost inaudible.

You hug him tighter and tell him that you know, that everyone knows, and that it's okay to be sad about not winning first place. You also tell him he can stay there with you as long as he wants until he feels better. Actually better.

This makes him hug you tighter.

“I don't want to waste your time.” He whispers again, as if at the same time that he wants to say it, he doesn't want you to hear it.

“You're not.” You whisper back to him. “You're never.”

He asks again if you really thought he acted well and you are sincere in saying yes and that he can ask whoever he wants, everyone will say it was their best performance. After some time, he breaks the hug and discreetly wipes away a little tear that you hadn't even realized that he had shed.

“Ha ha. This isn't very cute, is it?” He says.

“You are always very cute.” You reply, cupping his face.

“You too.” He smiles and places his hands over yours that you placed on his face. “Do you know what would really make me feel a lot better?”

You smile, showing that you probably know. You move closer to him and he moves closer to you in response, until you kiss. You feel his smile on your lips and then his hands on your back to bring you closer.

“(Y/N)!!!” You hear Kalim's voice shout, approaching, running behind you.

You were in the hallway, in the break between classes with Grim, Ace and Deuce. You turn around and Kalim stops in front of you, tired but with his huge sunny smile on. As he catches his breath, you see Jamil running towards you with that stressed look on his face. Kalim probably started running all of a sudden when he saw you.

“(Y/N)! There's going to be an interschool battle of the bands!” Kalim tells you. “And we're going to compete. You have to come see us!”

“The Pop Music Club will compete for Night Raven College.” Jamil explains. “And the members can invite any students they want to the front rows of the audience.” He took three tickets out of his hoodie pocket and gives one to Ace, one to Deuce and one to you.

“Hey! What about me?!” Grim complains.

“Since you and (Y/N) are counted as one student, you only need one ticket to be able to go together.” Jamil explains.

“I'm so excited! Especially to see you in the audience.” Kalim tells you. “I’ll do my best to give you the best show ever!”

After all the classes, when you were already in Ramshackle Dorm, you hear someone knocking on the door. When you open it, you see Kalim and Jamil.

“Hey! I wanted to give you something else, but Jamil said it was better to do it when you were alone.” Kalim takes a ticket from his pants pocket, a different color from the others, and gives it to you. “It's a VIP pass. I would love it if you could come see us backstage after the competition.”

“If we had given you this ticket in front of the others,” Jamil says with that annoyed expression. “I can easily see Ace and Grim trying to convince Kalim to give them a VIP pass as well. Even though each member only has one VIP pass each to give to someone”

Kalim was so happy to see you in the front row, in the seat he had arranged for you, that he got distracted before they start playing, waving and smiling at you. Cater was the one who called his attention to come back to the drums.

To your surprise and that of all the other students who had seen them perform before, this time they were actually taking it seriously. They were having fun as always, but you could tell they had been practicing and were trying hard to win. Lilia didn't even try to do his scream vocals or throw himself into the audience. Okay, he pretended he was going to do it, but just to startle the people at the front of the stage, he didn't actually do it.

The performance really went well, their best concert so far. But... unfortunately... Royal Sword Academy was better. At least for the jury who gave them first place, while Night Raven College got second... as always.

There was a buffet for the guests after the competition and you took advantage of Grim being busy with the food to use your VIP pass to go see Kalim, Cater and Lilia backstage.

You found them in the hallway. The three of them were smiling and talking excitedly, and when Kalim saw you, his smile grew even bigger and he ran to you.

“(Y/N)! What did you think of our show? Did you enjoy it?”

He was as happy as if he had won first place. You should know by now that winning or not is not what's important to him. As you told them how much you enjoyed their music and how it was probably their best concert yet, Cater noticed something.

“Hey, Kalim, didn't you have a ring on each hand?”

Kalim looks at his right hand, which had a ring on the index finger. Then he looks at his left and sees that there is no ring. Kalim searches through his pockets until he remembers that he had taken off his rings to wash his hands and must have only remembered to put one back on. Cater tells him and you to go back to the bathroom or the dressing room to see if you can find it while he and Lilia go meet the others at the after-party.

On the way to the bathroom, the two of you started talking, about the music, the performance, the competition in general, other things that had nothing to do with anything...

In the bathroom Kalim looks for the ring, but came out saying that he couldn't find it anywhere, so maybe you should look in the dressing room. In the dressing room you look for the ring on the floor, since Kalim said he had sat on the floor packing some things. You find the ring under one of the dressing tables they used to put on makeup, give it to him and he puts it back on his finger. When he does this, you can see his nails better.

“Ooh, you noticed my nails! Yeah, they're gold with a tiger-stripe pattern. Cool, huh? I can help you do your nails like this too. It would be fun if we matched. OH! Speaking of which.”

He walks over to a large cardboard box that was in the corner of the room, opens it, and takes out a white t-shirt.

“Our matching T-shirts are custom-made, you know. We ordered more to sell as merch.” When he unfolds it and shows you the front, it's a t-shirt exactly like his. “Which is how we blew through what little budget we had.”

He walks back to you and hands you the t-shirt. It's a little bigger than the size you normally wear.

“Sorry, we only made one size. I think it was because it was cheaper. He he. It's the same size as ours.”

You thank him and say you're excited to trying it on, so Kalim turns around so you can swap shirts. As soon as you tell him you're ready, he turns around and smiles when he sees you wearing the same t-shirt as him.

“It looks so good on you!” Kalim looks at his hand which has the ring with a red stone. “Hey, try this too.” He takes off the ring from his index finger, comes closer to you and holds out his hand. “Can I?” he asks with a cute smile.

You place your left hand on his right hand and he instinctively puts the ring on your ring finger.

“Another gift for you. For being my best friend and best fan, Heh heh heh. I tried really hard today because I really wanted to make you proud. We didn't get first place, but second is also really cool, isn't it? I won for the school and for you.”

In the midst of so much joy, you end up hugging him to thank him for the gifts and to say that you agree that second place is incredible too. He hugs you back so happily that he even spins you around, making you lift your feet off the ground.

You knew that even if Kalim really liked you, he wouldn't just give you a kiss out of the blue. So you're the one who does it and kisses him on the cheek. He's surprised for a second, but then he kisses your cheek back.

“Even though this day is already amazing.” He says, still hugging you and his face is so close to yours that your noses are almost touching. “The best part is still celebrating with you.” He ends by saying in a lower, more affectionate tone. His eyes inviting you to kiss him again.

You do it, but this time on his lips. You feel his enthusiasm and love not only by the intensity of his kiss but by the way he hugs you tighter.

You were coming back from Mr. S's Mystery Shop, while Grim had stayed at Ramshackle Dorm out of laziness, when you comment to yourself something about the shopping bags being a little heavy.

“You should not be shy about asking a trusted colleague for assistance then.” Lilia says, suddenly appearing upside down.

You get startled and almost drop one of the two bags you were carrying, but Lilia catches it in time.

“You are carrying all these purchases alone? Allow me to be your cute little helper until arriving at Ramshackle Dorm.”

He puts his feet on the ground and walks with you. You ask him if there was any reason for him to be around.

“Do you mean any other than a simple, pleasant walk? Ku fu fu. Well, yes. I was looking for students to invite to the interschool Battle of the Bands. The Pop Music Club will compete for Night Raven College against other arcana academies. One of our enemies being Royal Sword Academy.” He says with that smug smile. “I have a special ticket for you and Grim in the front row, along with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek.”

Lilia makes a ticket appear in his hand and gives it to you. He also explains that since you and Grim are counted as one student, you only need one ticket to go together.

“However,” Lilia smirks. “I have in my possession another type of ticket, an even more special and exclusive one, that I intend to gift to you and only you. Have I piqued your curiosity?”

Of course you are.

“Khee hee hee, that is the spirit! Here.” He makes another ticket appear, different from the first one he gave you. “It is a VIP pass. You can visit us in the trenches after the battle. Or as they call it, backstage.” His smug smile returns. “It would be a great pleasure to celebrate our victory with you.”

Lilia spotted you first. When you saw him he was already looking at you smiling. But during the performance he gave as much attention to you as he did to his Diasomnia boys. If you want to be Lilia's biggest cheerleader, you'll have to compete with Sebek, or simply join him.

To your surprise and that of all the other students who had seen them perform before, this time, they were actually taking it seriously. They were having fun as always, but you could tell they had been practicing and were trying hard to win. Lilia didn't even try to do his scream vocals or throw himself into the audience. Okay, he pretended he was going to do it, but just to startle the people at the front of the stage, he didn't actually do it.

The performance really went well, their best concert so far. But... unfortunately... Royal Sword Academy was better. At least for the jury who gave them first place, while Night Raven College got second... as always.

There was a buffet for the guests after the competition and you took advantage of Grim being busy with the food to use your VIP pass to go see Lilia, Kalim and Cater backstage.

You found them in the hallway. They were smiling and chatting excitedly when they saw you. All three of them really wanted to know what you thought of their performance and you said that it was the best show of theirs that you had ever seen.

While the four of you are talking, Lilia has the feeling of having forgotten something. And then he realizes that he was missing one of the necklaces. He must have forgotten it in the dressing room and suggests that Kalim and Cater go meet the others in the after-party while asking you to go with him to help him look for the necklace.

The two of you go to the dressing room that was provided for the three of them and start looking for the necklace. You ask him if he remembers when he took the necklace off his neck, but... he doesn't. You see him making that sulky face. His biggest pet peeve was missing things and then looking for them, and remember this makes you giggle.

“Are you laughing at my misfortune?” Lilia messes with you. “I lose such an important item and the person I trusted to help me makes fun of my memory loss. How mean. You are so cruel. *snif*” He fake whines.

You know he's just messing with you and tell him that you just thought it was funny because you remembered that it was his pet peeve.

“Do you know what kind of necklace I am searching for?” He asks with a smirk. “It is a long chain with a tag, all made of stainless steel. It's called Dog Tag, or more precisely: Military Dog Tag. Nowadays, many young people use it for style, especially cool band members such as yours truly. But its origins date back a few decades, during a battle between humans, as a way to identify soldiers who were wounded or killed on the battlefield. That is why these tags usually have the names, ranks and even the blood type of the respective soldiers engraved on them. Quite interesting, don't you think?” He smiles casually.

You agree, but ask why he decided to tell you that at that moment.

“Fu fu.” He smiles smugly again, the raspberry red of his eyes piercing you. “You are able to understand why this necklace suits me, correct? Should you not be more careful when laughing at me?”

In response, you smile at him relaxedly and tell him that you trust him.

“Khee hee hee, I'm actually glad to hear that.” Lilia smiles sweetly at you and suddenly seems to remember something that made him bursts out laughing.

You ask what he was laughing at. What had he remembered?

“HA HA HA HA! My memory really is not what it used to be. After our song, I accidentally broke my chain. But Kalim said he knew someone who could fix it and make it look like new. I told him ‘I'm actually glad to hear that’ and he put it in his trouser pocket. Ha ha ha ha!”

So you were looking for something that wasn't even there. And neither Lilia, Kalim nor Cater remembered that. You laugh with Lilia.

“Oh well, at least this little mistake served to spend a pleasant time alone with you.” He smiles seductively, abruptly switching the mood. “You know, second place is as noble a position as first place, but...” he makes puppy eyes at you. “I am quite sad to have dishonored our school by losing again Royal Sword Academy. *snif* Oh, if a loving soul could soothe my sorrows.” He closes his eyes sadly, but opens one to look at you with a sly smile at the corner of his lips.

You chuckle and ask if a hug would help. He says yes and hugs you before you can change your mind.

“At least it was fun.” He says close to your ear. “And it was a good sight to see you rooting for me. You are such a cute fan~” He pulled his head away, but didn't break the hug and pressed his nose against yours, looking at you provocatively. “But I wonder what kind of fan you would like to be. Cater told us some... captivating stories. Fu fu~”

Your noses were touching, but he wouldn't move any further than that. He expected you to take the initiative from there. If you do, and kiss him, you will feel his smile on your lips and the type of his hug gradually changing.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, reader commits a crime, kidnapping (kind of) a/n: someone asked if I would consider to post it on ao3 and I've decided against it due to (not so) recent events regarding fics on ao3 being fed to ai. also this one is shorther, because I decided (kind of on a whim) that I want to highlight other scenes more (yes, they will be with Bruce) based on this idea I had

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

(Name) steps into the kitchen early in the morning. Hoping, begging that the persistent child would finally give up on eating breakfasts with him.

The past few days, Damian seemed insistent on waking up much earlier than usual. All of that just to eat breakfast with (name). The sudden disruption of his and Alfred's morning routine started to be annoying for the teenager. He has been here for a while now; why did that brat start to invade his space now?

And don't get him started on the other weird behaviours from Damian. Every time (name) turns around, the boy is always somewhere not too far from him. He sees him the most each time he interacts with Duke.

(Name) sighs, seeing that the butler is already in the kitchen. Much earlier than his usual time, already working on what the teenager recognises as a small snack for Damian. The teenager's jaw tenses as Alfred gives him a tired smile.

The teenager quickly fixed himself his own breakfast, not wanting the butler to suggest making something for him like he did the previous day. He no longer looks up when the butler greets Damian; (name) eats his breakfast in silence, thinking of a right moment to knock some sense into the boy next to him.

The right opportunity comes much later in the day when Duke is busy with his own things. (Name) makes sure that the boy is following him around before disappearing into one of the many rooms in the manor. Damian took the bait without a second thought, walking right behind the teenager.

Damian looks around the room confused, as the space appears empty. He doesn't think of turning around until (name) forcefully shuts the door. The boy jumps slightly, not expecting a loud noise behind him. (Name) doesn't wait for the boy to figure out what's going on, walking right up to Damian, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"Stop insisting on eating in the kitchen!" (Name) shouted right into the boy's face. "Alfred started waking up sooner to make you something. You're going to run the old man thin!"

As Damian's initial shock wears off, the boy regains control over his own body. He breaks free from (name)'s hold, scoffing. He was slightly caught off guard by the teenager, but that doesn't stop him from putting his head high, trying to assert dominance. Walking out, Damian makes sure to shove (name) out of his way.

The next morning, walking into the kitchen, (name) is met with an interesting sight. Damian, standing in front of a kitchen island with random ingredients scattered on top of it. The boy is looking at them so helplessly; (name) almost pities him. Almost.

(Name) doesn't say anything, doesn't even greet the boy. Moving around the room, gathering what he needs for his own breakfast. He feels Damian's eyes following all of his moves. (Name) glances over to the boy, sighing loudly. The boy still didn't know what to do with the stuff he took out.

"I'll make you something; just... put all of that where you found it." (name) gives in, offering to help the boy. For Alfred, he told himself.

Damian doesn't respond. He does, however, follow (name)'s instructions. The boy puts every ingredient back in their previous spots. Damian smirks to himself; his plan to still eat breakfast with his older brother without bothering the butler worked better than he expected it to.

Alfred walks into the kitchen just in time to see Damian receiving a bowl of food from his older brother. The butler bites his tongue from making a comment on the interaction, knowing it might stop the boys from interacting with each other again. Instead, he starts making breakfast for the rest of the family with a soft smile on his face. 

Duke finds (name) not long after breakfast, skipping towards his brother happily and talking about how Alfred agreed to take them to an arcade. The boys walk up to their rooms to get ready, failing to notice Damian listening in to their conversation. (Name) turns around after hearing someone run behind them but doesn't dwell on it much as Duke is calling for him to hurry up.

(Name) almost turns back toward his room when he sees Damian standing next to the butler, only to stop short when he feels Duke standing right behind him.

"Oh, Damian, are you coming with us?" Duke asks casually.

"Yeah. Thought it'd be nice for the three of us to spend some time together," Damian replies.

(Name) scoffs. Duke nudges him, giving a small shake of his head — a silent warning for the teenager to keep his thoughts to himself.

The ride to the arcade is uncomfortably quiet. In the beginning, Duke made attempts at a conversation, but all of them died out quickly, leaving the air in the car tense.

After what feels like hours, the car finally comes to a stop in front of an arcade. All three boys step out, with Duke leaning back into the car to speak to Alfred.

"Don’t worry about lunch, Alfred," Duke says. "We’ll grab something to eat in town."

Alfred lingers in the parking spot, reluctant to drive off. He watches as Duke gently drags (Name) into the arcade, with Damian trailing just behind them. Only when the boys disappear from view does Alfred finally turn the car around and head back to the manor.

Inside, the arcade buzzed with sound and colour — 8-bit music, clanging tokens, and bursts of digital victory music filling the air. Duke had been right: (name) was good at the games, surprisingly so. He won round after round, stacking up a small mountain of tickets that trailed behind him as he walked. Damian stayed quiet, hovering at a distance, watching more than he played. He’d only come to spend time with his brother, even if that feeling wasn’t exactly mutual. (Name) didn’t look at him, didn’t speak to him; most of the time he pretended the boy wasn't even here. If it wasn't for Duke's occasional comments towards the boy, Damian might've been invisible the entire time the boy was there.

After winning enough tickets to buy almost half of the shop inside the arcade, they decide to call it quits. Duke suggests grabbing a quick bite at a nearby BatBurger before thinking about what to do next.

