#there are a few he won't be able to answer because he just doesn't kNOW

[rustymind]

cookies and music

summary: you and your boyfriend, satoru bake together at night after he asks you to make cookies for his birthday...with more or less clumsiness.

tags: teen!gojo x reader, fluff, baking, idiots in love, winter, not proofread

warnings: none

word count: 2,1k

december arrived a few days ago, although it was knocking on the doors of people already for a few weeks now. the sun was setting at 4 pm, placing a dark blanket over the sky sooner than anyone wanted it, the winds were blowing cruelly, sneaking under thick winter hats, into houses and schools through windows and curretly, coldly blowing into your face, making your nose and cheeks flush red from the freezing temperature.

you were walking to satoru's dorm, he asked you to come over, saying he is alone and bored. you weren't surprised by the request because you knew that boy needed to talk 24/7 and if he didn't he went insane.

before you even reach the door of the building, you see him push it open and after briefly looking around, satoru spotted you, his lips curling into a smile. he began to run towards you only wearing grew sweatpants and a plain white shirt.

"you're gonna get cold idiot!" you scold him while he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up from the ground for a short time.

he didn't want it to show this much, but he really, really missed you for the past few days that you weren't able to meet. he closed his eyes behind his sunglasses for a few seconds, letting your sweet scent fill his mind. he loved this feeling more than anything and he would've stayed there longer if you wouldn't have pulled away, looking up at him with a gentle disapproving look, signaling towards the building.

"fine!" satoru whined, but started to walk back with you beside him.

he glanced down at your hand hanging in the air, so empty. wanting to hold it so bad, but he thought you'd be annoyed by the too much sudden affection.

getting inside, you walk back to his dorm. you see him close the door behind the two of you, then leaning his back against the wall he watched you take off your shoes and coat with his head slightly tilted to the smile.

you just drop your stuff on the floor, then finally your eyes find his again, only breaking the eyecontact when your arms snake around his neck, your face buried into his shoulder.

"i missed you satoru!" you say with a suppressed smile, partially because you mean it, the other reason being the fact that you know he's dying to hear this.

he hugs you back, squeezing your body to him playfully.

"i know, i'm extremely missable!" he grins down at your face.

you just raise an eyebrow, pairing it with a chuckle.

"is there even a word like that?"

"now there is!" comes the nonchalant answer.

his fingers interwine with yours, pulling you along until you reach the kitchen.

"my birthday is tomorrow" he glances down at you. "have you gotten anything for me already?"

shit.

you definetly don't plan on telling him the truth, (because what kind of partner doesn't buy a gift for their lover) but maybe he knows it already.

"why would i even tell you?" you ask, avoiding the question in a way where you don't lie.

you actually planned on buying him a gift but today he 'sabotaged' it by asking you to come over.

"so you don't have a surprise yet" satoru says as his lips form a pout, although his eyes look at you mischeviously, betraying that he's not mad at the least.

he knew your nature and procastinating habits, that's why he told you to come today, so you have no other choice but to spend time with him. master plan!

you cross your arms, leaning against the counter.

"don't give me that face, it's not your birthday yet!!"

"and what if i told you..." he starts and you have a feeling that this won't end well for you. "that i know exactly what i want? and you can give it to me today?"

you just raise an eyebrow.

"go on"

"stay with me and make something together!" satoru says, his big blue eyes staring at you adorably. "please please please!"

well, maybe this was a bit more desperate than he intented..

you can't help but chuckle as you see him put his hands together in a pleading manner infront of you. sometimes you just can't believe him!

"what's the gift in that? we can do that on any normal day" you say.

"but we won't be able to meet tomorrow, so it's basically my birthday! that's special enough."

oh yeah, how could you forget? he won't be home tomorrow.

you shake your head slightly, pushing away from the counter.

"what about baking something, hm?"

you can see his eyes light up, warmness spreading at first only in your chest but then your whole body. simply seeing him happy always made you feel so so many amazing things that you can't even describe. in these moments you felt especially lucky to be the cause of his pretty smiles, the way he closed his eyes as he laughed, his soft, white hair falling into his face.

you often notice yourself staring at him, it's a habit that you developed at the moment you first saw him. something about him just draws your gaze to him from time to time, at first you suspected that it's must be his appearance because he, in fact looked really attractive, but you had to realise with time that you don't only stare at satoru because he is pretty but because you can almost see, or feel his personality by looking at his face. he was pretty expressive at times and you loved that about him, even more after getting to know him more and more.

you two sat down, and after a little bit of searching through recipes, you decided to bake linzer cookies because you knew how to make them without needing to look at the instructions at every step.

"those cookies are basically my childhood, trust me!" you said proudly before you started to put every ingredient on the table.

satoru listened to your words, carefully doing what you told him to, mixing stuff, giving you something if you asked for it, and sometimes simply just keeping his hands on you if he had nothing else to do.

while you were mixing the dough, he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. he could feel you against himself, your soft sweater that was a gift you got from him not so long ago, your hair tickling his face, your heartbeat against him. he adored everything about you. satoru closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was placing this memory somewhere in his heart where he could find it anytime, the feeling of your body, the smell of cinnamon from the cookie dough, the quiet music in the background. he never wanted to forget any of this, and he won't.

when he eventually pulled away, he started speaking again, about everything that came in his mind, anything that could make you smile. satoru didn't let the kitchen go quiet, not even for a second.

after you finally put the cut cookies into the oven, as soon as you turn around, you feel his fingers on your face with white flour on them, and now your nose and cheeks too.

you furrow as you try to hold in the laughter.

"so you want a war, huh?"

searching the whole kitchen with your eyes, looking for a weapon, your gaze eventually lands on the jar of jam sitting on the counter. you dip your fingers in it, careful not to let any fall on the floor while you turn back towards satoru, who already knows what you plan.

you chase him around the whole house, when you get too close he threatens to run out on the cold and snowy street, to which you just dare him to do it, knowing you'd drag him back anyways.

when you finally catch him - which to be honest only happened beause of his cooperation - , straddling his lap, you point your fingers at him, ready to smudge all the jam on his face.

"surrender!" you grin.

he flutters his pretty white eyelashes dramatically, then his eyes narrow mischeviously. before you can stop him, your fingers are in his mouth as he's eating the jam from them.

your lips part in surprise, then your jerk your hand back.

"eww!!" you yell, while laughing so hard you almost fall off his lap.

"what do you mean 'ew'??" satoru pouts, barely concealing his chuckles.

"you're gross!!" you snicker.

he grabs your shirt, pulling you closer as you playfully resist, then presses light kisses on your cheeks, watching as they quickly turn red. he loved to see you blush, but he loved it even more when he was the cause of it.

"still gross?" he teases. "still 'ew'?"

your smile and joy is more of an answer to him than any word could be. he tries to sink this moment into his mind, to never forget it. the way you smiled, how you ended up letting yourself completely fall on him, the shining of your eyes when you looked at him— these were the things that kept him going. that stopped him from ever giving up.

you notice that he became a little quiet, so you simply stare back at him. he tilts his head – how can he be so adorable and so handsome at the same time? – and looks back at you without blinking.

"satoru?" you start, not really knowing how to continue. how to express the fondness you feel for him, that is so strong you feel like it's physically squeezing your heart.

his sunglasses had fallen off during the chase, now they're laying on the ground close to you. his blue eyes look into yours, the warm light of the room, and all his feelings reflecting in them.

what could you even say to him now? that you love him so much? that you never seen anyone as beautiful as him? that–

you suddenly smell the sweet cookies from the owen. they must be ready, judging from the smell. you purse your lips. giving satoru a compliment now would mean you never get away.

"hide those freakish blue eyes from me!" you say, barely holding back your laughter as you see him pout even more as you place his sunglasses back in their place. "and remember to blink once in a while!"

satoru playfully pushes you off, crossing his arms.

"do you even love me?" he asks theatrically.

"i don't know, do i?" you tease him further, while opening the owen and with gloves on your hands, reaching in for the cookies.

you place the cookies on the counter. they're still too hot to touch. you hear him do something behind your back, the radio suddenly turns off, then just a few seconds later you hear sweetly familiar chords, then a gentle grip on your wrist as you're pulled away from the cookies that are suddenly not even that interesing anymore.

satoru places one hand on your waist, his other hand holding yours. he tries to come off as nonchalant, effortlessly charming, but despite everything, you notice that he's still focusing really hard as the two of you start to move slowly in synch of the music.

"trying to impress me?" you chuckle lightly.

you can still recall the times when you teached him how to dance. he was so clumsy, but his pride didn't let him confess that he doesn't know what he's doing, so when you challenged him to show you what he's got, it ended with both of you on the ground, tearing up from laughter.

from that day, you spend every weekend in his dorm, teaching him how to move, where to step, how to feel the music. you have to admit he was a rather slow learner, not catching on things for a really long time.

you smile at the memory, burying your face into his shoulder, letting him take the lead.

satoru holds you a little tighter, memories from the song flooding his mind. he remembers waiting for you every weekend to teach him, he tried to hide so desperately the way his cheeks heated up whenever you held his hands. he can't believe that he could make these 'classes' last for months, pretending to still not understanding what you said.

music filled the kitchen in a cozy way, like a hug that's not too tight, not too loose. you listened to his heartbeat, focusing on the little movements of his fingers as he held your hand. and in that moment, when the song was almost over and he let go of your hands just to pull you into an embrace— you knew you're exactly where you need to be.

© rustymind 2025 , do not copy , modify or translate my work

yes, i'm aware that it's the middle of summer, no, i don't care the least! i started writing this last year november, okay?? i don't know why it took so long for me to write this, for some time i even forgot about this whole fic, but now it's here, it's ready and i think this is my favourite out of all the things i've written on here so far.

also important: i'm thinking about making a general taglist! if i did, would anyone be interested?

comments are appreciated!

tags: @frieren-imposter

masterlist || navigation

[righteouseyes]

"What is the difference between leadership and manipulation, really? I'm just making you aware of the tools in your arsenal. If you want your best possible ending, you need to be prepared to use unconventional means, because, clearly, the conventional way hasn't worked so far." Eito smiles. Though, unlike his usual smiles, this one looks a bit more genuine; not laced with a false comfort or an undying malice as it usually is.

"As for learning what I know, I can't give you all the answers on my own. I'm more than willing to trade hints, but that's something you need to figure out for yourself. Like you said, you don't trust me. If I give you everything outright, you'd probably doubt what I'm telling you. That's why I encourage you to find the truth yourself."

Of course, Eito doesn't really care about the satellite himself. There's no one up there for him, he killed anyone close to him when he was a kid. Though, with his newfound freedom, he can only wonder what they looked like now....

What did the faces of the people he's killed actually look like before he snuffed out the light in their eyes.

...ah, he needs to wash his hands again. They feel unclean for some reason.

"As for disabling the bombs, I do have a few ideas. It might take a few days, though. I'll need to either be on good terms with Tsubasa or Yugamu, depending on which approach I want to take. Then again, Yugamu is currently at Second to Last Defense Academy and I won't be able to contact him for a while, so I'll try my idea with Tsubasa first."

Eito considers Takumi's request, but despite his lack of hesitation when it came to killing before, the idea that he might have to kill Takumi to preserve the integrity of the mission has something.... ugly, swirling in his chest. At the very least, he's sure whatever brainwashing Sirei has won't work on Eito himself, but the idea of removing one of the most powerful peices in the game....

... removing his first real friend.... are they friends? Takumi hates him. But... Eito does long for that word. Friend.

Still, the idea has him taking pause. He's already hesitated to kill Takumi once before. What if he hesitates when it matters. But, Eito is still good at keeping up a facade. So, he says:

"If it comes to that, I'll make it quick. No one will even know it was me."

"You mean I need to manipulate them...?" Anxiety clawed its way into Takumi's chest. It made sense, in a way. Takumi wouldn't have the ability to tell everyone he was from the future. He wouldn't have Sirei vouching for him either. In all honesty, he wasn't entire sure if not killing Sirei was the right choice... As cruel as that sounded.

But on the other, he didn't want Eito to trick him. Turn him into someone he wasn't All he knew was... This time he wanted to save everyone. And he wanted answers. There was so much he didn't know. He needed to even the playing field between him and Eito, for sure. He knew better than to trust him. But that didn't mean he couldn't use him. After all.... Eito was the only person that knew about the previous timelines.

"My first goal is to learn what you know. I know it's the only edge you have on me right now. I want us to be equal. I have the first timeline, you have information you don't trust me with yet. And that's fine."

"The way I see it, neither of us trust each other yet. I can't imagine ever trusting you again." Even if Eito could see him now and wants to be redeemed, how could he know if that was the truth? "I want to learn the truth this time. I'm tired of fighting blindly." Still... He didn't know if he would trust the truth from Eito. So getting it from a third party would be best. Eito was right on that. "I can't possibly choose forsaking anyone... But I'm human... My parents are up there too so.."

Still... Wiping out the people here. Was that the only way? He would need to find out. When Eito agrees to hear his request... He pauses. The pit in his stomach grew.

"Even if I don't trust you... We're partners in crime now. We're going to lie to everyone to protect them. So... my question is... Can you think of any way to remove or disable the bombs in us? It would be bad if Sirei decides to go that route on us." Eito was smarter than him. Maybe they could figure it out together.

"And... If Sirei finds out something is off with me... And he takes me to that machine and does to me what he did to Eva or alters me in some way... I want you to kill me if it can't be undone. These two hundred days have made me who I am. For better or worse. But if I lose my memory of it... None of it will be worth anything. Aotsuki... You're the only one here that knows the real me anymore. As much as I hate to admit it... So please..."

[youthisfree]

i imagine katsuki struggles to say no to you. he can set a boundary with anyone and everyone. so why does he feel his boundaries start to fold when it comes to you? it's nothing horrible— just incredibly.. irritating.

he swears that everyone is delusional and that he can say no to you, but we all know better tsk tsk. this guy is all bark and no bite because he truly won't do anything about this problem. all katsuki does is huff and complain.

it's your turn to go on a store run for the dorm, declared by the majority of the class. caught up in some exhausting extra hero study work, it had completely slipped your mind.

this is how you end up at katsuki's dorm door, knocking persistently. it's past his bedtime, around 10 pm— past dorm curfew actually. of course he wouldn't answer at this time, but is that you at the door?

"pleaseee.." you knock a few more times, rather weakly now.

"the hell do you want?" the door is opened and a pajama-clad, sleepy katsuki comes to view.

"i want you to put a hoodie on and come with me to the store."

"w—"

"please?"

the two of you stand there for a moment in the dimly lit hallway, his hand gripping the door knob with a nasty glare on his face. you smile lightly, not able to take him seriously in such a lethargic state.

"..it's past curfew." he grumbles, trying to hold to any resolution he had.

"the quicker you say yes, the quicker we'll be back." you counter, not sure if you seem just as listless as him.

he glares for a moment longer.

"tch." katsuki, once again, folds. turning into his dorm and walking towards his closet to grab a hoodie as instructed, an obvious yet humorous frown on his face. he leaves the door open, a silent invite into his dorm.

you step in, closing the door softly behind you. he huffs as he looks for a random hoodie to throw on.

"you couldn't do this earlier?" he speaks up, no real bite behind his words. you huff in amusement because you know this is a start.

"busy with mirko." you explain concisely, making your way to lean against his desk.

"...'n you couldn't go with someone else why?" his hands grip on to a hoodie he's found, pulling it over once he gets his piece out.

"why would i want to go with anyone else?" you ask coyly— it's feigned, and he scoffs knowingly. you smile with a huff of your own, noting the faint red that began to show in his cheeks.

he looks away, searching for shoes to put on.

"we better not get caught." he speaks up again.

"that won't happen. we’re trained in stealth." you quip and he fails to suppress his smile at your remark.

"if we do, 'm never doin' anything for yer ass again. got it?" katsuki is quick to recover, finally meeting your gaze with eyes that held no real hostility.

"got it." you look at him with a grin and his lips curl into a scowl because he knows— you both know. he doesn't mean it. he never does.

"i hate you."

"thank you, grumpy boy."

[differenteagletragedy]

To me, Simon has the dumbest hair 90% of the time because he just buzzes it himself (I cannot believe that man pays money to one, do something he could theoretically do himself, and two, spend time with a stranger). The other 10% it's good -- when he first cuts it, an eighth of an inch of pale fuzz left behind, and when it just starts growing out, that's fine. But a lot of the time, especially when he's at home, he just lets it go.

And you, his next door neighbor, will never not give him shit about it.

"You look so goofy," you tell him when you see him in the hallway, one arm holding your groceries and the other fiddling with your keys. "Just cut it, Jesus Christ."

He rolls his eyes or tells you to fuck off, because you've known each other long enough for that kind of thing. He's lived in the building for years, never having seen a reason to leave, and you've been there for a few yourself. You're friends in the way that you may not call or text or schedule time to hang out, but you can scarcely think of anyone you see more often.

"Seriously," you go on, unlocking your door and speaking louder so he can hear you when you go inside. "It's just like two inches sticking straight off your head, why are you walking around like that?"

"Doesn't bother me," Simon answers, moving to lean against your doorframe and watch you as you put up your things. "Seems to bother you an awful lot though."

Your back is to him while you move around your kitchen, but you can tell he's smirking, and you scoff.

"Yeah, it bothers me. You get a face like that and you go and screw it up with the dumbest excuse for a haircut I've ever seen."

It's not the first time you've flirted with him, or even the most direct time, but it still gives him pause. He doesn't wear his mask when he's not working, most of the time anyway, because he thinks it draws too much attention and he'd prefer to just slip into the shadows wherever he goes. But you seeing him, and you letting him know that you like what you see, it does something to him, every time.

"You cut it then," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're the one so torn up about it, you fix it."

You snort, finally turning back to him, saying, "I'm not a barber, stupid."

"No, you sure seem like a coward though."

A few minutes later, you're both in Simon's bathroom. He's got his shirt off, straddling the toilet so you can reach his head, and you're behind him with clippers in your hand, looking down at him. You've never seen this much of him, never even seen the place where his tattoos stop on his arm, and it's a lot to take in.

You want to take your time, commit every scar, every freckle to memory, but he turns his head, smirking again.

"Told you you were a coward."

Without a word, you turn on the clippers and get to work.

It's not hard, it's just a buzzcut. The hard part is in touching his ears, gently pushing the lobes down to trim around them. It's in sneaking glances over his shoulder to watch his chest as it rises and falls while you work. In trying not to notice the tiniest little hitch in his breath when you lean in closer and rest your hand on his back while you get the hairs on the back of his neck.

The worst part though, is the beauty mark that sits perfectly in the place where his neck meets his shoulder. Specifically, the worst part is the strong, almost uncontrollable urge to bite it.

When you're done, you turn off the clippers and set them on his bathroom counter, then dust off his shoulders for him. Just before he stands, you can't deny yourself any longer -- you won't be able to reach it when he's not sitting so perfectly like this -- and give a quick, soft kiss to the mark.

During all the time you've known Simon, he's barely responded to your flirting. To you, he doesn't seem interested, and to him, you don't seem serious. But a kiss, faint as it may have been, is different, and before you can register it, he's on his feet, turned and standing over you.

"Hair looks better," you say softly.

He grunts in response, and before you know it, his mouth is covering yours, hot and insistent. It's a heady feeling, having him so close, and before you can get used to it, his hands are on you, first on your waist, then on your hips, then on the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up and holds you against him.

He maneuvers you both out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom, where he unceremoniously tosses you on his bed. You look up at him, letting your eyes trail freely over his body now, going down when you see him place his hands on his belt.

"Not so mouthy now, are you?"

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you sound deliberately casual. Too casual. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[toothfa-1-ry]

WON'T YOU HOLD ME, CONSOLE ME ?

You don't expect your boyfriend to hold you or console you when you find out your pregnant, but you also didnt expect him to leave you without a trace either

Has no correlation to the other preg!reader fic i posted !!

GENRE: angst

PAIRING: Choi su-bong x preg!reader

"Fuck" thanos groans with his head thrown back, his hands covering his face while he steps away from you

Your hold around your stomach tightens as you don't look up, keeping your gaze at the ground

"I thought you were on that shitty pill?" Thanos glanced at you before letting out a prolonged sigh

"You know that it doesn't mean a hundred percent protection" you argue, eyebrows furrowing slightly "it's not my fault! You were the one who-"

"I know geez!"

"Then why are you getting so agitated!"

"Because" thanos spluttered "because this is a kid we're talking about"

You pause, not being able to think of anything to say back, instead retreating your eyes back at your stomach

"And it's my fucking kid. Mine" thanos points at himself in the chest

"Is that why your mad?" You hate the way your voice trembles "because it's your kid and not some random bastards on the street?"

"Watch your mouth" thanos snarls "you know it's not like that, do you want me to say that it is?"

"Ah fuck" your voice a few ratios higher than it usually was, you could feel the lump in your throat forming

Thanos sighs again, his eyes softening as he glances your face and your stomach

"Aish your fucking kidding me man, your the one who started arguing first" he grumbles annoyed, but approaches you with his arms open anyways

You push against his hold at first, anger still flaring inside of you but you end up giving in pretty fast, so desperately wanting to be held

"Are the pregnancy symptoms already kicking in?" Thanos asked while pulling your head to rest in his shoulders "what a pain" muttering under his breath

"You asshole" you sob while your hands ball into a fist

"Hey your carrying the asshole's kid, i don't think your one to speak" thanos adds in quickly, frowning "Don't make this harder than it already is"

Despite Thanos holding you in his arms, you hit him with your balled fist, your face streaming with tears

"Hey stop" thanos frowns "stop before I seriously get mad" he grips your hand "im not mad right now, but if you don't stop i will"

You sniffle softly, your head laying on his chest as his eyebrows are still furrowed with concern over the recent news of your pregnancy

"What are we gonna do?" You ask amidst sniffles

Thanos allows you to lean against him, staring at the wall of the cramped room the both of you lived in

"I dont know" he mutters "we could go to the hospital? Try for a..." his voice trails off. You knew what he was referring to

This just makes your sniffles louden even more causing him to inwardly groan, he never knew how to handle emotions as such, most of the time just shutting up and holding you or something along that line but that didn't seem to be the brightest thing to do and even Thanos knew that

"Su-bong" you whisper, your hands snaking around his waist, pressing yourself closer towards him as if to shield yourself

Thanos winces softly when he hears you call his real name, he always winces when he hears his real name.

