#there are a handful of things i had issues with that apparently no one else did | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rizzanon · 4 months ago

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07-3 | SNEAKY LINK?

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Your face was burning.

Not from anger. Not from shame.

But from sheer, secondhand embarrassment.

Because what the hell was that?

You had just—what, snapped at Tim? And not in the normal, passive-aggressive, “I’m going to make this as difficult as possible for you” kind of way.

No. You had gone dramatic.

Full “No, Tim. Don’t. I’m not here to listen to whatever you have to say” levels of dramatic. Like you were starring in some self-indulgent soap opera about betrayal and lost trust.

And then, because that wasn’t enough, you had kept going.

“The least you can do after following me like this is help out with the kids with your friends.”

Like you were some righteous saint, personally assigning him his penance.

And then, to top it all off—

“You don’t have to bother yourself with me anymore. I’ll make sure of that.”

You’ll make sure of that.

You’ll make sure of that?

Make sure of that how?

What were you going to do, take out a restraining order? Get a new identity? Flee to Europe?

Who did you think you were?

God, the moment you had walked away, the sheer mortification had hit you like a brick wall. You had barely managed to keep yourself from cringing so hard you collapsed in on yourself like a dying star.

And now here you were, sitting in some abandoned corner of the orphanage’s yard, forcibly repressing every memory of the last ten minutes before you actually had a stroke.

You inhaled sharply, running a hand down your face.

No. You couldn’t afford to let this mess with your head.

Not right now.

Because you had work to do.

Mrs. Cole was out on errands. At least, that’s what you had overheard from one of the staff members you’d befriended. If there was ever a time to do some snooping, it was now.

You just needed to—

“Wow. You look like you just had the worst conversation of your life.”

Your entire body tensed.

Because of course.

Of course.

Slowly, you turned your head—only to be met with the sight of none other than Conner Kent standing a few feet away, arms crossed, an easy grin playing at his lips.

Because apparently, the universe hated you.

For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to gauge what he wanted, the sarcasm practically dripping from your voice. “Finally making use of that superhearing of yours, huh?”

Kon’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Only when it’s worth it,” he said, tilting his head slightly, clearly intrigued.

“You looked like you were about to burst into flames back there. Just thought I’d check in on you.”

Of course he noticed that.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, you checked in. You can go now.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Not even a ‘thank you’ for my concern? Cold.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away. “Go bother someone else.”

“Nah.” Kon said simply, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. He plopped down beside you in that effortlessly casual way of his, as though it was totally normal for him to invade your space like this. “I’m good, thanks.”

You sighed. Loudly.

Because of course he wasn’t going to leave.

Of all the people to find you, it just had to be him.

You and Kon had never really been close.

You’d only ever known him as Tim’s best friend. Tim’s partner-in-crime. Tim’s “I’m going to try and clone you 99 times because I have attachment issues” best friend. The guy who didn’t really fit into your orbit. But now, here he was, standing right in front of you, apparently more interested in whatever you were doing than the kids in the yard.

Other than a handful of stakeouts and a few missions where you’d been forced to work together, you had barely interacted.

And yet, somehow, somehow, he was the one who had found you.

You were already trying to fix things in your head, and now Kon—Kon, of all people—had decided to join you for the pity party.

Fantastic.

You exhaled sharply. “If you’re just here to talk, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.”

Kon tilted his head. “Not in the mood? Or trying to be sneaky?”

Your fingers twitched.

Because that was dangerously close to being an actual observation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said flatly.

Kon hummed. “Sure you don’t.”

You shot him a warning look. “Are you done?”

“Not really.”

You sighed again. “Then what do you want?”

Kon grinned. “Needed a break. The kids get exhausting after a while.”

That, at least, was something you could understand.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Yeah. I don’t know how the others do it.”

“Right?” Kon groaned, dropping down to sit beside you. “One Bart is enough. A whole room of them? No, thanks.”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected Kon to be so honest about his frustration. And, to be honest, you felt it too. You let out a soft, surprised chuckle, a real one.

It was soft. Brief.

But Kon heard it.

And when you glanced at him, he was staring.

Brows slightly raised, lips parted just a fraction.

Like he had just witnessed a goddamn miracle.

You raised an eyebrow, suddenly wondering what had caused the shift in his mood. “What?”

Kon blinked, then grinned. “So even you can laugh, huh?”

You deadpanned. “What, am I not allowed to?”

Kon held his hands up. “No, no. Laugh all you want. Just thought you’d be more of a carbon copy of your pops.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. It was like a sharp stab to the gut. You weren’t sure why, but it made you feel something close to irritation.

And without thinking—

“Don’t compare me to him.”

Kon froze.

You weren’t angry, per se.

But there was a sharpness to your voice that hadn’t been there before.

A warning.

Kon, to his credit, immediately backtracked. “Right. My bad.”

And just like that, he dropped it, his face shifting to one of genuine apology as he raised his hands in defeat.

No jokes. No teasing.

Just a simple, straightforward apology.

That… was unexpected.

You glanced at him, considering. Then, reluctantly, you decided to cut him some slack.

You stood up from your crouched position, brushing the dirt off your pants. “Well, I’ve got work to do.”

Kon looked at you, mildly confused. “Work?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Staff needs help around here. I’ve got my hands full.”

Which was true—on the surface. You had offered to help out with some of the administrative tasks the orphanage had, but in reality, your purpose was entirely different. You had to move, to snoop. Mrs. Cole would be out for a while, and you needed that time.

Kon’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’ll tag along.”

“No.”

Kon blinked. “No?”

“No.” You said it too quickly, too firmly, and you knew it.

Kon squinted at you, eyes narrowing with exaggerated suspicion. “Aww, why not? Thought you’d be grateful to get some help around here. After all, isn’t that what you wanted Tim to do?”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course, he’d heard that.

Of course, with his super hearing, he’d caught every single word.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even as your mind raced for an out. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

Kon grinned, leaning back against the courtyard railing with all the ease of someone who had all the time in the world. “Nope.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temple.

Kon, still lounging like he owned the place, tilted his head at you. “So, are you gonna let me help you out, or—”

“I like to work alone,” you cut in, shutting him down before he could finish.

And then, before he could argue, before he could get another teasing word in, you turned on your heel and walked off, heading straight into the orphanage building.

You didn’t look back.

But you could feel his gaze on you the entire way.

For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to follow. You could feel his gaze on your back, but he didn’t move.

Good. You needed him to leave.

Once inside, you made your way toward the front desk, where one of the orphanage staff members—Miss Jenkins—was standing, sifting through some paperwork. She wasn’t as unsettling as Mrs. Cole, but she was efficient, always delegating tasks to whoever was willing to help.

You cleared your throat, catching her attention. “Miss Jenkins.”

She looked up, offering a polite smile. “Ah, good timing. I was just about to look for someone to help with some tasks.”

Perfect. The more she trusted you, the easier it would be to sneak around later. You forced a pleasant expression, nodding. “I can help.”

Miss Jenkins looked relieved. “Great. There are some supplies that need organising in the storage room—”

A sudden weight landed on your shoulder.

You stiffened instantly.

You knew who it was before you even turned your head.

Because of course.

Of course.

Slowly, almost dreading what you’d see, you glanced to the side—only to be met with the insufferably smug face of none other than Conner Kent, grinning down at you like he had just won something.

And technically, he had.

“So,” he drawled, his arm still slung casually over your shoulder, “what are we helping out with?”

You have got to be kidding me.

You just stared at him.

Flabbergasted.

Because what part of “I like to work alone” had been unclear?

You were sure you had said it clearly. Firmly. Finally.

And yet, here he was.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Miss Jenkins, completely unaware of the silent war you were now fighting, simply smiled. “Oh, perfect! That makes things easier.”

No, it does not, you thought, barely restraining the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

You wanted to strangle him.

But you couldn’t.

Kon was watching you expectantly, clearly waiting for you to argue.

To fight him on this.

To give him some reaction he could latch onto, poke at, use as an excuse to keep going.

And you refused to give him that satisfaction.

So you swallowed your frustration, inhaled sharply, and turned back to Miss Jenkins.

You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding as if nothing was wrong. “Yeah,” you said, voice strained. “Great.”

Miss Jenkins handed you a list of things to check, still clearly pleased by the unexpected extra help. “If I’m not around, just put the list back here when you’re done.”

“Got it.”

If she noticed the way your voice was slightly strained, she didn’t comment on it. She just nodded, already moving back to her paperwork.

That was your cue to leave.

You turned on your heel and walked briskly down the hall, doing your best to ignore the very solid, very annoying presence that was now trailing after you.

And, to his credit, Kon didn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just kept up easily, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual air of relaxed confidence somehow making it even more obvious that he was enjoying himself.

You could feel it.

The sheer smugness radiating off him.

It was unbearable.

The second Miss Jenkins was out of eyeshot, you grabbed Kon by the arm and dragged him toward the nearest empty hallway, shoving him against the wall.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, voice low but sharp.

“What are you doing?”

You clenched your teeth. “I asked first.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Look, I know I might be a hot hunk”—

You rolled your eyes. Seriously.

Kon chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean I’m dumb. I know you’re up to something.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes. “So, what if I am? Are you going to snitch?”

Kon pretended to think. But you knew from one look that he was only playing with you.

“No. Never. As long as you let me join in on whatever it is you’re planning to do.”

Damn it, you thought, internally groaning. The last thing you needed was Kon sticking his nose into your business. “Why?” you asked, your voice dripping with exasperation.

Kon shrugged nonchalantly, completely unfazed by your frustration. “Why not?”

You gave him a look. “You’re wasting your time.”

Kon shrugged, his smile still intact. “So? I’ve already given Tim my time and day to spy on you. Might as well use the rest of it on you again.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Not funny.”

Kon sighed dramatically. “Right. Got it. I’m just… offering help, like a good citizen, y’know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not a good citizen.”

He gasped, feigning offense. “Wow. Rude.”

You weren’t in the mood for this. “Conner.”

“Call me Kon.”

You sighed sharply, rubbing a hand down your face. “Kon, I swear to—”

“So what exactly are you snooping for?” he interrupted, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Because let’s be honest, you’re not exactly a volunteer type.”

You glared. “And you are?”

He shrugged. “Nope. But I can recognize a lie when I see one.”

You clenched your jaw, mind racing. You had two options: make up some excuse or tell him the truth. Both had risks. If you lied and he caught on, he’d definitely tell Tim. If you told him the truth, there was still a chance he’d tell Tim.

Neither outcome was ideal.

Kon, as if sensing your internal battle, grinned wider. “Man, you’re really overthinking this, huh?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m considering my options.”

“Options?”

“Yeah. Like whether I should knock you out or just leave you here.”

Kon chuckled. “Right. That’s an option.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, after a beat, Kon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a lower, more curious tone. “Seriously though. What’s going on?”

You studied his face. He wasn’t just messing with you anymore. There was genuine curiosity there. Maybe even concern.

You hesitated. That made it harder to brush him off. Because it didn’t seem like he had any other agenda.

Then, finally, you quietly mutter, “Something isn’t right about this place.”

Kon blinked, the teasing glint in his eyes dimming just a fraction.

You expected him to brush it off, to laugh, to call you paranoid.

Instead, he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

That threw you off. You had expected teasing. Maybe a sarcastic remark. But he wasn’t mocking you. He was listening.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Kon considered that for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he said, “Alright. Guess I’m in.”

You stared. “What?”

His smirk returned. “You heard me.”

It made you pause.

“You believe me?” You asked slowly.

Kon blinked. “Yeah?”

You frowned. “Just like that?”

“Just like what?”

“You don’t think I’m being paranoid or overreacting?”

Kon shrugged. “If there’s one thing I learned after working with Tim and you Bats, it’s to trust your instincts. Because somehow, for some godforsaken reason, you guys are always right.”

You froze.

The way he said Bats. Like it still applied to you.

Like you were still one of them.

You weren’t Batgirl anymore. You weren’t—one of them anymore.

You swallowed, staring at Kon’s face, but he wasn’t looking at you like he’d said something strange. He wasn’t looking at you with pity either, or like he was trying to backpedal. He’d said it so naturally, so easily, like it was a simple fact.

Your throat felt tight.