Inside, they picked out a booth tucked deeper into the shop, looking for a little more privacy. Before (name) could protest, Damian slipped in beside him, boxing his older brother against the window.

They ate in silence, the arcade noise fading into the background. Both Duke and (name) seemed a little worn out from all the running around.

"So... what are we doing next?" Duke asked, stretching his arms a little. "I was thinking—"

He didn’t get to finish. One of their phones started ringing. Both Damian and Duke checked their screens, while (name) didn’t bother — he knew it wasn’t his. The only person who ever called him was sitting across the table. Damian stared at the caller ID for a moment, wondering if he should pick up. 

"It’s Dick. I’ll be back," he sighed, already sliding out of the booth.

They watched him take the call, his voice low and mostly inaudible, only an apology carried just enough to reach them. (Name) watched Damian’s posture, trying to read what the conversation was about from a distance: his stance, his expression, anything that might give it away.

"So, is there anything else you want to do?" Duke asked, pulling (name)'s attention back to the table.

"Honestly? I think I’ve had enough," (name) admitted.

"You and your social battery," Duke said, grinning. "You should get it replaced; it dies out way too fast."

(Name) threw a fry at Duke, hitting him square in the shoulder. Duke gasped in mock betrayal, then burst out laughing, (name) quickly following with a laugh of his own. They didn’t notice Damian had returned until he cleared his throat.

"We were thinking of heading back to the manor," Duke said, glancing over. "Are you cool with that?"

"Yup," Damian replied simply, sliding back into his seat.

"Alright, I’ll call Alfred then. Be right back," Duke said, getting up and stepping away from the booth.

The two teenagers left in the booth sat in uncomfortable silence, waiting. (Name) kept his eyes on the window, watching people pass by outside, anything to avoid unnecessary contact with Damian.

When Duke returned, he slid back into the booth with a bit of ease that neither of them shared. He picked the conversation back up without missing a beat, filling the silence with something lighter.

"Alfred should be here soon," he said, checking his watch. "Won’t be long."

All three of them had barely stepped through the front door of the manor when they were greeted by the man (name) had bumped into during one of his first days there.

"Oh, so that’s who you went out with!" Dick said, grinning as he looked between them.

"Like I said when we spoke on the phone, I went with my blood brother and Thomas," Damian replied coolly.

"Sooo... how’d it go? Did you guys have fun?" Dick asked, clearly trying to stay upbeat.

(Name) didn’t respond. He turned and walked away before he could be dragged any deeper into the conversation. Duke trailed behind him without a word. As they moved down the hallway, (name) could still catch fragments of the conversation behind them.

"It was horrible. I do not wish to talk about it," Damian said flatly.

"I'm sorry, buddy..." Dick replied, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

Reaching the right floor, both of the boys separate, Duke understanding (name)'s need to wind down by himself.

(Name) comes down to the library, knowing that no one should bother him in there. He picks up the book he started reading recently, ready to finish it. The teenager chooses a seat further into the library, somewhere where he couldn't be seen from the doorway, throwing a blanket over his lap. 

The teenager’s peace doesn’t last long. He barely makes it to the end of a chapter when he hears a voice, one he’s pretty sure belongs to Dick, calling his name. (Name) sighs, sinking deeper into his seat, hoping that if he stays quiet long enough, the man will just give up and leave. No such luck.

Before he knows it, Dick is standing right in front of him.

"There you are," Dick says lightly.

(Name) doesn’t respond.

"I know we didn’t start off on the best foot," Dick continues, voice still friendly but tinged with something more sincere. "But it’s not like you gave me much time to get to know you. You don’t even eat dinner with us."

"Yeah, haven’t done that once since I got to the manor," (name) replies flatly.

An uncomfortable silence settles between them. Dick clears his throat.

"Anyway... do you want to have a movie night with us?"

“Us?” (Name) echoes, raising a brow.

"Yeah! Me, Damian, and Barbara said she might join too," Dick says, trying to keep the tone upbeat.

"No, thank you," (name) says without hesitation, already standing.

The teenager leaves the library without another word. Dick decides on a different approach, hoping that Duke might be able to convince the teenager to join them. 

Some time later, as (name) lounged on a couch in one of the lesser-used studies, Duke finds him with an idea on how to spend the rest of the day. He proposes a movie night with a few other family members. (Name) didn’t even look up, sighing.

"Let me guess, it’s with Dick, Damian, and Barbara?" he muttered. "Yeah, I’m not going."

"C’mon, just this once," Duke coaxed. "If you end up not enjoying it, I won’t ask you again. Promise."

(Name) sighed, glancing over. Seeing the look in Duke's eyes, he knew there was no way of getting out of this.

"Fine," he said. "But if you ask again, I will commit a crime just to get away."

"Noted. I’ll make sure it’s a good one, then." Duke laughed.

And that's how (name) found himself late into the night, sitting between Duke and Damian, watching a comedy Dick chose. 'A classic,' he said. Well, it was one shitty class in (name)'s opinion, but he promised Duke to make it till the end, so he doesn't voice his opinion. In truth, the teenager doesn't say much during the duration of the movie night, mostly one-word answers or a quiet laugh at something Duke had said. (name) ignores all of the scoffing and sneering coming from Damian as well as the glances he receives from both Barbara and Dick.

(Name) becomes aware that the rest of the siblings might be plotting something the next day as he is sitting in the library trying to read the same book he was previously interrupted from.

He doesn't notice his presence at first, too interested in the action happening in the book. (Name) finally sees him as he moves to switch into a more comfortable position. The teenager freezes at the sight of the man he met the first time he snuck away to smoke.

"I really liked that book," the man says casually. "Do you?"

(Name) doesn’t answer, eyes dropping back to the page, though he’s no longer reading.

"I’m Jason, by the way," the man continues. "Didn’t really get the chance to introduce myself before."

(Name) keeps ignoring him, trying to focus, hoping silence will do the work.

"You’re (Name), right?" Jason asks, undeterred. "Listen, if it’s—"

"Fuck, can’t you just take a hint?" (Name) snaps, finally looking up. "I’m not interested. Leave me alone."

He slams the book shut and storms past him, muttering under his breath.

"What the fuck is wrong with these people..." 

Jason, as (name) found out hours later still on the same day, was not easily discouraged. The teenager almost turns around and runs off when he spots him under the tree (name) he often smokes under. He stops when Jason shows him a pack of cigarettes, offering them to the teenager.

(Name) steps under the tree, accepting the pack. The two of them smoke in complete silence, staring off in the distance.

What neither of them are aware of are the people watching the scene from the surveillance cameras, deep underneath the manor. The two people were trying to understand what they just witnessed.

The teenager quietly sneaks back to the manor after his smoke break when he is ambushed by someone and dragged into one of the rooms. He tries to scream, but another person present forced something into his mouth to stop him.

(Name) looks around the room he was dragged into, trying to figure out what had happened. The space is filled with technology, most of which he wasn't sure could be used for. In front of him stood two people. He recognised one of them— Tim. He’d seen him around the manor, always behind a screen or typing something faster than seemed possible. Tim stood with his usual calm, hands lightly resting against a desk cluttered with gear, like he’d just stepped away from something important.

The other... he didn’t know. A girl, older maybe, or just more intense. She stood perfectly still, her gaze locked on him. There was something unreadable in her eyes — not cold, just sharp. She hadn’t said a word, and somehow that made her more unnerving than if she had.

(Name) looks between the two, unsure of what he should be waiting for. He watches the two of them exchange looks before sandwiching him between the two of them. It wasn’t threatening, but it was definitely strange.

"I thought we could play something," Tim said, grabbing a controller from a nearby shelf. "Oh—and that’s Cass, by the way."

(Name) glanced over at her. Cass didn’t speak, but her hands moved fluidly through the air in a series of quick, practiced motions — sign language, he realised. She was saying something to Tim.

"Ah, yeah, we should take it out," he said, reaching toward (name). With a tug, he pulled a piece of cloth from (name)’s mouth. The teenager scowled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Let’s play then," Tim added, handing him a controller like nothing had happened.

(Name) is suddenly thankful for Duke convincing him to play on his console some time ago. Because of this, his chances of embarrassing himself dropped rapidly.

He didn't really care for what they were playing. He focused on putting on enough effort so neither of the teenagers on his sides would notice his disinterest. (Name) was hoping that thanks to that, they would get bored of him sooner and let him leave. He had tried giving the controller to Cass, mumbling something about being tired, but the girl just shook her head, pushing it back into his hands.  

After that incident, (name) started avoiding the family altogether. He spent his time either in his or Duke's room, even going as far as eating all of his meals in the confinement of his room.

He was caught once, when he was bringing the dishes back to the kitchen after lunch. Barbara's voice called out for him as he was trying to return to his room. He kept his head down, hoping to slip past unnoticed and make it back to his room.

“(Name)!” Barbara called out again.

The boy stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly to see Barbara, seated in her wheelchair a few feet away, angled just enough to block his path without making it obvious. Her tone was calm, almost friendly, and (name) couldn't figure out what she could possibly want from him.

(Name) closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Barbara gestures towards one of the couches, the smile never leaving her face. The teenager's eyes move towards the couch, noticing Cassandra sitting on it.

The teenager reluctantly moves towards the couch, sitting on it with just enough space from either of the women.

Neither of them says anything, (name) simply staring at his hands and trying to ignore Barbara and Cass. Which wasn't the easiest task, as both of them were burning holes into him with their stares. He felt trapped between them, every little movement he made under their watchful eyes feeling like it was being measured.

"Barbara! Cass! Hi! I was looking for you two!" A new voice rang out, light and cheerful. "Why are you just sitting here with him?"

He didn’t recognise it. A blonde girl bounced into view, her energy practically disrupting the tension in the room. She looked at him, then at the two women.

"Stephanie, hi," Barbara replied smoothly, turning her wheelchair slightly to face the girl. "We’re just trying to get to know our new brother."

"That’s nice," Stephanie said, though it sounded more like an automatic response than genuine interest.

(Name) didn’t wait. The second their attention shifted away from him, he moved—quick, quiet, and gone before any of them could stop him.

The teenager moves quickly, going straight to one place he knows no one would bother him in: the room Alfred is currently cleaning in. The butler gives him an odd look but doesn't say anything. Instead, he decides to comment on the current place the boy gained within the family. 

"You seem to be getting along with your sibling quite well, (Name)," Alfred remarked, his voice steady but observant.

(Name) didn’t immediately respond, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It was so fake it almost stung. He didn’t have the heart to tell Alfred the truth. Not yet. Instead, he simply gave a small nod, like he was pretending everything was fine.

"Maybe you could try eating dinner with everyone?" Alfred suggested, his voice almost too casual, like he was offering something small, something harmless. "I’ll be sure there’s room for you this time."

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @tenthmilo @eyeless-kun @holyfishbailiffpeanut @cuntiesweet @jsprien213 @marsmabe @cssammyyarts @ilovecoffe0 @phoenixgurl030 @esposadomd @alittlelostmoonchild @stargirl404 @xnutz0 @s4raahi @reeyy0-2@ironsaladwitch

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[lotusapple-xia]

Caleb's 5 Love Languages

Caleb is a lover boy and he expresses his love for you in many ways ft the five love languages

Caleb x reader

Some headcanons about how Caleb loves you. Struggled a bit with words of affirmation but I hope it’s good 🤞

🪷Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!🪷

Boyfriend Caleb who loves quality time.

Caleb loves to build model planes or Lego sets with you. You both sit on the living room floor with soft music playing in the background while you chat about your lives. When the model or Lego set is complete, he displays it on his shelf, soft, domestic memories flooding his mind whenever he looks at it.

Caleb loves listening to you yap about your new interests. Gazing at you with pure love while humming intermittently to let you know he’s still paying attention to your lore dumps. However, sometimes he gets huffy when you rave too much about a fictional crush, “What do they have that I don’t?”.

Caleb lets you put face masks and serums on him. You recognise that he doesn’t take care of himself when he’s not with you, so you love to spoil him with self-care, which he happily encourages. After realising that his skin is glowing the same as yours, he takes it upon himself to have regular self-care dates at home.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves physical touch.

Every morning when Caleb wakes up, the first thing he does is to reach out to you and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. He squeezes your sleeping body closer to him to feel your warmth while the morning sun washes over your bodies. Caleb’s head nuzzles into yours, breathing in the scent of you.

When waiting for the noodles to boil, Caleb picks you up to sit you on the kitchen counter. He stands between your legs, listening to you ramble about your day. Stroking your back in a gentle caress when he can tell you’re getting to the bad parts of the day and rubbing your thighs as he listens to the good events.

When nights get hot and heavy, Caleb presses steaming kisses down your neck and the length of your body. His strong hands gliding across your sensitive chest as he presses his weight into you. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes watching yours, smirking as the way they flutter in pleasure.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves acts of service.

When you’re sick in bed, with a pounding migraine and a numb throat, he makes you hot ginger tea and dims the lights in your bedroom. He sits by your bedside, gently singing a lullaby from your childhood to ease you into sleep.

Caleb gathers your laundry, washes and folds them on your days off. He knows that your career as a Deepspace Hunter is physically demanding and can drain you of energy. He wants to take the burden off you so you can focus on resting in clean clothes.

Cooking is one of Caleb’s favourite hobbies. Not only is it relaxing, but he can ensure you’re well fed too. No matter what you’re craving, whether that be his signature braised chicken wings or a completely new cuisine, Caleb is always glad to cater to your whims. He doesn’t care how much you eat, he will always feel better knowing you’re satiated and satisfied.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves giving gifts.

Caleb loves spending money on you. Ever since he was a kid, he’d use any money he earned to buy you whatever you desired. You’ve been his spoiled pipsqueak since you were young. Now that he’s the Farspace Fleet Colonel, money comes in abundance. He gets you new clothes you’ve been eyeing in magazines, new food while window shopping, and video games on your to-play list.

Caleb takes immense pride in winning you plushies at the arcade. Even if he spends an egregious amount of money, seeing you smile as he hands you your plushie makes it all worth it. And he’d do it all again, even use his Evol to ensure you get what you want.

Caleb often is the one who does the grocery shopping in your household. He always gets the essential products and ingredients for the house but will always get a little something extra. Whether that be your favourite snack or new hair accessories.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves words of affirmation.

Whenever something has upset you, whether that be work or life in general, Caleb is always there to lend a listening ear and words of comfort. He’ll always praise you after a rough day and make sure to cheer you up. “It’ll be ok honey, I’m sorry you’re goin’ through this.”

After any achievement, no matter how big or small, Caleb is always there to hype you up. Praises fall from his lips like summer rain. “Great job pipsqueak I knew you could do it!” he beamed with a dimpled smile. Caleb wants you to know that he will always be proud of you.

Caleb waxes poetic about how much he loves you. Whether it’s date night or driving you both home from work, he always says, “I love you,”. His sincerity and soft eyes gaze upon your face with the utmost affection, hoping to convey the depths of his love through words.

[lvnleah]

Could you please do Lia wälti x paramedic reader. Reader comes home off a really tough night shift and all she wants is to just crawl into bed beside wally. Some cute moments and wally trying to cheer her up

the weight | lia wälti.

You stumbled through the front door just after 7 a.m., body aching in ways that went beyond physical exhaustion. The house was quiet, the sun peaking through the blinds as it began to rise. 

Every movement felt like you were dragging yourself through thick mud. Your legs heavy, your mind foggy with images from the night you couldn’t quite push away.

You kicked off your boots without much thought, your uniform still clinging to the smell of sweat, antiseptic, and something darker. Something that lingered even after a shower. You dropped your bag by the door, letting it slump against the wall like it felt just as drained as you.

All you wanted was to crawl into bed. Not just any bed, your bed. With Lia.

You padded quietly down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise even though you knew she’d be awake soon for training. The bedroom door was cracked open slightly, and the sight that met you nearly made you cry.

Lia was curled up in the duvet, your side of the duvet wrapped around her like she’d been trying to pretend you were there all night. One arm stretched into your pillow, her hair mussed from sleep, her face soft and peaceful in the early light.

She stirred as the door creaked open. “Schatz?” she mumbled, voice scratchy, eyes blinking open slowly. “You’re home?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Your throat felt too tight. She sat up then, instantly alert, her expression changing as she saw your face.

“Hey…” she said gently, already shifting the covers back, reaching for you. “Come here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You crawled into the bed and into her arms like it was the only place you could survive, pressing your face into her shoulder. Her warmth was overwhelming. It felt safe and grounding. She held you without question, one hand threading through your hair, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I couldn’t save her,” you whispered, voice hoarse and trembling. “She was sixteen. We did everything. But it wasn’t enough...”

Lia didn’t speak at first. She just held you tighter, like she could absorb some of the grief shaking through your bones.

“You did everything you could,” she said softly. “I know you did. You always do.”

“I told her mum…” Your voice cracked. “I had to… I told her she didn’t make it. And she screamed, Lia. She screamed so loud I can still hear it.”

Her hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, gently guiding you closer. “I’m so sorry, love. That’s so much to carry.”

You stayed like that for a while, her heartbeat steady under your cheek, her fingers in your hair, the quiet of the room wrapping around you like another blanket. No rush, no pressure. Just her.