He let's out a rough grunt of acknowledgement "What?"

"I don't think I want a abortion"

"Well fuck baby, we can't afford it either way. It was stupid of me to suggest" he lazily responds, while resting his face above your head

"We can't afford to raise it too" you murmer causing Thanos to shift uncomfortably

"I know" he snorts "fuck"

"So what will we do?"

Thanos hears the imploring tone of your voice. Most of the time he was the one asking you that question. In your relationship you were the one who took on the role of the logical one, but here you were, asking Thanos something that you both didn't know the answer to

"I'll-" thanos breathed "I'll figure something out"

You look up at him, moving your face away from his chest, your eyes pleading

"You sure you want the kid?" You ask him

"Your already pregnant anyways, i can't do anything about it"

"This isn't a joke" you retort loudly

"Your the one who said you don't want an abortion!" Thanos also raises his voice

"We can't afford it anyways you idiot!"

"Well damn, it's like i didn't just fucking say that like 5 seconds ago" he thundered which immediately cause you to tear up again

Thanos tilts his head down, pressing his lips into a tight straight line, regretting his actions almost immediately

"Hey" his voice rough and deep as he called out to you "look at me"

He purses his lips when he sees you still refusing to face him, your hands hiding your face

"Hey" he says more softly as he moves your hand away from your face "im sorry okay, cmon just look at me"

Thanos leans his head against yours while he clasps his hand around yours

"I'll figure something out" he raspily breathed out "I'll get a day job, fuck it baby, I'll get 2 day jobs"

You had no strength to talk back, choosing to silently nod

Thanos kisses your forehead while he wipes your tears away

"I said I'll figure something out, so stop your damn crying okay?" He says playfully, in an attempt to stop you from crying

You nodd slowly, causing him to smile tightly

he kneels down, facing your stomach "im sure the baby wouldn't want to hear his mom cry huh?" He announces as if though he was talking to the baby

He looks up to your face to see your face, trying to make you laugh or smile or anything at all

"You better not be a shit ass kid" thanos pokes your stomach softly "cause of you, your mom's hormones are going wild already"

"Asshole" you breathed with a laugh "im crying cause of you, fucking prick"

Thanos grins as he looks up to you, standing up he grabs your hand

"I swear" he picks your hands up, placing a soft kiss "ill figure something out for the three of us"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Finding a job was hard

Especially as a retired rapper who basically got fucking conned by some asshole on the internet

Fucking bitch

Thanos stays up awake, leaning against the wall of the trashy one room so called apartment that you both lived in.

He inhales his cyan blue vape while eyeing the cigarette burn marks that painted the wall

His head thuds against the dirty peeling wallpaper, while you layed asleep on the floor across him, only a thin blanket covering your body

A soft smile graces his features when he notices the slight swell of your stomach

That's his kid right there, that's the mother of his child right there

Thanos couldn't afford to marry your right now, he wishes he could.

Fucking hell, he couldn't even afford a shitty ring let alone a ring that you actually deserved, he'd marry you with a plastic bottle seal if he could but he knew that you deserved more,

Damn, you deserve so much better than him, so much more than what he could give you

The kid in your stomach deserved better too. His kid

Thanos's smile fades away, leaving behind a grimace when he notices that the blanket doesn't fully cover your body, noticing the colour far beyond faded and the material already thinning out

He immediately unzips his jacket, going forward to place it above your body. It was the least that he could do

Suddenly, a piece of paper falls out of the pocket, he notices it as the card from the strange man earlier

Just thinking about it pissed him off, he recieved more slaps than money

Holding the card in his hand, he turns it over, mouthing the number behind the card, he swallows nervously unlike him while contemplating whether it was worth calling

Slowly typing in the digits in his phone he places his device on his ear, holding his breath as the phone rings

Once, twice, the phone continues to ring, thrice, now going four times

Thanos sighs, bringing the phone down, ready to press cancel when suddenly

"In order to sign up to play the game, please submit your name and date of birth"

Thanos breathes sharply, his finger wavering above the cancel button while your sleeping figure which remained unaware of what raced through your boyfriend's head

"Fuck" thanos curses, he glances at you

Thanos's hands trembled as he filled in his details, his pupils dilated, his mouth dried.

He knew what you'd say if you were awake, scolding him for being so naive and believing but you didn't meet that strange man in the grey suit did you?

He bites his lips when he reads the address and time of where he was suppose to go, noticing that the last date of entering the so called games was the current date

"I wont be gone for long" he mutters softly as he stands up, placing a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the door

He puts his old shoes on, the only branded ones he had left from back in his rapper days, the one who had picked for him, the only pair he didn't sell

He slips outside quietly, before sparring you one last glance

"Wait for me, just for a little bit" he whispered with a faint smile though it didnt quite didn't reach his eyes

He glances from your face to your stomach "your dad will be back with shit ton of money, i'll make sure you both live well"

He pauses before closing the door, contemplating for a minute, it felt so wrong to leave just like that,

He didn't want to go, it felt like the wrong thing to do but he steps out of the house anyway

"Take care of your mom when I'm gone"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The next morning, you wake up warmer than you usually do, but you can't ignore the ever so persistent pounding of your heart

Your heart feels heavier than usual too

Noticing your boyfriend's jacket wrapped around you, you slowly wake up, looking for him

You look for him for the entire day,

it soon turns into 2 days and 2 days soon turn into 2 weeks

The bruise you recieved earlier that day after being chased down the street by some debt collectors begun to sting.

They didn't care whether you were pregnant or not, they just wanted the money you had borrowed from them back

And then that's when it hits you

When your standing on top cold floor of, with only your boyfriend's jacket left as a reminder of him,

He left.

He left without saying anything, without leaving even a single trace, he left not even with a single goodbye

He left you.

Your hand trails to your stomach.

He left the both of you

You sink down, legs giving out as your body trembles, you lie on the wilting cot that served as a place of comfort, sobbing, shrieking, crying his name out

Screaming anything that would have send him running towards you,

But no one comes.

Unbeknownst to you, at the very same time you fall on the ground, thanos's cold body is lifted up from the cold bathroom floor and packed into black coloured coffin

His eyes still wide open, his entire body covered in his own blood

When the guards strip his clothes away, they find something in his pocket

A plastic ring

it couldn't have been worth much, maybe from a kids toy, it left the guards puzzled

What would a person like Thanos be doing with a plastic ring in his pocket?

Perhaps you would understand it better

After all, he held you, consoled you. That prick even left you without a single trace

[dilf-docs]

Light Up My Life (So Blind I Can't See)

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: pedro pascal in cannes breaks the internet, only rivaled by the mystery figure next to him at the airport. oh, that's you. oh. well, that wasn't part of the plan. oops.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, begging kink, lwk praise kink, choking, fingering, creampie, hurt/comfort, fluff, cannes!pedro (yes that's a warning)

word count: 5,984 words

side note: not to be that bitch but i think pedro in cannes 2025 will be my roman empire. shot out to secret dating, love that shit!!!! based on this request by my lovely fren :)

A few days ago, you had been watching a movie marathon in the comfort of your home.

"I can't believe it, you said you liked it!"

"I never said that. I said it looked interesting" he yawns. You narrow your eyes. "Sleep deprivation" he clarifies, as if reading your mind. "But, you chose it"

"Yes, because you let me" you're quick to counter.

"Yes, because we always do what you want"

Even in the distance, he finds ways to tease you.

"Not true. If it was, I would be there, with you. You know I love Marvel"

He laughs. "It's rare to hear that nowadays, less sounding so sure. You're an endangered species, baby"

You gasp. "I'm not that much of a fan"

"Not a lot of people watch a six hour livestream of chairs"

"Five" you correct, "and I did just to see if you'd show up!"

As if, gut feeling aside, he hadn't told you before.

"Alright, my bad. Five. Still, my point stands"

"So does mine. If Coco is there, why can't I be?"

"Do you happen to know hairstyling? I thought your thing was marketing"

"Oh, shut up"

Stanley Tucci briefly shows up on screen. Not that you already know, given the amount of times you've watched it.

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you?" he asks. Could refer to a lot of things.

It's the crack of dawn.

"It's the only time you can give me" you answer instead.

He makes a little pout, making you giggle. The movie keeps playing in your laptop.

"I'm sorry you have to meet me like this"

"Please, stop" at his bad joke. "The lack of sleep is showing"

He just laughs. "I can't wait for you to come"

(Texted you places of London you wouldn't be able to visit. It's just a stopover, you said, yet he insisted on sending links of London's best attractions for tourists)

"I know" you admit, softer. "Me either"

You yawn. So much for a movie you aren't watching.

"Won't it be too tiring?"

Your amazing boyfriend, ever so caring.

"Pedrito" he sighs at his name on your lips, little and a warning. "I'll be fine. Besides, I already dowloaded the movie's soundtrack to keep me company"

Pedro rolls his eyes. "You really enjoy this movie, don't you?"

You take a brief glimpse at the forgotten movie, playing on your shared screen, then back at his face.

A bit tired, eye bags more pronounced. The sleep thing was true. Still, he was the same in many other ways. His broad frame, sharp jawline, grey hair now dyed yet stubborn enough to show in some edges and over his face, in a beard that would scratch against your face when he kissed you, because he liked being close. Too close. You can still smell him, even if he hasn't been in your apartment for over a month now. As if his smell, him being intoxicantingly close, had impregnated on your skin. Another part of his to be yours.

"It's Madonna" like that's enough of a reason.

It shouldn't be this distracting. Singing Who's That Girl after arriving in France isn't a special thing, but to you, lyrics blasting through your airbuds that Pedro hates except when you offer a song and he listens, because he always listens, holds something sacred the moment your feet stretch and you're back on land again, yet people speak French instead of English and time has warped your sense of reality again.

Pedro had checked on you all the time. That was distracting. Some texts during the flight, insisting on buying Wi-Fi on the plane as if he was a millennial who couldn't survive without internet, saying what he couldn't live without was writing to you. That's a lie. You caught him on TikTok sometimes. Over his shoulder, because you couldn't sit together. Liar, you sent. You know he saw it by the way his shoulders wiggled and he covered his mouth to stiffle a giggle over the silence in the cabin. Nevertheless, he continued his little check-ups on you, as if you were a kid.

(Him: in a way, you are. You: Pedro, I'm almost thirty. Him: That's as ambiguous as me coming to Cannes. You: Your fans already suspect. Him: They're smart. You: They are. Him: Listening to the soundtrack? You: Tenth round. Him: You're insane. Insufferable too. You: It's only about forty minutes. This is a seven hour flight. Besides, you love me. Him: I do. Now stop peeking over my shoulder. You: Stop watching TikToks then, you addict!)

Somehow, lost in the music and happy feet struting towards movies, bright sun and the close yet faraway sea, you take too many of those. That wasn't the plan. Don't sit together, don't look in his direction. Over and over again. Precautions. To you, rules. Memorized them. It's not every day you board a plane, but the others are similar, in a way. It was a small price to pay for dating him.

Sometimes you mind.

(You: I miss my personal pillow. Him: I ain't got a belly anymore. You: I'm aware. I was talking about other huge things. Your biceps. HUGE. The one's Julie will show to the world in a day. Those HUGE biceps. I want to bite them. Him: You're a freak. You: Blame Kevin Feige. Him: Not the guy who lost 25 pounds?)

Sometimes you don't.

(You: Come to think of it, you do snore a bit. Him: But I thought you missed me? You break my heart, y/n)

Bump.

The defeaning sound. Coco and his bodyguard glance. But Pedro? he looks. At you.

The internet has rules too. They're both, funnily, f-rules: never forgive, never forget.

His expression is of surprise. They don't forget. His wide eyes. No, that's beyond a surprised face. That's a knowing face. They don't forgive. The subtle difference. He knows you.

Seconds, probably. He goes back to stoic mode. You hear his voice as he chats with Coco. His voice is tight, barely noticeable to anyone but you; know him better than you know yourself. But not today, when he's a supposed stranger and you're another passenger of this plane. An insignificant dot in a crowd. You walk further and avoid his gaze, pretending to search for imaginary stains in your passport, as if you hadn't make the worst mistake of your life.

Days ago, sitting in your bed, you were just another light in the vast Californian sea of houses and salt air. Now, everyone knows he's your something.

Makes sense.

The slip-ups on interviews, his comments about Materialists, his behavior on that interview with Dakota, the mysterious silhoutte that ressembled a woman but was always too blurry and far yet close to identify.

Unrecognizable.

Because you were a nobody. Made a line to get coffee, nothing about you guaranteeing any special treatment. Worked in a publicity agency from Mondays to Fridays, Saturdays if someone called in sick. Took your dog, who complained when the LA sun hit his tiny paws too much, out on walks: Toto, the little cairn terrier who was now under the care of your brother and his girlfriend because of your trip. Was photographed because you wanted and not because they had to, the hidden cameras capturing every move of yours.

That was the privilege of anonymity.

But that luck, like everything else in the world, seemed to have run out.

Now you sit on the hotel room, phone blowing up with messages, mentions, and emails. Funny thing is, despite already having your Instagram account leaked, you were still a ghost. A who?. Just a face Pedro had looked too much for it to be a simple passerby.

You sniffle as Coco brushes your hair, more to calm you than to fix it for the event.

You look through the mirror, not at you, but at the bag dangling from it, and sniffle again. The dress hangs on the closet as Coco gives you a sympathetic look and Lux squeezes your shoulder gently.

"Maybe we can still work it out" you manage to choke up, hoarse from useless crying. So hopeful, as Pedro would say.

The original plan, before the little "bump" on the road, was to attend Cannes while disguised, which meant sneaking as a guest, skipping the whole red carpet.

But now people knew who you were. Or how you looked, at least.

"Not to be a killjoy, but even if the French press is oblivious, I'm sure the internet will catch up as soon as the live stream for Eddington's red carpet starts broadcasting" Lux comments.

"They don't know your name, yet I'm sure they've already memorized your face. You're all over my Instagram" Coco adds, smiling sadly. "Your face is not to be forgotten"

You smile weakly, still feeling bad.

"I don't know what to do" you sniffle, looking back at the dress, one your budget could've bought but leave you on a tightrope for the rest of the month. To your boyfriend, it was barely a tickle on his finances. He insisted on buying it after your bright, unable to hide, smile. Wear it on a special day, and that is today.

Was.

"I'm sure we can come up with something" Lux offers.

"Come with me"

The three of your turn around. You'd recognize that voice even if you were deaf.

"¿Te volviste loco?" Lux asks, perplexed. (have you gone crazy?)

"Un poco" he replies in a Spanish that needs to be practiced a tad bit more, "por ella, sí" (a bit, yes. for her)

"What's going on?" you ask, wiping your tears.

Pedro kneels down in front of you, already dressed in an all black suit. If you weren't on the verge of sobbing for the umpteenth time, you'd tear that suit in two.

"You look good" you sniffle.

He smiles, softly. "I know"

"I love those glasses. They're my favorites"

He smiles again, adjusting them. "I know"

"Se acabó el tiempo, tortolitos" Lux jokes. (time's up, lovebirds)

"Yeah. Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room?" Coco asks, eyes widened in exasperation.

"I'm taking her with me"

"To the red carpet?" his sister asks, surprised.

"No, to fucking Wendy's. Of course, Lux. I'm taking her to the red carpet" he then gives his sister a glance. "You look gorgeous, by the way"

"I know" she flips her hair.

"Yeah, she's beautiful and so are you" Coco interrupts, then points to you. "Is that how you plan on solving this?"

Pedro nods, solemly.

"Listen, it's just a matter of hours before people connect the dots. They already have your Instagram and name. What's next? Your job, your dog?"

You gasp. "I have a whole dump of Toto on my feed!"

"Your account is private though" Lux drops.

"Still!" you panic. "What do I do?"

"Come with me" Pedro insists. "Harm's already done. What would change if we walked down a piece of red clothing?"

"Not even Rooney Mara will walk along Joaquin"

"So? We're not them" he kneels in front of your face again. Wipes a stray tear and grabs your hand. Squeezes it, like fresh oranges for a juice, because he knows you like the gesture. Need it. "And Emma is taking her husband, so"

You only sigh, unconvinced.

"Come with me" he repeats again, like a mantra. Or a prayer. Maybe hoping you'd accept.

"And let the whole world know?"

"Precisely" he smiles, cheeky. "They know some things already. We're just advancing the process for them"

Coco sighs. "At the speed of a bullet train"

"Whatever" Pedro drops. Then, looks at you. "We like it fast, don't we, baby?"

You can only blush in response.

"She'll come with me, then. We'll ride in the car behind" Ullrich sentences.

"No" his grip on your arm is strong but not brusing. Firm, as his position. He gives you a little tug, as to pull you in. Needless to say, you felt like a ragdoll. "She'll come with me"

Fighting Pedro was like trying to tame a tide.

In the end, somehow, he'd managed to rope you into the chaos of the red carpet, black limusines and flashing cameras and inside his car.

You weren't sure. Back in school, you weren't disliked or bullied, but it's not like you were popular either. You had friends, but would rather be alone at times, be it at the library or just sketching at a lonely bench in the park. There was something precious in the silence most people didn't appreciate; you did.

So, to say you where overwhelmed at the bright lights and constant yelling for Pedro was an understatement.

But, if your boyfriend dressed in an all black suit didn't scream Look at me! energy enough, there was you.

It was quick. Everything seemed to be so as of late. The cameras and press, waiting fans, yelled for Pedro, only to then find out he wasn't only here with his sister, but another woman. The airport woman. A loud point of a finger and the whole world knows you're back.

That he isn't your something. No, Pedro is more.

He's your fucking partner.

And it's so obvious, by the way he looks at you fondly. It different from his sister. This isn't that type of unconditional supporting love, but a stronger one. Consuming. One that speaks of devotion. He looks at you. Admires you. Like a painting. As if you had all the answers in the world.

You say hi to his co-stars, maybe a bit too excited to greet Austin Butler. Pedro isn't happy but he's not putting a jealous fit for the cameras. Not when he's busy throwing charming smiles and flexing that body he's worked so hard for under the summer sun.

The world talks. It's all over the news. Your smile, growing only wider when Pedro is near you, hand on the small of your back, right where the dress leaves inviting skin for the rest to see. He introduces you to anyone who wants to listen, always talking, because he's such a yapper. A loud laugher too, and even if it's not with you, you laugh with him, too contagious for you to question it. Posing with the rest of the cast as you wait by the sidelines, taking some pictures for yourself. You see the bee, trying to meddle, imposing and nosy, and feel a little sorry for it, despite Emma's face and the guys' laugh. In a way, you see yourself in the poor insect: taking space where it shouldn't, captured under the lights.

Comments are deceiving, yet there's a movie playing and then an awkward, way too long, standing ovation for you to care. You do. But you try not to, rather focusing on the event and feeling proud of Pedro. You clap and do a little too loud sound that vagely resembles a cheer. Flustered, you find out later on that the video made it out to Twitter. Strangely, even if your sudden appearance in Pedro's life, or rather public life, is well received under that post. Maybe life wasn't so cruel.

"You're not wearing that"

Life is cruel.

"Why not? You knew it beforehand. Said it was your favorite"

"I changed my mind. It's too revealing"

"What are you? Seventy?"

"The age gap is the other way around, grandpa"

And then the fucker flexes his arms. Worst, not even on purpose. Putting on glasses and a pink soft sweater shouldn't be this hot.

"Don't worry, baby. Don't break a sweat. I'll take the grandma sweater off when we get there"

Your cheeks heat up. "That was on purpose"

He offers a cheeky grin.

"Maybe"

Today is the photocall, and if yesterday's outfit put you in your knees, this one sends you straight to the ground. Full force. In a tank top and black pants paired with spiky shoes, his purpose was to serve and to kill you.

He goes again for the round of photos and such, you trailing behind like a lost puppy. Everyone assumes, yet no one asks.

She, the airport woman, now y/n.

(Can't say it out loud either. Not even you, yet, as if the knowing smiles and stolen not so subtle glances hadn't given you away)

You enjoyed this limbo. Of belonging not more inside closed doors and ambiguous coincidences, but on tabloids and loud shutters of camera. You liked the attention but not the label. It was good to see them scrambling, begging for details. Your social media had filled with requests, and even at times, your phone crashed.

You sat in a corner, watching the press. A few clicks here and there, Pedro drinking water and making it sexy (the size difference of his hand and the tiny bottle? You need to be locked up), questions, some about the movie, others about working with Ari Aster and then, awkward ones Pedro handled with grace. He spoke with such reverence, care and thoughtfulness, you can't help but feel your legs weak. You knew he was smart, well read and opinionated, but hearing him was another thing. So lost in this, you don't hear the next question.

"I know no one else is brave enough to ask" the reporter laughs nervously, "but I need to know"

Pedro senses immediately. When he glances briefly at you, hidden on a corner, you know this is about you.

"I don't think you do" he laughs, but there's a certain edge on his tone.

"It's fine if you don't want to answer, but me and everyone else on this room, hell, world!, wants to know who the woman at the airport is"

Before he adds about your quiet but strong presence on both days, Pedro cuts in:

"Is that how you call my girlfriend?"