You looked away.

“You do know I’m not Batgirl anymore, right?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you hated how it sounded—how it almost wavered.

You saw Kon hesitate, as if trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah. I heard.”

You waited.

Waited for the inevitable Why? that always followed.

But it never came.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t press.

Just accepted it.

Your brows furrowed slightly, caught off guard.

“You’re not gonna ask why I quit?”

Kon shrugged. “Nope.”

And that… that was surprising.

You blinked. “…Why?”

His smirk softened, losing its usual cockiness. Just a fraction. “Because if you wanted to tell me the reason, you’d do so without any prompting.”

You stared.

Something deep twisted in your chest.

That was—unexpected.

People always asked.

Over and over, like they needed to hear you say it out loud.

But Kon…

He just accepted it.

Like he didn’t need an explanation.

Like your choices were yours.

You had no idea what to do with that.

Your throat felt tight again, and you cleared it quickly, shifting your weight like that would somehow shake off the sudden heaviness in your chest. “Well. Uh. Thanks, I guess.”

Kon’s grin returned in full force, his usual playful energy slipping back into place. “Anytime.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite shake the feeling in your chest, like something had settled in there, unfamiliar and warm.

Pushing past it, you nodded toward the hallway. “Come on. We have an orphanage to snoop through.”

Kon chuckled, pushing off the wall with ease and falling into step beside you. “Lead the way, not-Batgirl.”

You shot him a look, but he only smirked wider, clearly enjoying himself.

The search was… frustrating.

You and Kon had started with the staff rooms, slipping through the halls unnoticed, careful not to make a sound.

But there was nothing.

No weird documents, no strange behavior from the staff, no hidden files. The most suspicious thing you found was an outdated carton of milk in the break room fridge.

Then you moved onto Mrs. Cole’s office, lingering outside the door, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Seriously, what are we looking for?” Kon muttered beside you, shifting his weight.

“Anything suspicious,” you whispered back.

Kon snorted. “Right. Because that narrows it down.”

You shot him a look before cracking the door open and slipping inside, Kon following behind you.

Mrs. Cole’s office was surprisingly neat. A single desk sat in the center, with a few filing cabinets lined up against the walls. Everything was orderly. A little too orderly.

Kon leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching as you surveyed the room. “Alright, detective, what’s the plan?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just—check the drawers.”

Kon gave you a lazy salute before crouching down and yanking one open. Meanwhile, you moved toward the filing cabinets, quickly skimming the labels.

Most of them were standard. Financial records, employee files, supply orders. Nothing remotely suspicious.

Kon, however, had taken a different approach.

“Hey, do you think she’s hiding secret documents under here?” he asked, knocking against the bottom of the drawer like it might pop open to reveal a hidden compartment.

You turned to see him casually opening and shutting random drawers, half-heartedly rummaging through them.

“You’re terrible at this,” you muttered.

“Excuse you,” Kon shot back. “I am fantastic at this.”

You huffed, moving toward the desk instead, running your fingers along the edges. Sometimes people had false bottoms in their drawers, or a safe tucked underneath. Maybe that was the case.

Meanwhile, Kon had apparently decided he was bored of the search already. “I’m just saying, if I were running a shady operation, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave evidence lying around in a desk.”

“Well, lucky for us, not everyone is as smart as you, Kon-El,” you deadpanned.

“Damn right.”

You ignored him, crouching down to check the bottom drawers. One was locked.

You tried tugging on it again. Still locked.

Bingo.

Kon, of course, noticed immediately. “Oho, what’s this?”

“Locked drawer,” You murmured, studying it.

Kon’s grin widened. “Want me to break it open?”

You stared at him. “And make it painfully obvious that someone was snooping around?”

He shrugged. “I could put it back together. Maybe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “No. No breaking things.”

Kon sighed dramatically but backed off, leaning against the desk again. “So, what’s the plan, oh wise and paranoid one?”

You pulled a bobby pin from your pocket.

Kon’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously about to pick that lock?”

You held up the pin. “Why else would I carry these?”

He looked vaguely impressed. “Okay, I take it back. That’s kinda badass.”

Rolling your eyes, you crouched down and got to work. It wasn’t a particularly difficult lock. You had it undone in less than a minute.

Kon gave a low whistle. “Damn. The big Bat really did teach you guys everything, huh?”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you pulled the drawer open, feeling a flicker of anticipation—

Only for it to disappear just as quickly.

The drawer was filled with basic paperwork. A few financial reports. Some school records. Nothing remotely unusual.

You flipped through them quickly, hoping for something, anything that would justify the nagging feeling in your gut. But after a good five minutes of searching…

Nothing.

No hidden records. No cryptic documents. No damning evidence.

Just… nothing.

You sat back on your heels, frustration clawing at your chest.

Kon, peering over your shoulder, let out a low hum. “Sooo, either Mrs. C is really good at covering her tracks, or—”

“There’s nothing to find,” you finished bitterly.

The words tasted wrong in your mouth. Because that wasn’t possible. You knew something was off about this place. You could feel it.

So why wasn’t there anything here?

Your mind started spiraling. Had you misread the situation? Had you let paranoia cloud your judgment? Were you just wasting your time—wasting Kon’s time—chasing after nothing? Just because of something you conjured up in your mind?

Your fingers curled into a fist.

Then—

A warm hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts as Kon gave you a small, reassuring squeeze.

“You’re spiraling,” he said simply.

You stared at him, caught off guard.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking.

He was just… grounding you.

You swallowed, exhaling slowly. “I just—” You hesitated, struggling to put it into words. “I know something’s wrong here, Kon.”

Kon nodded, like he believed you without question. “So, we’ll keep looking.”

You frowned. “Even though we just found nothing?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “If you still feel like something’s off, then I’ll help you figure it out.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

You hesitated.

It was stupid.

This was stupid.

You should refuse. You should just let this go.

You shouldn’t drag him into this.

But…

Maybe—just maybe—it’d be nice to have help.

Without it feeling like you were being dumb. Weak.

Without feeling like someone who wasn’t capable of doing things on her own.

Without the skepticism, the side-eyes, the exasperated sighs.

Kon wasn’t doing that. He might be humoring you, but he wasn’t questioning your decisions, either. He was just… there. Standing beside you, unwavering.

You let out a slow breath, forcing yourself to unclench your fists.

“Alright,” you muttered. “Fine.”

You looked up at him. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Kon grinned. “Of course you do. I��am pretty great.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up. “Come on. Let’s wrap this up before someone finds us.”

The two of you made quick work of putting everything back in place, slipping out of the office unnoticed.

And you guys quickly cleaned up and organised the storage room, before rejoining the others in the courtyard.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It was so typical. So stupid. You had thought—no, you had to believe—that something was off about this place. That there was something hiding beneath its surface. But now, after sifting through Mrs. Cole’s meticulous paperwork and pristine office, as well as clean fhe storage rooms and found absolutely nothing, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were just seeing shadows.

Or worse… you were going insane.

It is plausible. After all, you somehow came back to life and you still don’t know how or why—

“Looks like we’re back to square one.”

Kon’s voice was casual, the kind of tone that suggested he wasn’t bothered by the dead-end. But then again, he always had that air about him. Like everything bounced off. You watched as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, glancing over at you with a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes weren’t teasing. He wasn’t giving you that cocky grin. Instead, there was something else there. Something quieter. Something more… understanding.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to dive into it right now. Maybe you were too tired to unpack the layers of meaning in his expression.

So, you did the next best thing—you rolled your eyes and muttered a half-hearted, “Yeah, no kidding.”

Kon chuckled softly, a little sound that felt almost like a weight lifted from your chest. It was strange how much he could make you feel lighter, even in the most absurd situations.

Maybe that was why Tim kept him around. As his friend.

You shook the thought away, rubbing your forehead as if that could erase the last few hours of frustration. It wasn’t his job to take away your weight.

“We’ll find something,” Kon said, voice steady, though there was a hint of something that sounded like reassurance. “We just gotta keep looking. No need to make it harder than it is.”

You exhaled slowly, glancing at him. “We, huh? You were really serious about helping me out with this?”

Kon shrugged, his smile returning, albeit a little more teasing. “Of course! What do you take me for?”

You sighed. “Alright, fine, you win this time, Kent.”

His grin returned, lopsided and teasing. “Damn. Must’ve been hard admitting that, Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go back to Tim before I decide knocking you out is a viable option.”

Kon smirked but backed away with his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much, partner.”

You groaned, shaking your head, and turned on your heel.

You walked back toward the courtyard where your friends are, feeling that ever-present weight of unease still sitting in your chest. But it wasn’t as heavy as before.

Maybe because you weren’t the only one carrying it anymore.

Your friends were scattered, lounging on benches and idly chatting, before you felt it.

A familiar pang in your chest.

A gut feeling that you knew very well.

Adrien and Caitlyn were already watching you, and it wasn’t a gaze of mere curiosity. No, it was that unmistakable, mischievous glint. The kind that always meant they knew something.

And they did.

“Uh-oh,” Adrien said, his eyes lighting up. “Look who’s back, Caity.”

Caitlyn’s grin was practically ear-to-ear. “Don’t think we didn’t notice who you came back with, hun.”

You couldn’t help the sinking feeling that settled into your stomach. God. You hadn’t even said a word and they were already making assumptions. You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, even though you were already bracing for what was to come.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, a knowing, too-perfect smirk on his face. “What?” He pretended to look innocent. “It’s just funny. You disappearing with Mr Hotshot—and coming back with him. Alone. After what? Hours?”

“We’ve been gone for barely an hour—”

Caitlyn nudged him in the side. “Totally suspicious.”

You tried to hide your irritation. “It’s not like that.” You crossed your arms, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “Kon just helped out with some of the stuff around the orphanage, which is what we’re supposed to do as volunteers by the way.”

“Already calling him by nicknames, eh?” Caitlyn teased, folding her arms and giving you a look.

Ok, this was too much.

“That—“

Adrien’s grin widened, impossibly smug. “Uh-huh. Sure. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say something’s going on between you two.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you snapped, but your voice came out sharper than you meant.

That only made them more excited.

“Right.” Adrien’s tone was playful, but there was a sharpness to it, as though he knew exactly what buttons to press. “Then why are you getting all defensive, huh?”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Oh, you so are.” Caitlyn insists, raising a finger to tap her chin. “I think she’s hiding something, Adrien.”

“I’m not—”

As you said it, you turned slightly—and your gaze landed on him.

Kon, who was now on the other side of the courtyard.

Kon, who had somehow gotten himself into what looked like a heated argument with Tim.

Tim, who looked seconds away from beating his ass over something.

The two of them were practically going toe-to-toe, Kon’s arms crossed and his posture that of someone who didn’t give a damn, while Tim’s posture was stiff with irritation, his words sharp and fast.

Yikes.

And at that exact moment, as if he felt your stare, Kon glanced up—right at you.

You both froze.

The moment your eyes met, something shifted.

His gaze softened, his expression pulling into a quiet smirk. It wasn’t teasing this time. It was something a little… fonder.

Then, ever so casually, ever so smugly, he winked.

The small, silent gesture hit you like a jolt, making you freeze.

And, with a knowing smirk, he lifted a finger to his lips in a shush motion.

You blinked.

It was a promise.

He wasn’t going to tell Tim.

The thought swirled in your mind as you processed his gesture. Your breath caught in your throat, a small smile curling up your lips before you could stop it.

It was small. Grateful.

A silent thank you.

You dipped your head at him, and he gave you a lazy salute once more before smoothly dodging a half-hearted swipe from Tim.

The moment was fleeting.

But it meant everything.

“Did you fucking see that?”

You whipped your head back toward your friends, but the smile on your face was gone, replaced with a forced indifference. “What?”

Caitlyn gasped. “Conner just winked at you, didn’t he??”

“No.” You were emphatic, trying to brush it off, but it didn’t feel right. You were lying—to them, and to yourself.

“Uh-huh. You’re smiling way too much by the way.”

“Shut up.”

But they weren’t done. They never were.

Adrien leaned forward. “You totally like him, don’t you?”

Before you could answer, there was a sharp cough from behind you, followed by the sound of boots striking the ground.

Damian.

Your stomach dropped.