Eventually, she shifted, kissed the top of your head. “Stay here, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

You mumbled something close to protest, but your body was already sinking into the mattress, finally allowing yourself to breathe. She padded softly into the kitchen, and when she returned, she was holding a warm mug of tea and a bar of your favorite dark chocolate, the kind she always kept stashed away for when things got too hard.

“I know you don’t feel like eating,” she said, climbing back into bed beside you, “but just a little, okay?”

You took it, more for her than anything else. The chocolate melted slowly on your tongue, bitter and sweet all at once. She smiled gently as you took a sip of tea, her hand resting on your knee under the blanket.

“I hate seeing you like this,” she murmured. “Not because you’re not strong, you’re the strongest person I know. But I wish I could take some of the weight off you.”

“You do,” you said quietly. “Every time I come home to you.”

She looked at you like you’d handed her the moon. “Liebling…”

Lia reached for you again, pulling you gently back into her arms. She let you rest your head in her lap this time, one hand running through your hair while the other traced shapes on your back through the soft fabric of your shirt. She hummed something, soft and familiar, and you closed your eyes, your breathing finally starting to even out.

“You helped someone last night,” she said after a few moments. “Even if you didn’t realize it. Maybe it wasn’t the girl you were hoping to. But you’re still saving people. Every time.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you didn’t believe her, but because your throat was too tight, your chest too full. She didn’t need an answer. She just kept stroking your hair, whispering quiet words of comfort in the hush between dawn and daylight.

Eventually, she pulled the duvet up over both of you again and slid down to lie beside you, her forehead resting against yours.

“You don’t have to be okay yet,” she whispered. “Just rest now. Let me take care of you for a while.”

And so you did. You let her hold you through the shaking. You let her warmth soothe away the cold. And in that quiet bedroom, with Lia wrapped around you like a promise, you finally started to feel like you might be whole again.

[littlebluebird2000]

Twirling Hearts- part 4

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates...

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. the smut is contained to the very last part of this chapter, just to warn y’all.

word count: 10k+ ( i knnnoowwww)

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :

part: 1., 2., 3., 4., 5.

Eunjang’s first morning bell echoes dully through the hallway, warning students to start heading to class.

Sieun sits at his desk, slouched but focused, one hand twirling a pen between his fingers. He looks half-asleep, but his notebook is already open, his handwriting precise. He’s not smiling, but there’s a quiet stillness to him—like something heavy inside him has finally shifted, even just a little. The classroom door bangs open.

“Morning, lover boy.” Baku announces as he walks in.

Gotak trails behind him, dragging his feet with a yawn, and Juntae walks in last, eyes scanning the room before flickering over to Sieun—then away quickly, as if pretending he didn’t look at all.

Sieun doesn’t glance up.

Baku slides into the seat beside him and leans in with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “Slept well this weekend, huh?”

Sieun tenses. His pen stops spinning.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mutters, eyes on his notebook.

Baku whistles low, teasing. “Right, right. I must’ve imagined you not answering your phone for two whole days!”

Gotak flops into his seat. “You spent the whole weekend at her place?”

Sieun doesn’t answer right away. He can feel their eyes on him, expectant. He exhales through his nose—quiet, controlled, but clearly annoyed—then gives a small nod, just enough to make them stop asking.

Juntae shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t expect it, but… good for you. You deserve to be happy.” His voice is quieter, awkward but sincere. He offers a small smile, eyes flicking to Sieun and back to his desk like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

Baku smacks Gotak lightly on the arm. “See? What did I say? You two are clueless.”

Gotak frowns. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“You didn’t think, period,” Baku shoots back, grinning. “I’m the only one here with a brain. I knew something was going on.”

Juntae scratches at his temple, half-smiling. “Yeah, okay. You were right.”

“You should’ve seen the way he looked at her after the recital. Man was done for.”

Sieun kept his eyes on his notebook, continuing writing. “Are you finished?”

Baku grins wider. “What? I’m just happy for you.”

Sieun exhales through his nose, leaning back in his chair. The usual apathy lingers in his expression, but something softer slips through—just for a second. He knows Baku’s an idiot…But he also knows Baku means well.

The silence barely lasts a beat before Baku leaned in, voice low but playful.

“So… what’d you two do all weekend?” he asks, grinning. “Just stayed in? Don’t tell me you didn’t even leave the apartment.”

Sieun finally looks up. His eyes meet Baku’s. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of irritation in his gaze. Not enough to bite. Just a warning.

Baku’s eyebrows lift. “Wait—seriously? You stayed in the whole time?”

Gotak turns around again, curious. “Not even to grab food or something?”

Sieun exhales through his nose. “It was raining.”

Baku leans back in his chair dramatically, hands on his mouth. “It was raining, he says! So you just stayed holed up in there, all cozy and domestic? Unbelievable.”

Juntae smiled quietly. “Kinda sounds nice, actually.”

Baku ignored him. All his attention was on Sieun. “And here I thought you’d be all stiff and awkward, sitting on the floor five feet away from her like some kind of monk.” Sieun didn’t take the bait, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.

Baku’s grin sharpens. “You weren’t, huh?”

Sieun let out a quiet breath, clearly done with the conversation. “Stop talking. You’re too loud.”

Baku snorts. “And you’re suspiciously quiet. Which tells me everything.”

Sieun says nothing, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears doesn’t go unnoticed. Before Baku can comment, Mr. Yoon steps in the classroom, dropping a stack of papers onto the front desk. “Settle down.” He says, not looking up as he adjusts his glasses. “Take out your homework. If you didn’t do it, don’t waste my time with excuses.”

Chairs scrape and groans ripple through the room. Baku took his usual place in the back of the class, just across Sieun, a smile of amusement still on his face. The classroom buzzed with faint background noise—rustling pages, low whispers, the dull scrape of a chair leg dragged half an inch too far.

The class moved around him. Gotak was stretching until his chair creaked, Baku was half-asleep with his chin in his hand and Juntae was flipping his eraser between his fingers. Sieun’s pen moved steadily across his notebook. No pause, no wasted motion. His handwriting was tidy, spaced just right. He didn’t need to think about it. Before he knew it, first period was over. The bell rang, sharp and familiar. Mr. Yoon capped his marker mid-sentence, muttered something about finishing the equation next time, and walked out to get his second cup of coffee.

Students stretched and shifted, the atmosphere loosening like a breath held too long. Notebooks shut with soft thuds. A few laughed. Someone played music too loud for three seconds before being told to turn it off.

There was a ten-minute break between classes. It was enough time to stretch, go to the bathroom, talk or sleep. You usually arrived during this break. You would always slipped in before the bell rang, quiet and breathless, but on time.

He glanced at the door out of habit. Empty. Not strange. Not yet. Five minutes passed.

Sieun opened his phone. Not to text. Just to check.

Nothing.

Around him, the room stirred lazily. Baku was talking too loudly in the corner, throwing jokes at anyone who’d listen. Gotak was chewing something crunchy, and Juntae was scrolling through his feed.

Sieun looked at the door again. Seven minutes. Still no sign of her.

He leaned back slightly in his chair. Not tense. Not relaxed. Just waiting. Maybe she was running late. Maybe she forgot something. He checked his phone again.

No messages.

His fingers hovered over the screen before he locked it again, jaw tightening for a brief moment. Nine minutes.

His gaze hadn’t left the doorway in a while now. The voices around him faded into background noise. He wasn’t listening.

Then the second bell rang.

He found himself looking at her empty seat, then his gaze flickered toward the door, just one last time. Sieun exhaled, slow and quiet, a barely perceptible shift in the tension of his posture. Something was off. She hadn’t come.

Behind him, Baku’s voice broke through the quiet murmur of the class. “Where’s Y/N?” His tone was light, but there was a hint of concern in it.

“Yeah, she’s usually here by now.” Gotak frowned. “You think she’s sick or something?”

The silence stretched out, heavy and thick. Juntae glanced at Sieun again before looking away, his voice quieter than the others, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “Maybe… maybe she’s uncomfortable showing up today? With… well, you know…Maybe it’s just a lot?” There was no accusation in his voice. Just a gentle suggestion, like he didn’t want to believe it either.

Sieun’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t show any other outward reaction. He could feel the weight of Juntae’s words, the subtle reminder of the tension between him and you after everything that had happened. Could it be that you were avoiding him? The thought slipped into his mind, unwelcome but persistent. He immediately pushed it away, not allowing himself to dwell on it.

“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Sieun muttered, his tone flat, his eyes still fixed on the door. He couldn’t let the thought linger, not now. He knew you weren’t the type to just avoid things, avoid him. If you had a problem, you’d say it—or at least show it. And this morning, you had been completely normal. You had even kissed him goodbye…

“Y/N wouldn’t just ghost.” Baku said, backing him up. “Sieun’s right. She’s a bit late for one class and we’re acting all weird? Maybe her ballet teacher held her back? They probably had to go over the recital or something…She could’ve missed the bus.”

Before anyone could respond, Mr. Yoon walk back in, five minutes late himself, a new coffee in hand . “All right, quiet down. Let’s get started with math.” He said, out of breath. The class stirred reluctantly back to life. Chairs shifted, textbooks opened, and the murmur of voices fell into silence.

Sieun moved mechanically, flipping open his notebook, but his mind wasn’t on the lesson. He stared at the margin of the page as Mr. Yoon began writing on the board.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

Around him, Baku, Gotak, and Juntae exchanged glances. They didn’t say anything, but he could feel it—the tension, the worry. It pressed against him from all sides. He could hear the lesson, the scribbling of pens, the clicking of keyboards, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

No text. No message. Something was wrong.

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By lunch, the mood had shifted completely. Phones were out. Fingers scrolled. Tapped. Redialed. Again and again. Still nothing. No texts. No answers. No signs of life from you.

“She didn’t even open my messages.” Baku muttered, frowning at his screen.

Sieun sat silently at the edge of his chair, phone in hand, screen blank. He hadn’t said much, but it was clear he wasn’t just waiting anymore. He was calculating.

“She never skips school.” Juntae said softly. “She would have told one of us at least…” A long silence followed.

Then, quietly, Sieun stood. “I’m not staying here. The others looked up at him. “I’m going to her apartment.”

“I’m coming.” Baku said immediately, grabbing his bag.

“Me too.” Gotak added. Juntae stood up to follow.

The four of them walked out before the next bell, slipping through the gate like shadows. A bus ride later, they were climbing the familiar steps to your building. At the door to your unit, Baku gave a dry laugh, but it didn’t carry much humor. “Of course you have the passcode.” He said, nudging Sieun.

Sieun didn’t respond. He keyed in the numbers. The lock clicked and he opened the door. Inside, everything was still. The air felt untouched. A glass sat by the sink where you’d left it earlier. It looked exactly the same as when he’d left this morning. Sieun stepped in farther, scanning the room like something might leap out at him. His chest felt tight. “She didn’t come back to the apartment.” He said quietly. He pulled out his phone again, brows drawing close as he searched something quickly.

“Who are you calling?” Baku asked.

“The ballet academy.”

It rang twice before someone answered. A woman, polite, professional. “Hello? I’m calling to check… did Y/N attend class today?”

“Yes.” Came the reply, clear and certain. “She was here for morning practice. She left a while ago to go to school.” Sieun’s grip tightened around the phone.

“Thank you.” He said, then hung up.

He turned to the others, expression blank. They waited for an explanation. His voice colder than before. “She left ballet. She was on her way to school.” Sieun stood still, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed.

Gotak rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe… maybe she stopped somewhere? Like a café? Or her phone died—”

“Then she’d be here by now.” Sieun cut in, his voice flat. “She’s not just late. She never made it.”

Juntae hovered near the doorway, his face pale. “Do you think something happened… on the way to school?”

“She wouldn’t just wander off.” Baku added. “Not without texting someone. Not after this weekend.”Everyone looked at Sieun. His hands had curled into fists at his sides.

“She was fine this morning,” He finally said to reassured their suspicion. “She kissed me goodbye. She was happy.” The room went quiet again.

Baku’s voice dropped. “So something must of happened…” Then—Baku’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A sharp, sudden vibration that broke the stillness. Everyone froze.

“Y/N?” Juntae asked quickly, almost too fast.

Baku stared down at his screen, heart stammering in his chest, but his expression dropped. “It’s… not her.” He said quietly. Sieun was already at his side. Two messages. From an unknown number.

[Unknown Number]: She’s with us. Don’t do anything stupid.

[Unknown Number]: If you come talk with us, we can make some arrangements.

Sieun was dead silent, his face unreadable. The rest of the boys stood frozen, waiting for someone to speak.

Then Baku exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “…Shit. It’s the Union.”

Gotak looked stress. “The Union? I thought it might’ve been Hyoman or one of his guys.”

Baku shook his head. “Hyoman was in class all day. This is bigger. Way bigger.”

Sieun’s gaze sharpened. “What’s the Union and why would they want Y/N?”

“They don’t.” Baku said. “They want us. Eunjang.” He continued. “The Union is a network. It’s an organization made from three high schools around here: Yeoil, Hwayang, and Dalseong. Each school has its own leader, but the real boss is Na Baek-jin. He runs the whole thing.”

Sieun listened without interrupting. Not a single change in his face.

Baku stepped back, pacing once across the small living room, voice tight. “The Union’s been trying to pull us in for months—stealing from our guys, cornering us after school, starting fights.“

“They tried jumping Junseok last week.” Juntae muttered. “Took his phone and wallet.”

Baku nodded. “They’re organized. Real business-like. They do cons, sell stolen bikes, flip phones—whatever keeps the cash coming in. Baek-jin runs it like a company.”

Baku’s voice dropped, bitter now. “They tried to pull Eunjang in too. Again and again. But I said no. Every time. I’ve been the one keeping them out of our school.” He paused, his eyes darkening with guilt. “And that’s why they took Y/N.”

Sieun stiffened.

“She’s close to me. Friends with me. That makes her a target. They’re sending a message.”

Sieun’s gaze dropped to the phone again.

“Do you know where they’re holding her?”

“No,” Baku said. “They’ve got a few spots they use—abandoned buildings, storage places—but the headquarters? No one outside the Union knows.”

Sieun stood perfectly still. “Then, ask.”

Baku nodded, fingers flying over the screen. One short message:

[12:23]: Where?

Three seconds passed. Then four. The typing bubble appeared.

Sieun didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

[Unknown Number] : Bowling alley. Back entrance. 5pm. Come alone.”

Baku read it out loud, his voice heavy with frustration. “They’re at the bowling alley. They must be using it as a front to go under the radar. That’s probably where they saw us two weeks ago… We were in their territory without knowing…”

Sieun’s gaze remained cold, sharp. His mind was already moving, calculating the angles, thinking through every possibility. It was a public place. A cover for the Union’s operations. Risky, but smart. There’d be layers—lookouts, runners, maybe even fake employees. He wasn’t the best fighter—not by a long shot—but he was good at understanding people. Their weaknesses. Their routines. The patterns.

“They want me to go alone,” Baku muttered, jaw tight. “It’s obviously a setup.”

Sieun finally spoke, voice calm and steady. “Then don’t go alone.”

“They’ll be watching,” Baku said. “They’ll know.”

“They won’t know” Sieun replied simply.There was something unsettling about the way he said it. No fear. No hesitation. Just quiet conviction.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The room was small, suffocating. Dimly lit by the flickering overhead light and the pale glow from the desk lamp, it looked more like a converted storage closet than an actual office. The air tasted like smoke and dust. A stained couch sagged against the wall, further there was a scratched-up metal desk.

You sat on the floor, tucked into the corner. Your knees were drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them. Your weren’t tied up—but the presence in the room made it clear that running wasn’t an option.

The man in the orange jacket sat sprawled on the couch, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the stale scent of old furniture and engine oil. He glanced at you from time to time, amusement flickering in his eyes like he thought this was funny. You had come to know that his name was Seongje. He was one of the guys that brought you here. He had the dragged you with that fake, mocking kindness.

At the desk sat another man. This one looked cleaner. His black hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place. He hadn’t said a word to you since they brought you in.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” The man on the sofa said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “I figured ballerinas were supposed to be shy, but this is something else.”

You stare at the floor. You want to speak, maybe even scream, but your throat feels tight, like something’s wrapped around it.

“Aww,” Seongje smiled, leaning forward, flicking ash to the floor. “You’re cute.”

You flinched and you hated yourself for it.

His eyes return to you, and they’re darker now. “You know, it’s kind of sweet. The way you’re sitting there, quiet and shaking. Makes you look even smaller. Makes me want to see just how much noise you can make.”

“Enough.” Said the man behind the desk. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the room like a knife. He’s colder than the others. More dangerous in a way you couldn’t explain. “She’s not here for your amusement. She’s here to make sure Baku listens.”

Seongje laughed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Come on, Baekjin. I’m just trying to make her feel welcome.” He relaxed completely against the couch, leaning back with his held tilted back. His next words were low, as if he was speaking to himself: “I’ve always liked fragile girls. They break the prettiest.”

Baekjin finally moved. He opened a drawer, took something out—a phone—and placed it on the desk in front of him. “Five o’clock.” He says. “Let’s see what Baku decides.”

You press your forehead against your knees, trying to steady your breath. If he comes in without thinking…

Seongje’s voice slices through the air again, taunting. “Hope he hurries.” He said. “Wouldn’t want us getting bored while we wait.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. You’re scared—terrified—but you won’t let them see you break. Not yet.