The uproar is so loud, even Joaquin, who seemed to be on a separate train of thought, jumps on his seat. More questions follow, ones he doesn't answer. Out of boredom or to keep. Some things are meant to be like this.

Tabloids go crazy with the news. You haven't even left the place and phone blows up even more. It will explode at this point. Worse, it's only been minutes. An hour later, it's still as bad. Well, bad is a way of saying it: what you mean is nosy press and the promise of a quiet vacation ruined.

"I don't think it'll ever be quiet again"

You sigh softly, leaning on the door of the car taking you to the hotel.

"It's an opportunity" you reply just to feel the silence.

"Ever the marketer, you bussiness woman"

Even then, he manages to rob from you a faint smile.

At least they don't know where you're staying. That would be awful. You can't imagine having troubles to get out of a car.

"Something's in your mind" as your heels click against cold marble floors.

A shit ton.

You. The fast changes. Impending. Privacy gone. Scrapes of your life out in the open for the world to see. Your relationship and this new stage you're in.

Him. His warm eyes. Firm hand to secure you. Those circles on your back that calmed you down. It's a quiet I love you. Reassurance you don't say but need. I'm here. Pedro won't let you take the fall alone.

But, also, him.

With his body that had been driving you wild. Intoxicating cologne. A small cut abov his beard, still fresh. Thick glasses. Long legs. Strong arms. His charisma. Confidence. A killer smile. Warm eyes. Kind. He laughed too much and filled the gap of your stolen breaths, waiting.

"Want me to tell you?"

Smug grin you could wipe off his face.

"I'm all ears"

He too has noticed you. Short glances. Parted lips. So plump he can still taste them. The lipstick inside his cheek, over his white pristine smile if he hadn't licked it off. A part of you in him. Another. Your body, always so perfect, but in that dress he bought? He steals a look now. He definitely pictured you in it, yet this is better. How you own it. The cameras aren't flashing your way, but their eyes trail your every move. You had that in you: a beauty that wasn't loud, but made sure to be noticed. Like the air: not seen, just felt. Sometimes light, others heavy. He feels light-headed. Today you chose another set he bought you. In away, Pedro feels as if he owns you. But a tender belonging, of soul to soul, possessive, yet not as an object; he was raised right. Although, after your giggles with Austin...

"Pedro..." all sweet voice. He likes his name a lot. More if it's from you.

Your silence is both punishing and teasing.

"Tell me what you want" he insists.

"You know me" you play coy.

"I wanna hear it" desperate.

You cave in. Then, lean. His hairs raise in a prickly trepidation.

"They know too much" he feels your pressure, fears. But also, he feels your hot breath and short gasps, as if you can't hold this any longer.

"I'm sorry"

You shake your head with parted lips and hooded eyes, blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Show me something only I'll know"

Pedro's control shatteres at your words, a low, animalistic growl rumbling up from his chest.

"You're gonna make me fuck you in here" he spills the lewd confession.

"You're going to get us kicked out of this hotel"

"Can I at least kiss you on the elevator?" he pleads. Puppy sad brown eyes and all.

"Maybe"

In an instant, he takes your wrist in his grip, pulling you stumbling to the dinging door.

"Be patient" you mumble as his lips ghost over your neck. You glance at the numbers.

"We're on the thirty-two floor"

"Patience is a virtue"

"I don't care"

As soon as the door opens, he strides out with desperate, urgent steps.

"This isn't our floor"

"Fuck!"

The short time from the twenty-four to your actual floor felt interminable, every second stretching into an eternity as the weight of your shared desire hung heavy in the air.

"Jesus" you mutter.

"That good or bad?" he asks, mouth busy and voice sort of muffled against the flush skin of your neck.

"Good" you manage to mumble, hands on his hair.

Alright, you miss the messy curls but you can see them insist on the top of his hair, now starting to get sweaty, Coco's work going to waste.

"Then let's give them more to talk"

As soon as you crossed the hallway, Pedro kicks the door shut behind both of you. He's got your back pressed against it, roughly, as if he couldn't wait a bit longer, mouth taking yours in a hungry kiss.

His hands roam your body, gripping, squeezing, tugging at any little space of honeyed skin he can, taking off the buttons with a feverish desperation. You swear one of them pops, if your ears don't deceive you.

"You bought that dress. I liked it"

He rolls his eyes. "I can buy you a new one. A whole closet"

"But I liked this one" you pout.

He kisses your pouty lips. "Then I shall move the earth to get the same one again for you. Now... where were we?"

He's back to kissing you roughly, and soon, your brain is too fuzzy and lost in the force of his lips on yours, that the cameras and late interview are soon forgotten in the back of your mind.

"I'm going to ruin you" he says against your mouth, voice ragged with lust. You let out a little moan as you squirm under his insistent touch. "So hard, so deep, you won't forget who you belong to. Never"

You should feel threatened. Scared, even. But no, down there? You're a wet mess.

The dress falls to the floor with a soft thud. At least he didn't rip it.

"No bra, baby?" he asks, voice thick. You swallow harshly and nod. "Bad girl. Such'a tease"

His mouth drops then to your chest, lips kissing and teeth grazing the soft swell of your breasts. His tongue runs cold through a shiver, moving to your nipples, taking the hardened bud into his mouth and sucking hard. You feel his hands then over the rosy flesh, grabbing what he can, which, given the size of his hands, it's a lot.

"All this for me?"

You nod, lost in the grunts, sweat, his mouth and touch.

"That's right. Mine. You're mine, baby. Just mine. Say it. Tell me you are"

"Yes!" you gasp. "I'm yours, Pedro. All yours. Only yours"

He groans into your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. There's too a low sound coming from his throat, probably an approval sound of some sorts. His hands now slide down to your hips, gripping the free skin until he lifts you up. It's always like this. Now, you wrap your legs around his waist, tiny ankles locking at the small of his broad back.

Finally, he takes you to the bed in the middle of the room, all while never breaking the kiss or stopping his greedy hands from touching you. You whine and squirm, weak under his spell.

"So antsy" he softly says.

"I think you meant your hands"

With a little laugh, he lays you down on the bed, body hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. Before, he'd take his time to let go of the shirt, undressing slowly and almost reluctantly. Now, he takes no time in stripping off his shirt, revealing the toned body under an already revealing shirt. You love Pedro, in all of his forms and shapes, but weren't you incredibly turned on like a horny teenager for this new body? Maybe it was his new energy, how it oozed off of him in the form of flexing biceps, slim figure, toned chest and stomach and disarming smile. He was a menace and knew it, by the smirk visible even through the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

"We should've turned the lights"

"I like you like this" needy fingers now turn tender as he traces soft hearts on your face, the rough skin brushing your soft flushed own.

"At least the nightstand one. It's yellow"

"No"

He leans down to claim your mouth again, or just shut you up. It's helpful, anyway, as he kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen and tingling.

"Someone's insatiable today" you croak out.

"For you? Always" he replies, fingers finding the damp patch in your panties, rubbing over it, thick fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. "It's never enough, baby"

He lets out a little grunt.

"Fuck, you're so wet" voice rough with lust and surprise. "Julie's outfit turned you on that much?"

"Even the hideous ones did" you whimper. "Imagine this one"

"I chose some of those, you know" he sounds a bit offended.

"Whatever. I'm happy with this Cannes run. I'll send some flowers or take her to lunch"

"So caring" he mocks.

"For dressing my man like a complete eye candy? Hell, yes"

"No one uses that term nowadays" Pedro interjects.

"Here you go again. You're my biggest hater. Shut up and just-"

You turn desperate at the pressure his fingers apply on your clothed slit. He smirks at that, eyes dark.

"You want this, don't you? You want me inside, filling you, stretching you around my cock?"

"Yes" you whimper again.

"Say it" he demands.

Never would you beg for something, but goddamn, didn't this man reduce you to a puddle of moans and pleasure? Your common sense, no, normal functioning, basic even, flew out of the window with just a kiss.

"I need you"

His fingers press even deeper, and the pulsing light pain sensation drives you wild, making you whimper again.

"Pedro-" you whine, hips rocking up against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

He clicks his tongue. "Manners, baby"

You squirm, violently and desperate. He really was going to make you beg for it.

"Please, Pedro"

"That better" fingers slightly more insistent. "One last time?"

Fuck dignity, man.

"Please, Pedro. I need you. I need you so badly" you choke out.

He grins like a schoolboy, eyes dark. "Good girl"

He rewards you by making a quick work of your panties, practically tearing them off and tossing them aside. His fingers then were on your bare skin, drumming on sensitive thighs.

"Don't tease" you plead through gritted teeth.

"So impatient" he tsks. "Want it now, baby?"

You nod, feverish.

"Because you asked"

"Because we always do what I want" you choke.

His eyes shine dark. "Easy, brat"

He strokes through the slick folds of your, pussy, pushing two long, thick fingers deep inside you, curling them just right, hitting that well known spot that made you see stars.

"So tight" his voice comes out strained. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect"

Pedro pumps his fingers in and out, thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. His mouth drops to your breast again, suckling hard, biting just on the edge and then licking to soothe the sting. You feel heat building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your hands scrabble at his back, nails digging into his skin, as to urge him.

And then he pulls away, leaving you empty and aching. You whimper at the loss, making him chuckle a bit.

"Calm down, baby. I ain't going anywhere"

He starts undressing what's left of his clothes, and if you liked the outfit, him naked takes the win. His cock springs free, long and hard, the thick head already glistening.

"See?"

He settles himself between your thighs, the thick length of his cock nudging against your slick folds. He looks down at you, eyes intense under the moonlight. His large, calloused hands slid under your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises.

If spilling it in the interview wasn't enough, he was going to mark you, claim you, make you his.

"I'm going to fuck you now" Pedro announces, voice low with lust. "I'm going to fuck you hard and deep, just like you need. Like we both do"

With that, he thrust forward, pushing past your entrance. You gasp at the intrusion, feeling your pussy stretch around him, accommodating his size. It always happens; he's just big like that. He pauses, letting you adjust to the stretch, before pushing forward again, sinking deeper inside.

So thoughtful.

"Fuck, you're so tight " he said through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect. You feel incredible, y/n"

He starts to move then, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. Each push brings him deeper, until he was buried to the hilt inside. He sets a hard, fast pace, the bed creaking beneath with the force of his thrusts. The room filled with the sound of their mingled moans and gasps, sweat pooling like a second skin.

And if things couldn't get any better...

One hand came up to your throat, long fingers wrapping around it. He didn't squeeze, not yet, just rested them there, feeling the flutter of your pulse.

"Nervous?" his thumb brushes over your racing heartbeat, a teasing promise of what was to come. "C'mon. Don't get shy on me, baby. I know you like that"

(You did. He was new to this, mainly going off some spaking and dirty talk. Now, he seemed to be into it, if not more, as you. It was always exciting when he did it, never telling you before. If you didn't want to, he stopped. You know he would, at least, because so far, you've never told him to)

You nod, walls clench around him.

"As much as you like feeling my cock stretching you open? Filling you up? You like knowing I'm the only man to be inside this perfect little cunt?"

"Yes" you gasp. "God, yes. No one else, but you, Pedro. Only you."

A wicked grin spreads across his face and he tightens his grip on your throat, just a little. Enough to make you feel it.

"That's right, baby. This cunt belong to me now. Your body. You. You belong to me"

He starts to thrust harder, faster, headboard slamming against the wall with each snap.

Pedro feels you starting to tighten around him, breath coming in short, sharp, desperate gasps.

He knew you were close.

He leans down then, his rough stubble rasping against the smooth skin of your neck as he growled in your ear.

"Be a good girl and come for me" he urges. "Let me feel this pretty pussy spasm around my cock. Feel it come undone on my dick"

His hips never slow, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts. The grip on your throat tightened just a touch more, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. Not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make you light-headed.

"I'm going to fill this cunt with my cum. I'm going to pump you so full of it, you'll be dripping for days"

You let out a choked moan at his filthy promise, back arching off the bed. He could feel her starting to convulse around him, her slick walls fluttering and clenching. He was so close too, his balls drawing up tight against his body as the pressure built.

"Come now. Let me feel you scream my name as I fill you up. Let the whole damn city know who you belong to"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. At the same time, his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just as your orgasm crashes over. You let out a strangled cry, body shaking and shuddering beneath him as you come apart.

"Fuck, y/n. Fuck"

With a load groan, he comes too, cock pulsing and jerking inside you as he pumps you full of his hot seed. Spurt after spurt, until he sees your stomach bloat lightly and you feel it sloshing inside you like the distant waves on the beach.

He collapses on top of you with a loud sigh, weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering heat; it's still dripping.

You both lay there for a long moment, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat, as you catch your breaths. Finally, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft.

"You're incredible" voice raw. "I can't believe you're mine"

You giggle, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as you snuggle against his neck. He can feel your soft, warm breath tickling on his skin. A sense of peace and contentment settles over him, and he sighs happily.

"Yours" and a quick tired sloppy kiss. "You drained me, thought"

"If you weren't such a tease..."

You playfully swat him, weakly.

"Shh, just relax" he murmurs, one hand stroking slowly up and down your back. "You did so good, baby. So fucking perfect. As always"

You can't helo but say: "And now the whole world knows it"

He captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was different from the hungry, desperate kisses before. This one was tender, almost sweet. Full of a quiet, growing affection.

"It's okay" so quiet you would miss it. "I've got you, baby. And I'm not going anywhere"

You make a soft, contented lazy sound as you snuggle even closer, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He feels your body starting to give up.

"Promise?"

He tightens his arms around you, holding you like he means it. You are the most precious thing in the world to him, but he doesn't want to tell you. He wants you to know. So he holds you tightly, like a vow. Something to keep. Something worth.

"Promise"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif: @a7estrellas / dts: @io12n

[deikshen]

Shen Qingqiu may know a lot about PIDW, monsters, the plot and papapa plot devices, but, traditional ancient music? Are they seriously going to ask him to learn all those old songs in addition to trying to save his ass from a horrible death?

So, in guqin classes with his students, Shen Qingqiu decides that it is not bad to teach them adaptations of modern music. Nothing crazy. Popular stuff, something classic Queen like exaggerations. He doesn't sing in English, but the music has this magnetic thing that can make a few of his disciples hum along, and it feels like they know the lyrics. Shen Qingqiu enjoys it very much.

Luo Binghe is the only one who actually hears him sing it. With English lyrics included. Of course, Luo Binghe has no idea what it means, but that doesn't mean he can't imitate it! So he's singing softly while washing some robes, enjoying Shizun's musical gift to him, when he hears someone stumble.

That someone turns out to be Shang Qinghua, the An Ding Peak Lord, who stands up from the ground with wide eyes. Luo Binghe interrupts his song, looking at him in confusion, when Shang-shishu... run at him?!

"Bro" Shang-shishu says, in a casual and unpleasant manner, with an expression on his face that Luo Binghe had never seen before, "What the fuck. What the fuck. Queen? Somebody to love? Are you kidding me? How did you get the Protagonist!?"

... and Shang Qinghua begins to speak.

Luo Binghe is sixteen years old, and at this point in his life, he is intelligent, manipulative, and able to handle the situations around him with cunning. So, he manages to keep a conversation going with Shang Qinghua by repeating strange words that he doesn't understand the meaning of, letting the man talk and say things like, Transmigrator? System? Username? How many years has he been there? How did he get the "Scum Villain" to treat him well? Is he preparing for the "Endless Abyss"? Since apparently, that thing, System, had told him that it was an "inescapable plot"...

Luo Binghe is evasive. He says he's been there since he was a baby, which turns out to be an appropriate answer. Bit by bit, he says he doesn't have many memories, which Shang Qinghua seems to understand? He says that some memories settle when he reaches adulthood? That this happened to him. He was twenty when he was really able to manage "both lives" in one coherent thing.

Luo Binghe listens, humming in all the right places, being elusive and evasive but Shang Qinghua doesn't even seem to suspect anything. He insists that he should prepare for the Endless Abyss and promises to get him some weapons and talismans that he can hide. He tells him that he hopes "His King" won't make such a fuss without so many monsters.

Finally, the evening falls, Shang Qinghua begs him to please keep seeing each other to talk, he is tired of being alone.

Luo Binghe looks at the wet clothes. He finishes washing and leaves with many things on his mind.

Shang Qinghua recognized him as a "Transmigrator", whatever that was, from the song. The song his Shizun had taught him. He had asked him how long he had been here. At first, the question hadn't made much sense, but looking back, recalling Shizun's complete change in temperament and personality... Luo Binghe can get an idea of how long Shizun has been there.

Besides, what was all that about "Protagonist"? Luo Binghe is not an epic hero blessed by the gods, and he doesn't have the abilities to be classified as one. Or does he?

That night, he makes an impeccable dinner. He makes sure to present all of Shizun's favorite foods, favorite tea, and favorite scented candles. A treat for the senses. When he sees his Shizun start eating, he just smiles sweetly before:

"Shizun, this humble disciple has a question about the future."

"Mnh, this Master listens."

"Why must this disciple fall into the Endless Abyss as an inevitable plot? Is there no way the System will allow this disciple to stay with his Shizun, or is this an unavoidable fate because this humble one is the Protagonist?"

The chopsticks fall from Shizun's hand. The expression on his face is one of the deepest horror.

"Binghe, what...?"

And his Shizun looks in all directions. He seems to be searching for something that isn't there. The "System", perhaps? Whatever that is, Binghe has never seen or felt it. And, at that moment, his Shizun doesn't seem to see it either. Or, he sees it, but what he sees seems not to be a response of cosmic horror. What he sees makes his Shizun's countenance turn peaceful. After terror and tension, his shoulders relax.

"First, Binghe has to tell me where he got all that... information" begins his Shizun. Binghe nods quickly; he won't have any problems with exposing Shang-shishu if necessary. He has no loyalty to him, not like he does to his Shizun. "Very good. Binghe, sit next to me and pour us some more tea. This is going to be a long conversation."

And it definitely was.

[wtfaniii]

CAN I PRETTY PLEASSSEEE request more child! Reader with squid games caretakers😿. The one I read a bit back was super comforting and I highkey want more💔

Squid game male characters x little girl reader

Ok I see that you liked this dynamic and it's good, it also helps my inner child so I bring you more, and here I will put writings of the characters in the first and second seasons ♡

If you want me to do it with the female characters, let me know!

master list!

> Seong Gi-hun

With him the tea parties were never boring

He always made you laugh and made sure you had fun even when your mother looked at him sternly for being with you longer than he should, now you won't finish the schoolwork.

He wasn't a good father, admitted it, but at least he tried and this time he didn't make the same mistake as did with your little sister.

—I think the princess would love to have more tea! —He said in a squeaky voice moving your toy doll as if she was the one talking.

You laughed and served him more with a fine movement, you loved the few moments spent with your father.

But you also noticed the tension that your father and mother had every time he came home and that was something that you didn't like, you were small but not ignorant, you could see that something was wrong between them, you just didn't know what it was about and that led you to commit some pranks that in your mind seemed innocent.

Like, for example, sneaking out of school to go see him, at first he would congratulate you for being so smart but then he would scold you for putting yourself at that risk.

—I like that you come to see me but don't do it this way, your mother would kill me —He said taking your hand as both walked through the subway to take the train back to school.

—She doesn't mind —You said with an innocent smile —besides, she's busy organizing the move.

—¿Moving? ¿Where are they going to move?

You raised your shoulders without having an answer, neither your mother nor your stepfather wanted to tell and that activated an alert in Gi-hun's head, after taking you to school again was when he found that strange and mysterious man with the briefcase and after that day your father was never the same.

He only wanted the best for you and your little sister and if he had to stay away to protect you that's what he would do.

> Cho Sang-Woo

Walking on his shoulders was the best, you felt like you could see everything from above and you liked hugging him by the neck from time to time.

It was curious how you were the only one who could see him smile genuinely, at first he felt scared when received the news that he was going to be a father, he wasn't going to lie, considered leaving you with your mother and sending money every month but now he couldn't see himself in a world without you.

—¿Do you want vanilla or strawberry ice cream? —him asked you as I walked towards the ice cream stand.

—¡Strawberry! —You responded happily while pulling his hair a little like that chef mouse used to do in the movie you liked so much.

He let out a low chuckle and walked towards it but stopped short when he saw a group of men that he instantly recognized walking casually down the sidewalk, they still didn't see Sang-woo but he was sure that if they did there would be problems because of his money problems.

He immediately put you on the ground and walked back the way came from, you looked at him in confusion, but before asking a question he entered a store without letting go of your hand.

—¿And the ice cream?

Your question caught his attention and he took his attentive gaze away from the door.

He formed the best smile could and told you that better choose some candy from there, you excitedly did so, ignoring the tension on his part and after a few minutes fortunately those bullies continued walking without seeing them, Sang-woo was able to release the air trapped in his lungs and returned to you.

After paying for the chocolates you took, both left the store and continued walking back home until Sang-woo met the recruiter.

The recruiter filled him with promises of a stable and secure future for you, a future where he wasn't constantly worried about your safety or whether he had enough money to buy the things you wanted.

He left you in the care of your grandmother and entered the games, it didn't matter what he had to do or the traitorous murderer he would become, he promised to come home and would do that.

> Hwang Jun-ho

No matter what he did, you did exactly the same thing whether it was something common or something dangerous.

¿Was he preparing to have cereal for breakfast? You did it too, ¿did he accidentally spill milk on the table? You also dropped it just to copy it.

You saw him as a hero and bragged at school that your father was a police officer to the point where they bullied you for even listening to it, something you didn't care about because you were still proud to say it.

People used to tell Jun-ho that you were a mini copy of him and that made him smile, because it was true and he was proud of it but also a little terrified of the trouble you were going to get into as you grew up.