You barely even noticed him standing beside your friends.

And before you knew, Damian was heading straight for Kon, his eyes narrowed with barely concealed fury.

You could see his fists tightening as he closed the distance, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Kon, oblivious to the brewing storm behind him, was still bantering with Tim. But you could see it in his posture now, that little glint of recognition in his eyes as he noticed Damian’s approach.

RIP.

—

A: “I swear I’ve seen that guy somewhere before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

A: “He kind of looks like Lex Luthor if you squint—“

“Nope. Definitely not.”

Tim was not having a good day.

It had been one of those afternoons where the lines between “whatever” and “I’m about to snap” blurred, and now he was pacing the courtyard, trying to ignore the incessant buzz in his mind. He’d been looking for Kon ever since his argument with you. Well, if he can call it that.

Cassie and Bart were just a few paces ahead of him, chatting casually, but Tim couldn’t focus on their conversation. Not with Kon completely disappearing out of his sight. He had a bad feeling about it. More than usual. Something about today—about Kon’s behaviour—had felt off. So, Tim just… asked around.

“Hey, Cassie. Bart. Have either of you seen Kon?” Tim asked, his voice tight, trying to keep his growing irritation in check.

Cassie shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes scanning the area. Bart just raised an eyebrow, looking far too innocent, as if he hadn’t been the cause of half of their chaotic antics.

“Nope,” Cassie answered, glancing at Bart, who gave a shrug of his own, and Tim could tell they were both just as clueless as he was.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Where the hell was he?

And then it happened.

There, emerging from the orphanage building, was Kon.

And—what the hell?

You were with him.

Tim’s stomach twisted as his gaze shot to the two of you. You were walking side by side, talking in low tones. A small smile tugged at your lips, a genuine smile, the kind Tim hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

Why were you smiling at him?

Tim’s breath hitched. You looked comfortable—too comfortable. That smile wasn’t something you gave just anyone. It wasn’t something you gave him. So why the hell were you smiling like that at Kon?

A red flag.

The first one of the day. What were you and Kon talking about?

Tim swallowed hard, trying to steady his thoughts. He needed answers. He had to know what the hell was going on. He wished for a moment that he had superhearing, just to catch even the smallest fragment of your conversation. What were you saying to him? What was Kon saying to you? His gaze never left you both. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way you stood there with him, the subtle way you nodded your head as you exchanged words, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fists clenched, but he stayed silent, watching.

The second you broke away, walking back toward your friends, Kon turned and made his way back toward theirs. And that’s when it hit Tim—he couldn’t let this go.

Tim immediately stepped forward, his feet bringing him toward Kon as he approached the others. There was no more waiting. No more uncertainty. This time, he’d get answers. He had to.

“Kon,” Tim said, his voice edged with irritation, “where the hell did you go? And what were you doing with (Name)?”

Kon’s face was a mask of casual indifference. He leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed, as if the world was his to do with as he pleased. “Oh, I was just helping her out with some cleaning,” Kon said, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were completely innocent. But Tim could see it. He was lying.

That much was obvious.

“Really?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. “Just cleaning? You’re telling me you spent all that time in there just… cleaning?”

Kon shrugged, giving him that easy-going grin that Tim hated so much right now. “Yeah, sure. There was a lot of stuff to organise, so I helped out.”

“Right...”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Well, yeah,” Cassie added, crossing her arms together. “I bet you guys were doing more than just cleaning.”

And Kon—

Kon just shrugged.

And that itself was an answer.

“What the hell.” Tim snaps, but he immediately was about to interrogate the half-kryptonian full on.

But then he saw it.

Kon’s gaze, drifting elsewhere. His attention shifting. Tim frowned.

Kon wasn’t looking at him anymore. He wasn’t focused on Tim’s interrogation or on his friends. His eyes were elsewhere.

And then, like a slow-motion train wreck, Tim’s gaze followed Kon’s, and his breath caught.

Kon’s eyes were on you.

And your eyes were on him too.

Tim couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in his stomach as he watched Kon wink at you, his expression mischievous, his grin more playful than Tim had ever seen it. But it wasn’t the wink that caught Tim’s attention—it was the damn shush that followed. Kon placed a finger to his lips, and Tim’s world seemed to slow down, his heart beating out of sync with everything else.

What the hell?

And as if that wasn’t bad, you smiled back.

You smiled at Kon. You actually smiled at him, the same smile that you didn’t just give anyone.

Tim’s mind spiraled, crashing into chaos. His thoughts were all over the place, every tiny movement, every subtle glance now magnified in his mind.

First Damian, now Kon.

Why does it feel like everyone else can move forward with you, but when it’s you and him, it’s always two steps back?

What had he missed? What had happened between you and Kon?

That smile. That damn smile.

He could feel the tension in his chest rising, his hands clenching at his sides, fighting the urge to storm over and demand answers from both of you. Why the hell was he acting like that? What was Kon hiding?

“Yeah, okay, I’m done,” Tim muttered, hands clenched into fists. He took a step forward, his voice tight with something he couldn’t quite place, and definitely didn’t want to admit. “You winked at her.”

Kon chuckled. “What? I think you’re seeing things, Timbo.”

“You winked.” Tim repeated, louder this time, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “What are you guys hiding? What did you two do?” He struggled to find the words, his brain running a mile a minute.

Cassie, sensing TIm’s growing frustration, leaned back on her hands. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. Calm down, Tim, I’m sure they didn’t do anything bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, Cassie, why isn’t he telling us?” Tim shot back, his voice dripping with exasperation, before his eyes darted over to Kon.

Kon, predictably, didn’t back down. Instead, he chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos he was stirring up. “Relax, Tim. We can’t keep secrets now? We were just having fun, alright?” He shot a quick look at Tim’s clenched fists, before shooting him a grin. “How about we all take a chill pill?”

Before Tim could snap back, another voice interrupted him.

“Kent.”

“Oh boy, here we go…” Tim heard Cassie’s sigh. He didn’t even have to turn around to know that Damian Wayne was approaching their group.

The younger boy, clearly agitated, marched over to Kon with an intensity that matched Tim’s own. The way his eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his sides, told Tim everything he needed to know—Damian was pissed.

“Tell me what you did with (Name). Now.”

For the first time in a long while, Tim felt a strange sense of solidarity with Damian. At least someone else was as frustrated as he was. Maybe together, they could pry the truth out of Kon. Maybe, just maybe, they’d get the answers they needed.

Kon barely had a chance to react before Damian was on him, arms crossed, gaze murderous.

“You,” Damian seethed, “are going to tell me what exactly you and she were doing.”

Kon blinked, caught off guard for maybe a second—before his trademark smirk slid into place.

“Oh?” he drawled. “Why do you want to know, Damian?”

Damian’s glare sharpened.

Kon grinned. “What? You jealous?”

Before he could so much as breathe, Damian lunged.

The sky had begun its slow descent into evening, streaked with warm hues of orange and pink as the day at the orphanage came to an end. The kids were beginning to settle down, some still clinging onto the last bits of playtime before dinner. You stood at the entrance of the courtyard, watching as Caitlyn and Adrien said their goodbyes to the kids they’d grown especially fond of over the past few days.

Meanwhile, Tim and his friends, as well as Damian, were nowhere in sight. The last you saw them, you watched Damian pounce on Kon and the rest was a mystery.

Elliot, as usual, was pressed against your side, his small fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. He hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, content just to be next to you, but you knew that look on his face—the gears in his little mind were turning, the questions were forming.

And sure enough—

“Hey,” he started, tilting his head. “Who were those people that came today?”

You froze.

You should’ve expected it. Of course he’d ask—he was an observant kid. He had been there after all, when you confronted Tim and his friends who had been spying on you from the bushes, and brought them in to play with the other kids.

It was a simple question, an innocent one, but something about the way he asked it made your mind stall. Your throat tightened slightly, and you hesitated longer than you should have.

Your mouth opened, then closed again, as you scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t feel like a lie.

“They were… my brother,” you said at last, your voice even, careful. “And his friends.”

Elliot’s eyes widened in excitement. “Oh…! So Tim is your brother too? You have two brothers??”

There was an odd weight to that word—brothers—when spoken so freely by someone else. You hesitated, then gave a slow nod.

“…Yeah, I suppose so.”

You weren’t going to tell him that, technically, you had two other brothers and a sister as well—if you could still call them that.

If they still wanted you to.

If you still wanted to.

If they ever really were that.

But that wasn’t something you could even begin to explain to a kid.

Elliot, blissfully unaware of your inner conflict, perked up at the answer, his excitement growing. “That’s so cool!! I wish I have siblings. The other children here are fun, but it’s not the same as having a brother or sister.”

You exhaled slowly, bracing yourself for the wave of questions.

“Is Tim older or younger than you?”

“Older, by a year.” Not really.

“Wow! So you have an older brother and a younger brother. That’s so cool!”

“There are cooler things, Elliot.”

Elliot giggled, his face lighting up with amusement. “Maybe, but siblings are still cool! Do you guys fight a lot?”

You paused, then snorted. “You have no idea.”

Elliot gasped. “Like, actual fights?”

You hesitated again. “…Something like that.”

“Do they ever fight you?”

“Not physically.”

“Then how do you fight?”

“We… argue.”

He made a face at that, as if arguing was a far less exciting concept. “Oh.”

Before he could go down another rabbit hole of questions, you reached out and ruffled his hair. “Alright, buddy, calm down. Having brothers isn’t always fun.”

Elliot looked genuinely confused by that. “Really?”

“Really.”

He furrowed his brows, then shook his head. “But Tim was real fun today!”

That threw you off.

You blinked at him. “…He was?”

“Yeah!” Elliot nodded enthusiastically. “He helped us build that giant block tower after teatime! And when his friend, the really fast one, accidentally knocked it over, he helped put it back up again—twice! And he did that really cool thing where he guessed all the card matches without looking. How’d he do that? Is he magic?”

You stared at him, your thoughts grinding to a halt.

Tim… did all that?

After everything?

After that whole argument—confrontation you had with him, after storming off on him earlier, after being frustrated, and snappy, and distant—he still… sat with the kids here? He actually did what you told him to do and spent time with them? Helped them?

You weren’t sure why that surprised you. It wasn’t that Tim was heartless or incapable of kindness—but you hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected him to listen to you.

Hadn’t expected him to go out of his way to be there, even in the smallest of ways.

Not after how everything had felt today.

You exhaled slowly, ruffling Elliot’s hair again. “…I see.”

Elliot grinned, pleased with himself, and you offered him a small, fond smile.

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself, kid.”

Elliot’s grin grew, and he leaned into your touch, his small head pressing against your palm.

Before you could say anything else, he looked up at you, voice softer this time. “Will Tim and his friends come back?”

Your smile faltered slightly.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

Because what were you supposed to say?

That Tim and his friends did not have any obligation to come again? They had no other reason to come again?

That wasn’t something you could explain to Elliot.

So instead, after a beat of hesitation, you simply said, “When they have time, maybe.”

That was enough for Elliot. He beamed, nodding, before waving excitedly and running off to join the other kids.

You exhaled, watching him go, before turning to find Caitlyn and Adrien walking up to you, both looking entirely too smug.

“You two definitely have favorites,” you accused, crossing your arms.

Adrien scoffed. “We have favorites? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Caitlyn smirked. “Yeah, let’s not forget your little moment with Conner earlier.”

Your expression immediately soured. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Oh, I think we are,” Adrien said, grinning.

“You two are the worst.”

“Love you too.”

You groaned, shaking your head, before clearing your throat. “Anyway—same time tomorrow?”

Caitlyn and Adrien exchanged glances before Caitlyn winced. “Actually… I can’t make it tomorrow. I promised my aunt I’d help out with some stuff in her shop.”

Adrien nodded. “ And I have that to serve detention for that stunt I pulled in Ms H’s class, remember?”

You paused, the answer catching you slightly off guard. “Oh.”

You quickly schooled your expression, nodding in understanding. “Got it.”

A quiet beat passed before Adrien nudged you. “You still gonna come?”

You hesitated. Your eyes flickered back to the orphanage, watching as the kids ran around, playing, laughing—completely oblivious to all the complicated things that sat heavy in your chest.