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The neon sign flickers overhead, casting the entrance in a sickly red glow. Laughter echoes from inside, hollow and distant. A few teens loiter near the front doors, tossing glances at Baku like they recognize him—and know better than to say anything.

Behind him, Sieun is quiet. Still. But there’s something brewing under the surface. He’s been like this since they got the text. No questions, no hesitation. Just that calm, unreadable expression. The kind of calm that warns of a storm behind the eyes.

“There’s a side entrance. Loading zone. I saw it last time we were here.” He started, voice calm. “I’ll wait for you to get inside first. I’ll sneak in through that door after.”

Baku looks at Sieun now, more serious than he’s ever been. “You don’t have to do this, Sieun.”

Sieun keep his gaze forward. “I’m not walking away.” He adjusted his black cap.“You keep them looking at you. I’ll find her.”

“And if you can’t get her out?” Baku asked.

Sieun looked at him. His voice was quiet, steady. “I will.”

A few seconds passed in heavy silence before Baku spoke, his voice edged with bitterness.

“Baekjin and I used to be friends. Before he joined the Union. Before he started playing mob boss with high school kids.” He let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll try to talk to him first—see if there’s anything left of the guy I used to know. But if that doesn’t work…” His gaze hardened. “We fight.”

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The music swells as Baku pushes through the doors. A few heads turn his way. Recognition flickers across the faces of nearby Union kids—some he remembers from past fights. Their eyes lock, but he doesn’t look away. He stands firm, unfazed. He heads straight for the hallway that leads to the back office, just like Sieun had described, over and over again during the past hour. He walk towards the door and turned the knob slowly and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him—and then, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Well, look who finally showed his face.” Seongje was slouched against the wall, spinning a butterfly knife between his fingers, the blade flashing in the dim light. Baku looked at him for a second, then his gaze went to the man who once was his best friend.

Baekjin sat behind a desk, legs crossed and sleeves rolled. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t smile. His gaze met Baku’s like they’d spoken yesterday.

“Didn’t expect you to come alone.” Baekjin says.

“You told me to.” Baku replies flatly. “Figured we could talk.”

Baekjin gives him a thin smile. “We always could.”

Baku scanned the office, his chest tightening with unease. “Where is she?” he demanded, voice low but urgent.

Seongje clicked the knife shut and shoved off the wall, walking a slow circle toward Baku. “Moved her somewhere else. She’s sweet, that girl.” He said with a smirk. “Bit too quiet, though.”

“She’s not part of this.” Baku said, jaw tightening. Gaze hard on Baekjin.

“She is now,” Baekjin said, settling back in his chair. “Because you made her part of it. You let her get close. That’s on you.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Sieun moved through the dim corridor like a shadow, his steps light, his breath tight in his chest. The deeper he went, the more the sound of bowling pins and cheap arcade machines faded behind thick walls. Over the last two hours, he’d searched every public record he could find. Construction permits, outdated blueprints, utility schematics—until he found the layout of the bowling alley tucked away in the files of the old company that had built it over a decade ago. It showed everything.

The public lanes. The hidden stairwell near the loading dock. The walled-off section in the back that didn’t show up on Google Maps. Perfect for a gang like the Union to operate from. He passed a locked supply room. Then another door slightly ajar.

And that’s when he heard it.

A voice, cocky and cruel, echoing from around the corner. “ ‘Don’t touch me.’ ” A boy mocked in a falsetto, laughter following behind him. “She looked like she was gonna cry. Soft little girl.”

Sieun stopped dead in his tracks.

The Union kid—maybe sixteen, seventeen—walked past the hallway Sieun was hidden in, still laughing with his friend. “Boss said not to mess with her, but damn, the attitude on that girl…” Their footsteps faded.

He didn’t twitch. Didn’t breathe loud. But behind his cold, blank stare, his mind was racing fast and sharp. He continued on foward, slipping past a broken bench, down a hallway with metal doors…Until there was a noise.

He froze. It was faint. Fragile. A sound that didn’t belong here. A breath catching. A choked sob. The kind someone tries to swallow down before it escapes. It came from the third door on the right. Sieun stared at it, unmoving. That was you, and you were crying.

He knelt down and pulled the multitool from his pocket, breath shallow, hands steady. The lock was rusted—old, but stiff. It took longer than he liked.

Click.

He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The light inside flickered, casting long shadows across the stained floor. You sat in the corner, knees to your chest, fingers gripping your sleeves, eyes squeezed shut as if you were trying to disappear.

“Y/N.” He said quietly.

Your head snapped up. “…Sieun?”

He nodded once, stepping toward you. For a second, you didn’t move. Then your body sagged just slightly with relief. He crouched in front of you, gaze intense. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so.” You trembled.

He nodded in relief. He offered a hand, and you took it. “We have to move. Now.���

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The air in the office was thick with tension. Baekjin lounged behind his desk, calm as ever, like he was hosting an old friend for drinks, not a confrontation over a kidnapped girl.

Baku stood across from him, unblinking. “I’m not doing anything until I see proof she’s safe.” Baku said flatly.

Baekjin gave a slow, practiced nod. “Fair. We’re civilized, after all.” He glanced to his right. “Seongje. Escort him,” Baekjin said smoothly. “Show him she’s unharmed.”

Seongje flicked his cigarette to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot. “With pleasure.”

The halls they walked through were dim, narrow. Seongje kept his hands in his pockets, sauntering ahead like he was guiding a tour. “So tense.” He drawled. “Still trying to play hero, huh?”

Baku didn’t answer.

Seongje chuckled. “You should’ve joined when Baekjin offered. You’d have a throne by now instead of babysitting punks at Eunjang.”

As they rounded a corner, a couple of Union members spotted them—then immediately veered away, pretending to be busy. Baku noticed. So did Seongje. The fear wasn’t just from Baku’s presence. It was him, too. Even the Union kept their distance from Seongje. The man was unhinged.

They reached a hallway lined with unmarked doors. Seongje pulled out a keyring, whistling under his breath as he stopped at one near the end.

“She’s in here.” He said lazily, unlocking it. The second he swung the door open, the grin vanished from his face.

The room was empty.

No sign of Y/N.

“What the—”

Seongje took one step into the room—and that’s when Baku struck. A clean elbow to the jaw. Seongje stumbled, stunned. Before he could react, Baku slammed the door shut and snatched the key from the lock, twisting it hard and locking Seongje inside.

“BAKU!”

The door shook as Seongje threw his full weight against it, but it held—at least for now.

Baku turned. Three Union members were rushing down the hall. They paused when they saw who it was. He didn’t hesitate. The first went down with a solid punch to the gut. The second tried to grab him from behind—he flipped him over his shoulder and slammed him into the wall. The third backed up, reconsidering his life choices. Baku didn’t stop. He stormed down the hall, fists ready, eyes sharp, pushing toward the exit before the entire Union realized what had happened.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You followed close behind Sieun, your heart hammering in your chest. The hallway was dim, stretching endlessly in both directions. You’d barely said a word since he found you. There hadn’t been time.

Sieun moved with surprising precision—checking corners, listening for footsteps. His hand hovered near his pocket, gripping the multitool like a blade.

You watched him from behind. He looked calm. But that calm was the scariest thing you’d ever seen. Like something inside him had clicked into place.

“Did you come with Baku?” You whispered after what felt like an eternity.

“Yes.” Sieun replied without turning. “He’s distracting them. He’ll be okay.”

You two reached a junction where two hallways split. He paused and checked the wall. There was faded arrows scratched into metal:

MAIN FLOOR →

LOADING DOCK ←

Sieun pointed left. “That way. It’s a service exit. Less cameras.” You nodded and kept close, moving quickly, silently.

The hallway curved again, and finally—at the far end—they saw it. An old steel door, dented and rusted. A red EXIT sign buzzed faintly above it. Your knees nearly buckled with relief.

You picked up speed.

Then—

A voice behind you.

“HEY! STOP!”

Sieun didn’t turn around. He shoved the door open and yanking you out with him before slamming it shut. You were outside, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. The lot behind the alley lay empty. Sieun’s eyes darted left. “There. The fence.”

You both took off, feet pounding against the pavement. Sieun reached it first, hoisting himself up and over in one swift motion. He turned, arm outstretched. “Come on!” You grabbed his hand just as the heavy door behind you screeched open. Multiple voices shouted from the alley, but you were already over, landing hard on the other side.

Sieun didn’t let go of your hand as you both disappeared into the night.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The cold air bit at your cheeks, but you didn’t feel it—not over the throb of your heart or the rush of blood in your ears. Your hand were still wrapped in Sieun’s, your legs still shaking from the sprint. Your breath came in short, panicked gasps.

Then— A low whistle.

Sieun froze. He shifted in front of you instinctively, his hand tightening around the multi-tool in his pocket.

“Over here.” Baku stood at the mouth of a narrow alley, chest rising hard with every breath, blood on his shirt, a dark bruise spreading along his jaw. He looked like he’d gone through hell. When his eyes landed on you, something in his face cracked open.

“Y/N.”

You rushed to him. He caught you without a word, arms closing around you in a tight, grounding hug. You just clung to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

You nod, even though you’re not sure. Your voice comes out hoarse. “I’m okay now.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m so sorry.” Baku whispered. His voice cracked. “This is my fault. You got dragged into this because of me.”

You shake your head. “No. Don’t do that.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not your fault,” You said. “It’s not your responsibility how other people act.”

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he pulls you into another quick hug. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.” You whispered firmly. When you step away, you return to Sieun’s side. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence steadies you. Just standing beside him makes it easier to breathe.

“We have to go.” Baku said already checking the corners. “Juntae and Gotak are waiting by the corner store. That’s our meetup point.”

“Gotak’s only calling the cops if we don’t show by the forty-five-minute mark.” He said. “It’s already been half an hour.” All three of you started jogging towards your usual meet up spot. Your lungs were on fire, but your mind wouldn’t stop spinning. The adrenaline’s thinning, leaving behind too many questions.

You glance at Baku as you slow just slightly beside him. “Why didn’t you guys call the cops from the beginning?” Baku doesn’t answer right away. He looks ahead, jaw tight, eyes tracking every shadow.

“What they did was illegal.” You said, your voice more brittle than you intended. “They kidnapped me.”

He exhales through his nose, sharp and bitter. “There’s someone over Baekjin.” He mutters, not looking at you. “Someone powerful. With money. Influence. The Union’s not just a gang—it’s a business. And the guy backing Baekjin knows how to keep it protected.”

The pieces click together slowly in your head. “So… even if you called…”

“There’s no guarantee the cops would’ve even shown up,” He says. “Not for us. Not for this.”

You don’t want to believe that. But the way he says it—it’s not anger. It’s experience.

“That’s why Gotak’s call was going to be about something else. Not the Union. A fake story. Something loud enough to get a patrol out without raising red flags.”

“But you didn’t know if it would work,” You whisper.

“No,” He says. “It might’ve backfired. They could’ve shown up late. Or worse—tipped someone off.”

You shiver. Not from the cold. Sieun glances back at you, just briefly.

Baku’s voice lowers again. “We couldn’t risk it. Not with you in there.” You nod, not because it makes you feel better—but because you understand now. This whole thing runs deeper than you thought.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The small corner store glows under a flickering streetlight, its windows dark, shutters pulled halfway down. You spot them before they see you—two figures huddled near the alley wall behind it. Juntae is pacing. Gotak leans against the bricks, checking his phone.

Your group’s footsteps hit the alley gravel, soft at first, then louder as you draw closer. Gotak straightens immediately, snapping his head toward the sound. Juntae freezes mid-step. You see their shoulders tense, eyes wide. Then they see you. For a moment, there’s nothing. Just stunned silence.

“Oh my God,” Gotak mutters, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “You’re—holy shit, you’re here.”He runs both hands over his face and starts pacing again, this time out of pure adrenaline. “I thought you were dead. I thought—” He laughed breathlessly through the panic that hasn’t fully left his system. “I was this close to calling. This close.”

Juntae walks toward you slowly, almost cautiously. His eyes shimmer in the dim light, mouth opening like he wants to say something, but no words come out. Then he breaks. His shoulders shake, tears sliding down his cheeks before he can even pretend to stop them. “I thought we were too late.” He says, voice barely more than a whisper. “I thought they hurt you.”

Your chest twists. You step into his arms, pulling him close. “I’m okay.” You murmur. “We made it.”

Behind you, Sieun stands still—quiet and unreadable. His gaze is sharp, watching the ends of the alley like he’s expecting something to crawl out of the dark. He hasn’t relaxed, not even now.

“Ok. Let’s go.” Said Baku, glancing around as well. Your footsteps echoed softly, crunching over scattered gravel as the five of you moved in a tight formation—tense, alert, every shadow a possible threat. Gotak glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, nerves on edge. Juntae kept his gaze on you, as if afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

The bus stop is up ahead, dimly lit, empty. When the bus finally arrives, it hisses to a stop, the lights buzzing too bright against your tired eyes. You climb on in silence. There’s a long bench seat running across the rear, and without even needing to speak, you all settle there together, shoulder to shoulder. Baku squeezes in next to you, still quietly shaken. Gotak slumps on the other side of him, head tipped back against the window like it’s the only thing holding him up. Sieun takes the seat next to you while Juntae slides next him.

As the bus rolls deeper into the city, Baku finally breaks the silence. “We’re not splitting up tonight.”Everyone looks up. He turns slightly in his seat to face you. “You okay if we crash at your place?”

You nod before you’ve even fully thought about it. “Yeah. Please.” It’s not just about safety. You don’t want to be alone either. You glance at Sieun. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead, but there’s a distant look in them, like he’s not fully present. His posture is rigid, every muscle wound tight, yet his hand rests loosely on his thigh.

You slip your hand into his and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Even if his body stays stiff, there’s something in the way he leans just slightly toward you that makes your chest ache. A long minute passes like that—maybe two.

Then, from the far end of the bench, you hear a whisper:

“…Is it bad timing if I point out—once again—that I totally knew they had a thing?”

All you managed was a slow blink, thrown slightly off guard.

Baku’s eyebrow were raised, eyes fixed forward with faux innocence, but there’s a smug smirk tugging at his mouth. Gotak snorts beside him, and even Juntae manages a tired laugh.

The tension cracks, just slightly.

Sieun doesn’t say a word—but you catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously?” You mutter, not even lifting your head. “You’re the worst.”

“I told you it was obvious,” Baku says, nudging Gotak with his knee. “You owe me fried chicken. For real this time.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

By the time everyone made it back to your apartment, it was nearly 7:30 p.m. The sky outside had dimmed to a soft blue-gray, streetlights flickering on one by one. The boys had rushed home to grab a few essentials—chargers, a change of clothes, something to sleep in. You were surprised how quickly they came back.

Now, the smell of instant ramen fills the small living room, and the low murmur of conversation hums like background music. You’re all gathered on the floor around your tiny table—cross-legged, tired, but finally breathing a little easier.

Gotak is halfway through his second cup of noodles. Baku is lying flat on his back, slurping dramatically while Juntae pretends not to be grossed out. Sieun sits beside you, chopsticks in hand, though he hasn’t eaten much. He hasn’t spoken in a while. Not even to you. Still, when you reach for his hand, he lets you take it. He doesn’t squeeze back, but he holds on.

You pulled out blankets and pillows for the boys, grateful your couch unfolded into a bed. You laid the futon mattress beside it, making quick work of the setup. Baku and Gotak flopped onto the couch bed with exaggerated groans. Juntae immediately claimed the futon for himself.

You sit back beside Sieun, your shoulder brushing his. His face is still unreadable. Not cold just… somewhere else. His hair still messy, his clothes still the same ones from earlier, his eyes dull around the edges.

“Hey.” You gave his arm a light nudge. “Go wash up first. You’ll feel better.” You told him gently.

He blinked slowly, then gave you a slight nod and pushed himself up. His movements were heavy, like it took effort just to make his limbs work. You watched as he shuffled toward the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

While he was gone, the boys stayed sprawled across the living room. The television played quietly in the background as they talked among themselves—about what had happened earlier, about Seongje and Beakjin, about what they could’ve done differently. Their voices were low, occasionally interrupted by tired laughter or quiet sighs. Relief was in every breath, even in their exhaustion.

Ten minutes later, Sieun emerged again, steam following him into the hallway. His hair was damp and clinging to his skin, his eyes heavy with something you couldn’t name. He didn’t say anything—just sat back down, cleaner but still quiet.

You grabbed your clothes and headed into the bathroom. In the bathroom, under the warm stream of water, the adrenaline finally began to fade. Your hands trembled slightly as you washed. Everything that had happened replayed in flickers—the cornering at the studio, the locked room, Seongje’s eyes, Beakjin’s quiet threat. You let the fear run its course.

You stepped out of the shower, dried off, changed into your pyjamas, and returned to the living room. They were all wrapped up in blankets now, only half-awake—except for Juntae, who was already fast asleep. The TV was still playing.

“Finally.” Baku muttered from his spot near the edge of the couch bed. “We were about to send a search party.”

“Shut up.” You shook your damp hair at him. Baku and Gotak grinned, tossing you a pillow.

“Goodnight guys.” You said, smiling at them all—until you reached for Sieun’s hand.