He would drop you off at school every morning to make sure brought your breakfast and were well combed and clean, sometimes he struggled with your hair because being a single father he had to resort to video tutorials on the internet but you were always happy with the result.

—If you can't open your water bottle, ask the teacher for help —Your father said as you got out of the car.

—¡Yes daddy! —With your backpack carried on the shoulder and stumbling you ran towards the entrance of the school before they closed, it was already late and there was little tolerance and the teacher at the entrance let you know with an expression of disgust when she saw you.

You apologized with a slight bow and the teacher scolded you, she was already telling you about your punishment when suddenly Jun-ho sounded the sirens of his patrol car to get the teacher's attention.

Your father was still sitting inside the vehicle, only this time showing his best smile and waving at her with one hand.

The woman immediately changed her posture, gave your father a flirtatious smile and gently pushed you into the school, telling you that this was the only exception.

Jun-ho knew how to use his charms and he would use them as long as it was to save you from a school punishment or for them to make exceptions like this.

both had an excellent father-daughter relationship, however, when he went to that island to look for In-ho and then he was found in the water, those were the worst days of your short life. During the time he was in a coma, you slept next to him and your grandmother had to take you off of him by order of the nurses.

The good thing about that is that when Jun-ho opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was your body pressed against his like a little koala looking for comfort.

You were a real daddy's girl.

> Ali Abdul

Due to your nationality you were excluded at school, you didn't care much since the encouraging words of your mother and father always echoed in your head but when you started learning magic tricks to impress your classmates the teasing got worse.

Now you were in the back of your house trying to learn a card magic trick while holding back tears, you didn't want to worry your family, your father was constantly working and your mother was busy taking care of newborn brother.

You knew your family was going through a hard time so tried to make as little noise as possible.

You placed a six diamond card in your left hand and shuffled the other cards with your right hand, you made a quick movement of your hands and the card managed to appear right in the middle of the others

—Taraaaa... —you said without much encouragement despite your successful result.

Suddenly you heard a joyful applause and turned your head as saw your father coming out of the house looking at you with pride.

—¡That was fantastic princess!

—¿Oh really? ¡Thank you! —You said more excited than before, rearranging the cards in your hands to do the trick.

—It would be an honor to see a great magician do her show.

Despite being absent from you most of the day, he loved you and always reminded you by telling you or just paying you a lot of attention, even if it was only for a short time.

He knew that they bullied you for being different from others, he also suffered that discrimination but he tried to make you feel better every day.

For the next two hours he was attentive to every magic trick you taught him and applauded with pride and surprise every time you finished successfully, may have had no money and social status was horrible but were a united family and that was all that mattered.

He entered the games to help his family move forward, he spent each one thinking about you, your mother and your brother, family was his motivation and in fact, thanks to you he was saved in the game of marbles.

"Nothing is what it seems"

You said at the end of each act of magic and for some reason he remembered the phrase when he was about to fully trust Sang-woo, he didn't and just as you played with illusions and cards, he played with distraction and marbles.

> Hwang In-ho

He is not an excellent father, his work and the hard life he led consumed him as a human, but at the end of the day he always made sure to come to your room to read you a bedtime story, turn on the night light so you wouldn't be afraid of the dark, and stay by your side until you fell asleep.

You were a small lotus flower growing in a minefield, he disliked it but it was the only way to have you by his side, he affectionately called you "little sun" because you illuminated his life among so much death and darkness.

—...And then the circle did this for me —You finished narrating your day while showing him a paper flower that a guard with the circle figure impregnated on his mask had made for you.

—it's very pretty —He said after turning on the light to sleep and sitting next to you on the bed.

He was busy most of the day so he asked the guards to take care of you, a wonder for you and a danger for them because if he noticed a single unhealed scratch on your body he would make sure that the guard who didn't take good care of you would pay the consequences.

—It's time to go to sleep.

In-ho covered you with the blanket and placed a kiss on your forehead while humming a sweet melody that your mother loved.

You pretended to fall asleep and he left the room, usually you were obedient to his every rule but this time would be different.

This occasion was special.

You put on your bunny slippers and left the room wearing your duck pajamas, one of the square guards saw you on the screen but with just two buttons he changed the image to prevent the frontman from seeing you.

You walked cautiously until a triangular guard found you and guided you to a huge room with a childlike atmosphere, a blue sky painted all over the wall with white clouds and rainbows decorating it.

He gave you a radio and you spoke to all the circular workers to start your big plan.

You were a very smart and nice girl so you managed to convince everyone to help you organize a surprise birthday party for your father.

Placed balloons of all colors, confetti bombs everywhere and they made you a cake just as you requested, a large cake with a badly made figure of the frontman on top.

The next morning the mere image of seeing your father wearing his dark gray suit and his trademark mask in the middle of the playground with lots of colorful confetti falling on him and shouts of "Congratulations" from all the workers was enough to make you laugh.

In-ho was on the verge of a breakdown, there was a lot of work to do and you had distracted all his employees with this but he immediately calmed his fury when he saw you smiling like that.

That day was something unusual on the island, all the masked men received a slice of cake and saw their leader, the most firm, severe and imposing man open birthday gifts with his little daughter by his side, that day was an exception and there were no scoldings for helping you.

Now everyone was sure of one thing, you were his great weakness and if something happened to you the frontman would have no mercy on the world.

> The Salesman

The night passed calmly, the boring and monotonous atmosphere of the luxurious house in which you lived was about to consume you when you heard the main gate open, you quickly left your room, ran downstairs and saw your father, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

—¿What is the reason for this reception? —He asked you curiously as he placed his briefcase on the floor.

—¡I'm bored!

He looked at you in silence and tilted his head a little at the same time as he crouched down to be at your level.

—¿And what do you want to do? —He asked you even though he already knew your answer.

You had inherited his love for random games, where you didn't know if you would be the next to lose or win, so that was a hobby shared as father and daughter.

—¡Poker! —You said enthusiastically, forming a malicious closed-lipped smile on your mouth as you pulled a set of cards out of your pocket.

He couldn't be more proud, he was molding you into his shape and likeness which wasn't good but not all bad either, when you grow up you will have many freedoms and privileges in exchange for offering desperate people an unreliable opportunity, it wasn't an honest job but at least that way you wouldn't live like he did in his childhood, without a penny to eat.

After you explained the rules, prizes and conditions began to play, you won every time and as a reward he gave you one of your favorite chocolates, a more than special prize considering how strict he was regarding your bedtime.

Until in a bad game you lost, causing a small laugh to come out of your father's mouth.

—Looks like your luck has run out —He said leaning forward and without erasing his malicious smile.

You looked at him with half-closed eyes and before you knew it he lifted you off the ground and started to make you ribs without mercy.

You yelled at him between laughs to stop but he ignored it, despite being who the salesman was, he was more than happy to share a bit of his vile reality disguised as a childish act with you.

—Now to sleep —He said seriously once again, walking up the stairs to your room without letting you go —Tomorrow you have ballet classes and violin rehearsal, if you arrive sleepy you won't be able to do it.

—¡It's not fair! —you said with a pout as he placed you on the bed.

—Ah, princess, in life nothing is fair —he murmured, leaning down to leave a fatherly kiss on your head.

He was a heartless and sadistic man who loved the life and work he led but also loved being with you, he just hoped that when you grew up you wouldn't oppose his ideals or else he would have to get rid of you.

> Park Gyeong-seok

You were daddy's princess, while he was doing his paintings in the park you were next to him blowing bubbles and talking about random topics non-stop.

He laughed occasionally at what you said and responded to you but his eyes were still on his work, it was exhausting having to take care of you and your ill sister but there was no better reward than a hug from his two daughters at the end of a long day of work.

—¡Daddy can I go see the parade! —You said excitedly, pointing to the parade of motley that was passing by and handing out candy,

He hesitated for a few seconds, he didn't want to let you go alone and although it was a family environment there were always some risks.

—Fine but take your sister —He responded with a soft smile, you jumped with excitement and ran to your little sister to take her hand and quickly go to the parade.

Na-yeon and you went through all the people stealthily until reached the front where the animal motley were passing by and handing out candy. You jumped once again to get the attention of one of them and they gave you two pieces of candy for you and your sister.

The two continued watching the parade with a smile and curiosity until you were distracted by a clown who made you a dog made of a balloon, you didn't realize how long you were talking and laughing with that man until your father suddenly arrived and picked you up from the ground.

Gyeong-seok looked at the clown distrust and scolded you for your recklessness,

—I told you to take care of your sister, you should not talk to strangers ¿And what have I told you about staying away from me too much?

The minutes he spent anxiously looking for you were torture, when he found your sister in the dressing room with the motley, he immediately noticed your absence and his poor heart almost suffered an attack, he didn't know what he would do if something happened to you or Na-yeon.

—Sorry... —You murmur with tears in your eyes as you still see traces of his previous despair.

He hugged you tightly and turned around to return to his position where he had previously left your sister, he caressed your hair and gave you a kiss on the cheek as an apology for his reaction but you couldn't blame him, you were his world and he would lose his sanity without you.

After your sister's medical situation worsened and she was admitted to the hospital, things got a little complicated, your father knew that he had to find money to pay for her treatment and he would do whatever was necessary, even if that meant having to leave his two daughters in the care of the hospital.

—I don't want to be alone —You said with a pout on your lips and your arms crossed, although more than upset you were scared of having to go through this situation alone.

—I know princess but I need your help for this ¿Can I count on you? —He left a kiss on your forehead and took your hands to join them with his.

Receiving the news that he would have to be away for a few days distressed you a little, your mother died and you didn't want to lose him too.

He didn't want to leave them either, but that man with the briefcase offered him a great opportunity and hope that he couldn't let go.

—You are my brave girl ¿right? It will only be a few days and when I return I promise that everything will be better for us —He had no other option so he said goodbye to you with a promise that, by the way, he didn't know if he would be able to keep.

> The Masked Officer (Park Hee-soon)

Your father was a firm, authoritarian and even a little insensitive man.

Quite the opposite of you, you were an energetic and colorful ray of sunshine.

Letting you accompany him to the island was not the best decision, not because you didn't know how to behave, but because you were like a whirlpool among all the employees and guards, playing and ignoring the real reason why everyone was there.

Occasionally he would find a toy lying in the hallways and his office, naturally painted black with a small lamp next to the bed, was now full of stuffed animals and other things that you had put in the suitcase before leaving the house.

—¿Did you like how I decorated the room? —You asked happily with a wide smile on your face.

He looked at you in silence while pinching the bridge of his nose regretfully, it had been a long day at work, with the frontman infiltrating the games and him in charge being a complete burden but he could handle it, what he couldn't handle was you and your hyperactivity.

—Yeah... —He growled, taking off his black suit as he walked to the bed so could sleep, he was too tired to deal with you now but as soon as his body touched the bed you jumped on top of him, completely knocking the air out of him.

—¡I'm not tired yet! ¿Can we play something? ¡I see I see! —You suggested, jumping next to him on the bed excitedly.

—¿What do you see? —He murmured tiredly but playing along until an idea came to his mind —Hey, ¿why don't you go to the third floor and go to the eleven room to play? I'm sure she would be happy to do it.

You quickly ran to where he had told you and as soon as you left the room he grabbed the radio and spoke to eleven.

—My daughter is going there, be good and play with her until she falls asleep.

It wasn't a request for a favor, it was an order and even though eleven was also tired, she had no choice but to play with you until you fell fast asleep in her bed.

Anyway, most of the guards and employees there had a little affection for you.

> Lee Myung-gi

Now, he doesn't have the slightest idea how to take care of you.

He was still young and it wasn't in his plans to become father but now here you were, in to his computer playing video games.

—It's late and you have school tomorrow —He told you with a tired sigh, he didn't know what to do to convince you to go to sleep because when you stayed up until the wee hours of the morning it was quite a challenge to deal with you.

You ignored him and continued playing, you didn't take him seriously because he was very soft on you due to the little experience he had, also your mother's abandonment was another problem to deal with.

—Come on, you must go to sleep —He insisted for the second time, approaching you shuffling his feet, he was physically and mentally exhausted.

Another problem, now he had lost all his monetary income and several people were looking for him for fraud, it was a nightmare.

—No —you said flatly, turning to show him your tongue in a rude childish gesture.

Myung-gi sighed and left you at the computer to go to his bed to sleep, however as soon as you saw him close the door you heard him curse and... ¿Sob?

You took off your headphones and gently turned to look at the bedroom door, where you could swear he was crying.

You twisted your lips and stood up, your bare feet making contact with the floor and you crept towards the bathroom to brush your teeth and comb your hair.

After doing your little routine before going to sleep, you passed by your father's room, you stopped and thought about whether it was best to go in to see how he was or go straight to bed.

He didn't have the best family bond with you, you disobeyed him and he didn't seem to care but this time it was different, you didn't know all the problems he was going through and your behavior and rejection had been the icing on the cake.

You opened the door gently and saw him lying face down on the bed with the pillow on his face, you approached and he felt your presence so he turned to see you.

It wasn't his best year, he had lost a lot of money, all kinds of people were practically hunting him for him to give them back what they lost, he accidentally got his girlfriend pregnant and left her without telling her anything, your mother left him to his fate with you and you... another unplanned daughter that made his days more difficult.

He was overwhelmed and now lay red-eyed and full of tears on the bed.

—¿Can you read me a bedtime story? —You asked cautiously, playing with your fingers.

—I'm not in the mood... —He whispered, shrinking further into the bed.

You left the room in silence, he thought you had gone to sleep or play but after a few minutes you returned with a hot chocolate that you had prepared yourself and a children's story trapped in your arms.

You gestured for him to move aside and he did, you placed the cup of chocolate on the nightstand and lay down next to him.

—Once upon a time there was a soldier in shining armor... —You started reading the story for him.

Myung-gi was going through the worst time of his life but just for tonight, with you reading him a story and giving him a hot drink he felt better, he as a father was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around, but this nice act on your part felt like a big hug to his ugly loneliness.

He fell asleep when you finished the story, you covered him with the blanket and went straight to your room to sleep, it would be a difficult path to walk but for now you had each other, had to adapt, besides, internally both had some affection for each other.

That's why when he entered the games he took a photo of you with him, the guards took it from him when they put him to sleep but it doesn't matter, you would be a great reason to get out of there alive.

> Choi Su-bong // Thanos

He used to call you "My serotonin" because you were one of the sources of his happiness, a drug that came into his life by surprise and he had no intention of leaving.

As a father he wasn't the best of all but at least he tried, he let you dye your hair whatever color you wanted despite your young age and he bought you anything you asked for.

In your eyes he was the best father in the world but to the rest of the world he was the worst and most irresponsible.

—Fuck those idiots, you had fun, ¿right? —He said, throwing the newspaper with the headline "rapper leaves his little daughter forgotten in a club in the middle of the night" to the other side of the room.

You nodded happily as you took a sip of your apple juice.

—Besides, this is also partly your fault, I told you not to get away from me —He told you, pointing a finger at you accusingly.

He looked at you carefully, your colorful hair and your poorly painted nails of the same color were what stood out the most about your outfit, you were like a smaller version of him so he must have gotten the idea that the rules were not going to work for you.

—Anyway, let's go have breakfast ¿what do you want?

—¡Hot cakes with chocolate chips! —You shouted euphorically, raising your arms, Breakfast was the best part of the day.

—¡You read my mind darling!

With a carefree attitude he walked towards the kitchen with you following him like a baby duck would follow its mother, he wasn't the best example but you were more than proud to follow him.

You and him together were a mess but were more than happy, of course, when he lost all his money it was a problem to deal with but with you things were more fun.

And to think that at first he thought of leaving you in an orphanage, now you were his greatest confidant and official leader of his fan club.

In addition to your carefree and hyperactive behavior, you also inherited him taste for art, only you didn't rhyme, you had a fascination for plays, colorful costumes and extravagant makeup.

Another point that made him proud, your clothes were always colorful and full of life, you stood out from the ordinary just as he did.

Two colorful fish in a big ocean.

Okay tell me if you liked it! I missed Dae-ho but I hope to add him in future projects like this

Thanks for reading💗! And another thing, is anyone here a fan of Lee Dong-wook?

tag list¡!

@jalicecookie @annimoony

[liketolaugh-writes]

Sick Day Once A Year

I might be too much in love with the Death Echoes trope. So, have a whole bunch of Bruce taking care of Danny. It's basically a sickfic with extra hurt/comfort.

It takes place in the same verse as More Like Home but probably won't happen until after the plot of that fic is done. At this point, Danny has been living with Bruce for a little under a year.

-----

At noon, Alfred called Bruce to ask him to come home early. Bruce turned around and walked out of the board meeting without even looking at anyone, but did throw a distracted 'family emergency!' over his shoulder. He might have carefully cultivated his airheaded Brucie persona, but even then people knew that he took his kids seriously.

He ignored the board member that grumbled 'enough fucking family to have an emergency every day if he wants.'

"What is it, Alfred?" Bruce asked, once he was clear of the board room and in the elevator. Calm. Calm. No running. Brucie doesn't run.

"Master Danny declined to specify the nature of his sick day this morning," Alfred said, in a dry tone that didn't do a bit to hide the worry underneath it. "Apparently the anniversary of one's death is rather... physically harrowing for a ghost. He's admitted that he'd like to have you here."

But of course he hadn't asked for it, because that would require bringing up what he was. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Ten minutes at most."

"I'll let him know. Come prepared to spend several hours in his room, if not the rest of the day. He indicated that he may be well enough to eat by eight or nine o'clock, but even then..."

Meaning he expected to be debilitated until then. "Understood. Should I bring anything?"

"He's not aware of anything that will help, but some topical analgesic might be of use. I will see if I can find anything else to try."

"He's in pain?" Bruce's brow furrowed. Alfred hesitated before answering, which made Bruce's heart sink.

"He is... physically reliving his death, he says, and will be for most of the day. He is in quite a bit of pain."

"These kids will be the death of me," Bruce muttered. Danny hadn't even hinted at anything like this when he asked for the day off. Bruce made a mental note to keep him off patrol the next night as well. The elevator stopped, and he took off at as quick a walk as he dared. "I'll be there in ten."

"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred hung up, hopefully to return to Danny.

On the way, he collected a few items that seemed promising: IcyHot cream in the strongest available formula, both heat and cold packs, a variety of compression bandages, and some muscle relaxers from the Batcave infirmary.

Bruce knocked on Danny's door. Cool air drifting out of it indicated either Danny or Alfred had turned the thermostat down lower than usual. Fortunately, Bruce had grabbed a jacket just in case.

"'M in," Danny mumbled, barely loud enough for Bruce to make out.

He pushed the door open and was unsurprised to see Alfred seated beside a miserable-looking Danny. He was surprised to see Danny in ghost form, as it wasn't a form he typically spent recreational time in, particularly when he was unwell. Perhaps it made the ordeal easier. Danny was curled up in his bed, on top of the covers, with his jumpsuit removed and a set of soft pajamas in its place. Alfred was running one hand through Danny's soft white hair, slow and comforting, while his other held one of Danny's.

"Hey, chum," Bruce called out quietly, drawing Danny's attention to him. "Heard you're hurting today." Danny hummed unhappily instead of denying it, which was concerning. "Think you'll be able to eat anything for lunch? Applesauce, bone broth, yogurt? Maybe with ectoplasm?" Danny didn't seem to have any intention of leaving ghost form.

Danny started to shake his head, but stopped to consider when Bruce brought up the last point. "Applesauce and ectoplasm," he mumbled. "Maybe. Nothing after like, two, though."

Alfred gave Bruce a warm smile and gently extracted himself from Danny. "I will see to it," he promised. "Do you need anything else, Master Danny? Master Bruce?"

Danny shook his head mutely, and Bruce said, "I'll text you an update once we've tried these." He hefted the bag he was holding. "If you could bring me lunch when you can, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course," Alfred promised. "I hope you feel better, Master Danny."

"Thanks, Alfie."

Alfred left, shutting the door gently behind him, and Bruce took his place, setting the bag at his feet for now. Danny didn't stir from his leaden sprawl, not even to lift his head.

"You didn't have to leave work, y'know," Danny mumbled, half into the pillow. "I'll be okay."

He didn't apologize, Bruce noted. That was progress. "I know I didn't have to. But someone should be here with you."

"I don't-" Danny choked, his hands squeezing into fists as his whole body shuddered and jerked as if tased. Danny panted through the spasm, his whole body rigid, and when it was over he slumped down and let out a weak moan of pain, making no attempt to continue arguing. It took Bruce a moment to remember to breathe, reminding himself forcefully that this was no attack.

"I brought you some stuff," Bruce said, softer. Danny grunted in discontent. Bruce leaned down and opened the bag anyway. "IcyHot lidocaine cream and muscle relaxers." Danny shook his head without looking. Bruce wasn't surprised. He hadn't realized Danny was in ghost form. "Both heat and cold packs." Danny hummed in mild interest but didn't open his eyes. "And compression bandages."

Danny blinked his eyes open to consider them. His usually neon eyes looked dull. "Worth a try," he muttered after a moment.

Good. Something was better than nothing. "Do you need help sitting up?"

Danny's mouth quirked in a dry smile. "Not yet."

He pushed himself up with a grunt, and shrugged off his pajama shirt with intangibility rather than lift his arms. Bruce had to suppress an immediate and visceral reaction to the glowing lines that coiled up his left arm, which he had only gotten glimpses of before; a telltale Lichtenberg permanently etched onto Danny's ghost form. In contrast to the rest of him, which had dimmed to about the light of a glowstick, the Lichtenburg mark was painfully bright.

"Where do you want these?" Bruce asked, lifting one of the rolls of elastic bandaging. Danny cocked his head and considered it. Then he gestured silently, indicating his left arm from his wrist to his shoulder, and twisted to give Bruce access. With the ease of long practice, Bruce started to wrap it. "Anything I should expect?"