Your gaze found Elliot again, still smiling, still happy.

“…Yeah,” you said finally, voice softer. “I’ll come.”

The late afternoon sun cast a hazy glow over Gotham, though Jason barely registered it. His focus was on the ongoing call in the earpiece pressed to his ear as he walked, voice low and even.

“So, let me get this straight,” Roy drawled on the other end, the sounds of clanking metal and some kind of electric buzz filtering through the call. “You just finished dealing with a gang shootout last night, probably haven’t slept, definitely haven’t eaten, and instead of—I don’t know—taking a second to breathe like a normal human being, you’re already running off after another lead?”

Jason exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on his gun as he navigated quieter side of Gotham’s industrial district. “Pretty sure I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Oh, no, you definitely didn’t. That’s just a fun little bonus,” Roy quipped. “Seriously, Jaybird, do you even know what the word ‘break’ means?”

Jason’s expression remained flat. “Sure. It’s what your bowstring does when you don’t maintain it properly.”

There was a loud clang from Roy’s end. “First of all, rude. Second of all, false. I take excellent care of my bow, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do!”

Jason chuckled, stepping off the curb and weaving through the alleyways.

“I just don’t get it,” Roy continued. “You could’ve taken a day off—gone to a bar, watched a movie, literally anything else—but no, here you are, chasing down some random lead for God knows what.”

“It’s not random,” Jason corrected, rounding a corner. “Weapons smuggling. Shipment came in last week, no record of it anywhere. Thought I’d check it out.”

Roy sighed. “And who told you about this?”

“…I have my sources.”

“That’s code for ‘I found it in a back alley conversation, and now I’m running with it,’ isn’t it?”

Jason smirked faintly but didn’t argue. He had more important things to focus on—like the unmarked warehouse he was now approaching.

“I gotta go,” he said, tone shifting back to business. “I’ll check in later.”

Roy groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Try not to get shot, explode, or mysteriously disappear, alright?”

“No promises.”

Jason hung up.

The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. No guards, no movement. Just the eerie stillness of a setup that was either abandoned or a trap.

Jason slipped inside through a window, boots making barely a sound as he landed.

Inside, it was dim, dust motes swirling in the filtered sunlight. Crates were stacked haphazardly, some half-open, revealing stolen tech and firearms. Jason moved silently, boots making no sound against the concrete as he picked through the scene, scanning the contents—stolen tech, modified weapons, and—

Jason frowned.

There was something off about these. They weren’t standard black-market stock. They looked… almost gimmicky. Like they weren’t meant for your average arms dealer.

His fingers barely brushed against one of the devices when—

Click.

A sharp hiss filled the air.

Before Jason could react, a fine, invisible gas burst from the crate, dispersing into the air around him.

Jason recoiled, but it was too late.

His throat tightened. His head swam. His pulse spiked in alarm as a heavy, sluggish sensation crawled over his limbs.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. His limbs felt like lead.

Shit.

Jason shoved back, forcing himself toward the exit, but his body was already betraying him. His head swam, nausea curling in his gut as he stumbled out onto the street.

His nearest safehouse wasn’t far. Just a few blocks. If he could just—

He barely made it past the first alley before his legs buckled.

His body was already shutting down on him.

Jason lurched against the nearest wall, breath coming shallow, mind fogging with every passing second. He forced himself to stay upright, but his body wasn’t listening anymore.

His vision tilted.

His knees hit the pavement, the rough brick of the alleyway biting into his shoulder as he slumped against it, legs giving out beneath him.

His mind fogged, the city sounds around him distant, muffled.

He barely registered the way his breathing slowed, the weight of unconsciousness dragging him under.

He gritted his teeth, trying to fight the darkness clawing at the edges of his mind.

Stay awake. Move.

But his limbs were numb. His breath was shallow.

His fingers twitched toward his comm—

And then—

Darkness.

The walk to the orphanage was supposed to be uneventful.

But the moment you turned down your usual route, something in your gut twisted.

You hesitated mid-step.

It wasn’t a noise, not anything obvious. Just an instinct, a quiet pull at the edges of your awareness. A feeling you couldn’t quite shake.

Your fingers curled at your sides.

Ignore it? Keep going?

The orphanage was only a few more blocks. If you were lucky, Elliot and the other kids would be outside playing already, ready to bombard you with their usual chaos.

…And yet.

Your feet had already shifted before you made the decision. You veered left, cutting through an alley that wasn’t part of your usual route.

The air here was heavier, the city quieter. Not unusual for Gotham, but enough to put you on edge.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

But it wasn’t—

A figure slumped against the brick wall.

You stopped short, breath catching in your throat. For a second, your brain struggled to process what you were seeing.

Leather jacket. Boots. Black hair complementing the dark red of his helmet—

No.

Not his helmet.

It was off, discarded a few feet away like he hadn’t had the strength to hold onto it. His head was tilted to the side, eyes barely open, unfocused.

Jason.

lololol finally part 3 and end of chapter 7 🤗 (don’t hate me for the cliffhanger, but its pretty obvious that Jason and reader are going to interact in chapter 8 so stay tuned for that emotional turmoil) posting this before attending my vb training (yes i’m fasting and still have to attend vb training 🥲—tho i get to chill if i’m tired so that’s ok)

taglist is closed‼️

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months ago

Text

Invincible x Reader

cw: f!superhero reader, pregnant reader, repeat: very pregnant reader, heterosexual sex, pregnant sex, fingering, slight body dysmorphia language, general fluff & cuteness

wc: 2K

---------------------------

“And in other news, catastrophe came to downtown when an apartment building caught fire earlier this afternoon. Luckily, Invincible was on site to help subdue the blaze along with local fire & rescue teams. Thanks to the efforts of our local heroes and superhero, no one was seriously injured. Now over to Susan Storm for the weather…”

You sigh as you turn off the TV and stare into the blank screen. You wish you were out there. Saving the city with everyone else instead of cooped up here. “Don’t forget, I’m pretty cool too.” You mutter at your round, very pregnant stomach.

It wasn’t like your pregnancy was ‘unplanned’. You and Mark had talked about having a family just….not right now. With everything going on, and the two of you only just getting married, you thought this was a kick-the-can-down-the-road conversation for another day. Apparently, the universe had other plans, and all of a sudden you were pregnant with your first child.

Again, not a huge issue. Though not totally planned it was a happy surprise. Mark was ecstatic. Picking you up and spinning you around in the air when he heard the news. The only ‘problem’ was being pregnant didn’t really go together with superhero work. Once everyone found out, you were put on restrictive duty. Then when you started showing you were basically shunted away like one of those women in a period drama you had been reading these past few weeks with nothing to do. It was humiliating, and annoying.

“I’m home!”

You crane your head back as far as it would go over the couch to see Mark fly in. In his casual clothes, all smiles, and a to-go bag in hand. “I got you your favorite!”

“Awww! Thanks!” It warmed your heart to know he was thinking about you. Even with everything he had going on. “Like I need more snacks though. I’m already big as a house.”

“Nah. Don’t say that. You’re beautiful.” Mark insisted. Leaning in to give you a kiss before he sat on the couch beside you. Draping your legs across his lap. “How was your day?”

“Fine. This.” You told him as you gestured towards the couch. This heavily pregnant with the baby due soon, you basically picked a spot to sink into and that was that for the day. “Rudy gave me some schematics that he said he needed some help, but I think he’s just placating me.”

Mark chuckled. “I don’t think Rudy has that in him. He probably just wants you to feel like your still part of the team.”

“Oh yeah. Look out it’s ‘Beached Whale Girl’.” You sigh and flop your head back against the couch. “Being pregnant sucks.”

“Come on. It’s not that bad.”

You lift your head up to glare at Mark. “Heard about your daring rescue today downtown.”

“Oh? That? Yeah, I was just in the neighborhood. Not a big deal.”

“At least you get to do something. I’m just stuck here all day, bored out of my mind and doing Rudy’s paperwork.”

“I can think of something we can do.” Mark’s hand rubbed against your calf. “If you’re still bored.”

You arch a brow at Mark. Taking in his bashful smile and suggestive look. “Seriously?”

“You said you were super horny recently.” You wouldn’t put it that way but, yes, you had been. Obviously being a woman you had no idea what it was like to be a teenage boy going through puberty, but you had to assume that it was something like this. Constantly thinking about sex or rubbing up against things to get some friction off. Shit…what if you had a boy. Was this going to be your life in 12-15 years? “If you don’t want to that’s fine. We can watch a movie too.”

“I didn’t say that.” You told Mark. “It’s just…do you want to?”

“I mean yeah. Who doesn’t want to have sex with a hottie?” Oh shit…seems that ‘teenage brain’ last a bit longer that 12-15 years. God help you.

“You’re not like grossed out?” Though it was probably all in your head, it felt like you were ever expanding at this point. You felt five times bigger than you did last week when the two of you had sex, so maybe the appeal wasn’t there anymore. Plus you hadn’t showered yet today.

Mark just scoffed with a smile as he leaned over the couch to kiss you. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful.”

His lips connect with yours and you instantly let Mark in. He smelled like soap. So, he must have showered before he came home, and yet there was still a lingering scent of smoke in his hair from the fire earlier. Musky and dangerous.

You moan softly into the kiss and adjust as much as you could to lay comfortably on the couch and let Mark lay on top of you between your legs. His hands bracing on either side of you on the soft material to not crush you or the baby.

“Do you want to move to the bedroom?” You ask Mark when the two of you finally broke apart from kissing. “Not sure how much more this old couch could take.”

The couch was fine. You were just being self-conscious on your current size. Maybe Mark sensed this, or perhaps it was just his usual chivalrous nature, but he just grinned, got off the couch, and then lifted you in his arms with ease. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He gave you another peck and then flew off to the bedroom to lay you down on the bed. Looking up at Mark you could see an almost overwhelming look of love and devotion on his face. It made your insides tingle.

“It’s not fair you get to wear the same clothes through all this.” You ‘scold’ as Mark divested himself of his pull over and pants while you were struggling to take off your top that was once your comfy shirt turned fitted tee.

Mark just laughed. “Tell you what. Next time, I’ll put on 20 pounds too so we’ll both look the same.”

You arch your brow at the comment of ‘next time’ but do not have a chance to ask as Mark slid up across the bed to kiss you again. You moan loudly this time into the kiss. No longer distracted with falling off the couch and feeling completely safe in Mark’s arms.

His hands run over your body. Lightly callused from fighting and work. The sensation making you shutter. One hand slid up to your breast and palmed it in his hand. The touch caused you to moan obscenely loud. Your breasts had been incredibly sensitive the past few days, and sore with the new weight on them. Having them touched, getting the weight off your chest even just a little, felt amazing.

“That feel good baby?” Mark asked. Voice hot & heavy as he kissed the corners of your mouth and jaw.

You let out a helpless little, “yeaahh…” and arch your back to press your chest into his hand further for more attention.

Mark slid down, kissing your neck along the way, to press his lips along the sides of your swollen breasts. Soft and gentle. Like butterfly kisses almost. While he worked on your breasts you felt another hand touch your thigh and slide up. Your legs immediately part for him. Almost whimpering for his touch as you waited for his fingers to make contact. “Mark please….”

Your hero of course doesn’t leave you hanging. His fingers make quick work of the boy shorts you had been wearing around the house. Where they went and what happened to them you didn’t really care. All you cared about was Mark touching you and when you finally felt his fingers against your apex your back nearly bowed. “Oh my God…!”

At your persistent cry, Mark’s fingers became more insistent. Usually, he would work up to two fingers inside you, but with how needy you were being and how wet & open your pussy was, he must have felt confident to just go ahead. Burying them inside you while his thumb rubbed your clit. “Fuck babe. You’re so wet…feel like you’re gonna swallow my hand.”

“Mmmm….Mark…!” You just moan. Indeed feeling your walls tighten around his fingers with urgency. “Put your dick in me!”

“That’s no way for a mother to talk.” He teased as he pulled his fingers out of you.

You whimper in your mind at the loss but still have the sense to glare playfully at him and tell him, “Mother fucker.”

Mark laughed and God how you loved that sound. You hoped your kid got his laugh. He scooted back on his knees and used what juices he had collected on his hand to lube up his cock. “Can you roll over for me?”