“Come on.” You whispered.

He followed when you tugged softly, his body slow to respond, but his feet moved.

Immediately, Baku perked up. “Whoa, whoa. Look who gets special treatment?”

Gotak snorted. “They’re officially disgusting.” You only rolled your eyes at him as you walked away.

You just glanced back at Sieun. He was still quiet. Still somewhere far away. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as you led him down the hall toward your room. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t let go. The door closed behind you with a soft click, muffling the sounds from the living room. The quiet in your room was deeper—denser somehow.

You stepped out of your slippers and climbed into bed, the sheets cool against your skin. You didn’t try to fill the silence. You simply waited, understanding that Sieun would speak when he was ready. Instead, you looked at him, meeting his distant eyes as he stood there unmoving. “Come here.” You said softly, barely above a whisper.

Eventually, he moved. His steps were slow and mechanical, like his body was running on leftover instinct rather than intention. He climbed into bed beside you without protest, his limbs stiff, breath shallow. When you gently pulled him closer, guiding him to lie across your chest, you felt him tense. His entire body locked up, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. He stayed like that for a moment…

Then, his breath shuddered. Just once.

His shoulders started to tremble.

The first sob was silent, but you felt it—deep and ragged, pulling through him like a wave. His fingers clutched the fabric of your shirt, and he buried his face against your chest as the shaking took over. His breathing grew uneven, shattered, tears soaking slowly through the cotton between you.

You held him without speaking, one hand moving slowly through his hair, the other resting on his back. You didn’t try to stop him. You just held on, steady and quiet, as he cried.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You didn’t know how long the crying lasted. His body trembled with every breath, and you held him through it all. Quiet, steady, grounding. At last, the shaking began to slow. His breathing grew quieter, broken now and then by uneven exhales. He stayed pressed against you, his cheek against your chest, his fingers tangled in your shirt like he was still afraid to let go.

Then, in a voice so raw it barely sounded like him, he murmured: “It should be me comforting you.” You felt his shame in the way he tensed again, in how he couldn’t quite lift his head. “Not the other way around…”

You pressed your hand lightly to the back of his head, threading your fingers deeper into his hair and hushed him softly. “Don’t say that.” You spoke softly, but firmly. “I feel blessed that you trust me enough to give yourself to me like that.” You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You’re always holding yourself together for everyone else… I like that I get to be here for you.”

He went still in your arms, like those words struck something deep.

“I like comforting you.” You added affectionately.

Sieun didn’t respond right away. But the guilt in his silence slowly gave way to something softer as you continued to hold him. He finally exhaled, all the air he’d been holding in slipping out of his chest.

“I thought I was going to lose you too…” He whispered, voice small and broken. Tears were still slowly falling down his eyes.

And you understood.

His best friend was still in a coma, and that wound hadn’t healed. It would never heal. Watching you get pulled into danger today, hearing you cry through the walls, thinking for even one second that something could happen to you too—it broke something in him.

You pulled him closer, if that was even possible. “I’m here.” You whispered. “I’m safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed like that for a while, one hand gently tracing circles along his back. Even now, red-rimmed and glassy, his eyes were achingly beautiful. They always had been. There was something haunted about them, a kind of sadness that ran deep, but they held the truth too. Depth. Silence. Fire. You loved how expressive they were, even when he said nothing. And now, staring into them in the dark, you saw something fragile and raw staring back.

“I was scared earlier.” You whispered softly.

He didn’t move, but you felt the faint shift of his attention.

You took a slow breath, fingers trailing gently over his back again. “I knew you’d come for me. With Baku. I never doubted that. And that was the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down. But even while I waited… I wasn’t just afraid for myself. I was afraid for you.” Sieun stirred at that, his hand twitching slightly where it gripped you.

“I was so scared they’d hurt you. Baku as well, but if something would happen to you because of me. And…” You hesitated. “I felt awful too.”

Now he shifted, just enough to lift his head and look at you—eyes still red-rimmed and tired, but focused.

“I didn’t go to school this morning,” Your voice barely above a whisper. “I know it wasn’t my doing, but I know what that might’ve looked like to you. I know you overthink. I know how hard it is for you to trust that people won’t disappear. I kept thinking about how you might of felt in that moment….”

Sieun’s jaw tensed, and he dropped his gaze for a second.

“The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” You said. “Not after everything. You matter to me. A lot.”

Sieun looked up at you. His eyes were glassy again, but not from pain. Something softer, deeper, rested there now. “You matter to me too.”

A small beat passed. You felt your heart stammer in your chest, but this time, not from fear.

You reached up, your hand resting gently against his cheek, brushing the damp skin beneath his eyes with your thumb. “I love you, Sieun. And I don’t say that because I think tonight was terrifying… I say it because I mean it. I’ve meant it for a while.”

You gave a small, shaky smile. “I know you’re going through a lot. And you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

He flinched, so subtly it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But you saw it. Felt it. And then something in his expression cracked. For a split second, you saw it…Something younger in his face. The echo of a little boy who had gone too long without hearing those words. A boy who learned to survive on silence. A boy who was never held gently, never reassured enough that he was worthy of being loved.

And then, just like that, he started crying again.

Not like before. These weren’t sharp or panicked sobs—this time it came like a release. Quiet. Slow. A grief melting into something softer. His chest hitched against yours, the sound of his breath shaky as tears spilled freely down his face again. You stayed like that in the dark, his breath uneven against your skin, his tears still falling, slow and silent.

But little by little, his body began to settle.

The shaking stopped. His breathing, though still heavy, found a rhythm. His grip on your shirt loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, slow and soothing. You kissed his forehead gently. Not because it would fix everything. But because it told him: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Eventually, you felt the weight of him begin to shift slightly. The way his breath deepened, the way his body melted a little more into yours.

He had fallen asleep on your chest.

You watched the shadows shift in the room. Listened to the soft hum of the television through the wall. Your hand moved slowly through his hair one last time before resting gently at his nape. You exhaled, eyes fluttering closed, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you. And before long, you followed him into sleep.

Held together by the quiet, and everything that hadn’t needed words.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke to the feeling of warmth. Sieun’s weight was still against you. His head was tucked beneath your chin, one arm slung loosely around your waist, fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid it might disappear in his sleep. His breathing was slow and soft.

You didn’t move right away. You didn’t want to wake him. His face looked younger in the morning light. No more tear stains. Just peace. You brushed your fingers lightly through his hair, breathing in quietly, trying not to disturb the calm.

From the muffled rustling outside the door, you could tell the others were already awake. There was the soft clang of dishes, the groan of someone stretching, and a quiet whisper that sounded like Gotak grumbling about the cold floor.

You stayed where you were a little longer, letting yourself have this—this stillness. This comfort. This proof that you’d made it through the night.

When you stirred a little bit, Sieun blinked slowly awake, his brows twitching like he was still unsure of where he was. His gaze met yours, sleepy and confused. Then he blinked slowly as if memories from last night came back to him.

“Morning.” You whispered.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” He murmured, voice hoarse with sleep and something deeper.

“I’m glad you did.” You replied. “You needed it.”

He closed his eyes again for a moment, breathing you in like he still wasn’t convinced any of this was real.

“I’m staying here today. I’m gonna call the ballet academy and the school. Let them know I won’t be coming.”

Sieun lifted his head slightly. “You are?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need the break. I’m ahead in most of my classes anyway. Math is the only one giving me a headache.”

Sieun was quiet for a second, then murmured, “I’ll stay too.”

You blinked.

“I can help with math… if anything.” He added sleepily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That pulled a soft laugh from your throat. You tightened your arms around him a little. “Of course you would.”

His lips barely curved, but it was there—a small, real smile.

You gave his forehead a kiss and suffled to get out of bed. “I’ll be back” You said gently.

You slipped out of the room and walked to the living room. You found the others slowly getting ready—pulling on jackets, slinging bags over shoulders.

“I’m not coming in today,” You said slowly, voice rough with sleep. “I’m gonna rest. Yesterday…” You trailed off, rubbing your arm. “Fear drains you like nothing else.”

Gotak gave a slow nod. “Of course.” His lips pressed together in understanding. Juntae’s expression softened, and Baku smiled as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

They lingered in the doorway.

You turned back to them, frowning faintly. “What are you guys waiting for?”

Juntae adjusted his glasses. “We’re waiting for Sieun.”

You hesitated, then answered, a little awkwardly, “Oh. He’s not coming either. He’s staying with me. He’s… exhausted too. From the stress.”

There was a beat of silence.

Baku opened his mouth—already leaning into one of his usual teasing remarks—but Gotak smacked the back of his head lightly. “Don’t.” He muttered.

Baku groaned, rubbing the spot. “I wasn’t gonna say anything bad.”

You rolled your eyes, lips tugging into a faint smile despite everything.

“Be careful.” Juntae said softly as they stepped out. “Text us later, okay?”

“I will.” You promised, and closed the door behind them, the apartment quiet once more.

You quickly made your calls and padded softly back to your room, the apartment now hushed and still.

Sieun was lying exactly where you’d left him, eyes fixed on the ceiling, blinking slowly. The blankets were pulled halfway up his chest, one arm bent behind his head, the other still resting where your body had been.

You crossed the room and crawled back onto the bed. He turned his head to look at you, eyes heavy but clear now.

You slid under the covers beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “They left.” You murmured. “I told them we’re staying home.”

He nodded faintly. “Good.”

You laced your fingers through his under the covers, your bodies still facing one another, only inches apart. The morning light filtered faintly through the curtains, soft and pale, wrapping the room in stillness.

“Do you wanna sleep a little more?” You whispered, your voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to do anything yet.”

Sieun blinked slowly, his gaze resting on yours. His eyes were still shadowed from everything, but there was something gentler now.

He gave a small nod. “Yeah… if you stay here, then yeah.”

He inched closer until your foreheads nearly touched and your legs brushed beneath the blanket. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, grounding. With your fingers still laced in his, you closed your eyes and let sleep take you, quiet and undisturbed.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke to the softness of morning light spilling faintly through the curtains, warm sheets tangled between you and Sieun. He was facing you, still close, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, you just watched him. His face was softer than you’d seen it in weeks, the shadows under his eyes were lighter, his jaw no longer tight with tension.

He looked… rested. Like sleep had actually touched something deep in him.

You leaned in just a little and brushed your nose gently against his. His eyes blinked open slowly, hazy with sleep at first. His gaze locked on you, and something in it melted. You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek with gentle fingers. His skin was warm, familiar. Comforting. A sight left him.

He mirrored the motion, his own hand rising to touch your cheek, his thumb grazing softly along the edge of your jaw. His eyes were still on you, and this time, they sparkled with something bright and warm. Like he was looking at you and seeing something precious.

A lazy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You know…” He started, voice low and rough. “I’ve never said this to anyone before.”

You waited, your heart beating a little faster.

He didn’t rush. He never did. But the silence between you was alive with something unspoken.

“I thought I knew how to live with being alone. I got used to it.” He said quietly. “Used to not being wanted… not being seen. Even before everything with my friend, I was already disappearing.”

His eyes flicked down for a second, then found yours again. “I didn’t think someone like you could care about someone like me.” He said, a small, breathless laugh escaping him, almost in disbelief. “But I kept falling. Every time you talked to me, every time you looked at me like I was worth something… I kept falling.”

His voice broke just slightly—just enough.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered. “I didn’t say anything last night. But I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how.”

Your eyes stung suddenly, but all you could do was smile—because Sieun was looking at you with eyes that always carried a storm, and now, somehow, there was sunlight in them too.

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you gently closer, his forehead resting against yours.

The kiss was soft—barely there at first, a brushing of warmth, then firmer as Sieun leaned in with more certainty. He kissed you like something fragile and precious. His hand stayed at the nape of your neck, anchoring him to you.

There was a small smile on your lips, the kind that came from somewhere deep, somewhere safe.

“So…” You whispered, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Am I officially your girlfriend now?”

Sieun blinked, and then a slow, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” He said softly. “You are.”

He looked a little surprised at himself for saying it out loud, but he didn’t take it back. If anything, he looked proud—like the words tasted good.

You smiled wider, your chest feeling light for the first time in days. “Good.” You said, quietly teasing. “Because I was starting to wonder how long I had to wait.”

Sieun let out a soft laugh under his breath, then leaned in and kissed you again—still slow, still tender. As you pulled back just slightly to look at him, your heart fluttered at the sight. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed. He looked so soft in that moment.

You leaned in again. This time, you let your lips move with more intention. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss just enough to draw a small breath from him. His mouth opened under yours, responding now, but letting you lead. His breath was warm, his body pliant, and you felt him tremble slightly

“Can I… try something?” You whispered, barely above a breath.

He didn’t answer at first. He just blinked at you. For a second, you saw the shyness flicker through him, like he was still learning how to accept being wanted this way.

But then, slowly, he nodded.

“I’ve honestly lost count of how many times you’ve saved me.” You said, your voice quiet, a teasing lilt curling at the edges. “I really have to find a way to repay you… for being such a gentleman.”

Sieun’s ears flushed instantly, a deep red crawling up to his cheeks. But he didn’t look away. His eyes stayed on yours, soft and full of wonder, and something else—something that made your chest warm. He blinked slowly, clearly overwhelmed, but his voice came out, low and sincere: “You don’t owe me anything…”

You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough to feel him sigh into it.

“I know.” You whispered. “But I want to.”

His eyes widened just slightly—his whole body still, waiting—but behind the shyness, there was trust. And maybe, even anticipation.

You smirked, just a little. “Turn over. On your back.”

Sieun blinked, slightly breathless. He nodded, quiet and obedient, and shifted slowly onto his back, the blankets rustling softly around him. You sat up beside him, brushing some hair from your face as you looked down at him.

“Just relax.” You said gently, your voice light but with a teasing edge. “Let me take care of you.”

He swallowed hard, but didn’t resist—just watched you, his fingers twitching slightly on the comforter.

You leaned over him, letting your fingertips trace softly along the line of his jaw. “If anything feels uncomfortable… tell me. Okay?” Your voice was sincere, grounding. “I mean it. We stop the second you want to.”

Sieun nodded immediately, almost too fast. “I know.” He murmured. “I trust you.”

That look in his eyes made your breath catch. You leaned down, brushing a slow kiss over his cheek, then his jaw. His breath caught as your hand flattened over his chest, feeling the fast rhythm of his heart.

You pressed your lips to the side of his neck now. The skin there was soft, warm, and you couldn’t help but linger, letting your kiss trail along the curve of his neck. He shuddered slightly at the sensation, his body stiffening for just a moment before he relaxed again under your touch. His hand found its way to your back, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling faster.

Sieun’s eyes fluttered shut as he tilted his head just slightly, silently offering you more. A quiet breath escaped him. You let your mouth linger, lips pressing just firmly enough to draw a soft gasp from his throat. When you finally pulled away, his skin was faintly flushed, and a delicate bloom of red marked the spot where your mouth had been.

Your fingers moved gently along the hem of his shirt, your touch featherlight—asking, not taking. When your eyes lifted to meet his, you found him already watching you. His cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, but he only nodded his head at your silent question.

You slowly slid the fabric up, revealing the pale skin beneath. You moved with care. This wasn’t about rushing, it was about seeing him and taking care of him. Sieun’s breathing hitched as your fingers traced his collarbone, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. You kissed down his chest and took on of his nipple into your mouth and bite it gently. Sieun responded with a sound in the back of his throat that sent shivers down your spine.

You continued your way down, pressing soft kisses along the waistband of his pajama bottoms. His hands clenched the comforter tightly, knuckles paling with tension. “Still okay?” You asked, pausing, your fingers already hooked around the band of both his joggers and underwear.

“Y-Yeah.” He responds shakily. “Please…”

You slowly remove his bottom, feeling nervous yourself. Your lips parted in surprise when his dick sprang free, mouth already salivating. You took your time and ran your hands up his legs, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt as your thumbs rubbed circles on his inner thighs.

Sieun squeezed his eyes shut when you delicately took a hold of him. He was heavy and hard in between your hand. Pre-cum was slowly dribbling down his length. A quiet exhale slipped from Sieun’s lips. It almost sounded like a curse.

You rubbed up and down him tentatively, testing how much pressure seemed to be getting the right reaction. The muscles of his thighs tightened as you focused on the head of his cock and more fluid leaked down to his base. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” You couldn’t help but whisper in awe. His dick twitched in your grasp in answer.

Gathering your courage, your tongue timidly darted out to lick him. Sieun mouth opened, but no words came out. He raised himself on his elbow to look down at you, surprised. You could see the blush spreading across his cheeks, a shade you’d never seen on him before, making him look so vulnerable, so beautiful.

Under his gaze, you simply continue to lick his tip, your tongue flattening over his slit, slurping on his pre-cum. A whimper left Sieun’s mouth and you look up to see his face contorted in pleasure, features softening into an expression of pure bliss.

He let himself fall back on his back when you decided to take him fully. Your hand wrapped around the parts of him you couldn’t reach. You moaned around him, the vibration causing to him gasp. Your eyes closed a moment in concentration as you greedily took more, gagging around him a little bit. Sieun’s head tipped back against the pillow, exposing his throat fully. His hands were still by his side, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably in the sheets.