Danny watched him unroll the bandages for a minute, around and around, getting halfway up Danny's forearm before he answered. "The pain comes in waves. They'll keep getting longer, more severe, and closer together until around four, and then they'll die down completely about two hours after that." He paused, watching Bruce loosen the bandages around his elbow before moving on. "It won't ever get as bad as actually dying, but it's still pretty bad. And I'll be really emotional for a lot of it, especially when it hits peak."

"When are you not." The words were out before Bruce could think twice about them. Fortunately, Danny laughed, tired but genuine.

"You've got me there. How many rolls of bandages do you have?"

"I brought three. Alfred can obtain more if necessary." Pretty bad, Danny said. Bruce had no desire to experience pain that Danny described as 'pretty bad.' His tolerance was high even for their family.

Danny shook his head. "That should be okay. Can you do my back too?"

"Yes, but I'll need to be closer." Danny scooted to make room, and Bruce shifted to sit next to him, then tapped a spot low on Danny's spine. "Starting here?" Danny nodded. "Alright. Is there anything else I should know?"

Thankfully, Danny seemed to genuinely think about it, but eventually he shook his head. "I've only had two of these," he reminded Bruce. "There's more stuff I don't know, probably."

Ah yes, a frustrating constant. The elusive nature of comprehensive information about ghosts. Even Constantine had large gaps in his knowledge, which Bruce would grudgingly admit was rare for the man. This? This was definitely not in the introductory handbook. Was Bruce now obligated to share information in return? Hn.

Danny squinted at him. "What did Constantine do now?" he asked.

"Constantine."

"You have a very distinct 'thinking about Constantine' face."

"Hn."

Danny smiled briefly, then yelped, curling up like a bug and accidentally dislodging Bruce's grip on the bandaging. Instinctively, Bruce tucked Danny against his side, and Danny shook and twitched against him, a desperate whine tearing itself free as Danny rode out the wave of pain. Bruce all but held his breath until Danny finally slumped again, breathing heavily. His chill crept through the jacket Bruce had slipped on before coming in.

"Ready to keep going?" Bruce prodded, once Danny's breath evened out. Danny laid there for another few seconds, then nodded and pushed himself upright with a wince. Bruce picked up the dropped end of the bandage, tightened what had come loose, and kept going. "You're sore?"

"Ha." Danny lifted his arms slightly, enough to make room for Bruce to work. Bruce shifted and encouraged Danny to rest his arms on Bruce's shoulders, and Danny did, leaning against him. "Yeah, I wake up pretty achy already, even though I don't start getting spasms until ten. Just to make sure I have a really miserable day."

Uncharacteristically bitter, Bruce noted, but unsurprising under the circumstances. He didn't comment. "Remarkably, we don't currently possess any upper back bandages. I'll ask Alfred to retrieve one if you're happy with the results. We do have shoulder and wrist bandages." Bruce finished wrapping Danny's torso but didn't pull away.

Danny turned his head to squint at the bandages peeking out of the bag. "Why'd you bring so many?"

"I know how you died," Bruce reminded Danny evenly. Electrocution implied muscle pain, and Bruce had suspected his left arm would take the brunt of it. Danny shuddered, a natural one this time, and pressed himself against Bruce for comfort. Bruce dropped an arm around his back, holding him. A minute or two passed, and then Danny pulled away with a sigh.

"Okay."

Right, yes. More compression bandages. These went by much faster, simply needing to be strapped on, and soon Danny's hand and shoulder had joined his left arm and mid-back in compression. He seemed satisfied with that and laid back down on the bed, somewhat more relaxed than when Bruce had first come back in. Bruce hesitated, then shifted closer again and set his hand on Danny's upper back, carefully trying to smooth out the painful knots that had developed there. Danny 'mm'ed softly but didn't otherwise react.

Alfred knocked on the door, and Bruce called him inside when Danny made no move to. Alfred pushed open the door and brought in two plates, one for Danny and one for Bruce. Bruce accepted his with a nod.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said quietly. "Danny, are you up to eating?"

Danny didn't answer at first, but then shifted around to glower half-heartedly at the bowl Alfred had brought. Then he buried his face in Bruce's arm, grumbling, and Bruce's mouth twitched in amusement. It disappeared when another tremor wracked Danny's body, and the young teen bleated in pain, his grip tightening painfully.

Bruce forced himself to breathe evenly this time, and massaged Danny's hand with his own, pressing through the thick bandage. Danny slumped, panting, and with care, Bruce shifted his hand to massage all the way up Danny's arm, coaxing the tension out of the muscles there until he reached Danny's shoulder, skipped past the compression bandage, and pressed his fingers into Danny's back. Danny didn't say anything, but he pressed into Bruce gratefully and stayed relaxed. Somehow, still, Bruce was startled when Alfred joined him, cupping Danny's temple in one hand.

"Master Danny?" Alfred coaxed, more firmly than Bruce had. "Can you stomach some applesauce?" Danny whined, a softer-toned protest than the low keens of pain he'd let slip. "I know, but you will feel worse if you don't eat anything. I don't think you want that."

Danny grumbled something that sounded like 'no' and acquiesced, allowing himself to be propped up just enough to poke the glowing applesauce with a spoon. He brightened a little at the reminder that Alfred had added ectoplasm, and started to eat. Bruce followed his example and worked quickly through his sandwich.

"I see you're making good use of our extensive collection of medical garments," Alfred said to Bruce, making Bruce snort quietly. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"If he's satisfied with the improvement from these, we'll need one for his upper back as well," Bruce said. "I'll let you know."

"Perhaps after this, the collection will be complete."

Danny got through about half the applesauce before he pushed it away, and Bruce set it on a clear spot on his nightstand before Alfred could pick it up. He glanced up at the butler. "I'll see if I can coax more of this into him later."

Alfred gave him a small smile. "Very well. I'll check in later to see how the two of you are doing."

Bruce nodded, and Alfred left to attend to the manor. Bruce turned his attention back to Danny and considered him. He had a few more questions - why Danny was staying in ghost form, if there were any physical effects from this - but nothing that couldn't wait until Danny was less ill. He picked up his tablet instead. "Would you like me to read to you?"

Danny tilted his head up to look at him, then nodded. It was barely twelve thirty and he already looked exhausted, pale even for his ghost form and cradling his left arm protectively. Bruce hoped he'd be able to sleep at some point, but that seemed unlikely until the pain had passed, which apparently would not be for hours.

Bruce picked up his tablet and quickly downloaded a book. Danny had mentioned wanting to read 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' a few times, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. "The story so far: in the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move."

Danny snickered softly.

As always, reading to his kids made time pass a little faster. It also gave him easy access to the digital clock, and with the note function innate to the Kindle app, he could keep track of the time and Danny's progressing condition, most importantly the interval between spasms and the relative severity of the pain.

After half an hour, he noted that the current interval period was about twelve minutes and asked Danny, "Are the compression bandages helping as much as desired?"

Danny nodded. He'd pulled a thin blanket over himself after a while, mainly for comfort, and his hold on his left arm was still loose enough that Bruce believed it was more psychological than physical for the moment. "Hurts less when I can't jerk around so much. One for my upper back would be good. The shoulder one isn't quite cutting it." He made a face.

Bruce shot off a text to let Alfred know. "Anything else you want?"

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Heat pack?" he asked, softer and more tentative, as if there was anything Bruce would say no to right now.

And that was simple enough. Bruce activated one of the handheld heating packs and handed it to Danny, who shuffled around a little before putting it on his neck, by the junction of his shoulder. Bruce picked his tablet back up and continued reading.

Alfred returned about twenty minutes later with the requested bandage, and Danny didn't protest when Bruce went to help him sit up. He wasn't weakened, Bruce judged after a minute, but there was a minute tremble in his muscles that indicated the pain was ramping up even outside of the periodic spasms.

Bruce helped him get the new compression bandage on, and then paused to smooth out some of the building tension there. Danny leaned in gratefully - he was much more physically affectionate than most of Bruce's children, he'd come to realize, except perhaps Cass and Dick. Bruce kept an eye on the clock, and made sure to get Danny down before the next spasm hit. Danny groaned, the sound drawn-out and wavering unhappily, and clung to Bruce through it before falling into a shivering, panting slump.

Alfred ran his fingers through Danny's hair, nodded to Bruce, and left quietly, as harried as ever when one of the kids was suffering.

"You happy like this, chum, or do you want to lay back how you were?" Bruce asked Danny quietly. Danny grunted, then squirmed further into Bruce's lap. It was a little eerie, Danny being so light and cold in this form that Bruce could have mistaken him for a lap full of snow, but it made Bruce smile for a moment. "Alright."

He settled down and picked up his tablet to resume reading, noting the time and event before he continued.

A part of Bruce, a not-so-small part, was furious that Danny had meant to handle this alone, without anything to even try to ease the pain; it reminded him of when nine-year-old Tim had caught a bad strain of flu, and how confused he had been when Alfred insisted on him staying at Wayne Manor to be cared for. This might not have been particularly dangerous, it was true, but Danny was miserable now and only promised to get more so through the day.

He wondered briefly how Danny had spent the previous two such events. Certainly not with his parents, there being no human explanation for this. Could he even be home for it, in the comfort of his own room, or did he have to go elsewhere? Had he been alone for either of them? It unfortunately seemed likely, especially if he hadn't known about it in advance the first time.

Even with the bandages stabilizing half his upper body, Danny's groans and whines slowly progressed into low keens of pain, and he started to clutch at himself through each one, gasping for breath like it was the only thing that would bring him comfort. Bruce shifted so one of his hands rested on Danny's shoulder, where a gap between the shoulder and upper back bandages seemed to be creating a sharp spot of pain that Danny kept trying to get at. He massaged it carefully without looking away from the tablet, and Danny relaxed a little, panting.

At two thirty, Danny started to cry, exhausted tears shining on his cheeks and faint, breathy sobs following each spasm. At three, Bruce noted that the interval had decreased to six minutes, then set the tablet aside and transferred his attention to comforting Danny.

"How are you feeling, chum?" he asked quietly.

"Hurts, God, it hurts," Danny choked out, trembling like a leaf and his better hand clamping down on his shoulder again. "'S so cold, Bruce. It's in my bones. Shouldn' be in me."

Cold. Ectoplasm? Bruce wasn't sure. Danny had never described his accident at length. "Heat pack?"

Danny nodded jerkily, so Bruce leaned forward, careful not to jostle him, and grabbed a few. He lifted the blanket enough to place one on Danny's upper back and one on his lower, then noted the time and the request. If this was indeed a yearly event, a thought that made his blood boil, they'd need to be better prepared for it next year.

A stray thought crossed Bruce's mind. Did this happen to Jason as well? Jason had never referenced anything of the sort, but he also knew that Jason never went out on the anniversary of his death. Bruce would know; he'd specifically looked out for him the first few years, before the habit became apparent, and still kept half an eye out since.

Danny cried out, no longer making any effort to muffle the noise, and seized and jerked through another long episode. Bruce counted silently. Up to thirty-three seconds. When it was over, he sobbed and curled closer to Bruce.

"Why'd they have to build that stupid portal?" Danny choked out. Bruce ruthlessly clamped down on another wave of rage at the eldest Fentons. "God. A-ah. This sucks. I wanna go to bed. I want it to be over." His voice cracked.

Sleeping pills, or a sedative? They wouldn't work on Danny's ghost form either, but depending on why he wasn't reverting to human, they could try to get him to sleep through as much of the day as possible. Something to discuss later on. "It's 3:16." Danny whined in protest. "I've got you. What hurts the most?" He checked on the heat pack by Danny's neck, making sure it was still in place.

"My chest hurts," Danny sobbed quietly, his face wet with tears. "My heart is stopping."

Unfortunately, Bruce couldn't help with that. He set his hand on Danny's chest anyway, and Danny reached up and clutched at it, apparently finding comfort in the futile gesture all the same. Even his hand trembled.

"'M scared, B," Danny confessed after another minute, almost too quiet to hear. Bruce's chest tightened, and he breathed through another wave of frustration and hatred before he could soften his voice enough to reply.

"You're going to be fine, Danny. You'll be in pain for a few more hours, but that's all it is."

"'M already dead," Danny murmured. From inflection, Bruce deduced that it was meant to be self-soothing.

Bruce's throat ached. "...Yes."

At four o'clock, the interval dropped to two minutes, counting from the end of one spasm to the start of the next. It barely gave Danny time to breathe, and he tossed and turned until Bruce moved both of them so Danny could sit up and hold onto him, crying into his shoulder. Danny held on with bruising force - and no more, as careful as Clark even now - and jerked, hands tightening and loosening in Bruce's jacket with the ebb and flow of relived pain.

You did this to him, Bruce thought at the elder Fentons, more than once.

At exactly 4:36 - Bruce was keeping as close an eye on the clock as he could manage - Danny screamed. Bruce immediately recognized the sound from an echo audible in his Ghostly Wail. Bruce's jacket tore under Danny's hands, and a horrible, quaking tremor seized Danny in an unmistakably fatal grip. Bruce counted the seconds and held Danny too tightly for him to accidentally shake himself loose.

Forty-six seconds. That was how long the worst spasm held him. Bruce assumed that was also how long it had taken Danny to die.

In contrast to the other times, when it finally released him, Danny pressed in closer instead of loosening his grip, and sobbed hysterically.

"No, no," Danny choked out, and "Please, I don't wanna-" and "Dad, Dad."

What did you say after something like that?

"I've got you," Bruce settled on. "You're safe. You're with me."

Danny calmed down slowly, sobs dying down into heaving breaths and then into a deep but labored rhythm that closely matched Bruce's but seemed to take much more effort. The next spasm that hit was much lighter, lasting only eighteen seconds, but it still sent Danny into renewed shudders and tears, holding on tightly.

When Danny seemed calm enough, Bruce shifted him enough so that Bruce could hold him in one arm, then pulled his tablet back over and logged the time of death, length of the accompanying fit, and what had followed. Interval immediately increased back to more than ten minutes (Bruce had unfortunately missed the precise time) and period decreased to eighteen seconds.

Danny set his head on Bruce's shoulder.

After that, things got much easier. At 5:15, Danny removed himself from Bruce's lap to lay down. He removed all of the heat packs and passed them to Bruce, but kept the compression bandages on. He didn't reach for the blanket but hummed gratefully when Bruce pulled it over him anyway, and Bruce sat on the floor beside him and debated returning to reading aloud.

"Whoa. You two look wiped."

Bruce looked up. Duke had opened the door to talk to them, probably too worried by what he'd seen through the door to remember to knock first, and his expression was pinched with worry. "Duke. Anything on patrol?"

"Uh, some movement I'll tattle to Jason about, but nothing big." He studied them with concern. "How's Danny doing? I didn't realize he was this sick."

Hm. Had Alfred declined to explain what had happened? Bruce glanced at Danny as the teenager hummed unhappily, but Danny didn't say anything else, so Bruce provided, "He's had a long day. I expect he'll go to sleep soon. We'll debrief tomorrow."

"Debrief?" Duke frowned at him, understanding immediately that there was more than what he'd been told, but then he glanced at Danny and just nodded. "Alright. Feel better soon, Danny. Get some rest, okay? I'll let Alfred know how you're doing."

Danny's hum this time was more positive.

At 5:30, Danny fell asleep. At 5:45, Dick came in to check on them and left once he'd come to look at Danny's sleeping (calm) face, and at 6:15, Cass came in with a plate of food for Bruce and a few granola bars for Danny. For when he wakes up, she signed.

A little while after 6:30, Bruce fell asleep without meaning to.

[kaivenom]

Omg omg, OP Dilfs with a virgin reader? 🥺

One Piece Dilfs first time with a virgin reader HCS

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: omg people, i am freaking out of how much love the posts about these men are getting. For the past few weeks all i am getting is Dilf fans. Thank you so much.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He doesn't care.

If he is in a relationship with you, then you would have to had sex for the first time, what's the difference if it's your first first?

He see it as both firsts, becuase he doesn't know how would you be in sex.

The thing it's that you didn't know the answer either, so, you were really lost.

The good thing is that this man is really good at saying orders which means that when the time came, you were at his mercy.

It was like being hipnotized.

"Take off your clothes" "Come here." "Kiss me" "Use your mouth"

There were no words of reasurrance but you didn't care, his touches told you he was enjoying your actions.

Something in the atmosphere was extremely serious but deep and lovable.

Gentle and stoic, even when he just told you to suck him off.

All your intrusive thoughts were gone every second his touch was on you.

He would look like he doesn't care but if it's important to you, then he would make it important, even if it's not with his words.

When he isn't giving you orders, he needs to have his lips on you somehow: kissing your neck, your lips, your tits.

Aftercare based on service acts, like rubbing your hair, cleaning you up, giving you water.

He had everything prepared and set, to make you feel good and cared.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He got an instant boner and wanted to take you right there.

The mere thought spliting you in half with ruthness made him all worked up but being the first one to make you feel it was his wet dream.

He was being dominant and agressive, eager to be inside you.

It was intoxicating and almost obsesive.

You were sure it was bad idea to tell him because now he won't be gentle with you, and you were right.

When he tried to put his dick inside you and you began to cry a little and scratch his arm, he stopped instantly.

He knew that you would have that reaction and on his mind he would like it like he always likes the idea of torturing others but suddently it was different.

His mind was racing between all the posibilities while you try to prepare yourself for the pain.

Then he was a little softer, scarily softer, starting to touch every sensitive area with care.

You started to relax and the cries transformed into whimpers, without you knowing, you were finally able to take all his shaft.

He left out a small unexpected groan and slowly started to move.

Your wrap around his arm was still strong but now the pain transformed to pleasure.

When you both finished he putted you on his arms and waited for you to fall asleep.

He was surprised of himself, he always likes to hear the cries and bruises of his lovers, maybe you are something else and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Sr. Crocodile

He couldn't care less.

But he understands that is important to make you feel comfortable and secure, to make you sure that you are not being used and that nothing would be wrong.

He is a very good dealer so, when you said you were a virgin but you wanted to be with him, you both sat down and talked.

You both talked long and deep about all things and emotions possible.

He was confident and calm, everything you needed to feel safe to say everything out loud.

Then, he got up and started to kiss you, it was the time.

He took you up in bridal style and left you on the bed.

His movements are slow, you though it was because he wanted to make you feel safe but in reallity he was a little nervous.

He is used to breaking things not trying to keep it together.

He swears that your dove eyes while naked in bed, expecting for him, just makes him feel something primal.

He carreses your skin and never breaks eye contact, that makes you embarrased and at the same time excited.

He is a somehow scared that he would crush you with his weight but still he gets on top of you and kisses you with passion.

Painfully slow but is worth it, he is concious men.

In aftercare, he just lets you tell him what you need.

Smoker

I think he would be a virgin too.

Too focused on his job and duty to do these things until he met you.

I picture him as akward, he will try to look tough and masculine but he would be like a pudding, soft and shaky, but also tender.

He will set a cozy aesthetic cheeky room for you two.

Rose petals making a trail to the bed, candles, heart-shapped cushions and chocolates, all that manual sappy things.

He will be waiting for you in the bedroom only in boxers, he will never admit it but he was feeling cold.

You got there all flustered, knowing from the start what was everything about.

He went to you with a soft smile, and started to undress you carefully.

Soft and tender kisses while he takes you to bed.

Incredibly passional and masculine, just as he wanted.

Very traditional but yet still exciting.

Amazing with his fingers and very carefull all the time, he knows he is stronger.

Good old missionary, his moans on your neck almost made you cum.

And he almost cummed by the time his dick passed thru your slit.

He knowed it would feel good but never imagined that good, but he last good and gave you the pleasure you deserved.

Aftercare like a god, like he read everything on a book.

Big secret, he read a book, and listened to a podcast, and asked other woman at work (he died of embarrasment).

Akagami Shanks

He is surprised at first.

He pictured you as someone who already had some type of intercourse in these but when he tried to make the move and you flintched, he was shocked.

His first thougth was that you had a traumatic experience, but then you both talked and he was recalculating everything.

His goal now it's to make you have the best experience possible, to the point were he put a little to much effort on himself.

So you needed to remind him that the two of you were going to have sex and that meant that he can get pleasure too.

Very cute from then, little laughs and reasurance.

"I am going to move.... ouch, a cramp." you both laughed while he laid on your tits.

"Now i want you to ride me so..." and now you are both on the ground.

It's really funny beacuse he is amused by your beauty and by being your first and having his dick inside you for the first time, that he isn't aware of anything else, which makes these kind of situations (even after your first time).

Very giggly and cute, i can't say anything else, if you were nervous and insecure at first, all that would be wiped away in a second with his laugh.

[writersrkive]

Warmth | Aaron Hotchner

summary: Your period arrived, and you are feeling like shit, but that doesn't mean you won't go to work. Your body is pleading to rest, but you are stubborn, so you act like you are fine. However, Hotch is there to take care of you.

genre: comfort pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader warnings: cramps and physical discomfort caused by menstruation, fainting.

a/n: maybe is not a good one, but I'm on my period, so let me be delulu. English is not my first language, please be kind <3.

Navigation Criminal Minds masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

When your lower back started to hurt, days prior, you knew what day of the month was getting closer. You prepare yourself, however that morning your body felt heavy, almost numb.

Walking out of bed, going to the bathroom, showering and dressing up were difficult tasks. The morning didn't go any better. You had problems with your car, the traffic was hell, and when you arrived at Quantico, fifteen minutes late, your ID wasn't in your wallet. You had to walk back to your car and go up to the floor where you worked five minutes later.

“Did you have cardio yesterday? Is that the reason why you are so late?” Derek asked, teasing, but you were not in the mood to joke with your best friend.