The request left you a little confused, but you do as he said. “There. Right there. That’s perfect.” He said as you moved to lay on your side and Mark came up behind you to spoon before sticking a pillow under your stomach. “I read that this will be a little easier on your back this time and help with the pressure.”

“You read?” You repeated, looking over your shoulder at Mark, who blushed and kind of sheepishly shrugged. God how you loved this man. If you could get pregnant twice right now you would. “Well, let’s put your research to work.”

Mark gave a little groan and leaned over to kiss you while you craned your neck back. He moved your leg up and slid his dick between your thighs. You moan into Mark’s mouth as you felt the head of his cock bump against your entrance and then slide past. The hard lines of him frottaging against your pussy and getting slick. “Mmmm…Mark…Please….”

He pulled back again and properly slipped his cock inside you. It goes in easy but you still gasp as you finally got what you wanted. “Oh fuck..!” Mark held your leg back as he thrust into you. Slow and shallow. You grip the sheets with your hands tight. Moaning and panting while Mark fucked you from behind. “It feels so good….”

“You feel so good…” Mark groaned back. Panting against your ear. The hard lines of his chest pressed against your back.

His teeth nip at your ear and you shutter. “D-Don’t…!”

“Why? Are you gonna cum baby?” He did it again as he teased you, his hand sliding down from your thigh holding your leg to your juicy center. Fingers finding your clit and rubbing it, making quick work of you to orgasm.

“M-Mark!” You sputter as you convulse around him. White noise filling your ears as stars dance behind your eyes.

You come back just in time to hear Mark cum too, a tale-tell low grunt, and his hips slowed with his cock buried inside you. The two of you laid there for a moment, sweaty and spent, before Mark kissed your shoulder and pulled back. “How was that?”

“You have to ask?” You tease him. Then roll over to your other side, with some effort, to cuddle your husband. “Amazing. And, yes, the pillow really helped.” Mark grinned and kissed your nose with pride.

Below, you felt the baby kick in your stomach. Seeming to realize that its disturbance was now over, and they had some things to say about it. “Yeah, yeah…” You coo at them as you rub your belly. “I need a shower. Or a bath.” That would probably calm them down. “Do you think my takeout is still good?”

“I can heat it up for you while you take your bath.” Mark offered.

You grin and lean up to kiss him. “You are just too good to me.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? You make it easy.”

Mark then got up to start the tub for you before reheating your food. You sat there, contented. Some day soon you would return to taking care of the world’s problems and fighting crime. But, for now, it was nice to be the one taken care of.

#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic #invincible #mark graryson fanfic #mark grayson x reader smut #invincible x reader smut #invincible mark grayson #mark grayson smut #invincible show #invincible comic #Mark Grayson #Invincible Mark Grayson #Invincible x reader #mark Grayson x reader #Mark Grayson smut

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namism · 1 month ago

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accomplices (1) | sabo

➳ categories: canonverse, female afab reader, fake-out make-out trope, pre-dressrosa arc ➳ warnings: nsfw (making out) ➳ word count: 1.3k

➳ summary: The best way out of a dangerous scenario is to fake-pretend a make-out session to disturb the enemy. When you're cornered with the chief of the Revolutionary Army, you put that theory to the test.

➳ cross-posted on ao3

You don't know how you got yourself into this situation, but it wasn't ideal by any means.

"Chief-of-Staff, Sabo. I'm from the Revolutionary Army."

"You are Sabo? From the Revs?"

A group of voices echo from the end of the hallway. Almost immediately, you and Sabo skitter up a flight of stairs to lose track of them, eventually finding refuge in the first room your eyes land on.

With your back to the door, you heave a sigh of relief. Sabo traces the wall to find the light switch. When the room fills with light, you take a proper look at him.

"I know who you are," you say. "I've always wanted to meet the Revolutionary Army."

Blond hair, round eyes, and a black hat. With clothes fitting him loosely and a visible scar spanning the left side of his face, there's no mistaking it.

You tell him your name.

"I'm from the local guerilla. What brings you here?"

"Perhaps with similar intentions. We're here to interrupt a weapons trade," he explains. Your kingdom is a major transport route for a shady underground business, but no one has ever cracked the root of the problem. Some say the weapons they vend lead to an island in the New World, but you have yet to figure it out—as far as you're concerned, the trade has to end.

Suddenly, the door behind you shakes.

"Who locked the fucking conference room?"

The next thing you hear is the tinkling of metal keys. Eyes wide with fear, you watch the doorknob rattle with bated breath. Sabo looks around hurriedly and points to his left.

"In there!"

You follow him to the far end of the room, where a wooden door stands ajar. Sabo pushes it open and lets you slip inside before sneaking in and locking it with haste.

Pressing your ear to the door, you listen to the voices that filter from the outside.

"God forbid those revolutionaries lay a finger on the Big Boss."

It's an excruciatingly long conversation. You learn many things that you aren't supposed to, leads that you wouldn't have known if you didn't trap yourself in enemy territory. Apparently, the local syndicate had intel on the Revolutionary Army's arrival and were planning an escape route the day prior, but an informant from the Dressrosa Kingdom apprised them to stay still. And because of that, you're here.

"What's that noise?"

And because you're here, you're about to be discovered.

"Somebody else is in this room."

"They've figured us out," Sabo states the obvious in a volume not above a whisper. Your breath catches in your throat. Fuck. Were your thoughts so loud that you gave your hiding spot away? How do you escape?

You have locked yourselves in a small windowless room. There's a chair, a desk, and some file cabinets that line the back wall. Sabo is equally muddled beside you, and you notice him drumming his fingers anxiously on his side. You assume he's figured out the issue—the space is too small to use your powers, too small to hide yourselves.

Breath ragged, an idea crosses your mind.

"How old are you?"

He blinks.

"Twenty-two."

With that, Sabo watches your hands fly up to your hair, tossing your locks all over until they're messy. Strange, he thinks, but it only gets stranger as you finger the top buttons of your blouse, popping the first few open to reveal just enough skin. A little more and it would reveal your cleavage, and it's an observation that drives his perverted little brain mad.

"You got a girlfriend?" you ask soon afterward, and, uh, yeah, Sabo is definitely a pervert, and he's definitely mad. You slip your fingers in between the thin threads of your corset, tugging the top strings loose but not too loose, allowing your chest to breathe within the confinements of the garment. He's speechless. "Sabo. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I'm single," he answers abruptly, then watches you hitch your skirt past your thighs. He stirs.

Shaking his head, he presses his ear back to the door.

"The file room. Did you lock the file room?"

"We should plan an attack while we still can," he whispers. He peers down at you, but he sees your cleavage peeking past your unbuttoned top, and at that moment, his cheeks burn bright red. "What are you doing?"

"Our options are limited," you hiss. "We're trapped. Undo your buttons and stay still."

"Stay sti— what?" You stand on your tip toes and reach for his hair. Sabo is confused, but he leans forward, presses his body close to yours, and allows you to make a mess of his blond head under his hat. When you pull back, your hands fly to his shirt, unbuttoning the top buttons before encircling his neck with your arms. He stirs again. And just like that, he understands.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but he doesn't stop you. He gets it. He understands now.

Sabo doesn't read a lot, but from the few books he'd come across in his life—those romance novels that somehow made their way to the RA's library—he'd learned one thing or two about espionage. He'd also learned about sex and how you can use it to get away with just about anything on a spy mission. And even though he can't do that with you here, he knows exactly how you intend on escaping.

And quite honestly, he supports the idea.

"Come closer," he says, but he doesn't give you a chance because he pulls you into him before you can move. As you melt into his body, Sabo dips his head low and kisses you, tilting his head for extra effect while you play with the back of his shirt. He sighs into your lips.

Fuck.

He really supports the idea.

"If we're doing this, I can move you like this."

Sabo repositions you so quickly that it knocks the wind out of you. You're on top of the desk before you know it, your weight supported by his grip as he practically leans into you and situates himself in between your legs. He kisses you with intent, his lips in full control over yours with every breathless moment overflowing with enthusiasm. Even then, you let him. You allow much of the attention on your lips as you straighten your thoughts, plotting the perfect course of action to escape your enclosure once the door is opened and the enemy deeply disturbed.

But Sabo is too good at what he does. His skin burns hot as he maneuvers even closer to get the most out of the pressing situation. He's a good kisser, somehow reminiscent of the best ones you've had, but he outshines all the others by far.

Tracing his collar, your hands find their way to his unbuttoned top, where they slip underneath the fabric to locate his collarbones. But suddenly, the door shakes again. While it startles you, Sabo kisses you harder and needier than need be. You're nearly breathless.

Your hands fly to his biceps. "Sa"—you moan in between a kiss—"Sabo."

His fingers glide across your waist. "Hm?"

"Give me some space to move," you mutter. "I have a plan. For later."

As he shuffles out between your legs, his lips fly to your jaw. He nibbles at your skin and moves his hands farther up your blouse, eventually restraining himself when he's gone far up your corset. The door shakes another time. Hurriedly, you scoot off the edge of the table and wait with bated breath.

When the door opens, light instantly floods the room. You bury your face into Sabo's shoulder, shielding your faces with his hat. Gasps erupt from the conference room as they witness your scandalous display, but you take advantage of their surprise and hop into action.

You jump off the table and launch yourself back into the main room, using your Haki to force yourself past the men that stand before you. Sabo follows suit, but not before he fixes himself bashfully. With hot skin and a flushed face, he races into battle and does what has to be done.

He doesn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the day.

#one piece #sabo #sabo x reader #one piece sabo x reader #one piece sabo #op sabo #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #op x you #sabo x you #one piece sabo x you #sabo smut #sabo x reader smut

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misspantymime · 10 days ago

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Bat x Family ("A Family Meeting...Sort Of")

a/n: Once again, I forgot to update within the week. I'm ready for any punishment you have for me! Also, did the Batfam seem awkward? I usually don't write all of them together. (///￣￣///)

TW: Slight mention of starvation of children (no deaths though!)

Taglist: @c4xcocoa, @shinning-stars, @whognuthis, @dkddkdkdkdkdkdk, @nisarelle, @tree-ag, @welpthisisboringing, @sugary-strawberry-shortcake, @thatoneraeder, @celesteelysia, @scentedwombatarcade, @nxdxsworld, @lonely-entity, @jsprien213, @cocobally229, @kokazuu, @alishii, @misdollface, @charlenexoxo1, @wendee-go, @lunoorbonoor, @rainschnael, @punkandnerdy9, @mintynilla, @nervousalpacalady, @mallowryblog, @sirenetheblogger, @cupid73

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

When Bruce called for a “family meeting”, Dick only had half an idea of what it was about.

More than likely, it had something to do with the trafficking bust that happened less than a week ago. The one that Jason seemed to fumble, despite his protests that the place had been cleared out before he even reached the location. Supposedly, the “product” had been left without food or water for an undisclosed amount of time before the GCPD had gotten a lead, but there had miraculously been no deaths.

That being said, Red Hood wasn’t the only one to drop the ball.

The breakout from Arkham had involved more major threats and the consensus had been that resources would be better allocated to that issue, above everything else. Or, to put more bluntly, the trafficking business, while urgent, just wasn’t to be prioritized at the moment. Which would eventually bite them in the butts later.

Through police contacts, the grapevine, and the ravenous media, Dick had heard less than stellar remarks on the poor handling of it all. Many papers and news outlets were questioning the lack of urgency from the GCPD and the Bats, seeing as some of the most vulnerable people of society’s lives had been put at stake yet appeared to not be on they’re radar. Not to mention the main perpetrators had slinked away unscathed.

So, if Bruce was going to ream them over the poor handling of the case, Dick was more than ready to take it on the chin. Even if the others weren’t.

Which is why when he reached the parlor, Dick was met, not unsurprisingly, with chaotic arguing.

“-admit it, Todd, you failed.” Damian’s resolute assertion was the first thing Dick heard but it was soon followed by–

“Listen, you damn demon brat, I told you already–” Jason was cut off, by Duke trying to placate them all.

“Look, guys, no one expected this, alright? You can’t blame him for that.”

“Incompetence doesn’t justify failure. It was in his territory, so it was his responsibility.” Damian argued just as Tim added his two cents.