“Y/N I’m—“ He interrupted himself, bringing his forearm over his face, trying to hide—whether from the intensity or from how exposed he felt, even he didn’t know. His lips parted, and a quiet, helpless sound slipped out. His body became tensed.

Suddenly, a growl left him as hot cum shoot down your throat. You continued sucking as spurt after spurt came, taking everything he gave you. Sieun’s chest was rising and falling erratically. His whole body was shaking in satisfaction. Soft whimper escaped his lips now as you sucked him dry and finally released him.

When you rose, breathless, you gently reached for Sieun’s forearm, which had still been shielding his eyes. With a soft touch, you moved it away, revealing the rawness in his expression. His eyes fluttered open, still clouded with a mixture of vulnerability and bliss. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. His gaze softened, meeting yours, but there was something almost frantic in the way his hands reached for yours, seeking reassurance.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, just leaned into your touch, as if grounding himself with the connection between the two of you. His lips parted, but no words came out—only a quiet, shaky breath as his body trembled slightly beneath you.

You gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a slow, soothing motion. Your heart ached a bit at the rawness in his eyes, the vulnerability he was letting slip through. A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in a little closer, your voice lighter than before.

“So, are you okay?” You asked, your tone playful, but the concern still lingering in your eyes. “Or do I need to keep checking on you to make sure I didn’t break you?”

For a moment, Sieun just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, a flicker of something crossed his face, and his lips twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile but was too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions.

“I’m fine.” He said, his voice hoarse but earnest, though it still held a quiet vulnerability. “Just… didn’t expect that.”

You raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.“

Sieun blushed, his eyes flickering to the side, and for the first time since everything started, he looked like he was finding his footing again. You could feel the tension in his body start to loosen, a soft chuckle escaping him in response.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” he said again, this time with more conviction. “Just… give me a minute.”

You giggled then nodded, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss against his forehead before resting your head back on his shoulder. “Take all the time you need,” You whispered softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[piroulinewafers]

could u write something about hybrid puppy caleb being nasty as hell..(leaving this open, feel free to do whatever uw im open to anything). i love ur writing sm i cant stop sending asks BYEEE i was wondering if u take anons? if so can i be 💐? have a lovely day xx

𝐚/𝐧: i love puppy hybrid caleb... i dont think this is very "nasty" in the sense of the word, but i've been brainrotting about puppy waiter caleb for quite some time and maid day was a few days past so... i love writing for hybrids hehe. back in the day, there used to be this hq hybrid acc i was super into on here and i would frequent their page often heh. i kind of got distracted at the end but whatever its fine sighhh. thank you 💐 anon for giving me an excuse to write this 😋.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: puppy hybrid! caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, overstimulation. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

it had started with a stupid comment.

she hadn’t meant it seriously— just an offhanded joke tossed to one of her friends while she and caleb were out buying groceries one evening, something about how those themed cafes with butlers or maid were always kind of… cute. silly. harmless

she hadn’t thought anything of it, merely a mention that they’d likely have a sale for the upcoming “maid day”. but caleb had heard.

he hadn’t said anything that night. just turned his head slightly, one ear twitching in the subtle way it did when he was paying attention to something he pretend not to be.

and now, somehow, here she was— standing in the their living room after returning home from work, door barely half-shut, blinking in stunned silence. 

frankly, it was suspicious. caleb was rarely quiet, especially not in the mornings. usually he greeted the day like it owed him something— loud yawns, half-buttoned shirts, big grins.

but today? silence. at least, until she finally spotted him.

there stood caleb, ears perking up at the sound of her entering the open-plan kitchen-living room space. 

the white button-up shirt he wore stretched across his chest, its collar messily done up, and the sleeves bunched up and slightly wrinkled like he had had been tugging at them nervously earlier. the pink pants were too fitted to be deemed anything close to comfortable in her eyes, the apron tied at his hips doing absolutely nothing to tame the broad frame it cinched in. it was pink and white plaid, with little ruffles along the hem and a small satin bow at the base of his spine, right above the soft wage of his tail. 

and, as if that wasn’t enough— frosting. a small, very deliberate smear of white on his cheek. 

he simply beamed.

“what are you wearing, caleb?” she finally asked, brows drawing into a confused furrow.

caleb tilted his head, hands innocently behind his back as his tail wagged a mile a minute. “it’s maid day,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “wasn’t that somethin’ you mentioned once? somethin’ cute?”

“you… remember that? were you eavesdropping?”

he stepped closer, ignoring her accusation entirely. “i made breakfast,” he said, proudly. “figured i’d serve it up like a proper house pup.”

she sat slowly, still stunned as caleb presented her a plate with surprising care: pancakes, stacked with melted butter and syrup dripping along the edges with a mound of frosting, beside a slightly too runny sunny side up egg.

he stood behind her once she started eating, arms crossed, watching eagerly.

“well?” he asked, tail twitching almost nervously, ears perking up against as he waited for her response.

“it’s good,” she said, voice muffled by a mouthful of pancake. “why’s the egg so— “

“don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, before she could ruin the moment. “it was just that stupid pan, but i tried real hard, so isn’t that all that matters?”

she could tell by the flicking of his tail that he was nervous, eagerly awaiting her response. 

there was another beat of silence as she took another bite— and that’s when caleb leaned in.

“by the way…” he said, practically purring, brushing a knuckle to his cheek. “i think i got a lil’ somethin’ right here. right there. frostin’. could you maybe…”

he trailed of, nudging his face toward her, ears twitching. 

she sighed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but she leaned up, gently brushing her thumb over the smear. that was all the permission he needed.

in an instant, caleb let out a pleased, puppy-like hum and nuzzled into her hand, rubbing his cheek against her palm before quickly shifting to lick it— one long, deliberate lap.

“caleb!” she gasped, trying to pull away, but he caught her easily, tail wagging wildly. 

“you said i was ridiculous,” he said, half laughing, half whining. “but you haven’t told me to stop.” he held her hand pressed to his cheek with two firm ones.

“your hands are so gentle,” he whispered. his eyes, flushed deep violet, looked up at her with a dangerous kind of devotion, all puppy-dog sincerity wrapped in pure, unadulterated, debilitating love. 

his tongue brushed along her cheek before she could speak. “you like this, don’tcha? you like it when i act dumb for you.”

“stop it— “ 

“but you were smilin’,” he said with a wicked grin. “saw it. you’re all flustered.”

she tried to push him off, but caleb was bigger. stronger. and annoyingly needy.

he whined again, low and soft in his chest, like she was about to leave him out in the cold. “c’mon, baby. just pet me a little. tell me i’m good. i dressed up and everythin’…”

his tail brushed across her legs as he leaned in closer, voice dropping. “i’ll do anything’….”

her heart kicked hard against her ribs.

the apron brushed against her knees as he grew close, his hands sliding around her waist, warm palms pulling her closer. “been thinkin’ about this all mornin’,” he admitted, half under his breath, “’bout you touchin’ me. praisin’ me. let me serve you properly. like a good waiter would.”

the air shifted between them. heated. 

he leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “say i’m good. say it once and i’ll be the best pup you ever had.”

her hands found his hair, sliding between the soft space between his twitching ears. 

and when she finally spoke, low and soft, it broke something in him. 

“you’re such a good boy, caleb.” 

his breath caught. and then he growled— not in anger, but in something needier, more primal. 

she barely had time to register the shift before he leaned forward and kissed her— messy, eager, with the same urgency he gave to every part of his life. his ears twitched, on flopping forward as if to listen in on her heartbeat, his tail curling slightly behind him in its furious wagging. 

he didn’t stop at one kiss. caleb chased her mouth like he was starving, like she was the only thing in the would that could sate him. his hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he licked her bottom lip with a small, teasing flick— less polished, more instinctual. 

“i wore this dumb frilly thing just for you,” he mumbled against her lips, breath warm and quick. “didn’t think i’d like it, but… you lookin’ at me like that— “ he groaned softly, his forehead pressed to hers now. “say you like it. please. just say it.”

wide-eyed and breathless, she nodded slowly. “you… you look cute,” she whispered, barely audible. 

his whole body responded— ears perked, tail wagging in a blur. he lit up like a fuse, practically vibrating with joy, before dragging her down into another kiss, hands roaming but still restrained— just barely. 

“tell me i’m good again,” he muttered, mouth brushing against the curve of her jaw now. “tell me i’m good, please. woke up early to make you breakfast. got frosting’ on my cheek and didn’t lick it just so you’d touch me. all for you.”

his lips ghosted along her neck, needy and reverent. his breath hitching as she scratching behind his ears, a delight sound spilling past his lips.

“i’ll do anything— ‘m serious. i’ll behave, i’ll kneel, i’ll bark, i don’t care— just say it again.” 

the apron bunched around his waist as he shifted against her, still clinging, still pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. his tail thumbed again, half-wrapped around her ankle now and his ears twitching at every sound she made, every soft breath or sigh.

“i love you, caleb…”

eagerly in response, he licked her cheek without warning again— just a soft, eager swipe like it was the most natural thing in the world. “you taste sweet too.”

“caleb,” she said, a mixture between a laugh and an exasperated sigh.

“what?” he grinned, all mischief and love as he pulled back a bit to get a better look at her face. “you let me kiss you. now i gotta touch, gotta hold— gotta do somethin’ or i’m going to explode.”

gently, she cupped his cheeks, thumbing over the faint freckles on his face. she watched him tilt his head in her grasp, staring up at her with that smitten gaze of his. with a hum, she peppered sweet, feather-light kisses to his skin, finally giving into his pleas. 

she kissed him again, and again and he melted into every one— hot, soft, trembling with affection as he murmured, “love you, love you so much. let me show you. let me— “

his violet eyes gleamed with a mix of playfulness and barely restrained desire as he straddled her lap, his larger frame enveloping hers. 

the soft fabric of his pink pants stretched taught over his muscular thighs, the frill apron at his waist fluttered softly as he shifted his hips, grinding down against her pajama-clad bottom.

caleb’s breathing grew heavy as he nuzzled at her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin as he panted. he was painfully hard, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. the outline of his cock, complete with the distinct knot at the base, was clearly visible. he squirmed, leaning more of his weight against her, unable to contain the overwhelming urge to claim her, to make her his.

his fingers crept up under her shirt, pushing the fabric higher up her torso as he explored the soft skin beneath. he wanted to touch her, to feel every inch of her body against his own. 

“please,” he whined, his voice taking on a more canine-like timbre. “i’m so hard, i need to— fuck— “

his actions forced a sharp gasp to leave her, cold hands pressed against the bare skin of her stomach as she looked up at him, lips parted. 

she bit her lip, feeling the heat of caleb’s body pressed so urgently against her own. as much as she loved seeing him all dressed up just for her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by his intensity, even though she was used to it to some extent. 

it was still so early, and her stomach grumbled with hunger, the half eaten eggs and pancakes calling her name while caleb rutted against her. “caleb, wait…” she started to protest, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, trying to smooth the fabric and perhaps calm the manic energy radiating off of him.

but caleb seemed not to hear her, too lost in his own desperate need as he captured her wrists, pinning her hands above her head as he loomed over her, eyes wild and hungry. “please,” he growled, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent shivers down her spine this time. “i can’t wait anymore. i need you so bad…”

before she could voice any further objections, caleb had hoisted her up and then gently but firmly pushed her down onto the wooden floor. she let out a soft grunt as her back his the ground, the air leaving her lungs in a rush as she rubbed her back. 

“caleb, the floor is uncomfortable— “

any attempt at a complain fell on deaf ears, as caleb was already settling his weight on top of her, his hips neatly between her spread thighs. he rocked against her, his painfully hard cock straining against the confines of his pink pants as it chafed against her pajama bottoms. the knot at the base of his shaft pulsed and throbbed. 

she squirmed beneath him, cheeks flushed pink as she fettle heat of his desperation, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding back. “it’s too early, caleb, i didn’t even finish breakfast…”

his ears twitched and flattened back against his head as he leaned down to shut her up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her. his tail wagged frantically behind him, the long, fluffy appendage brushing against her thighs as he ground his aching cock against her core. he groaned into her mouth, the sound a mix of pleasure and frustration. 

“i know, i know,” he panted, breath hot against her neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin. “i’ll make it up to you, baby. i promise. i’ll spoil you rotten, just please— “he punctuated his words with a particularly sharp nip to her earlobe, sending sparks of pained pleasure through her.

caleb’s hands roamed her body greedily, pushing up under her pajama top again to expose the soft skin of her stomach and chest. he splayed his fingers wide, gripping her waist and rocking more insistently against her as he gazed down at her with burning eyes. 

his hands slid down to her pajama pants, fingers curling into the waistband as he tugged impatiently at the fabric. she knew she should protest more, should insist that he slow down, but the hungry, desperate look in his eyes stole her breath away. she gasped softly as he yanked her pants down, baring her lower half to his heated gaze.

the knot at the base of his cock throbbed almost painfully, straining against the fabric of his boxers and the tight confines of his pants. it rubbed deliciously against her clothed slit, the friction sending sparks of reluctant pleasure zinging up her spine. 

 his desperation reached a fever pitch, fingers clumsy in their urgency as he forced her panties to the side, , exposing the glistening folds to the cool air. the scent of her arousal filled his nose, making his head swim with lust.

still clothed in his straining pink pants, caleb tried to shove the right fabric down his thighs, panting harshly as he struggled to free his aching cock. the button and zipper fought against his desperate, trembling fingers until, with a final frustrated snarl, he ripped the fabric, tearing a gaping hole in the crotch of his pants. the ruined garment hung in a tattered state as he threw it to the side wtith his boxers, his throbbing erection springing free, bulbous knot at the base pulsing angrily.

she gasped at the sight, eyes widening. “caleb!” she scolded lightly, her cheeks flushing pink. “look at what you’ve done to your nice pants!” despite her words, there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she propped herself up on her , sitting up a bit.

caleb was too far gone, too consumed by his own need to care about ruined clothing. he shook his head, ears flopping as he gazed down at her with glazed, lust-filled eyes. drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, splattering onto her exposed clit, making it glisten obscenely and forcing a shaky sigh past her lips. 

“don’t look at me like that…” he grumbled, dejection clearly clinging to his words. 

he was left only in the frilly apron, still tied snugly around his waist, his fat cock tenting against the fabric and leaving an obscene damp spot in it's wake.

before she could offer any sort of response, caleb was rutting against her again, the swollen head of his cock kissing her entrance, smearing her arousal around her delicate folds. she gasped, back arching off the floor as he grunted and panted above her, hips moving in a frenzied rhythm.

he tried once, twice, each time clumsily trying to sink into her, but his cock kept notching against her hole and slipping out, rubbing against her folds on her thigh. 

then, with a single, powerful thrust, he drove forward, burying his thick, pulsing shaft into her tight, wet heat. she cried out, nails raking down his back as he split her own on his fat cock, knot catching on her entrance and tugging at her stretched flesh.

caleb set a relentless pace, hips slapping against her thighs with each desperate, needy thrust. the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by caleb’s grunts and growls of pleasure. 

he didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t bother with gentle or slow. he just took her, claimed her, body driven by a primal, animalistic instinct. 

“i’m sorry,” he panted, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. “i’m sorry i didn’t prepare you better. ‘couldn’t wait any longer. fuck, you’re so tight, so perfect…” his words dissolved into a low, keening moan as he snapped his hips forward particularly hard, the head of his cock battering her cervix.

she could only cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back, feeling them flex and tense with each powerful thrust. her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he rutted into her, thick cock stretching her walls deliciously. she could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing inch of his shaft as he plunged in and out of her dripping cunt.

caleb’s ears stood tall and alert atop his head , swivelling and twitching with every sound and sensation. his tail brushed against her calves, wagging with wild abandon as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight, wet heat gripping his aching cock. 

his tail thumped against the the floorboards with reckless abandon, each thrust forcing more breathy moans past her lips, eyes screwed shut. 

“please, please… please look at me. look, look— “caleb whimpered, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants against her neck. “i love you, i love you so fuckin’ much. i need to… i need to…” he couldn’t even finish his thought process, his hips twitching. 

“‘gonna knot you, yeah, can i?” he forced out, though they both knew that he wasn/t the type to wait for anyone’s permission before acting. 

his cock pulsed and jerked inside her as thick ropes of hot, sticky seed finally painted her inner walls.

she cried out, walls clamping down around him like a vice as she felt his release fill her up, her own orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, body shaking and shuddering as she came hard on his pistoning cock. 

caleb’s body shuddered, muscles tensing as his knot swelled and notched in her. he let out guttural grown as he felt the bulbous flesh expand, tying them together as he squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation of being deeply, irrevocably bound to her sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through his body. 

despite the discomfort of his knot stretching her to her limits, caleb couldn’t stop the instinctive need to rut, to claim, to mark his mate. his hips jerked and twitched erratically, his softening cock rubbing against her sensitive walls as he weakly humped into her, chasing the fading embers of his release. 