"Maybe I just took too long to hide the body of the rat that was bothering me last night, do you want me to show you what I did with it?" I asked, finally sitting on the chair to rest my lower back. My belly was hurting a lot.

“Uh.” Emily said and chuckled when she saw Derek's surprised expression.

“Maybe not the time.” The dark skinned whisper.

“Definitely not.” I answered. “Did Hotch…” I started, turning to JJ.

“Don't worry. He has been inside his office since we arrived. I don't think he noticed."

A few minutes later, I was leaning towards the files I had on my desk, not because I couldn't see, but because I needed to feel something warm towards my belly. My hands weren't enough, but it was all I had.

“Take this.” Spencer said, handing me some pain killers.

“Thanks, but last time I tried, they didn't work."

“Try again.” Emily said softly, understanding what was happening. “If you don't feel good, tell us.”

“Thanks, but seriously, I'm fine.”

That wasn't true though. Thank God we had just file day, because I wouldn't be able to fly in that condition. But at least I would have the opportunity to sleep a little thereby.

I needed something warm. So I stood up and walked to the mini cafeteria, where there was a coffee machine, with tea bags on the side and snacks. My tea was already prepared, I only wanted to grab a chocolate bar, but the cramps hit me, making the cup of tea almost fall from my hands.

“Hey, hey. Easy there.” That calm and velvety voice made me realise the man who I liked was now next to me, helping me by taking the cup and steadying myself with his other hand.

“Sorry, boss.” I whispered.

“What happened? Are you sick?”

“Kinda… I'm just not feeling good. You know, that day of the month.” I answered, still trying to breathe, feeling a tear of cold sweat slide down my back.

“It's okay. You need to rest. Go home.” He said with a firm, yet soft tone of voice. The team was always saying he only used that tone with me.

“I'm fine, seriously.”

I could see in his eyes that he was not convinced. “Okay, but let me know if you need something. Don't think I didn't notice that you arrived late.”

“I'm really sorry. That won't happen again.” My cheeks were probably burning, and I didn't know if it was because of my period, or the embarrassment.

“What I'm trying to say is that I know that you are not feeling good, and I will understand if you need to go back home.” He reassured me, lightly caressing the arm that still held me.

“Thanks.” I whisper.

“Here. Take this.” He handed me a warm compress that he took out of the microwave after heating it for a few minutes.

The tea and compress helped a lot, however, the painkiller didn't work. I felt like I was about to faint. The noises of our workmates, the weather, and even poor JJ's breathing was stressing me out. A break was what I needed, but I wouldn't be able to take one, so instead, I went to the bathroom. I didn't know Hotch was observing me from his seat, through the office window.

In the bathroom things weren't better. My forehead was covered in sweat, my throat felt dry and my legs and arm were about to give up. All of that was reflected on the mirror in front of me.

Someone knocked.

I opened the door and then my vision turned black. Next I remember strong arms embracing me on the floor. “That's it. I'm taking you home.” He said.

“I'm…” I tried to talk.

“No, you are not fine. Sometimes you need to hear your body and rest.” He explained gently, moving my hair out of my face. “You are going to drink water. I'm going to get your stuff and I'll take you home.” It was obvious there was no room for discussion.

“Got it, boss.” I whispered, letting myself smile on his chest. It wasn't a surprise how excited I was because he was taking care of me, even if I was feeling like shit. He was the warmth I needed.

[alikesical]

one-sided academic rival! Dick Grayson × reader

Being in university was hard enough as it is. Now imagine that plus an annoying trust fund baby making it his life's mission to annoy the hell out of you.

trigger warnings: kissing, reader in deep denial, reader gets attacked, dick gets injured

word count: circa 8K

part 1 part 2

Going to university was a privilege you never thought you'd have.

Although now it feels more like a curse.

"What do you want?" you ask the man sitting in front of you, swirling a pen around his fingers without a care in the world. It's not like you had a midterm in a few days.

Only you did, and he was distracting you, "Your attention would suffice for now" he says, honey coating his words.

You exhale as you raise your head, squinting at the bright light behind him, "Can't you see I'm busy?" you ask, rolling your eyes.

But Dick Grayson ignores your blatant annoyance towards him, as he did every other time.

"Oh, come on," he smiles, sitting across from you, "You've been locked in here, for like what, a year?" he exaggerates, leaning towards the table, "You can take a break."

"Breaks are for those who are done studying." That's not true. You know that, he knows that. But he's just here to annoy you, so you don't care what's true or not, if you continue working he'll get bored and leave.

"It's doesn't have to be long, just a minute." he presses, now full-on laying on the table. Has he no shame?

Stupid question. Of course not, people like Dick Grayson don't know how to feel shame. Either because they are perfect at everything, always, or because they are trust fund babies, who never had anyone tell them to stop behaving like children.

"No." you repeat, voice flat.

Dick continues staring at you, a smirk plastered on his face as always. No wasn't gonna cut it. "This actually reminds me of the time, my brother, Jason-"

You exhale loudly as he starts telling you yet another story. After this many interactions with Bruce Wayne's ward, you know he won't stop talking until you give in.

You always considered yourself stubborn, and in all truth, you were. You never backed away until you got what you wanted. That's one of the reasons you are here in the first place.

Unfortunately, you had met you equal in these very halls, and you knew better than to hold your ground on a losing battle.

"Okay, stop. What do you want?" you give in, putting your pen down, turning to look at him, your arms crossed in front of you.

"You."

You're taken back by his words, a slight heat creeping up your neck, "Excuse me?"

Only then does he realise what he said, "Not like that!" Dick waves his hands around, feeling the heat on his cheeks increase tenfold, praying you dont notice how flustered he got, "I wanna be partners for the next assignment." he says, willing himself to calm down, a smile finding its way home on his lips.

"No way." your answer is immediate, and his smile falls in an instant.

"What?"

"Have you hit your head on a pole, Grayson?" you snort, revelling in the fact you had the upper hand even for a while, "I said no."

"But why?"

"Because." I won't be able to live with myself if you actually end up being a good student and not just lucky.

"But it's gonna-"

"No."

"Fine" he says "What about a bet then?"

"A bet?"

"Yeah, if I score higher than you on the next test, you become my partner-"

"No, I know when I'm set up for failure"

"Let me finish," "If you get a higher grade, I won't speak to you ever again."

"...Never again?" you raise an eyebrow, "You're capable of holding your tongue for that long? I'm surprised."

Wrong answer.

"Wanna see the other things my tongue can do?" he says smirking at you, tingling his eyebrows.

The heat that creeps up once again is very distinguishable.

This wasn't an issue of you having a crush - which you were not - but an issue of having eyes.

You'd be a liar to deny that Dick Grayson was a very attractive man.

"Youre disgusting." you shoot, face grimacing, you force your eyes back on your notebook.

You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin. Not today, not ever.

"I know it keeps me up at night." he leans back, "So what do you say?"

"To you showing me your skills?" you mutter flatly, a small smile still appearing on your lips, missing how this time around, he was the one feeling the familiar heat, "In your dreams, Grayson."

"Then I'll keep dreaming."

You can't believe this. This isn't real. It's not true.

"See, this sweetheart?" Dick shoves the paper in your face, "98%" he grins at your flabbergasted expression, "I win!"

"H-How..." you studied so much for this. How could he beat you yet again. You exhale in defeat.

You have a bet, you'll upkeep it. You're not sore loser.

"Fine." Dick grins, "We can do it over at my place." you offer.

He smiles at you, "Okay, let's go!" he grips the strap of his backpack entusiasticly, making you roll your eyes.

This isn't happening.

A bus ride later, you're back in your house, Dick Grayson in tow.

"Do you want water? Tea?" you ask, hearing him close the door as you head into the kitchen.

"Tea." he says, and you feel him moving around, snooping no doubt.

"Sugar?"

"Don't need any", you hear him say in the distance as you add three teaspoons in your cup -you know its not the healthiest habit but you can't help but indulge in your sweet tooth- "You're sweet enough." you hear him much closer to you this time.

You turn around, wanting to retort to his flirty comment, chastise him about you'd have none of it during the duration of your project. But you're left speechless, gasping lowly at the distance between you two. Dick was standing extremely close to you, to the point you could feel the heat radiating from his body - or maybe it was your own rising up rapidly at the proximity. You look in his eyes, glinting with mischief and something else you couldn't quite place.

"What?" he smirks, trapping you between himself and the counter, "Cat, got your tongue?" he whispers in your ear. You can only gulp at his words, feeling your skin prickle as he moves closer to your neck.

"Oh, shut up." you say and push him away lightly, feeling the difference in temperature immediately. "We have a project to do." you grab one of his arms and try to go to the living room. Away from him, away from whatever he had in mind.

"Not so quickly," he grabs your wrist with a quick motion, pulling you back at him. You feel yourself falling, yelping as you place your free hand on his chest trying to support yourself.

"Dick," you mutter, raising your head to look into his eyes, "Let go." you say, your voice steady, but heart thrumming inside your chest.

"You really want that?" he asks, raising your hand towards his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, all the while staring into your eyes. Were they always this blue?

"Your pulse is rising," he presses on your wrist as he lowers your hand, pressing it on his chest, covering it with his own, "Your pupils are blown..." he leans down.

You exhale shakily. You're staring, you know. But how can you not when he looks ethereal under this light. Like a dream come true.

"Stop me." he says, a breath away from you, leaning in slowly, steadily.

You don't make a noise. You don't move a single muscle, afraid to break the moment. You just stare in the sea of his eyes, willingly getting lost in them.

Next thing you know, you feel a pair of lips on yours.

He's kissing you. Dick Grayson is kissing you.

It is soft and tentative, as if he's scared you'll pull away. But you dont, not when it feels this right. This good.

You move against his lips, kissing him back in the same manner, and he immediately brings his free hand to your jaw, the other still holding your hand against his chest, as he leans in, deepening the kiss.

You feel so many things at once, slowly getting overstimulated. From Dicks lips rhythmically moving against your own, to his heart beating widely under your hand.

This feels like heaven. He feels like heaven.

"Dick," you exhale, and he pulls away just enough to let you breathe, forehead resting against your own.

You simply stare at him, before pulling your hands away from him, seeing his smile falter if only for the minute it takes you to throw them around his neck, whispering don't stop as you dive into his lips again, with more fervour than before.

You can feel him smile in the kiss, moving his hands to the small of your back, slowly reaching downwards -

You suddenly shoot up drenched in cold sweat, the room feeling hotter than usual. You're lying in your bed, looking at the ceiling above you, the room filled with the commotion caused by the traffic. You're alone...

"What the fuck."

"Hey!" you see a hand waving in front of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You jump a bit, taken aback, "Rough night?" you look up and see the last person you wished to. The same person you were thinking about, despite your best efforts not to.

You turn red at his words, the dream still fresh in you head "Wh-What? No, no. Why would you say that?" you chuckle nervously, tearing your eyes away from him, "It was a totally normal night and I am fine!"

"Fine people don't get this jumpy when people talk to them." he chuckles lightly.

"Maybe I'm having an allergic reaction to you" you glare at him, trying to get yourself to calm down. "What is it you want anyway?"

"You still haven't given me an answer," he says, and you can see his mouth moving but can't hear a thing.

"You really want that?" he asks, raising your hand towards his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, all the while staring into your eyes. Were they always this blue?

You shake your head lowering you head. God damnit, why did he have to be here.

"Are you listening to me?"

"H-Huh? What?" why did you stutter? He's gonna realise. He's gonna realise and you'll be fucked.

"The bet," you can feel your cheeks flush at the sound of his voice. What is wrong with you?

"No." you answer quickly, wanting, needing him to go away.

"Why?" he presses.

"Cause I don't feel like it." you reply and get up. If he wasn't going to leave, you would.

But luck wasn't by your side, "Okay, if you don't wanna have a bet, just partner up with me!" he scrambled, following behind you. "I know you wanna do well, and I can help with that!" he exclaims, you shake your head trying to drown out the sound of his voice, "Plus I'm great company! I've been told I'm very charming-" you stop in your tracks and turn around annoyed, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

He wasn't as quick though, and ended up body slamming on you. You yelp as you feel yourself getting off balance, you close your eyes, waiting for the pain to hit any moment now.

But it never came.

Instead you feel a warm hand around your wrist. You open your eyes seeing Dick Grayson looking down at you.

Your breath is caught in your throat, getting dizzy.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you feel your whole body burning up at the proximity. He's so close, too close.

"Okay, lets have that bet, whatever!" you end up exclaiming, pulling away from him, it was like if you'd stayed in his presence any longer, he would have burned you alive. And with that, you storm away, leaving him behind with a confused smile on his face.

He didn't know what was going on with you, but you agreed.

A win is a win, and he'd take it.

You wanted to say that falling asleep in the library wasn't a common occurrence.

And a few weeks ago you'd say that this is lie and you're not a liar.

But nowadays, lies are all you tell.

So, no falling asleep in the library, drool coating your chin wasn't common.

The same way your dream about Dick Grayson did not make you feel a certain way.

You shake your head as you tighten your coat around you. Gotham winters are brutal. The temperature was below freezing at this point, and the city was one rainstorm away from being coated in white, like a very depressed, very drunk bride to be.

God, you couldn't wait to get out of this hell hole. Go someplace warmer, safer, and welcoming. Metropolis sounds like a good choice. Maybe even leave the country? But then you'd had to learn a whole new language, and at this point, the only thing you can store in your brain is information for next weeks test. Maybe in the summer?

You could learn French, maybe Greek? What if you just went for it and learned Chinese? That could be fun.

You speed up, pulling your head out of your own daydreams, trying to get to the bus stop as quickly as you can.

Living this far away from the city centre is annoying for sure, but apartments aren't cheap anywhere, much less a nice apartment with no holes in the walls and no leaking ceilings, in a good neighborhood, close to the university. But that wasn't your apartment, and that wasn't your neighbourhood. So you speed walk towards the bus hoping the last bus of the day hasn't gone by while you slept.

You check the display on the bus stop. A quarter past one, fifteen minutes till the bus arrived. You exhale in relief at this, you'll be home soon enough, safe under the warm covers of your bed.

You sit on the bench, close your eyes, and let the cold air caress your face. This was a good time to do your mental journaling. This way, you can just head to bed without disrupting your carefully constructed routine.

And this was a good day all in all.

Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. Dick Grayson looking like an angel- No. No Dick Grayson. No dream. That didn't happen.

Okay, let's start from the top. Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. You got your American History test score back, which meant you wouldn't have to pair up with Grayson. They had pasta in the cafeteria. Dick Grayson smiling down at you with his perfect smile, his skin shining -

You open your eyes, exhaling in annoyance. "Jesus Christ..." you matter as you start pacing.

Ten minutes to go.

This didn't make any sense. You don't like the guy, not even as a friend, much less in any romantic or sexual way. All he does is annoy you, pulling your focus away from what is important. So why? Why the hell the only thing you can think of is that stupid dream you had, which by the way was nothing more than your brain using what he said to you, to conjure up these absurd images. If anything, this was his fault. Again.

It wasn't like- you stop at your tracks. There are footsteps closing in.

You turn forward and see a man approaching you. Shit. He was older than you and bigger.

Maybe he's just there for the bus. There's no reason you freak out, you think, but you still hold your bag tighter, just in case you needed to run or hit him or both at the same time.

"How long?" you hear him say, his voice low and gruff, slurring. God, you could smell the alcohol on his breath from here.

"Wh-What?" you stutter turning your head to look at him.

"Can't you hear? How long is the bus?" he yelled pulling his hands out of his pockets.

You felt nauseous in his presence, "O-Oh, it's gonna be here in," you check your phone, "seven minutes." he only grunts in response, you turn forward, hoping he'll stop asking questions.

But in no universe, you'd ever get what you want, "Tis very late for a young thing like you to be out in the cold," you only hum in response, "What are you? 21? 22?" you don't amswer.

He takes a step towards you, you shuffle to the side, "Don't be like that sweetheart-"

"Please stop!" you yell, shoulders jumping up ready for impact.

You feel the man stiffen next to you. And then, he starts laughing, "Oh, come on, I didn't even do anything!" he threw his hands up, the smell of alcohol getting stronger. Beer, you could now tell.

"All you women are like that! You just assume all men are pricks!" you feel his spit landing on your cheek and immediately fight the urge to recoil in disgust.

You slowly raise your trembling hand to wipe your cheek, not daring to look at the man. Too scared to. Of how close he is. Of what he could do to you. Of how even when you screamed for help, no one would come.

What is another is another grave in Gotham, but a number on a very long list.

Your actions seemed to have aggravated the man further as he began to shake in anger, "YOU FUCKING BITCH," you jump at the volume, grip tightening more, "I was," he forcibly lowered his voice, "just being nice to you! But you had to make me-"

"DONT TOUCH ME!" you scream the moment the man grabbed your arm, "LET GO OF ME!" you start pulling your arm to yourself, but his grip only tightens. Tears sting your eyes.

"LISTEN HERE YOU BITCH-" you close your eyes tightly, waiting for his next move.

This is it. This is where you die. Good God, you are going to die without having done anything with your life. You should have taken that gap year. You should have travelled more. Maybe find someone to marry and live a happy quiet life.

But no, now you'll be just a mention on tomorrows news. Maybe someone will shed a tear or two, but that's all. You'll be forgotten the moment the next big crime strikes Gotham, and this son of a bitch is gonna roam fr-

"I thought she asked you to let go?" you hear another voice with no one to belong to. You open your eyes quickly, trying to see who spoke. But no one seemed to be around.

"What?" the man lets go and turns around, slightly stumbling, "Who said that?" he asks, and you see a head appear from above you.

You hand shoots to your heart when you lock eyes with the owner of the voice, as he grins at you, holding a finger to his lips.

"I'm your conscience," he says, disappearing again as the man turns around and you're face to face with him again, "you shouldn't harass women."

"Come out, punk!" the man yells as you take more steps backwards.

"What? Are you too much of a pussy to face me like a man?" you see the mysterious voice drop behind him, getting a closer look only when he stood up straight.

Tight black costume. Blue accents. Domino mask. Nightwing, no doubt.

This was your first time ever to see one of Gotham's vigilantes in the flesh, and to be honest, you were surprised he was real. Practically, you knew he existed, he was all over the news, but it was different seeing him up close. He seemed... familiar? In a way you can't quite place...

"You insult me!" Nightwing joked as he moved behind his back undetected, without any particular difficulty, "I think dick suits me better." he says before smacking the man's neck, knocking him unconscious.

You look at him in awe, mouth hanging, eyes wide as saucers, as he turns to you, a shit eating grin on his face as if he said some great joke.

"Are you alright?" he asks you, his voice stable, although it had another layer to it, well hidden, "Did he hurt you?" he moves closer checking for any superficial injuries.

You stand there, staring at him with a blank expression.

You can still feel the blood rushing through your veins, your heartbeat distinct in your ears.

You're alive. You're still alive.

You can see the vigilante approach you slowly, his hands raised in front of him. He was saying something... What was he saying?

"Hey, it's okay..." Dick slowly approaches you, but you seem to be completely unresponsive. Probably in shock from what happened. "He's gone, you're safe." he says now in front of you.

He can hear the bus approaching, you must have been waiting for it, but you still remain still, even as the bus speeds by you both.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asks.

You hear the bus, you do. You know you should have gotten on it, but your legs are not moving. He's still talking.

You're broken out of your trance by Nightwings hand on your shoulder, you shake a bit at the gesture before you calm yourself.

He's a hero. He wouldn't do anything to you.

"I- I'm sorry, what?" you look at him, staring right in the whites of his domino mask. He looks concerned.

"Do you need a lift home?" he asks, his hand falling back to his side.

He looks at you, too. He notices the crease of your eyebrows, how you bite the inside of your cheek. Your knuckles are white, your eyes darting around checking for danger.

You're nervous, scared. Dick has never seen you like this, and he would never if you had anything to say about it.

You quickly wipe your cheeks, feeling the dry tears, "I would appreciate that, thank you." you say clearing your throat. He just nods, and starts talking to whoever it was on the other side of the intercom.

You close your eyes, sitting back on the bench, letting the cold winter air caress your face.

Today was a bad day.

Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. You got your American History test score back, which meant you wouldn't have to pair up with Grayson. They had pasta in the cafeteria. You fell asleep in the library. You were attacked. And a man in spandex is taking you home.

It was a very shitty day all in all.

Dick was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, an arm behind his head.

He's been there for what, two hours? maybe three, he didn't know anymore, he didn't care to find out.

Last nights patrol has left him in shambles, seeing you like that. Crying. Helpless.

Sure, he had seen people cry before, people who had gone through her same thing as you. People who have gone through less or more.

But you? Crying? He never hoped to see you like that.

You were always so well put together. Confident. Assertive.

He's seen you annoyed, happy, stressed. He's seen you just exist. Although he supposes yesterday you were just existing too, until that asshole decided to assault you.

It felt... sort of intimate, seeing someone so confident, fall apart.

And he hated it.

He has imagined so many things with you in mind -plans he wanted to make true if only you didn't seem to hate the ground he walked on, all the while he worshipped the one you did in secret.

But his daydreams were always happy. First kisses, first dates, and peaceful days. Wedding days and kids running around. You were always smiling in them.

He knows it's strange and probably a bit creepy to think all that when you barely wasted a glance at him. But he had come to terms with it. It wasn't like he was the only one who did it. Or like he stalked you.

Yesterday was an eye-opener. He idealised you, thought you couldn't be anything aside from what he saw, what he thought.

He was wrong.

He felt ashamed to have thought that. Ashamed to have stripped you from the right of being human, just for you to fit his delusions.

Yesterday he saw you, not all of you but more than he had before. And it left him more determined to get to know everything.

First step was to get you to be his partner at the project, and with his score he was pretty sure has got that one in the bag.