“Yeah, but why are we all here, anyway? If he has something to say, he can just say it to Jay, right?” He groaned, rubbing his temple while nursing a cup of coffee. No steam, so they must have been at it for a while.

“Maybe he needs all hands on deck for it or something?” Steph chimed in, lounging on one of many seats, back leaning on one armrest while her legs hung over the other.

Cass simply observed the carnage from the side.

“Hey, hey, look we all messed up, alright?” Dick chided gently, with his trademarked golden boy smile as he stepped fully into the parlor, ”Let’s just see what Bruce wants, okay?”

Someone had to play peacemaker, since it looked like Duke was fighting for his life and Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

“I hardly see where I–” Daminan started.

“Listen, we all could’ve done better,” Dick reiterated, “We’ll just hear him out and see how we can make this better.”

“I kind of doubt that’s possible” Barbara spoke up, on her laptop and scanning the various pages scrolling across the screen. “This is a bit of a–”

“Shitshow?” Jason prompted.

“Yes,” She sighed, before adding on, “No perps, and the place was, apparently, cleaned out before they got there. The GCPD is still scanning for anything, to be honest, but it’s not looking good.”

Barabara’s olive green eyes soon grew darker as she continued,

“Some of the kids were in critical condition.”

A hush fell over the room, smothering any irritation under a somber atmosphere.

Just then, the door opened once again and Alfred, proper as ever, strolled in amidst the cold tension, seemingly none the wiser. If anything, the butler almost looked…amused?

“Master Wayne would like to apologize, but it seems he is…preoccupied at the moment.”

“The hell? He’s the one who called us” Jason grouched, flopping down on an armchair.

“Yes, but something of utmost importance has come to his attention.”

A sort of sharpness tinged the atmosphere, as they all tensed in anticipation.

‘What could be so important?’, They all thought.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Bruce was not prepared for this.

He was not prepared for any of this.

Bruce was ready to leave you to your show– a loud sort of spy cartoon? –but you had other plans, charging him as soon as the words “I have an errand to run” left his lips.

“An adventure!” You cried excitedly, latching onto his suit’s pant leg. “Lemme come!”

“Wha–? No, it’s an errand.” He repeated, trying to slip from your grasp. However, it proved to be far stronger than he expected, as you clung onto his leg even when he swung it to-and-fro.

‘I need to get to the cave with the others. Alfred can probably keep her away long enough for me to give them the rundown.’ Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I wanna go with Papa!” You cheered once again, your small hands leaving wrinkles in his pant leg.

“You’ll be bored” Bruce tried to reason with you, “Just stay and watch your show.”

‘She can’t get anywhere near the Batcave.’

And he failed. Spectacularly.

“No, no, no!” You exclaimed, climbing higher up his leg to cling off his waist, “I wanna be with Papa!”

‘This is illogical. Why is she so attached to me right when she got here?’

You beamed up at him, shamelessly hanging off him like a juvenile monkey from a less than willing tree, “Please?”

“(Name)–” Bruce sighed again.

“Pretty please?” You emphasized in a drawn out whine.

While he was far from a master negotiator, Bruce fully believed he could hold his own in terms of brokering a deal. The social minefield of Gotham’s elite proved to be a formidable challenge time and time again, while the overt battleground of it’s underbelly remained default even for the most hardened of individuals.

That being said, Bruce Wayne would not fold to a six year-old.

“Papa!”

He would not fold.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dick stared at him.

Bruce stared past him, through the open doorway.

The parlor remained quiet, but the it’s inhabitants faces spoke volumes:

Alfred contained a chuckle behind a cough and his fist.

Tim raised an eyebrow over his cup of coffee, frozen just before taking a sip.

Jason, faced away from the door itself, did a double take upon shooting a glance over his shoulder.

Duke’s face seemed to be caught between a gawking expression of shock and a nervous laugh.

Cass–stoic and steely eyed Cass– betrayed the slightest widening of her eyes.

Steph hid a bemused and bewildered sort of smirk behind her hand.

Damian looked aghast, bordering on disgusted.

And Barbara? She simply looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

All the while, you grinned quite triumphantly in his arms, balanced on his hip.

“Uh, B? You got a little–” Dick pointed and Bruce immediately cut him off.

“Yes, I know.” He asserted.

You grinned mischievously as a satisfied giggle escaped you.

“Everyone… this is (Name).”

a/n: Start of the Batfam shenanigans! Hope you stick around to see more! (´｡• ᵕ •｡) ♡

#yandere #yandere core #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #child reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere dc #the mime has written

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glow-in-the-dark-death · 1 year ago

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My Sweet Intruder (Sleepwalking Love)

I wanted crack but also fluff, this was the creation. Enjoy!

Tim had recently bought a new place to live near a college since he decided to continue his education, the apartment was on the nicer side of things and even though he had gotten it for his civilian life it still had some security on par with his night life safe homes.

All of this to say that it would be hard for someone to break in and even more so to not be noticed.

Which is pretty what he thinks is going on.

Someone is breaking into his house when he's not there which frankly is not that often to begin with since he's so busy with all kinds of things.

But the intruder doesn't seem to be causing harm?

There's nothing damaged or stolen just some food sometimes.

Honestly the complete opposite of what you would expect from an intruder, his apartment was cleaned things were moved around the kitchen was stocked with fresh food and ready meals.

Honestly it took him this long to know something was wrong because he had originally thought it was one of his brothers coming by and helping out or something.

But no after some investigating it wasn't anyone in the family it wasn't even his friends or someone else he knew someone who would make sense as to why this was happening.

Also there appeared to be living there considering all the things appearing around his apartment making a home for themselves that were very much not his.

But the Intruder since he had no name for them was ..considerate?

Almost sweet in a creepy way if you think about it.

His apartment was cleaned he had meals ready for him to eat and a bunch of other small things that combined were making his life easier.

He would like to know who this intruder was but his surveillance and all other tech always died out when it seemed they were there, so no video proof and they always were gone before he could catch a glimpse of even their shadow.

Danny was having such a good time, he was honestly a bit worried about moving to Gotham for college especially since apparently his application to live in the dorms had somehow not been processed or something and they only bothered to tell him while he was already there.

Thankfully luck was on his side because only a few hours after that incident while inside a coffee shop stressing about what to do and venting to his sister on the phone a man sitting next to him who looked like he needed a mini coma of sleep and looked kinda high overheard him and offered to be roommates with him since he was also going to the same college.

So yes things were going wonderfully, he had a place to live where he didn't even have to pay rent, and Tim was such a good roommate, he barely saw him but when he did he usually was more asleep then awake.

Tim after a while: "Why are there so many spaced themed objects in my apartment?"

Tim inviting Danny to live with him

Danny 'What's Stranger Danger?' Fenton: "Bet"

Tim: "How do they keep getting past all my security measures?!*pulling his hair out*

Danny using the key sleepwalking Tim gave him: "Home sweet home!"

Tim trying his best to catch Danny in person:

Tim sleeptalking:"One day I'll catch him"

Danny who is used to Tim sleep talking and sleep walking helping him get back to bed for the umpteenth time: "You sure will boo!"

Danny being grateful that Tim is letting him live there without having to pay rent and gave him a credit card to pay for things: "He's so sweet guys!"

Sam & Tucker: " Dude..is he your sugar daddy?! "

Danny: *shocked Pikachu face* "But there's no sugar involved?"

Danny thinking that maybe they are in a relationship just taking it very slowly because Tim's shy

Also Danny's love language being acts of service

Tim's love language is coincidentally also acts of service

Tim slowly falls in love with Danny still not knowing who he is: "I think I have issues"

Danny still thinking they're in a relationship and that Tim is just super shy: "Maybe we could hold hands soon!" *sappy smile*

Tim:

Danny:

What a story it will be when someone asks them how they got together! (◠‿・)—☆

Just an Idea

#dead tired #tim drake x danny fenton #misunderstandings #glowy-death-ideas #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #tim drake #danny fenton #batman #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp

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luludeluluramblings · 3 months ago

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SugarBaby!Neglected!BatSib!Reader x Tony Stark - Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I started this while inspired by Pregnant!Reader. But, it’s just fluff and possible comfort. I had the dialogue written for the past few months, but just got around to finishing it. I’m worried I’m both rusty and still amateurish. 🙃 Sorry if this ain’t what y’all had in mind!

Previous Reader x Tony Stark

Warnings: Fluffy, wholesome, unplanned pregnancy, GN!Reader (or at least attempted), bedroom activities mentioned.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You had taken multiple test. Multiple. Gone to at least two private doctors. You even had Jarvis do a full body scan before telling him not to tell Tony.

You needed to be the one to do it.

So in proper fashion, you decided to tell him as soon as possible. Before anything else blew up or there was some Alien robot monkey attack.

It just happened to be on movie night.

“Tony, love. My dearest husband.” You start as you walk into you fancy penthouse kitchen, holding the box filled with multiple test in your arms since you know the man will need all the proof he can get his hands on.

“Oh no, I don’t like that tone. That is not good not good tone at all. Nope. I don’t want to hear any bad news on Star Wars night.” Already he can catch on that something is up as he personally mixes a few drinks for you both while reading some research articles for one of his projects like multitasker he is.

“It might be good news.” You sheepishly say as you set the box on the counter and move to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Not with that tone.” He snorts out as he starts to make your favorite drink, only for you to lightly touch his arm to stop him.

“Alright, it’s just news.” You murmur into his back, a bit more serious.

Tony can feel the shift happening. Picking up on one of the social cues that something was going on. He put down the bottles and turned off his glasses, setting them on the counter.

“It’s bothering you isn’t it?” He asked, catching on as he spun in your arms and wrapped his own arms around you.

“Yep.” You look up at him, resting your chin against his chest and taking a moment to breathe him in.

“Is it good news?”

“Just… brace yourself.” You give him a pleading look, trying to think of the best way to say it.

“Oh boy.” He gives a playful wince as he tries to alleviate the tension he feels under your shoulder blades.

“So, the barebacking kinda bit us in the ass.” Probably wasn’t the best way to say it, but you thought he would get it.

“What?”

Apparently you were wrong. Modern lingo was a flop.

“The barebacking kinda bit us in the —“ You try again, awkwardly.

“No. I mean, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to explain—“ Confusion and playful annoyance washing over him. You always liked to use modern slang and memes on him to be funny. But, it wasn’t translating well until you finally blurted it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, shit! Are you sure it’s mine?” Was the first thing he blurts out as it sinks into him.

“Tony!” You admonished him, giving him a glare as you looked up at him.

“Sorry, habit! Sorry! Just… What do you want to do about it?“ He pulls away, and it stings. But, you know he’s just trying to cope with the information.

“I— I don’t know… What do you want to do about it?” You echo the same sentiments, just as lost as him in that moment.

“I— I’m not good with babies, or toddlers, or kids, or pre-teens — Hell, I’m not good with people in general.” Hearing him say that makes you soften. You knew his insecurities. You shared some of them yourself. And, seeing him like this made something in you shift from uncertainty to acceptance.

“Tony…” You tried to get his attention, but he continued to spiral like a falling plane.

“And- And, I have daddy issues, with minor mommy issues. On top of all other sorts of issues.” Mayday. Mayday.

“Tony.” You try to be a bit firmer.

“I overwork. I’m an ass— you said that just last night too.” You almost want to laugh at how animated he’s being. Pacing back and forth, using his fingers to count out each and every little or large reason.

“Tony.” However, you do find yourself growing exasperated at his spiraling.

“Hang on, I’m trying to make a point here. Anyway, I’d be a—“

“Good dad.” You interrupt. Saying it all confident and nonchalant. Like he did the day he said he loved you.

You can tell it stuns him. Which is rare. It only last for a second before he starts to try to spiral again.

“Babe—“

“No. I’m serious. You’d be a good one.” You verbally take the helm. Something you rarely did in your relationship.

“Just because you call me daddy in bed— Actually that might have tempted fate here. Do you think Thor or one his divine buddies had something to do with this?” Humor. His favorite way of coping. But, it’s a decent sign. It means he is actually processing this. So you add your own comment.

“Pretty sure it was you busting a nut in—“

“Hey, knock it off or we’ll end up defiling the counters again.”