“can’t… can’t stop,” he panted harshly, his breath hot and moist against her neck. drool dribbled from his chin, splattering not her collarbone as he ground his pelvis against hers, his knot throbbing and pulsing inside her with each weak thrust.

she whimpered, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around the thick obstruction lodged deep inside her. the sensation of being so utterly stuffed, of feeling caleb’s seed sloshing heavily inside her as he rutted into her, was intense and overwhelming. 

it was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as her tender flesh struggled to accommodate his insistent movements.

she gasped out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as she tried to anchor herself amidst the tempest of sensation. “it’s t-too much. you’re hurting me…” despite her words, she made no move to stop him, her body instinctively yielding to his claiming thrusts.

caleb just groaned in responses, hips giving a particularly sharp jerk as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and lapping at the teeth marks he had left early. 

his body shuddered, muscles quivering with exertion as his hips seemed to jerk on their own, instinct-driven thrusts. he panted easily, breathing coming out in ragged gasps against her sweat-dampened skin. “sorry,” he grunted, voice strained. “I know i’m hurtin’ you, i just.. i can’t stop. fuck, it feels too good.”

he let out a low, agnozied groan as a particular jolt of discomfort shot through him, his knot twisting and tugging at her stretched, sensitive entrance, any attempt to pull out to thrust in any deeper stopped by his inflated knot.

“hurts… fuck, it hurts, but i can’t— “

finally, with a shuddered gasp, his body went limp, knees weak as he slumped forward, practically collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the floor. 

she let out a weak, breathless protest as she as she found herself pinned beneath him, still so intimately connected. she gently hit his shoulder with a closed fist. 

“ow, caleb, you jerk…” she whimpered, shifting her hips gingerly and wincing at the feeling of him inside of her. “you’re a bad dog, you need to learn how to control yourself and— oof!”

caleb suddenly rolled them over so that her body was splayed out on top of him, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his body.

he just pouted up at her, lips curling into a miserable frown. he looked so adorably sorry, looking up at her with those irresistible puppy dog eyes. “i know, i know,” he mumbled, his voice thick with guilt. “you don’t really think i’m a bad dog, do you? i just love you so much… i can’t help myself around you…”

he nuzzled into her neck once more, his nose brushing against her jawline as he breathed in her scent, still heavy with the musk of their coupling.

the room had gone quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of caleb’s breathing and the soft thump-thump of his tail against the floor. he lay sprawled on his back on the floor, cheeks flushed pink and the apron still bunched up around his waist, with her draped over his chest like she belonged there— and she did. his arms were wound tightly around her waist, fingers twitching now and then as if to remind himself she was real, she was here, and she was his.

he gave a soft, tired whine, muffled in her hair as he nuzzled the top of her head. “m’not lettin’ you go,” he mumbled, tail giving another lazy wag against the wood floor. “even if i could.”

she gave a sleepy huff of laughter, nose tucked against his collarbone, her legs tangled with his. “hm, is that so, puppy?”

that earned a pleased rumble from deep in his chest. his ears gave a lazy twitch, one flopping sideways as he smiled, dazed and dopey. he was still flushed, still panting just a little, but more than anything, he looked happy. puppy-happy. glowing with the kind of simple joy only he could manage after something so intense.

“you’re real warm,” he mumbled, cheek smushed into her temple. “perfect size. like a little blanket just for me.”

“you’re the heater here,” she teased weakly, but her voice was fond, her fingers lazily combing through his hair and brushing along the base of one ear. 

he let out a whuff of a sigh and arched into it, tail thumping a little faster now.

“spoilin’ me,” he murmured. “i’m going to get all needy if you keep that up.”

“you’re already needy as is,” she said, and he didn’t even deny it— just gave a dopey grin and licked her cheek again, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself.

“guess i am,” he said, his voice all gravel and sunshine, “but you like it. admit it.”

she rolled her eyes, but didn’t move. didn’t want to move. not with him still knotted inside her, not with his arms like iron around her and that soft, puppyish whine every time she shifted too far away. not with his tail brushing her calves and his thumb lazily stroking her lower back in slow, content circles.

“i like you like this,” she admitted finally, cheek resting over his heartbeat. “all clingy and warm. soft.”

his ears perked up, tail wagging harder now despite how tired he was. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

he made a soft, pleased wuff again, kissed the top of her head, and tightened his hold. “then i’m stayin’ like this forever. right here. with you. no one else gets you like this, alright? just me.”

she smiled into his skin, letting her eyes drift shut, wrapped in the arms of the world’s biggest, clingiest, most lovably infatuated puppy.

“so needy, caleb,” she hummed. she let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to his bare chest as she rested her cheek against him..

“just you.”

[harkness-pet]

what a pretty girl

Pairing: Agatha x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, dark undertones, sub!Agatha, dom!reader, slight dumbification, praise kink, etc.

Plot: You are a rich woman who stumbled upon an overworked Agatha. And your need to take care of her gets the best out of you.

MEN AND MINORS DNI!

—

Agatha was a woman you met very randomly when she almost fell asleep standing in a line of a grocery store. 

You caught her before she could fall down and you saw the exhaustion on her face, the dark shadows under her soft blue eyes and in that moment she took your breath away. You offered to give her a ride home and on the way she confessed she’s been working three jobs. Her mother had written her off her will and Agatha spent all the money she had trying to save her baby boy who unfortunately died anyway. A brain tumor. 

Your heart kept breaking for the woman. Money never posed any issue to you, you had your own company, so you couldn’t imagine what she was going through. 

After you dropped her off at a very shady building, you asked her where you could find her. She mumbled a name of a very sleazy bar down the street and you shuddered internally, imagining this petite beautiful woman amongst the drunks. 

You made sure to visit her often, always leaving a big tip, which you knew she wanted to refuse, but the look in your eyes made her accept it every single time. 

One day you saw her boss harassing her in the back room and you had enough, especially after she confessed she got evicted from her apartment. 

“Please, stay with me, I have a guest room, you can have your own space there.”

Agatha, tears streaming down her face, a bruise left by a touchy man from the previous evening shining on her cheek, quietly nodded. 

So now Agatha was living in your guest room, you felt better that she was close to you and you could keep her safe. She insisted on going back to work, but you managed to convince her to drop the bar job. She reluctantly admitted that it had been hard to keep the men off her lately. 

You gave her Peter, your driver, to take her to the other two jobs, you always had a fridge full of groceries so she’d never have to buy anything, you wanted to give her the world. 

One evening when Agatha woke up from her nap you brought a bottle of wine to drink. She joined you and soon you were both laughing and drinking on the couch, talking about some reality show you were watching days before. 

“Y/N, thank you so much,” Agatha suddenly whispered and your breath was taken away by how beautiful she looked in the flickering light of the candles around. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I will get better soon and find my own place, I promise.”

You brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear tenderly. “I like that you’re here with me. You don’t have to move anywhere.”

Her eyes flickered to your lips and you waited. You wanted this to be her decision. Soon enough she closed the distance and kissed you softly, her breath tasting like wine and Agatha. 

You entangled your fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss. 

The next day you pulled some strings and Agatha was fired from her second job. You felt bad for doing it, but you wanted her to be safe, in your house. 

She was sad, almost panicking, but you drew her a bath and offered to wash her hair, enjoying her soft moans while your fingers were brushing her scalp firmly. 

Later you told her that she doesn’t need to find another job, if she really wanted to do something, she could sometimes cook at the house. 

So a few days later you came back, exhausted from work, only to find Agatha in an apron working around the kitchen. You stopped breathing and it took every ounce of will power not to go touch her. 

“Hi!” she welcomed you with a smile. “Please sit, I have made you a meal.” 

You sat, unable to speak, and watch her pour you a glass of wine and prepare a plate for you to eat. 

She fixed herself a plate, too, and sat beside you. The meal was delicious, but your mind was elsewhere. You know that the housewife fantasy was the dumbest thing ever, but something about Agatha waiting for you at home with dinner ready, wearing a fucking apron lit a fire in your lower belly. 

“It was delicious, Agatha,” you said, wiping your mouth on the napkin. “Let me help you with the dishes.”

“No, no, you go sit and relax, I’ll take care of it,” she pushed you towards the couch. 

And that became a habit, you coming home from work, Agatha already waiting for you with a smile on her face and prepared dinner. 

You never spoke about the kiss, you were worried she’d get scared. 

But one evening you came home especially annoyed, dealing with stupid people the whole day, so when you saw Agatha in the kitchen, wearing a knee length skirt, a tank top and an apron, you were done pretending there was nothing happening between you. The weeks of soft glances, light touches, the way she was taking care of you and you were taking care of her… it all became too much. 

You sneaked up behind her and laid your hands on her waist and your chin on her shoulder. 

“Ah,” she startled. “I didn’t hear you come home. How was work?” She didn’t seem phased by your proximity but you could see a blush forming on her cheeks. 

“Horrible, people are stupid, men even more,” you grumbled into her neck. “I’m so glad to be home.” 

She slowly turned in your arms. “Do you need something from me? Please, let me help…”

You were confused, but Agatha suddenly started pampering your face in gentle kisses and your grip on her hips tightened. “Agatha…” 

“You take such good care of me,” she whispered, kissing your neck. “Please let me take care of you.” 

You nearly exploded and pulled away, hating the see the fear of rejection in her eyes. You grabbed her hand and led her to the living room. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything,” you said, sitting down. 

She shook her head and remained standing. “I don’t feel like that. I just want to make you feel good. So whatever pissed you off today, please take it out on me.”

You swallowed loudly and then tugged her hand. She slowly lowered herself on your lap.

You put your hand on her thigh, drawing circles on her exposed skin. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Agatha,” you said before the exhaustion and anger of the day took over and you pushed her in the to pillow below. Now she was lying on the couch, each leg on one side of you, looking up at you with wide eyes, full of anticipation. 

“Do you even know what you do to me?” you asked, positioning yourself into a sitting position between her legs. Your hand caressed her cheek, moving down to grab her breast, brushing her nipple over the material of her tank top. “Your eyes… I could drown in them. Your smile when I come home is the best thing of my day. And the apron… I want to make you mine every time you’re wearing the damn apron.” 

“Then do it,” Agatha whimpered. 

You growled at that and put your weight on her body, kissing her senselessly, while your hand disappeared below her skirt, fingers gently pressing against her already soaked panties. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out against her mouth. “How long have you been this wet?”

“Since you came home,” Agatha admitted and moaned when your fingers dipped below the fabric. You slowly encircled her entrance before dipping your finger deep into her, swallowing her load moan with another kiss. 

You added another finger and started fucking her, enjoying the way her hips kept thrusting to meet you, the way her breath kept quickening and the way she kept whimpering. 

The next day, Agatha was fired from her last job, and to make her day better you took her shopping. She chose some nice dresses and skirts to wear at home when she tugged your hand to the underwear section. 

She chose some unholy lingerie and called you to the dressing room to check her out. 

Soon you were pressing her up against the wall, two fingers deep, clamping your hand against her mouth the quiet the sounds she was making. 

On the weekend you woke up to her bringing you breakfast to bed, wearing only the apron. The breakfast was scattered on the floor when you made her ride your fingers. Later she ate you out beneath the sheets. 

There was an annual party happening at your firm and Agatha was of course your plus one. She was mesmerising, but during the night you lost her only to find her chatting with one of your subordinates. When he put his hand on her arm, you saw red and dragged her out of there. 

The drive home was a quiet one and when you arrived, you pushed her up against the door. 

“We were just talking, I swear,” she said. But you were already hiking up her dress, slipping your fingers between her folds. 

“You are mine,” you growled, fucking her slowly. You had drunk way too much and you felt so angry for someone touching what belonged to you. 

“I am,” she moaned. “I am yours.”

You withdrew your fingers before she could come and dragged her to the bathroom, taking a strap on out of your drawer. 

“Get on your hands and knees,” you barked and she quickly obeyed. You pushed your cock into her without warning and grabbed her hips to steady yourself. “This little body is mine, do you hear me?”

“Yess,” Agatha screamed as you kept ramming into her. “I’m only yours, I belong to you.” 

You almost came just from those words alone. 

“Come,” you ordered when you pulled out of her. “Clean your mess.” And you watched her move on her knees to the edge of the bed, catching your cum soaked cock between her lips. 

You grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her head bob up and down. “See, this is what you’re supposed to do, be pretty and obedient, isn’t that right?” 

Agatha looked up at you with hooded teary eyes and managed to nod. You pushed her deep onto your cock making her choke. 

The next morning you felt horrible, you didn’t mean to degrade her like that, but Agatha wasn’t accepting any apologies. She smiled at you and said she liked how possessive you were. 

You decided to explore her kinks and occasionally called her a good girl. The way her eyes sparkled and her cheeks burned gave you all the answers you needed. 

After an exceptionally good sex, you were lying naked in your bed, Agatha’s head on your lap. You were softly tracing the curve of her nose, of her lips. “You were so good, such a pretty girl for me,” you whispered and you could hear her breath catch. 

“Do you like that?” you asked, your finger now circling her nipple. “When I call you a good girl?”

“Y-yes,” Agatha nodded. “I like it. I also like when you take control.”

“Hmm, interesting,” you hummed. 

“I’ve spent a lifetime taking care of myself and terribly failing, this feels like a heaven to me,” she confessed, her cheeks bright red. 

You chuckled and sipped on the wine on your night table. Then you brought the bottle to her lips and spilled some on her face and her chest making her squeal.

You moved down to lick the wine off her. “So delicious,” you murmured. “You don’t need to do anything ever again, pretty girl. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Agatha’s eyes glistened with tears at your words and you kissed her on the lips. Then you rose up and climbed on top of her, pinning her arms above her head. 

“So are you gonna be good now and do what I say?” you whispered against her lips and feel her nod. 

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.”

You grab her leg and moved it to the side before planting your cunt directly on hers. Her hips buckled. 

“No moving, lay still and let me use you.” You started moving on her, moaning as your sticky centres brushed against one another. “You feel so good, Agatha.”

Agatha was whimpering, her arms still above her head, watching you, mesmerised. You could see her gripping the sheet and knew she was having a hard time lying still. 

When you came with her name on her lips, you dipped her fingers into her pussy, dragging the wetness to her mouth. She opened her mouth and welcomed your fingers. 

“Such a pretty girl,” you whispered again. “You don’t need anything else in life, right? You just need me.” You burrowed your fingers deeper, making her gag. “There doesn’t have to be any thought or control in your head. I will take care of everything.”

When you laid down next to her later, Agatha draped her body over yours, holding you tightly as if she was scared you were going to leave. 

Your life with Agatha was everything you had ever wanted. Agatha didn’t need to tire herself out working many jobs or fighting off sleazy men, she was happy waiting for you at home. 

And you drowned her with luxury, gifts and care. 

You were gonna make her yours in every way possible. And when you presented her with a ring, she accepted. 

[bunnwich]

Was just revisiting your blog for some quality Leona content but I was wondering in you had some more Leona bf HCs to feed us? Tysm for all the hard work you do fr.🛐🛐🛐

Hi! I assume you’re talking about this post? I’m really flattered you enjoy my stuff. Thank you so much!! I’ll echo what I said in my other post that I think shipping and yumeing with a comfort character is very personal and that little headcanons and interpretations can vary from person to person. At the end of the day, it’s about what YOU wanna see and reflect into your romance! I think taking the time to add your own lil HCs and lore is the fun part!

✨MORE✨ Leona Boyfriend Headcanons

Bedtime rituals are important: Leona mentions enjoying baths a few times, so I think that this quiet time with his partner would be his favorite, and Leona is even more motivated to do nightly self-care rituals. And when his partner doesn't stay the night, sometimes he "forgets" and does wear his braids multiple days. (Leona just mentions that you should come over and fix his braids if you don't like how he does it when you're not around.)

Unfortunately, he enjoys banter, teasing, and playfighting. Anyway, he can get a little rise out of you. NGL, he’s a super annoying bf that makes you wanna hit him sometimes, but in a lighthearted way. It’s never mean, only annoying. You'll become wise to his "tells" anyway, and realize he’s not serious (he’s very hard for others to read BTW) BUT you KNOW when he’s just pulling your leg.

Eating meals together is another thing he always tries to do, and works his schedule around this ritual. He likes the idea that you are getting enough to eat, and I do think sharing a meal is one of his love languages. Seeing you nourished and while indulging in delicious food (something he also enjoys) makes him feel good.

He doesn’t tolerate disrespect of you in ANY form, teasing is one thing, but he will never speak badly of you or let anyone else. AND HE’D NEVER IGNORE YOU OR ACT LIKE HE’S SIMPLY PUTTING UP WITH YOU. (✨No aloof BF here!!✨) In fact, he may get the habit of texting you TOO much. He’s a handful, and you are his emotional springboard in a way. He doesn't have many close bonds with others, so when he's away from you for too long, he gets restless and will start texting you what he's doing and why it is so dull without you. (He’d never pull you away from friends or anything because he's pretty self-aware of how needy he can be. We love a man with emotional intelligence.)

He’s not a TOTAL pushover, especially when “Coach Leona” comes out. He's not afraid to tell you when he thinks you’re wrong. A tough love session or two where he may just tell you you're too nosy and should be focused on yourself, or let you know when he thinks you may be going about something wrong. He DOES place you on a pedestal in his mind, and if he’s a little tough on you, it's just bc he wants you to be successful. He believes partners should be a TEAM and push each other when needed. (You’ll certainly love to boss him around!!)

Once together, he will NEVER request that you clean up after him or run errands for him. (Unless you really want to ig.) You're NOT one of his underlings or expected to be subservient to him in any way, you are his partner and therefore equal.