Then he'd make you fall for his charms. Also easy.

Then, he'd hope you don't actually hate him too much. That one he didn't know how to make sure of.

He sighed and closed his eyes, his brain immediately conjuring up the image of your face last night. You seemed so out of it, crying, unresponsive. You seemed to have been pulled some place he couldn't understand or reach. There's so much he didn't know.

He wonders if you are doing better tonight, but he can't check on you in any way.

Except he could.

He knew where you lived. He could drop by and check on you.

Actually, Nightwing could. That wouldn't do much to further his plans, but it'd calm the tightness in his chest.

No.

That's too much.

Maybe he should stake out at the bus stop. Or maybe he could be normal for once in his life and leave you alone.

You feel chills walking at the bus station. You know statistically it isn't very likely you'll be attacked again, but still the fear of possibility lingers.

Its much earlier this time around -you made sure to not fall asleep in the library again, and quite frankly you wouldn't do it again.

But the cold and the darkness where the same. As did the fact you the the only person waiting for the bus.

But you had bought a pepper spray, that must account for something, right?

You sit on the bench, same as you did last time, and before you know youre spacing out again. This seemed to be the norm the last few days.

After the dream.

You hate that this is the only thing you can think of, that he seems to consume your every thought, working himself into the corners of your mind.

And he doesn't even know! He's walking around clueless of just how much he has thrown you off of your game.

Maybe he knows. Maybe he went to one of those witches and had the dream incepted in your brain because he wanted to mess with you. That's it.

There's no other explanation on why you'd-

"You'll get attacked again if you keep zoning you like this." a voice breaks you out of your thoughts6 turn your head and see the very same guy that saved you the other night, "Hello." he smiles at you, and you can only think about how he must have practiced for hours in the mirror to get it just right.

"Should I be afraid you're here again?" you ask him, holding the pepper spray tighter. Hero or not, he's a man.

He comes and sits next to you, like he knew you from yesterday, making you scoot a bit to the side, "Afraid I'm stalking you?" he asks, flashing that award winning smile of his again.

"Are you?" you raise an eyebrow, looking into the whites on his mask.

"What if I am?" he shoots back, like second nature. He's so weird.

You roll your eyes at him, "Then youre doing a terrible job at it." he just chuckles, "Why are you even here?" you ask him.

Of course it was possible that it was a coincidence, and that he was patrolling the area- "I wanted to check on you." he interrupts you.

Your eyebrows shoot up in a mix of surprise and confusion, why would he want to do that?

"You seemed very distraught," he continues when you dont answer him, "It seemed like you were traumatised." he says, fighting the urge to fidget.

He couldn't do that, he was Nightwing. What kind of impression would he give if he appeared anything but confident.

But this is you we we're talking about, how can he not be nervous. Especially how its the first time, he seems to having a conversation with you without you trying to get him to leave.

You stay quiet for another moment, "So you are stalking me." he say trying to hide a smile. He's caught off guard at your words. He had never expected that answer.

"You seem much too nonchalant about that." he says smirking, any ounce of anxiety he had leaving his body.

"Why shouldn't I be?" you turn forward, not looking at him, "You seem hardly dangerous," you say, "Besides, I can take care of myself."

Dicks eyes glint at your response, "Crime alley?" he asks, jumping at the chance to learn more about you.

"East End," you muse, and he smiles at you, humming, not saying another word, and you fall into a comfortable silence before he starts talking again, about what, you can't remember.

The only thing you know is that no matter how strange, you feel content with this stranger talking your ear off.

This is the worst moment in your life. Rock bottom.

"See, this sweetheart?" Dick shoves the paper in your face, "98%" he grins at your flabbergasted expression, "I win!"

You're having war flashbacks. How could this have happened.

"Only for a point!" you exclaim annoyed at how smug he looked.

Dick seems to be a silver away from jumping around and dancing, and honestly you'd prefer that, to his smug annoying smirk.

"Deal's a deal honey bunch!" he says stuffing his test back into his bag, "So when do we start?" he asks

What sins had you committed in your past life to deserve this?

Still, you weren't gonna go back on your word, even if you agreed out of desperation to get away from him.

"Fine," you exhale and his smiles widens, "We start tomorrow," you continue opening up your bag, pulling out a pen and your post-its, "Be there at 10," you scribble down your address, Dick stood patiently, his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling, "And don't be late." you say pointedly as you hand him the paper, which he took with a smile.

"Got it!" he nods, "See you tomorrow!" he walks away.

Was that a skip in his step?

You stare at his form getting smaller and smaller, your face slowly falling.

What have you done?

Never mind that, how would you make sure you would freak out while having him in your house?

After that day, every morning, you'd meet up with Dick to work on your project.

The first few sessions, were hell for you. You were always stepping on glass even in your own home, and he seemed to be oblivious to all of it.

Then, suddenly everything was fine!

Turns out he wasn't as bad as you thought he was - when his stuff wasn't taking over the whole room anyway. Contrary to what you thought of him, he was actually putting in effort in order to achieve the marks he did, and the whole reason he seemed so chill in class, was because he crammed all the material 4 days before the final by pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. You even got to witness that in person, when you both had a test and he decided that having a study buddy was beneficial for you both, and by extension crashed on your couch until the exam was over.

That put you a bit at ease at first, that you were on equal footing. That he wasn't somehow flying through university because of his father.

Then you simply realised, you were being a bitch to him for no reason. No matter how jealous you were, you had no reason to act like you did.

And now? You somehow had become friends.

You dont know when or how it had become a staple for Dick to come over so you could eat lunch together. But you didn't mind it one bit.

As much as you'd never admit it to him -in fear you'd boost his ego even more, God knows he didn't need it - he was great company. He had this talent of never letting the conversation die, which made him very entertaining to be around.

His affinity to talk endlessly, was especially helpful to you the first few times he came over to work for the project.

You were so afraid that your stupid dream wouldn't let you get any work done, especially with him sitting across from you, but as if he knew that you were nervous, he managed to talk the entire time he was there, whether it was about the project or not. And while you found that annoying, it also made you realise that you were fretting over nothing. Because the dream was just that, a dream.

You quickly learned that Dick Grayson was never gonna be as smooth as he was in that dream. At least not the Dick you knew.

The Dick you knew, banged his head on the table when he couldn't figure something out, and he'd show you pictures of his siblings any chance he got, and he would barge into your house and gush about Superman. He would drop by at the weirdest time, just to show you a new game he got, or to tell you about a book his brother recommended.

You're pulled back to reality at the sound of your door opening, Dick appearing in the kitchen soon enough.

"You'll never guess what happened before I got here," he said and you looked at him as he rambled on about how, his little brother, Damian, got a cow as a pet and how the cow somehow ended up in the manor.

You smiled as you hummed every once, acknowledging all that he said, all the while feeling a comfortable warmth spreading through your chest.

You had fallen into a comfortable routine with him, you've gotten so used to his presence, that it seemed wrong to you, how you used to avoid him like the plague.

Then at night, Nightwing would drop by, taking a break from patrol, basically forcing you to stop studying for a while - he said it's because it is mutually beneficial, you said he's full of shit and that he should just admit to missing you, which he didn't deny.

That was another thing you had grown accustomed too.

After the second time you saw him at the bus stop, he kept appearing. "I'd be a terrible stalker if I didn't" he said when you asked him why he' basically dropping you home every chance he gets.

You didn't know how you ended up becoming friends with the vigilante, but you did, and for a guy that wears a skin tight suit and calls himself Nightwing, he was great company. Although his ego was also somewhere amongst the clouds -probably hanging out with Dicks.

You're sitting on the desk in your room, studying, when you feel your skin tingle. Someone was in your room.

You immediately grab the cup you have next to you and throw it at the intruder, only to hear the familiar low chuckle of Nightwing.

"Really sweetheart?" he raising an eyebrow as your shoulders slump in relief, "I thought you'd know better by now." he tilts his head before, moving closer to place the cup back on your desk.

You roll your eyes at him, "You could have knocked idiot." you say as he moves and lays on the floor, relief flowing in his bones. He knows better that to lie on you bed in his 'grim, dirty suit' as you made sure to point out last time he did it.

"Where's the fun in that?" he smirks as you turn around to look at him. Your exhale as you look at him, noticing the small cuts on his cheek, immediately grabbing the small bottle of iodine you stored in your room for that exact reason

"Can't win either way," you mumble as you move next to him, opening up the cap. Nightwing sits up, laying his back on the bed post as you move closer.

You work in silence staring at his face, slowly applying it on his cuts, when you notice three distinct marks on his face shaped like a triangle.

Strange.

"This is funny," you say as you softly apply iodine on the cut at the side of his face

"What is?"

"My friend has the same three moles on his cheek."

Nightwing stills at your words. Do you know? How long have you known? Is this your way of telling him you do? Are you gonna hate him for not telling you?

He's such an idiot. He shouldn't have gotten this close. Now you'll know his identity and be in constant danger.

"A lot of people have moles," he says nonchalantly, muscles tense.

"But in the same pattern?"

"It's more common that you think,"

"I'm sure it is," you mutter, focused on not missing a cut.

You both stay quiet for a while. You seemed to not have made the connection, causing Dick to relax a bit. You didn't know.

You did, however, seem to notice the moles on his face in the time he spent with you as a civilian. You even called him a friend.

He hoped you couldn't feel his pulse rising at the revelation.

"What is your friend like?" he asks before he could stop himself.

"He's nice I suppose"

"You suppose?" he turns to look at you, but you move away, sitting across from him waiting for the medicine to dry.

"He's actually perfect, it's infuriating," you continue leaning back,

"He is very social. Everybody loves him. It's because he's fun to be around. And he's doing great academically too,

"I'm kind of a terrible person to admit this, but I couldn't stand him for the longest time because I was jealous," you chuckle, thinking how stupid that was of you, missing out on Dick Grayson for something as immature as the first spot in the class,

"He seemed to be able to do anything effortlessly when I couldn't. I know now that it was stupid to dislike him for that, but it was eating me away." you stop for a minute, lost in thought.

"It was unfair too, since all he did was be nice to me even when i was acting like a bitch."

It felt strange hearing you talk about him to him, but he couldn't help but pry.

"What made you change your mind?" he asks.

"Do you know how you have this idea of what people are like in your head? And then you find out they're nothing like that?" he knows because he did have one of what you'd be like, before the incident,

"Well, I thought he was a lucky trust fund baby who just messed around in class. But then I had to work with him, and it turns out he's actually very smart. He's also insufferably nice. That part is still annoying." you smile and he felt like his heart would burst

"One time, he went to deal with my neighbour because he kept knocking on my door and then disappearing, " Dick remembers that day, you were both sitting on your couch brainstorming for the project when a knock echoed through your house. He looks at the door, expecting you to go check, but you never did. Turns out one of your neighbours keeps knocking and disappearing. You told him not to worry about it, but he was having none of that and stop by the door for another hour, catching him red-handed the next time he knocked. Safe to say he didn't bother you again.

"He's... special. I'm glad he's in my life..."

Dick hums in understanding as you lean forward again and continue working, your touch hot against his skin.

A win is a win, he thought. You don't hate him anymore, and he'll take what he can get, so he stays silent, feeling you apply ointment on his cuts.

"I actually dreamt of him once..." you say, getting up from the floor to grab the band-aids. Nightwing stills staring intensively at you.

"You did?" he asks carefully. He didn't know this...

You chuckle lightly as you plop next to him again, holding a package of colourful band aids - he thought it was charming that you still used those for kids - "Yeah", you take a pink one out and start to peel it,

"I dreamt of kissing him in the kitchen," now you had him hanging from your lips more than he ever did before, "he had come over for the project, in my dream, in actual life I hadn't even agreed to do it with him," so this was before he saved you.

You chuckle again, pressing tightly the band aid over his cut, "I couldn't function for days, it was all I could think about..." you trail off, opening another band aid. "It's stupid..."

Dick speaks before you can even think of falling deeper into your thoughts, "Doesn't sound stupid to me," he says looking at you, "You seem to be in love with the guy," he self projects as you stare at him annoyed, he loved it when you did that, "Can't blame you since he's oh so charming and smart!" he teased

"Oh, shut up" you roll your eyes, slapping lightly his abdomen, causing him to wince.

"You are so mean," he whines, holding his abdomen in mock pain.

"You love me," you joke, getting up, moving everything back to its place, his eyes following your every move, a lovestruck expression painting his face.

He did.

You don't want to say that you feel disappointed that Nightwing didn't show up tonight. You know he's busy. Plus its not like you're entitled to his time.

He's a hero for Gods shake, he doesn't have time to drop by just because you feel lonely.

You could always call Dick... But it's late and he's probably getting his beaty sleep.

You exhale, as you stand up, stretching as you move the bathroom.

You mechanically grab your toothbrush, applying a generous amount of toothpaste on it. You can hear your mothers voice in your head, telling you not to be wasteful, but your teeth don't feel clean enough, if you don't look like your foaming at the mouth by the end of brushing.

You spit out the foam, "Sorry mom," you say as you rinse the rest out.

You feel like shed be proud to see where you are. Attending university, having friends, having a stable life.

You smile as you back hits your bed, ready to doze off until the morning.

And then you hear it. A knock on the glass of your window.

Your ears immediately perk up at the sound, "Nightwing?" you call out, seeing the familiar black and blue suit, the atmosphere in the room changing.

He knocked... He never knocks...

"Hey sweet cheeks," he says, sending a smile towards your way, voice weaker than you've ever heard before. Something was very wrong...

You scan over him. He's leaning his back against the windowsill, his lips is busted coating his chin with blood. His chest is heaving up and down, like he's having trouble breathing. And his hand is draped over his abdomen, pressing on them.

And then it hits you. The distinct metallic smell of blood.

You feel your stomach turn, staring in his eyes. With a quick move you open the window wider. "Get in and take off your suit." he say as calmly as you can.

But he feels like messing around, "Damn girl, take me out to dinner, at least." he says as he slowly climbs in, immediately sitting down groaning as he did. You were having none of his bullshit today.

"Take it off." you demand again and he slowly peels off the upper part.

Your hands fly to cover your mouth at the large gush on his abdomen. The blood seems to have stopped by the pressure the suit was adding to the skin. But everything around it was covered by a mixture of dried and new blood.

You're gonna throw up.

You stand up quickly, rushing to your bathroom, "What the hell is wrong with you!" you say, grabbing the first aid kit, "Waltzing in here, bleeding out, cracking jokes!" you yell at him as you wet a towel, trying to gather your scattered thoughts.

You need alcohol. And a needle with thread. You frantically move to your kitchen, trying to gather everything before he's gone.

"It's no big deal, just a-"

"Just a scratch?" you cut him off, "Just a scratch!" you storm back into your room, eyes wide, standing over him, "Of course! Just a scratch! A small scratch that extends through your torso!" you yell at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"It's okay-" he leans forward.

"Don't tell me it's okay! Not when you're bleeding out on my carpet! Not when you have a large fucking wound that needs stiches!" you sit by him, pushing him against the wall, before dousing the wet towel with alcohol, softly cleaning the wound despite your emotional state.

You stay silent if only for a moment, trying to calm yourself, "Why did you come here?" you ask him, staring into the whites of his domino mask, after he didn't speak.

He takes a second to answer, "I wanted to see you."

You gape at him, "Are you insane?" you exclaim dapping his skin with more pressure, causing him to wince, "You wanted to see me? Tomorrow is a day too, Nightwing! What on earth made you think that it was a good idea to come here in this state?" you throw the towel to the side, grabbing the needle, "What if I didn't know how to stitch you up? What then?" you pass the thread through, dipping the whole thing in alcohol. "What then?"

Dick lowers his eyes to look at you, chuckling lightly, "You're from the East End," he muses, trying to focus his vision on you, "Of course you'd know.."

"That's no reason-"

Nightwing winces as you drench his would with alcohol again, "It's not a big deal-" he begins to say, cutting you off, but you interrupt him.

"Not a big deal?" you say slowly now, a single tear falling from your eye, eyes trembling as you force the needle to pierce through his skin, "You are hurt! What if you bleed out in front of me and I can't help you?" you say, allowing more tears to break free. Dick could feel his heart breaking.

"What if you died?" you said slowly, trying to steady your hand, doing your best to keep that from happening.

"But I'm not-" he goes to lean closer to you again.

"You could!", you push him back, not daring to look up, focusing on your handiwork, tears falling like waterfalls, blurring your vision.

You just need to focus, a couple more to go. Just to keep him alive, until he can call someone to get him to an actual doctor. They dont have to be perfect. They just need to keep him here with you.

He doesn't dare break the silence, letting you do your work, regretting the moment he decided to come here.

He doesn't even know how he did, much less why.

He remembers fighting, and then the pain bleeding throughout his body. Next thing he knew, he was outside your house, holding his abdomen, trying to walk in a straight.

You sit back when youre done, staring at the badly patched up wound, ears ringing.

"I know I can be mean and-" you break the silence, voice low and hoarse, "and that I am a total bitch, and I know i dont say it often, but I care!" you exclaim, "I care so much and I- I don't wanna lose you..." you say softly, "You're my first friend here, and- and-" Dick watches you as sobs wreck your whole body, his hands instinctively move towards you, wanting to provide any semblance of comfort, even when pain radiates at every movement.

"It's okay," he says, pulling you against him despite the pain, "I'm okay, I'm here." he brushes his fingers through your hair, letting you get it all out, "I'm not dying."

"But you could be..." you say, pulling away, looking at him, "If not today, then tomorrow... I can’t do this again! I can’t watch you come in here hurt, pretending it’s all okay. I can’t-" you trail off, turning your gaze away from him.

But he doesn't, he looks at you, as he always did. He doesn't think he was able to see until he met you the first day of university, even if you shoot his suggestion of hanging out down. It was like the world was filled with all kinds of colours he didn't even know existed. He wanted to see more, he wanted to watch you forever.

Even like this, even if you're crying in his arms, even if it is his fault.

You take a deep breath, opening your mouth to speak again, but don't get a chance. His hand flies on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, slotting his lips against yours, before you get the chance to react.

You freeze at this, not leaning in, not backing out. Just sitting there frozen, brain short circuiting.

His kiss is soft. Slow, as if he's scared, you'll run away. But you don't. You lean into it, accepting whatever he was willing to give to you.

His lips are chapped against yours, but you don't mind because that is so entirely him.

You feel the tension in him, the hesitancy, the unspoken emotions swirling between you. His kiss deepens slightly, but it’s still gentle, tender-like he’s testing the waters, unsure if you’ll pull away or welcome him in.

And just like with everything else about him, you welcome this change of pace, wanting nothing more than to feel him close. Alive.

You slowly move your hand to rest over his heart, and he immediately covers it with his own, pressing it firmer on his chest, letting you feel the heartbeat against your skin.

He's here. He's alive.

After a moment, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. You can see the determination on his face.

"I can't promise," he says slowly, afraid he'll scare you away, "I can't promise you that I'll won't get hurt, that I won't be reckless..." you feel your heart tighten at his words, tears welling up again, "But I can promise to always come back..." he stares into your eyes, "You won't lose me."

Sobs break out of you once again as you throw yourself around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, his own arms snaking around your waist.

And you stay there, entangled in one another, even after you stop crying.

He keeps holding you close, afraid you'll disappear if he doesn't. Afraid that this is just a dream, he'll soon wake up from.

He holds you close until he feels your breath lower and your body giving away to exhaustion.

And even then, he doesn't leave. He sits by you for another hour before Bruce calls to check on him.

He knows he has to leave, to get his wound checked out.

But all that seemed insignificant when he held you.

okay! this was supposed to be waaaay longer but tumblr wouldn't let me add more dividers😭😭

I hope you'll enjoy it! :)))

[differenteagletragedy]

The one where Simon Riley gets a roommate and the roommate is you and eventually you fall in love etc.

There's a bar in Simon's neighborhood where he goes sometimes when things get a little too loud in his head. A few nights a week or so, when he's home, he finds himself there, sitting at a corner stool at the bar and nursing a whiskey. He doesn't like being around people, not really, but he likes this better than he likes being alone with his thoughts.

That's why he started going anyway, a long time ago. Now, he mostly goes for you.

A pretty little bartender with a past -- one you haven't told him about, but he can smell it on you. It's in the way your eyes dart to the door every time it opens, and in the way the tension builds in your body when some drunk gets a little too loud. He'd noticed how gorgeous you were the first day, but now the pull is in the mystery.

Where did you come from? What happened to you? And why do you smile at him like he's not the most dangerous man you'd ever met?

He doesn't understand it, but you're always kind to him. You always greet him warmly, pour his favorite whiskey with a heavy hand without him asking. Sometimes, when he comes in on a slow night, you'll lean over the bar to talk to him about nothing until someone pulls you away. You laugh at his jokes.

You're too pretty for him, the scarred, hulking monster of a man that he is. And you're entirely too sweet. You deserve someone better, younger, more stable, more whole. You deserve more than whatever it is that you'd gotten before, and a hell of a lot better than him.

But one night when he comes in and sees you looking quietly frantic, eyes red-rimmed and anxious as you flit about the bar, that knowledge goes out the window.

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly, studying the slight shake of your hand as you pour his drink.

"Nothing," you answer automatically.

"Bullshit."

You sigh, and after a little more prodding, you tell him: the owners of the bar are selling the building to developers, who are going to tear the place down, so soon, you'll be out of a job. But worse, you rent the small little attic apartment over the bar, so you'll be out of a home as well.

Simon can see it in your eyes, knowing the look all too well: you feel hopeless.

"I've got a room," he says.

And it's a stupid thing to say, because he has no business offering you something like that. He doesn't know you, not really, and you don't know him, and the room isn't a guest room so much as it is an empty space in his house that he's never had any reason to fill.