You do laugh at that. It’s how you both have learned to ease into things. The hard topics are easier to digest with a bit of laughter and time.

“Tony.” His name is softer as you reach for him.

“Sweetheart.” He almost teasingly says, but his voice it a little raw. However, he doesn’t pull away. A good sign. A great sign.

But, you know it’s not all over yet. There’s still more to say and Tony is as jumpy as a jack rabbit when it comes to his feelings.

“Tony, you’d be a great dad.” You whisper gently.

It’s easy to tell it’s gotten through by he goes completely still. You can barely even see him breathe. Another one of his tells you’ve learned since loving him.

“How do you know?” He asks. His voice doesn’t break. But, it’s fractured. There’s cracks in it, but it doesn’t fall apart.

“Because you would actually try.” You start to say. Tony rarely accepted praise despite his ego. So you had a limited opportunity to work with this and only your relationship to back it up.

“We both a millions of issues between the two of us. Hell, we could probably be a case study for a couple of psychologists. But, I want to give a part of you and a part of me something we didn’t have.”

And, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to when remembering your time in the manor. Growing up never being good enough for Bruce. Watching your father pick everyone in a city you didn’t know over you again and again. Watching your siblings do the same. How they had their exclusive club that you were never allowed yo be apart of.

A feeling of inadequacy that you developed even after you told yourself over and over again that it was fine.

You felt your resolve start to form. As if all those childish things that weighed you down were insignificant in making this decision.

“I’m not going to do this without you though. If you want to do this I’m all for it. If don’t think you can I’m still going to love you, regardless.” Even if you felt yourself come around to it, you knew it would take time for Tony too.

He wasn’t going to leave you. You knew that. You had learned that. Maybe from the way he had firmly told you that you were stuck with him forever and he’d crawl back to you no matter what.

You’re pretty sure he had been quoting a movie or something because you had laughed at how ridiculous he sounded. But, that look in his eyes made you realize he was completely serious about what he meant.

A long moment of silence washes over you. You can tell he’s uncomfortable by it even though you aren’t. You don’t rush him though. Giving him the chance to crack another joke and move on like nothing happened. Or, to find the words he wants to say.

“I think… I want to do this. I don’t know. You’re giving me those mushy feelings again. The ones that make me want to cry.” A smile breaks out on your face as you rest your chin on his chest to look up at him.

It’s not a no. It’s not a yes. Hell, it’s not even a maybe. It’s just an idea. But, Tony is great with ideas. You’ll probably have to deal with him locking himself in his workshop for a week. However, you’ll be waiting outside for him ready to hear anything has to say.

“Want to bone me against the window and possibly cause a small public scandal, then ignore the PR team while we watch Star Wars? You know, to help cope with the mushy feelings?” You offer with a wiggle of your eyebrows and a mischievous grin. One that earns you a relieved smile and a kiss in return.

“God, I love you.” Is all he says before he takes you up on that exact offer. The kisses growing more heated as a trail of clothes begins to form towards the window of the penthouse.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I didn’t expect people to like my previous Tony work at all. It was just a brain worm that I pulled out and splattered on my keyboard. So, I applied the same method here, but with a bit more finesse. I think.

A/N: This is basically a prequel. Before the Batfam finds out and goes Yandere for SugarBaby!Reader.

#luluramblings #sugar baby!reader #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark #pregnant!reader

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pitlanepeach · 3 months ago

Text

From Eden | Chapter Eight pt.1 (8/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + social anxiety. Panic attack. Time jumps (made very easy to understand). A few different POV’s. Sexual content.

Notes — I don’t think you guys understand how much this chapter means to me. I hope you love it. Part 2, the final part of the series, will be posted tomorrow 🧡

JANUARY, 2024 (The London flat)

Mark Webber didn’t know what to make of Oscar’s infatuation with this woman — girl, really, in every sense of the word. She was the same age as Oscar, barely out of uni, soft-faced and even softer-tongued. She seemed to live in oversized hoodies and ridiculous socks with cats or frogs or whatever else stitched into the ankles — and he knew that not from meeting her, but because he’d sat down and watched a handful of her YouTube videos for research purposes after Oscar had finally decided to cough up her name.

Not that he was nosy. He was just… protective. Curious. A little baffled.

To Mark, Oscar was still a goddamned kid himself. A fast one, a focused one, but still a kid. A kid who was, by all accounts, completely and hopelessly gone over this girl — Francesca Gold — who made videos about books for a living, apparently hadn’t stepped outside much beyond supermarket runs in years, and was nothing like the glamour models Mark had hung around when he was Oscar’s age. Back when he was young, dumb, and fucking stupid.

And it wasn’t that Mark didn’t like her. He just didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how a boy so reserved, so composed, so relentlessly methodical, could let himself fall so completely for a girl he met online. A girl with issues — a long list of them.

He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, but it was the truth, plain and simple.

He’d spoken to Nicole about her. Had to sit there and listen to Oscar’s mum preen about the girl who’d apparently stolen her heart as easily as she’d stolen her son’s. But still — Mark couldn’t make up his mind. Couldn’t quite decide whether Francesca becoming such a big part of Oscar’s world was going to ground him or distract him. Whether she was going to steady his focus, or derail it entirely.

But then he met her.

And suddenly, Mark got it. Not all of it — he wasn’t sure anyone could fully understand whatever it was that was happening between them. Cosmic energy or some shit like that. But he understood enough.

He saw the way she looked at Oscar, like he’d hung the stars just for her. Like she still couldn’t quite believe he was real. And more than that, he saw the way Oscar looked at her — so open, so unguarded, like she was the one person in the world he didn’t have to calculate, didn’t have anything to prove.

It was the small things. The way her hand drifted toward his without meaning to. The way Oscar instinctively shifted to stand between her and everyone else in the room, or softened his voice just slightly when speaking to her. There was a rhythm to them, a language of their own that didn’t need translating.

Yeah. Mark understood.

Why this girl. Why now. Why it mattered.

She was the anchor. Oscar was the ship. And the rest of the world… the circuits, the chaos, the pressure… that was their sea.

Mark had seen it happen both ways; the drivers who got sharper, stronger, because they had someone to come home to — and the ones who started lifting their foot off the throttle, even just slightly. The ones who got too careful, and could never take that hesitation back.

He’d worried, for a brief stint, that Oscar might slip into that second category. He was young, after all. Still learning. Still finding his edge. And Mark had heard the old quote, Fernando’s words — "I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife and two kids at home."

Francesca looked like the kind of girl you’d slow down for. The kind you’d protect. The kind who might make a boy start second-guessing the risks.

But that wasn’t what happened.

If anything, Oscar just kept getting better. Smarter. More certain. Mark could see it in the latter half of the 2023 season — the way he handled the pressure, how his consistency grew race after race.

He also knew that his protégé had picked up a new post-race routine — a FaceTime call to a pink-cheeked girl curled under a blanket, usually wearing some kind of McLaren merch.

It wasn’t about rushing through the race debrief or forcing himself to ensure the media frenzy anymore. It was about checking in with her, first and foremost. And Mark was sure that he wasn’t the only one to notice the shift in Oscar’s demeanour.

He wasn’t just driving for himself anymore. He was driving for her, too. And somehow, that made him faster. More focused. Unstoppable.

Mark wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything quite like it.

Francesca was quiet, sure — gentle, even — but there was steel beneath the softness. A resilience you only earned from knowing exactly how to be alone, and still choosing to love someone without limit.

She steadied him. Softened his edges in all the right places. Gave him room to breathe when everything else was telling him to hold it in. She didn’t care about lap times or telemetry or trophies — she cared about him.

Mark could see it already, clear as day. When the day came that Oscar would win his first world championship — and he would, because talent like that didn’t come around often — Francesca would be there. Front row, hand over her heart, eyes locked on him, as if the whole world had melted away.

"—Mark, are you okay?"

It was her, her soft, sweet-as-sugar voice, that pulled him out of his thoughts, heavy and complex and swirling in the background. She was sitting across the table from him, in her little flat. It was the kind of place that was small but cosy, just enough room for the three of them, with the soft hum of London outside.

Oscar was frowning at him, a picture of concern mixed with something else — an unspoken warning, the kind only someone like him could give. His eyes said it all; ‘If you've got something to say, say it to me later. And leave her out of it.’

Mark blinked, dragged himself back into the present, and glanced over at her. Her face was soft, attentive, and full of warmth, a slight quirk of concern pulling at the corners of her mouth. He shifted in his seat, realising he'd been lost in his thoughts a little too long.

“Do you need some more water?” She asked.

Mark cleared his throat, grabbed his fork, and forced a smile, nodding toward her. "I’m just fine, darlin’. Great lasagna. You make it?"

Her cheeks flushed pink. “No. Tesco finest,” she told him, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Oscar, on the other hand, looked so genuinely fucking proud, it almost made Mark laugh. He leaned in slightly, as if he were sharing some monumental achievement. “She cooked it perfectly, though. Remembered to set the alarm on the oven, too.”

Mark fought to keep a straight face, watching the way Oscar beamed with that proud, goofy smile. He pressed his lips together tightly, trying to hold it in, but the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself.

—

JANUARY CONT. (FIA Gala)

Francesca sat in her seat, front-row, her heart thudding in her chest as she watched Oscar walk to the stage.

Oscar, in his sharp suit, looked every bit the part of a rising star. But it was more than just his appearance. There was something in the way he held himself, in the way he walked onto that stage with such ease and confidence, that made her heart swell with pride.

She shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed on him, and as he stood there, accepting not his first, but his second FIA Rookie of the Year award, she couldn’t help but smile. This is where you belong, Osc, she thought, watching his genuine, humble expression as he thanked everyone — from his team to his family, to the fans who’d supported him. She’d always known that he was made for this, but seeing him in this moment, surrounded by all the best in the world, it hit her like a wave.

Oscar’s voice echoed through the room as he wrapped up his speech, a brief but heartfelt reference to the people who had supported him. His eyes flickered toward her in the crowd, and for a split second, she felt the world narrow down to just the two of them. His gaze was soft, appreciative — not a loud declaration, but a subtle acknowledgment.

Nine months together, and yet, in that moment, it felt like a lifetime.

The room erupted in applause, but all she could hear was the steady beat of her heart.

Zac’s hand landed on her shoulder with a tight squeeze. She glanced at him, and he gestured to his face, going for subtlety but failing miserably. She choked on a wet laugh, quickly reaching up to wipe her face, brushing the tears away.

“He’s amazing,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Zac nodded, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “One of the best in the world. That’s why he’s ours.”

—

FEBRUARY, 2024 (Bahrain Pre-Season Testing)

Bahrain was as intimidating as it was dazzling. The heat of the desert sun pressed into every inch of her skin, the air thick and heavy, almost oppressive. Even with the McLaren orange noise-cancelling headphones on, engraved with her initials, she could still hear the faint roar of the cars in the distance, their engines a constant hum in the background. The pit lane buzzed with energy, mechanics and engineers moving with precision.

Oscar had already suited up, ready for his first proper day of testing. So, naturally, she’d been left with an entourage of well-meaning people, all given one strict instruction by her boyfriend. ‘Watch her. If she needs to go inside, take her and leave her be.’

Lando, she quickly learned, had taken Oscar’s instructions a little too seriously. He buzzed around her, checking in on her every few minutes, offering to bring her water, asking if she was comfortable, if she was too hot, if she wanted to be moved into the shade. He wasn’t being overbearing, but there was something about the way he did it — with his usual cocky smile and relaxed demeanour — that made her feel like a child being cosseted.

"I know Oscar's usually here to make sure you're alright, but... well, he's kinda busy, so if you need anything, just let me know," Lando said, with that familiar boyish grin, like he was trying to make light of the situation, but his concern was still there, sincere beneath the surface.

"I'll be fine," Francesca assured him, trying to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach as she glanced over at the garage. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to all this. The enormity of it all. It was everything she had spent so long avoiding — the crowds, the noise, the constant pressure. But today was different. She was here for Oscar. She was trying.

Her anxiety curled up like a tight knot in her stomach. She adjusted the McLaren cap on her head and squared her shoulders — she couldn’t feed the fear, couldn’t give it a voice.