 All of Savanaclaw’s attitude will shift about you, and he will request that they should respect you. And hey, if you are tough enough to get with their “boss” then ofc they would respect you anyway without him even saying.

Queen/King/Prince/Princess (whatever you prefer) Treatment. He wants to spoil you but respects your independence. He’s studied you well enough by now to know when to hold back and let you take control. It’s cute…and VERY attractive to see you lead. In fact, he wants to see you at your best, commanding situations and building your skills.

✨BRO HAS A LICENSE.✨ And (I think) a secret car. He keeps it just off the NRC campus. He used to go for long drives alone along Sage's Island’s coast, but now he has company~ He’ll drive you anywhere you wanna go. These drives with you keep him sane. And he’ll take you shopping and dinner dates, most likely just mean-mugging the whole time or falling asleep on the bench by the dressing rooms. BUT HE’LL DO IT FOR YOU. (Yes, dear…)

His peace is your alone time together, without the noise of the outside world or others. Just curled up in his arms playing mobile chess or watching one of those boring history documentaries I know he's into. (Relationships are about compromise, okay??) He’ll let you choose what you watch, too. He's a professional bedrotter, so on those days where relaxation is needed, he's right beside you, asking you what kind of food you want him to order for you. If you wanna yap to him about the terrible book you just read, hey he’s fine with that too!

He KNOWS he is not the most…well, exciting partner, and that self-consciousness shows through sometimes. He’ll do his best to keep you happy, but he probably needs reassurance that he’s not boring you to death with his 15-minute chess lectures or lethargic lifestyle. He’s an old man at heart.

IMO Leona got his first idea of love from romance novels!! After being disillusioned, he ofc put all that “nonsense” to bed as a kid. But I like to think there is still a part of him who is a hopeless romantic softie. He's secretly dreamed of having a “great love” in his life and a strong partner just like his brother. Someone not like all the others, and who will always be there by his side. So don't be surprised when he pulls out a move or line that you’d NEVER expect him to say. (Maybe a dry delivery, but he’d say it!!)

Not always, but sometimes, Leona can be…strangely sweet, but HE MEANS IT. I do think he’s a bit socially stunted in some areas. As in…he doesn't always know what to say in intimate situations, so stealing a few lines from this “stupid book” he read as a kid is NOT above him. That’s what a prince would say, right? In fact, in trying to be so PAINFULLY logical all the time, he might apply “romance” he learned from books in real life to a devastatingly cheesy, old-fashioned, and endearing degree. (He’d never tell tho.)

I’LL SAY IT, Leona’s version of “lovey dovey talk” is talking in the third person.  “You know your lion loves ya right?” “Your lion’s been lonely without ya.” “Your lion misses his_” (Insert whatever cheesy nickname he’s chosen for you). Notice how he conveniently puts himself as ✨possessed✨ by you. Because that's all he wants!! It's cemented in his head. Before he’s sure you feel the same, he’ll make sure you know that he is, in fact, YOUR lion. No arguments. You have to reap what you’ve sown.

In public, these “Your Lion” quips are whispered under his breath, maybe even in your ear. But, in private, he’s fine with rolling over for you like an overgrown house cat, and saying these things loud and proud. He’s looking at you with such a soft expression, you wonder if this is the same intimidating leader of the Savanaclaw dorm you came to know at the beginning of the year.

He’s completely love sick for you. He hates this, but also ✨REVELS✨ IN IT. And what I mean by this is, I think “being in love” would be a bittersweet experience for Leona. He feels very deeply too DEEPLY. He's always been a sensitive guy, and eventually he will settle into a comfortable love…but after SO MANY YEARS of being alone, not just romantically, but without many close bonds OF ANY KIND, the feeling of love would make him feel sorta…sick at first. But, being the grumpy masochist we know…I think Leona would give in to this torture, become addicted to you, especially after you promise that you’re here to stay.

At night, he holds you a little too tight sometimes, but that’s because...he can’t believe you’re really here with him, and the thought of going back to how his life was before you were in it is more painful than anything.

[ducksido]

https://www.tumblr.com/ducksido/783046684667166720/i-was-reading-some-of-your-new-writings-and-at?source=share

what if the reverse too? Us doing something that's romantic for Us (kissing, cuddling, flirting, giving jewelry or a bouquet, etc..) but the Not-Humans don't realize it's supposed to be romantic bc it's a Normal Thing for them lmao

(IMM BACKKK)

SAVANNACLAW

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR – You kiss his cheek. You had planned it all day. A soft peck to the cheek, just before class. Nothing flashy, nothing showy—just enough to say: “I like you.” So you wait until Leona’s flopped out under the shade tree behind the alchemy building, and then you lean down, heart fluttering.

“Mornin’, Kingscholar,” you say, and press a quick kiss to the sharp plane of his cheekbone.

He grunts. Doesn’t even look up. “You’re blocking my sun.”

…What?

“That’s it?” you ask, blinking at him. “I just kissed you.”

“Yeah? You do that all the time to wake me up.” He rolls onto his side, ears flicking lazily. “You’re the only one who bugs me like that.”

“But I kissed you,” you emphasize, louder now, kneeling beside him. “That was supposed to be romantic!”

Leona blinks open one eye. “What? You mean that?” He actually looks puzzled. “I thought humans just did that to show affection. Like, ‘good job,’ or ‘you didn’t die today.’”

Your soul exits your body.

“Leona,” you whisper. “That was a confession.”

He finally sits up, brow furrowing, as realization slowly dawns.

“Oh,” he mutters. “…So wait. You like like me?” “…Yes.”

His smirk returns, slow and smug. “Tch. Took you long enough. You should’ve just bit me.” “I’M NOT A LION, LEONA.”

RUGGIE BUCCHI – You give him a handmade bento. Ruggie’s never one to turn down food, especially not yours—he always says you “season it with soul” (which you’re pretty sure is just his way of flirting). So today, you finally decided to make him a real lunch. Bento-style. Cute compartments, little meatballs shaped like hyenas, rice balls in heart shapes, the whole nine yards.

You present it to him with a bashful grin. “Here. I made you lunch.”

Ruggie gasps. “For me? Seriously?!”

He tears into it like a starved beast, which—okay, fair—but your heart is pounding. You even added a handwritten note: “Ruggie, I like you. Please enjoy!”

You watch him eat. Wait for the reaction. Wait for him to look up and realize. And finally, he does.

He chews, swallows, and goes, “Man, this is SO good. You always make the best food! You’d be a great kitchen shift leader in the Savanna. I mean, you’re already feeding the pack, right?”

“…Feeding the…?”

“Yeah!” he continues, absolutely missing your point. “My cousins back home’d LOVE you. You got hyena instincts, y’know? Real pack mom energy.”

“Ruggie,” you say slowly, “I’m trying to flirt with you.”

He blinks. Then laughs—loud, delighted. “Wait. You were trying to get me to realize you like me?”

“Yes!!”

He wheezes. “Aw, you don’t gotta work that hard! I already knew. I was just waiting for you to jump me or something.”

“…IS THAT NORMAL FOR HYENA COURTSHIP?!”

“Yeah! …Wanna try it?”

JACK HOWL – You fix his hair and cuddle close after sparring. You and Jack have been training partners for a while now. There’s something electric about the way he spars: clean, focused, intense—but respectful. Today, after your final round, both of you are panting, soaked in sweat, and grinning wide.

You flop beside him on the grass and reach out, heart thumping.

“Hold still, you’ve got grass in your hair.” You brush your fingers through his silver strands, gently pushing them away from his eyes. His ears flick instinctively under your touch—but he doesn’t pull away. You smile and scoot in, head resting lightly against his shoulder. Close, warm, intimate.

To you, this is everything. The silent post-battle closeness, your fingers lingering in his hair, your shoulder pressed to his. You finally speak.

“You know… humans do this when they like someone.”

Jack hums, not even looking at you. “Hm? Grooming? That’s normal.”

“…Not between friends.”

He tilts his head. “In wolf packs it is. Grooming is just… bonding. You do it to show trust.”

You’re about to combust. “Jack. I want to date you.”

He jerks away so fast you nearly fall sideways. “You—wha—me?!”

“Yes!! That was my big gesture!”

Jack’s ears go flat, tail stiff. “I thought we were just bonding! I didn’t know it was—romantic!”

You’re trying not to cry and laugh at the same time. “It was literally post-battle cuddling and hair-touching. In a meadow.”

Jack’s cheeks are fully pink now. “…Okay, yeah. That does sound kinda romantic.”

He offers you his hand again, voice low and sheepish. “So, uh… can we start over?”

You place your hand in his. “Only if I can still touch your ears.”

He grins. “Only if I can carry your books after class.”

OCTAVINELLE

AZUL ASHENGROTTO – You give him a piece of jewelry. You spent days picking it out. Something tasteful, a lapel pin with a blue gem that almost matches his eyes, set in elegant silver—classic, charming, intimate. The kind of gift that says, "I like you enough to think about you when I’m not with you.”

You present it to him at the lounge when he's done with his managerial rounds. He blinks when you open the box and smile shyly.

"I saw this and thought of you."

Azul freezes. “A gift?” he says, voice tight. “For me?”

You nod. “Yeah. It reminded me of you—classy and beautiful.”

For a full ten seconds, he just stares at it. Then stares at you.

“…Is this for a contract?” he finally asks.

Your face crumples. “No! It’s just… a gift! You don’t need to give me anything back, I wanted to give you something.”

Azul’s mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again. “I—I see. Then… is this a cultural gesture? Among humans?”

You feel your soul deflate. “Azul. It’s a romantic gift. I’m confessing.”

Cue Azul nearly choking on air.

“A confession?! With jewelry?! But—but you didn’t even write a formal proposal letter!” His hands fly to his face, glasses nearly toppling off. “In the Coral Sea, an exchange of gems is a courtship rite—it’s something reserved for pre-engagements or deeper partnerships! You just—”

“I literally bought it at a student market!”

“And you’re telling me that wasn’t a pre-betrothal offering?!”

“No!! I just think you’re pretty!”

There’s a long pause. Azul’s face is beet red. “Oh,” he mumbles. “I… accept.”

You blink. “You do?”

He clasps the pin to his chest like it's a medal of honor. “Yes. You have my hand. And possibly my gills.”

“…Thanks?”

JADE LEECH – You flirt with him. You’re sitting with him in the Mostro Lounge after hours. It’s dark and intimate and the lighting is warm, and you decide now’s the time. You’re going to flirt.

You lean in close. Smile coyly. Voice low. “You know, Jade… I’ve been thinking about how handsome you look tonight.”

He blinks at you. “Thank you.”

Undeterred, you rest your chin on your hand. “You always know what to say, don’t you? I wonder how many people have fallen for that charm.”

Jade tilts his head, a polite smile forming. “Ah, you mean like a social test? An observational exercise? I suppose I do provoke interesting responses.”

You blink. “That was flirting.”

He pauses. “Ah.”

You try again. “So. Maybe next time we go on a ‘walk,’ you’ll actually call it a date?”

Jade hums thoughtfully. “I do enjoy our walks. But I thought those were for hunting mushrooms and observing bird behavior.”

You stare at him. “Jade. I’ve been flirting with you for three weeks.”

Jade’s eyes sparkle with amusement now. “And I’ve been cataloguing your behavior as an example of human mating rituals. How fascinating. You truly intended it romantically?”

You groan. “Yes.”

“Well then…” His grin widens. “Should I begin flirting back?”

“…Please.”

He leans in, close to your ear, voice low and syrupy. “Your cheeks flush delightfully when I speak to you like this, you know.”

You almost fall out of your chair.

FLOYD LEECH – You cuddle him. You sneak up on Floyd after class, having missed him all morning, and throw your arms around him from behind, burying your face in his shoulder.

He lets out a soft “eehhh~?” and turns around, squeezing you back hard enough to lift you off your feet.

“Shriiiiimpy! What’s all this?” he hums, rubbing his cheek against yours.

“I missed you,” you say, voice muffled against his collar. “Wanted to hold you.”

Floyd blinks. “Ohhh, you’re feeling touchy again? Cute~”

“No. I mean… yes. But also…” You look up at him. “It’s a romantic thing, Floyd. I’m cuddling you because I like you.”

His brows furrow. “Eh? You like me like-like me?”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“Whaaaat? I thought you were just being needy like a seal pup or something,” he says with a laugh. “Like, ‘wah wah, Floyd, hold me, I’m cold~’” He mimics a whiny voice.

“Floyd, I have been cuddling you for three months. Romantically.”

He stares. Then smirks, sharp and lazy. “Oooohh. So you wanna be my little shrimp for real, huh?”

“YES.”

“Then say it like you mean it~” he coos.

You groan, smushing your forehead into his chest. “I LIKE YOU, YOU GIANT SEA BEAST.”

He lets out a giddy whoop and spins you around.

“You’re mine now~ Hope you like cuddles, ‘cause I bite too!”

DIASOMNIA

MALLEUS DRACONIA – You give him a bouquet of handpicked flowers

You’d spent the entire morning collecting them — every blossom carefully chosen for its color, meaning, and aesthetic. You’d even arranged them yourself: spider lilies, moon roses, white forget-me-nots. The arrangement glowed softly with magic-infused blossoms, a gentle blend of fae tradition and human sentiment.

You find Malleus by the gazebo in the garden, moonlight dripping across his shoulders, and you approach him with a shy smile.

“I brought you something,” you say, holding the bouquet out.

Malleus stares at it. “Ah,” he breathes. “You’ve been foraging.”

Your smile falters. “No, I made it for you. It’s a romantic gesture.”

He tilts his head. “A gift of flora is romantic, you say?” He takes the bouquet delicately in his hands. “In Briar Valley, this would be seen as a signal of negotiation… possibly a truce offering between nobles or a peace gesture between warring families.”

“…I’m not at war with you.”

“Precisely,” he says with a pleased smile. “Then I am honored by this token of diplomacy.”

You gape. “No, wait, I’m in love with you!”

He blinks. “Oh?” He looks down at the bouquet, then back at you, utterly serene. “Then you should have said so. I was preparing my own bouquet of cursed bellflowers in return.”

You stare. “That sounds like a threat.”

“To you, perhaps.” He leans closer with a small smirk. “To us, it is affection.”

LILIA VANROUGE – You fix his collar and brush his hair back

He’s always a little rumpled — collar askew, jacket slipping off one shoulder, silken hair tousled and wild. You decide to do something sweet and intimate: you catch him before he goes to class, reach up on your tiptoes, and gently tug his jacket into place. Then you smooth his shirt collar and run your fingers through the side of his hair, brushing it away from his face.

Lilia blinks down at you, pink eyes gleaming with mirth.

“Hmm… Are you grooming me?”

“I’m trying to flirt with you.”

“Really?” He gasps dramatically. “How scandalous.”

“I thought it would be romantic. Intimate.”

“Oh, darling, we used to do this for comrades before going into battle. Very popular with soldiers.”

“…I’m not sending you off to war, Lilia.”

“Well, it certainly felt like it,” he teases, sticking his tongue out. “You even touched my hair. That’s practically a war blessing.”

You pout. “It’s a date-prep blessing.”

“Oh? Well, next time maybe kiss me instead.” He winks and flits off before you can even recover.

(You do kiss him next time. He absolutely swoons and declares war on your lips.)

SEBEK ZIGVOLT – You gently touch his hand during a quiet moment

You’ve been spending more time with him lately — study sessions, sparring matches, long walks around the campus while he rants about Lord Malleus. One afternoon, you’re sitting side by side in the library and you reach out, resting your hand just slightly over his.

It’s soft. Subtle. Warm.

Sebek jumps like he’s been electrocuted.

“WHAT IS THIS—!”

You flinch. “I… was holding your hand.”

“Why?!”

“Because it’s romantic?!”

He stares, baffled. “But… why would one do this for romance? This is merely tactile affirmation. I assumed you were testing my pulse!”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. “Sebek. I’m trying to tell you that I like you.”

He turns pink. “With hand-holding?!”

“Yes.”

“I—! I see!” He fumbles to straighten his tie. “Then… if this is romantic, perhaps I, too, shall hold your hand—firmly! Strongly! Like a true suitor!”

He seizes your hand like he’s wrestling a beast.

You wince. “Gentle. Gentle, Sebek.”

“This is harder than I thought.”

SILVER – You kiss his cheek

You’re walking together at dusk, and he’s tired but content, eyes half-lidded, and there's a softness to the air around him that feels dreamlike. You glance at him, heart pounding, and lean over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He blinks slowly. “Mmm,” he hums. “That was nice.”

You pause. “You noticed?”

He nods, barely reacting. “Warm. Like sunlight.”

You stare. “Silver… I kissed you.”

“Mmhm.”

“That was a romantic kiss.”

Another blink. “Oh,” he says. “I thought you were comforting me, like Lilia does sometimes. He used to kiss my forehead when I had nightmares.”

Your face is burning. “That was me flirting.”

Silver tilts his head. “I thought flirting required metaphorical language and winks.”

“…No. Sometimes it’s just affection.”

“Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

Before you can respond, he leans in and gently kisses your forehead.

You swear your knees go weak.

“There,” he says, nodding. “I hope that was sufficiently romantic.”

It was. It really, really was.