What can he really offer you? Not just with the room, but at all? Whatever it is, he knows it would never be enough.

But you give him the tiniest of smiles, and he sees something flicker in your eyes, and it doesn't matter how ridiculous the idea is. If you want it, it's yours. If he has it, you can take it, and he'll give it gladly.

"Really?" you ask. "I don't have a lot of money or anything."

"Don't need it."

"I haven't had a chance to look for a new job yet, but I'm gonna start tonight," you assure him. "So hopefully I can find something right away and --"

"Don't worry about it, love," he interrupts. "Not offering because I need the money. Room is yours if you want it."

He speaks gruffly, as he always does, and he hopes that you won't ask too many questions, because truthfully, he won't be able to answer them, not in any way that makes sense. He doesn't want to lie to you, but how could he say that the thought of you in his space was enough to stir something in him that he’d long thought dead?

Thankfully, you don’t ask. Instead, you lean across the bar and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s an awkward hug, but it means something, and before you pull away he’s already making a mental note of everything he’ll need for the spare room.

Your room.

“I can’t thank you enough, Simon, really,” you tell him, smiling a little easier now. “I’ll get another job soon anyway, ok? And I can clean and cook and --"

"Start by getting me another whiskey, yeah?"

Your smile turns a bit sheepish, but you nod and turn to get the bottle, and he takes a breath.

This is a bad idea. There's no way it isn't. It's going to go poorly, one way or another, he's going to be too much or not enough, and one day you'll leave and his house will feel even emptier than it already does.

But Simon is no stranger to bad ideas. And this one, at least, should prove to be a little bit of fun along the way.

PART TWO

[heavyhitterheaux]

Good Intentions

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: An argument between you and your twin ultimately leads to an argument between you and your fiancé who calls you out about your actions and tells you how being overprotective isn't a good thing

Pairing: Fiancé!Joe Burrow x Fiancée!Reader

Series Masterlist

Requested by: by boo @hoodharlow 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

AN: This takes place during Ja'Marr's rookie season. You are still at LSU and taking summer classes

The last thing your twin ever wanted to do was hurt your feelings, but all in all he had had enough and had reached his limit when it came to you being overprotective.

At this point, it was honestly suffocating.

It had been this way since the two of you were born and although Ja'Marr was grateful to be able to get along with his sibling since he knew not everyone did, something had to give. Yes, the two of you would talk to each other multiple times a day, but it seemed as if his phone had been ringing nonstop since he landed in Cincinnati.

As soon as he was going to text you and tell you that he wanted to talk about the situation, his phone was ringing indicating that it was you….

Again.

Taking a deep breath, Ja'Marr answered.

“Yes, Pebbles?”

“Bam Bam! Are you okay? How's everything going? I miss you. Did you eat breakfast already and take your vitamins?”

“I'm fine. I was fine when you called me two hours ago too…. at six in the morning. I miss you too. And yes to both of those questions.”

“It's just so weird not having you here and I hate it. I'm so proud of you, though. I always knew you would make it to the NFL because I saw your potential and how good you were. What do you have planned for today?” You asked as you were currently at the nail salon trying to decide on the color that you wanted.

You would be reunited with both your brother and fiancé in three weeks and you had been counting down until the last minute.

“Same plan that I had two hours ago. Just trying to get settled. Go explore the city a little bit.”

“Okay, well I guess I'll let you do that. I like how you're still getting an early start.” You told him as it was still barely eight in the morning.

“Wait, Pebbles can we talk?”

“We'll talk later when I call you back. I'm at the nail salon. Give me like an hour or two. They're ready for me. Love you!”

“Love you too.” Ja'Marr quietly said before the two of you hung up and he quickly looked up at Joe who was sitting across from him and half asleep himself since you had requested once again for him to head over to Ja'Marr's to check on him.

“You have got to tell her because this is insane. I feel like I've seen you more in the past week than I did my whole two years at LSU.” Joe told him as he shook his head.

“I just… I don't want to make her feel bad because I know she means well.” 

“But this cannot keep happening. I'm surprised she hasn't told me to make you move in with me so I can keep an eye on you. That's probably going to happen by the end of the day.”

“I'll talk to her once she calls me back later.” Ja'Marr replied, but if he was being honest he was actually dreading this conversation.

“You mean in five minutes?” Joe asked and Ja'Marr couldn't help but to laugh.

“I should time it and see how long it takes for her to actually do it.”

“Well in the meantime, I'm going back to sleep. But I know I won't be able to sleep for long before she's calling me back too.” Joe said as he got up and grabbed his keys making his way towards the door.

“I just hope she doesn't take it the wrong way.”

“I think everything will die down once she's actually here in person.”

—

When you had finally gotten out of the nail salon after admiring them and taking multiple pictures and had got settled in your car, you called Joe to see what he was up to and to also check on your brother. It was hard not being able to be with your brother as well as your fiancé since you had gotten accustomed to having both of them. 

You were taking a few summer classes which delayed you spending time with him in Cincinnati. Luckily, you only had a few weeks left until you would be able to.

“Hi baby! My nails are pink! I took a picture and sent it to you.” You proudly told Joe as he had you on speaker and was looking at the picture as you were telling him.

“I love them. Can't wait to feel them scratching down my back.”

“I… behave yourself!”

“I am behaving! I can't help that I miss my girl.”

“Aww, I miss you too. I just wanted to take this class so it will lessen my load come next semester. Anyway, babe, can you go and check on Ja'Marr?” You sweetly asked and Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes and was thankful that it wasn't a facetime call. He knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Baby, I was literally just over there three hours ago. I'm not going over there again.” Joe told you as he was trying to make himself a smoothie and started to get ingredients out of the fridge.

“But I have to know if he's okay!”

“Y/N, are you going to let him be an adult or…?”

“He's my baby brother! And you told me that you would look out for him once he got to Cincy. And since when is he an adult?! He is still three in my eyes!”

“Princess, I am looking out for him, but you are being extremely overprotective and Ja'Marr is scared to say anything because he doesn't want to hurt your feelings. How long are you going to try and hold his hand for? And he became an adult the minute that he turned eighteen.”

“If he had a problem with me calling him so much, he would tell me. He tells me everything.” You said and Joe scoffed.

“Uh? What was that sound for? See, you're the youngest so you probably don't understand! I have been looking out for him since forever! I have so many responsibilities on my shoulders being the oldest.”

“Older by three minutes. And you need to calm down and let him be. You are in the wrong here, but won't admit it. Nothing wrong with checking on him, but babe this is borderline obsessive.” Joe explained to you as he was now cutting up the fruit he wanted to put in his smoothie.

“Joey, what the hell!? He's the only sibling I have.”

“I'm your fiancé and I'm always going to be honest with you. I don't care if it's something you don't want to hear or agree with.” 

“There is literally nothing wrong with what I'm doing.” 

Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes once more. 

“Okay, baby. Since you don't think it's bothering him, hang up and call him. Then call me back and tell me what he says.”

“Fine, you’ll see.” You said as you shrugged even though Joe couldn't see you.

Once you hung up with him, you called your twin and he didn't even give you a proper greeting before he started to go off on you.

“Y/N, what could you possibly ask me about now?”

“Whoa, what's the attitude for? And I thought you wanted to talk to me? You always want to talk to me.”  You asked as you were caught off guard.

“Don't you have class, or practice, or SOMETHING that you can occupy your time with instead of calling me every five minutes?”

“I… Ja'Marr I just want to make sure you’re okay. You're my baby brother and my twin. Only one I have.”

“Yes, I know and you will NOT let me fucking breathe. Like got damn. I've only been here a damn week and all of my calls are basically from you every two minutes. Yes, Joe is checking on me and making sure I'm good. But I don't need a babysitter. He's also getting annoyed because you tell him to come and check on me ten times a day!” Ja'Marr told you unable to hold back any longer. 

“But… you turned your location off. I need to know where you are. You never turn it off. What's up with that?”

“NO YOU DON'T. I'm good, that's all you need to know. All you have been doing ever since I got drafted was be extremely overprotective! Mom and dad aren't even this bad.” He told you as he was being completely honest.

It was quiet for a few seconds before you decided to say anything, obviously hurt by his reaction.

“If I'm bothering you, I'll stop. I just miss you is all. But I can see that I'm causing more harm than good. So I'll hang up now.” You said with tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

“Wait, Pebbles, I just…” Now Ja'Marr was regretting his approach because he now knew for a fact that he had hurt your feelings which he was trying to avoid doing.

“Bye, have a good rest of your day.” 

You didn't give him a chance to finish as you quickly hung up and wiped away the tears that did end up falling. Figuring that you were also probably bothering your fiancé just as Ja'Marr mentioned, you decided to send him a text instead of calling him again.

You- I'll stop asking for you to check on him

Joey- Baby, I don't mind checking on him. Just tone it down a little bit. I promise you that he's okay. If he wasn’t, you would be the first person I told.

You- No, I'm not asking anymore at all. If he wants to talk to me, he will and I'll leave it at that. I guess I'm bothering you too so I'll let you be. Talk to you whenever.

Joey- Princess, stop being ridiculous. You aren't bothering me.

You- Ja'Marr said otherwise so goodnight

“Shit.” Joe muttered underneath his breath before typing a response back to you.

Joey- It is literally 11 in the morning and you're being petty

You- I can tell time, goodnight like I said

For the rest of the day, your phone had been blown up by Joe but you weren't budging. Ja’Marr had been eerily quiet, but you definitely weren't about to say anything to him.

He wanted space so that was what he was going to get. 

If he felt like you were being extremely overprotective and also bothering Joe with your antics, you were simply going to keep your distance.

About a week had passed and Ja'Marr honestly felt weird.

He hadn't talked to his big sister and since it was out of the ordinary, when certain things happened he didn't have anyone he would immediately run and tell about it.

That person had been you.

He had been leaving you messages here and there with no response from you.

Joe wasn't any better and you would be sending him one word answers to his text messages while declining his facetime calls despite him wanting to call a truce.

He came to the conclusion that you were obviously still hurt by the argument that had taken place, but he needed to fix this before you came to see him in two weeks.

Well, if you still wanted to see him, that is. 

Because as of right now he wasn't so sure. 

It was now around six in the evening when you and Erin had just gotten back from going shopping and you had begun to put away your clothes in your closet when you heard Erin's phone ring as she was sitting on your bed.

“Oh no.” She breathed out and you looked at her in confusion.

“What?”

“Your baby daddy is calling me.” She told you and you quickly rolled your eyes.

One thing about Joe is if he knew you were mad at him, nine times out of ten he's calling Erin to check on you because he knows that you'll keep ignoring him.

“I'm not talking to him right now.”

“Wait, didn’t you tell him goodnight at 11 in the morning the other day?” She asked while laughing.

“Yes, and I meant it.”

“Let’s see what he wants.” Erin replied as you quickly shook your head no before exclaiming it.

“NO!”

“Too late. Hi Joey!” Erin said as she waved at him with you quickly rolling your eyes.

Great, it was a facetime call too.

“Hey Erin, where's Y/N?”

“In front of me and I told her to call you so that the two of you could make up but she's being stubborn.” She told him and you promptly rolled your eyes.

“Can you pass her the phone?” He politely asked and she quickly nodded. 

“Sure.”

It took a minute for you to take the phone from her, but once you did, you didn't greet your fiancé but simply stared at him.

“Baby….”

“What? What do you want?”

“Lose the attitude. And I’m just checking on you, have you talked to your twin at all?”

“Nope, and I don't plan on it. He asked me if I had something to occupy my time with instead of bothering him and here we are. And I thought I told you goodnight already?”

“Princess, he wants to talk to you and apologize but you wouldn't know that since apparently you've been ignoring him. And you told me that damn near a week ago. We communicate with each other in this relationship and this needs to end tonight.”

“Okay, can I get back to watching my shows now?” You asked as you had now moved from your room to the living room and turned on Netflix with Erin behind you.

“No, talk to him first and then we need to talk.”

“Well I don't know how that's going to happen because I'm not calling him.” 

“There's no need to, he's right here.” Joe told you and quickly passed the phone to Ja'Marr.

“Wait, what?”

“Pebbles….”

“Wow, the minute I say I'm going to stop calling you, look who decides to come crawling back?” You told him and Ja'Marr quickly rolled his eyes.

“You need to shut your petty ass up so I can apologize.”

“I will jump through this phone and tackle you. Fuck a D-line.” You shot back and he let out a deep sigh.

“Like I was saying because I am ignoring that last statement. I never meant to hurt your feelings and it did come out kind of harsh.”

“Kind of? That's putting it lightly.” You muttered as you were deciding which show you wanted to catch up on.

“Y/N!”

“I'm just telling it like it is.”

“Anyway, I'm sorry but we have got to come to a compromise because we can't keep doing this.”

You sighed before answering him, but quickly nodded in agreement.

“I'm sorry too, but the only way I'm forgiving you is if you door dash me some food.”

“Already done. Honey old bay wings, all flats. Should be there in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, you are definitely trying to get back on my good side. But on a serious note, I promise to give you more space and I never want you to feel like I'm suffocating you. I just… it's kinda lonely here now. I do have Erin and Alisha but…. I have literally never been away from you.” You confessed as Ja'Marr nodded.

“I know and it's going to take some time for us to adjust. But we'll get there. We good now?”

“Yes, we're good.”

“Now stop being a petty ass fiancée to my best friend.” Ja'Marr said as he eyed you and handed Joe back the phone.

“Babe?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I'm sorry and you know I love you. And yes I need to work on my communication when it comes to you and stop shutting you out.” You told him while you got up off the couch to grab a drink from the fridge.

“I don't know how many times that I have to remind you that I'm not him. I care about how you feel and am always willing to meet you halfway. I asked you to marry me for a reason. I love you too.” 

“Sometimes I swear I don't deserve you.” You whispered and Joe simply shook his head.

“We deserve each other and we're going to continue to make our relationship stronger because once I slip that ring on your finger next summer, that's it. You're mine forever and whatever problems may arise, we simply have to figure it out together. We're a team, okay?”

“Okay.” You quietly said as you smiled at him.

"See you in two weeks, princess?” Joe asked with excitement dripping from his voice.

“Two weeks and not a day more.”

[karikarasuno]

part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen

making law blush is a difficult task. he doesn't blush. it's not his thing. it's never been his thing. he expects most things, so catching him off guard is quite the task. yet you try and try. often times failing. but there have been a few occasions where his cheeks have burned. where he's looked in the mirror and saw an unfamiliar stain of red creeping across his cheeks.

the first time it happened was when you drunkenly stripped for him. it was cute at first. the way you tugged sloppily at your own clothes. he didn't think you would actually be able to pull off your top after your arm caught in the sleeve. he laughed. but his laughter died quickly when you finally tugged the fabric over your head and revealed a red lacy bra. law has never been the biggest fan of red. until you kicked off your pants. matching underwear. red. somehow and suddenly red became law's favorite color.

that was until he looked in the mirror after tucking you in and faced himself. the red on his cheeks matched the red that adorned your body.

the second time was at cora's apartment. it was his turn to host family dinner. you were obviously invited. your attendance was actually a requirement per cora's insistence. he said having you around made law less irritable. law didn't agree, but he extended the invitation anyway.

you were just about to sit down beside him after having gotten up for a third time because you forgot to grab a napkin. but before you sat down at the table where his entire family was already seated you grabbed his jaw and lightly, casually said "you have something on your face."

law felt his nose scrunch up in distaste. "what is it?"

and instead of answering you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "a kiss, but i got it for you."

law's mom giggled. he heard it but he had a hard time registering it. not with the loud, overwhelming sound of blood rushing to his cheeks. you smiled to yourself. satisfied. smug. meanwhile law's mind buffered. he felt dumb. and law was far from dumb.

but this time. his blush is a slow burn. one that stemmed from annoyance more than anything else. it's your lotion. you bought it over the weekend when you went shopping with the girls. it's an unassuming bottle. one that he thought was normal until he saw you apply it under the bright lights of the bathroom.

"why are you shimmering?" he says, eyes tracking the way your hand massages the lotion into your shoulder.

"huh?" you're watching a video on your phone, so you use your knuckle to pause it before turning your undivided attention to him.

"your skin," he says slowly, "there's glitter on it."

"oh yeah! isn't it fun?" you twist your arms to watch as the light catches your glittery skin. law doesn't know about fun. what law sees is a problem. especially if that glitter likes to transfer.

and it does. everywhere. the first time he notices it on his black tshirt. he stepped outside to grab the mail and when he looked down he realized he too was shimmering. it's on the pillowcases. the sheets. the blanket you use on the couch. just fucking everywhere.

"do you have to use that lotion every night?" he asks one evening before bed as he watches you apply it to your legs.

"yes, my love, i do. makes me feel pretty," you respond, placing your foot on his thigh as you massage the moisture into your calf.

"i promise, you're equally as pretty without it." he's staring at the way your hands follow the curve of your legs. trailing your fingers from your ankle to your knee. you know how easy he is to distract. but he won't fall for it this time. not when he's seriously concerned with the fact that he might be ingesting the stupid glitter.

“oh don’t be a grouch,” you laugh, swapping one leg for the other. “it just makes me feel girly and sexy.”

“you’re always sexy,” he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. he feels the way your muscle twitches beneath his lips.

“you’re never not sexy,” he continues, trailing two more kisses up your thigh.

“stop trying to butter me up,” you complain breathily. your hands have already found his shoulders and if you really meant what you said you’d push him away. but the closer he gets to your center the more you open up to him.

“come here,” he groans when his nose nuzzles your crotch. and in an instant law is on his back and you’re sitting on his face. he doesn’t bother removing your underwear. doesn’t push them to the side either. he flattens his tongue against the fabric that covers you. and he licks until your hips twitch in his grip.

you grind against his tongue when it meets your clit, pressing down harder for the sake of friction. he groans and it’s starts in his chest. gets caught in his throat when he begins to taste you through your panties. the cotton is sticking to you, molding against the contours of your lips.

“you gonna keep teasing me or are you gonna do something?” you look down at him, eyes locking where he’s caught between your thighs. and this is a view he enjoys. he indulges in.

he slips a finger into the side of your underwear and pulls the wet fabric away from your cunt. his fingers barely graze you and you flinch from sensitivity.

“and what do you suppose i do?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes up at you. and he knows after all this time that the back and forth turns you on. you ask him not to tease you, but every time he does you’re wetter than before. his knuckle traces your slit. slow. agonizing.

“you could move my stupid underwear out of the way,” you rise slightly onto your knees, “and kiss me.”

his tongue drags along his lower lip. “ask me nicely.”

“will you kiss me?” you ask and he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls it out of the way. fully exposing you to him. and he’s dying to tilt his head up and taste you. dying to lick into you. but he doesn’t.

not until you “say please.”

“law,” you laugh incredulously because he never makes you beg. it’s not really something he needs to hear. but tonight it’s what he wants. and he wants you to give it to him.

“come on, pretty,” he breathes, kissing the crease right beside your cunt. “say it for me.”

you tense up above him. and your chest is rising heavily with each breath you take. your nipples hard and poking the fabric of his t-shirt. your favorite one to wear to bed.

“will you please kiss me?” your voice pitches up when you ask. dripping with need. with desperation. “please, baby, please kiss me.”

there’s no restraint left in him. no urge to tease or delay. his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks it into his mouth. you cry out when he flicks his tongue against it. whine when his lips leave your clit and he drags his tongue to your entrance. your upper body tilts forward. your hand jumps out to grasp the headboard and the other cards through his hair.

you tug on him when his tongue slips inside of you. he moans at the pressure it applies to his scalp. he can’t help it. you only hurt him when you feel good. when you can’t control how good he’s making you feel.

law’s dick leaks where it’s caught in his sweatpants and his hand moves to grip himself without thought.

“ah, that’s it,” you moan when he flattens his tongue so you can ride him. your hips roll with urgency against his face. and he matches your motions every time he strokes his cock. faster when you grind harder. slower when your hips draw back.

it’s hard for him to watch you the way he wants when his eyes keep closing from the pleasure of being used by you. so unashamed. without care.

“need you to come,” he mumbles into your pussy. his other hand manages to slip beneath your thighs, two fingers parting your folds so he can focus on you. feel you better as you rut into his mouth.

“keep doing that and i will,” you respond. and there’s a pleasant amusement in your voice. one that sends tingles down his spine and he shoves his hand in his pants, fisting his cock as he you work yourself to orgasm on his face. thighs straddling his cheeks and muffling your noises from his ears.

and when you come, the sounds are distant. your moans are playing right above him but all he can focus on is the way your entire body seizes over his head. how your fingers tighten in his hair. and when the pain blossoms across his scalp, he finishes in the palm of his hand. it shocks him. the strength of his orgasm. it catches him off guard.

you body finally relaxes as you sit on his chest. his own endorphins are still wracking through him. his abs tense once more and the feeling of a cramp erupts in his side.

“shit, get off,” he hisses, slapping the side of your thigh. when you’re off he rolls onto his side, his free and clean hand massaging at the space below his ribcage.

he feels your eyes drag down his body and when he looks at you, you’re grinning. flushed and delirious. “did you get a cramp after you came?”

he glances down to the mess in his other hand. and his head falls back onto the mattress. “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

you laugh. freely. joyfully. without shame. and when law’s no longer in pain. he laughs along side you. kisses you. touches you all over again.

the next morning law is so satiated he doesn’t remember the glitter. he doesn’t give a shit about the glitter. he doesn’t even notice the glitter on his neck and cheek until he’s at work and changing into a fresh set of scrubs in the bathroom. the bathroom light is harsh, but when he shifts in front of the mirror he sees the the way it shimmers across his skin. and funnily enough, instead of the annoyance he expects to feel, his dick hardens. and a blush, real and true, erupts across his face.

part fourteen