Satisfied that she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, Lando nodded and gave her a thumbs-up before buzzing off to check on something else. But she wasn’t left alone for long. Zac was next.

“Everything alright?” he asked, settling down beside her with a warm smile. He could tell. She could tell. Even without saying much, they both understood. The subtle shifts in her expression, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, the way she kept glancing at the track as if it might swallow her whole.

“I’m fine,” Francesca said again, her voice more confident this time. She was trying to settle herself. She really was.

Zac’s approach was different.

“Come on,” The CEO said with a grin, catching her by the elbow and giving her a gentle but insistent tug. “Sitting on your own will only make it worse. We’re going to the pit wall. I need some company. We’ll have fun.”

Fun? Francesca thought, but didn’t say it aloud. She had no idea how fun the pit wall could be, but seeing the sheer enthusiasm on Zac’s face made it hard to argue. Besides, she could already tell that Zac wasn’t exactly the type to take no for an answer. So, with a deep breath, she let him lead her toward the chaos, her heart thudding a little faster with each step.

When they reached the pit wall, the noise hit her first — a constant hum of car engines, mechanics shouting instructions, and the unrelenting buzz of activity. It was overwhelming, but Zac seemed completely in his element, bouncing from one engineer to the next with a cheery shout and a quick word of encouragement.

Francesca felt a little like a fish out of water, but as Zac guided her to a metal stool next to him, she couldn’t help but smile at how genuinely excited he was. He wasn’t just working — he was living for this. His energy was infectious in the best way, and though she was hesitant, there was something comforting about being wrapped in the chaos of the pit wall. At least here, she was involved. Here, she was part of something bigger.

She perched on the stool nervously, glancing at the screens, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. There was so much to take in — numbers flying, technical data flashing in rapid succession. It was a different world, one she hadn’t expected to ever have to understand, but she was willing to try.

Zac glanced at her and gave her a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “We’re just here to make sure our boys can win big this year. You can handle that, right?”

She smiled faintly, her nerves easing just a little. It felt good to be included, to be here, watching something she knew mattered to Oscar, even if she didn’t fully understand all of it. Every now and then, Tom, Oscar’s engineer, would glance over and offer a quick nod, muttering something into his headset, before turning back to his work. It was all so fast, so technical, but there was something undeniably fascinating about it.

Just as she started to zone out, finally feeling relaxed in her position, her phone buzzed.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

They're talking about you on Sky Sports right now.

Don’t freak out.

—

Her eyes widened in surprise. She glanced up at the smaller screens that showed a myriad of coverage. Sure enough, there she was. It was just a quick zoom-in on the pitwall, but she was there, on the screen.

Francesca quickly swiped back to the text, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed out a reply.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Francesca

oh good god

what are they saying??

—

They’d quietly confirmed their relationship, with their soft launches and public appearances together. The whole thing was unspoken but undeniable. Still… her being here, in Bahrain, would make it clear to everyone that this wasn’t just something casual between her and Oscar. It was real. Serious.

She started fiddling with her promise ring.

Zac noticed her distraction, his gaze catching hers with that sharp, cheery awareness he always had. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping a little in that familiar, laid-back tone. “What’s going on? You okay?”

Francesca blinked, forcing a smile to cover up the flutter in her chest. “Yeah, just a message from Katie, my—uh, my manager. Best friend. She said they’re talking about me on Sky.”

Zac’s laugh rumbled through the air, so deep and warm. “You wanna give ‘em a wave? Give ‘em something to really talk about?” He nudged her gently, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “That’d really cement you as one of us.”

Francesca blinked, unsure if he was serious. But before she could ask, Zac had already turned, craning his neck to spot the Sky camera crew across the pit. He positioned himself behind her with casual ease, like a silent protector, half-guarding her from the attention she hadn’t been prepared for.

Her heart gave a funny little jolt, a mix of surprise and warmth, something about the whole gesture feeling a lot like a welcome.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

They’re being nice! Crofty knows who you are from F1 social media

He called you ‘Oscar Piastri’s possible partner’

Aw did Zac just hide you

I started cheering like an actual fangirl when you came on my screen btw

I showed Henry. He thinks his mum is famous now.

Francesca

if they ever try to approach me in the paddock for an interview i will curl up in a ball on the ground right in front of them. like a tortoise.

Katie

LMAO

Btw not to be all managery right now but this is going to do amazing things for your presale numbers

Crofty mentioned that you’re releasing your debut novel soon. Apparently one of his daughters is obsessed with you. THATS SO CUTE??????

Francesca

i’ll dm him later and have a signed copy sorted out for her

also…. can we talk abt how fucking good my bf looks today?????

he’s so yummy

katie answer me.

Katie

Sry too busy staring at Max Verstappen to care.

Francesca

FFS

—

MARCH, 2024 (Youtube Transcript)

Soft orchestral music plays underneath as the video opens to an aerial scene of Monaco with cursive text overlaying the video — Apartment Hunting in Monaco.

[Camera Video | Oscar’s POV]

The scene switches with a soft transition. The sunlight flares softly across the lens as it focuses in on Francesca. She’s standing on a cobbled balcony overlooking the port, framed by bougainvillea, the sea glittering behind her.

She’s wearing a white cotton sundress — ankle-length, delicate, moving gently with the breeze. The sleeves fall just off her shoulders, catching the breeze. Her cheeks are dusted with pink, both from the heat and something else — amusement, shyness, or maybe something in between.

She glances at the camera, lips tugging into a small, crooked smile, eyes dancing with quiet amusement. Then she speaks — soft, a little breathless, laughter curling at the edges of her words. “What? Do I have something on my face? I— Are you filming me?”

Behind the camera comes a low, muffled chuckle. Oscar. “Just a little sunburn.”

Francesca rolls her eyes, head tilting back so she can look up at him — not at the lens, but at the boy behind it. The smile she gives him then is different. Not for show. Not for the camera. The kind that lights up her whole face, eyes soft and full of something quiet and warm.

A breeze lifts her hair, brushing it across her cheek. She tucks it behind her ear absentmindedly, still smiling.

Then she notices the camera is still on.

Her eyes narrow, a mock glare directed right at him, and before he can say anything else, she lunges forward with a sharp laugh, hand outstretched until her palm covers the lens in a blur of movement. “You’re so annoying — give me that!”

The screen goes black mid-laugh.

[Digital Camera Footage | Lando’s POV]

The screen fades from black into the amber glow of evening — the clink of cutlery, low murmurs of French and Italian mingling with the sound of soft jazz in the background.

They’re seated at a small, tucked-away table in a dimly lit restaurant, all warm wood and wine bottles stacked along the back wall. The candle between them flickers gently, casting golden light across Francesca’s face as she leans in over her plate, fork lazily twirling pasta she’s been too busy talking to finish.

Oscar’s elbow is on the table, chin in his hand, just watching her. Half a glass of red in front of him, untouched. There’s something so still in the way he looks at her — like he doesn’t want to miss a second. The world outside might be glittering yachts and flashing cameras, but here, it’s just them.

Francesca laughs at something he says — soft and breathy, a little head tilt, like she can’t help it — and then glances away, as if embarrassed by how openly she’s smiling. She reaches for her wine glass and sips, eyes flicking back to him across the rim.

She’s dressed simply — hair tucked back in a loose twist, silver hoops in her ears, that same sunburn still lingering across her cheeks and nose. Oscar’s wearing a white button-up, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a bit rumpled from the day.

There’s a kind of quiet intimacy that hums between them. No show. No performance. Just two people completely wrapped up in each other, in the moment.

The camera lingers for just a beat longer before fading to black again — a low, amused laugh from Lando behind the camera the last sound before the scene shifts.

[Camera Video | Francesca’s POV]

The camera shakes slightly as Francesca adjusts the focus, the bright hum of late-morning Monaco buzzing faintly through the open balcony doors. She pans slowly around the room — white walls, pale stone floors, and a little too much echo for her liking — before swinging toward the galley kitchen where Oscar is pretending to know what he’s doing as he ‘tests the water pressure’.

“Do you like it?” she asks from behind the camera, voice soft, amused.

He turns to glance at her, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s fine. Kind of… plain?”

Francesca giggles under her breath and shifts the camera to catch the office space. More like a glorified closet with a window. She zooms in on Oscar as he steps into the tiny room, ducking slightly even though he doesn’t need to.

The leasing agent begins rattling off details, gesturing enthusiastically, “...great for a desk setup, maybe a bookshelf or two—”

Oscar turns to the camera — to her — and raises his eyebrows like he’s already unimpressed. “This is meant to be the office?”

“You could fit a desk,” the agent offers, a little defensively now.

Oscar laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “She needs more space than this. There’s, like, twenty boxes of books at home. Minimum.”

Francesca snorts behind the camera. “Oscar.”

“What?” He asks. “You do. You run a library out of your office, ‘Cesca.”

“You’re making it sound much more dramatic than it is.” She argues, softly.

The leasing agent, smiling tightly now, gestures toward her tablet. “We could explore a two-bedroom? Something with more natural light?”

Oscar doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s do that. She writes, too. She’ll need the space.”

The camera tilts slightly as Francesca lowers it a little, her other hand coming up to brush a curl out of her face. “You know I could probably work in a cupboard if I had to, right?”

Oscar throws a look over his shoulder. “Sure. But why should you?”

The moment hangs there for a beat — quiet and sure and full of that quiet certainty she still hasn’t gotten used to. She zooms in just a touch more, catches the way he bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard.

“You’re sweet,” she murmurs, more to herself than the video.

[Phone Video – Shot from Passenger Seat | Francesca’s POV]

The camera opens on the curve of Oscar’s jaw, sunlight flickering across his sunglasses as he drives. The gentle hum of the engine blends with the faint background of French radio and open windows. Francesca turns the camera slowly, catching the coastline flashing past — the glittering sea to their right, a blur of palms and yachts bobbing like toys in the harbour.

Then it pans back to Oscar, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh.

Francesca’s voice, soft with a teasing lilt, “Tell the people where we’re going, Oscar.”

He doesn’t glance at the camera, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “To meet Monaco royalty.”

She snorts. “Stop it.”

“They bite if you’re not respectful,” he says, deadpan.

The video wobbles slightly as she laughs. “For context, we’re going to meet Max Verstappen’s cats. And also to talk about cat-sitting logistics in Monaco. Because, apparently, Max has very strong opinions on who looks after his cats during race weekends.”

Oscar shrugs, casual as ever. “It’ll be good to have a list of reliable sitters. These are the most high-maintenance cats in Europe. If they approve of someone, Henry’s gonna be in good hands.”

Francesca turns the phone camera to herself, her expression playful. “I might become the communal cat-sitter. If I’m at home anyway, might as well take care of them all. Could be fun. I’d have company — and not just the passive-aggressive kind Henry provides.”

Oscar lets out a quiet laugh, eyes still on the road. “You say that now. Wait ‘til you’re negotiating breakfast with Verstappen’s cats at 6 a.m.”

She grins into the camera. “Honestly? Sounds like a dream.”

[Phone Video | Oscar’s POV]

The phone camera opens shaky and low, Oscar’s voice muttering something inaudible as the view swings toward the living room floor.

Francesca is lying flat on her back on Max Verstappen’s living room rug, her baby-pink blouse rumpled, her laugh bright and breathless. Jimmy is curled against her ribs, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, while Sassy perches on her stomach, gently kneading her with her paws.

“Oh no. I think I love you,” she whispers, scratching behind his ear.

Oscar chuckles behind the camera. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Francesca doesn’t look up, just grins. “Henry would love them. They’re so soft, Osc. Feel this one’s tail—oh my god—”

Oscar zooms in suddenly, the lens focusing past her to where Max stands near the kitchen island, arms crossed, a drink in hand, his head tilted slightly.

Max is staring at Francesca like she’s just hacked some encrypted system he’s never managed to break — his expression caught somewhere between confusion and awe. A man quietly trying to calculate how the hell she’s managed to charm his high-brow cats in less than five minutes.

The camera lingers a beat too long on Max’s face before Oscar snorts and turns it back to Francesca, buried under an avalanche of cat affection.

[Camera Video | Francesca’s POV]

Francesca stood behind the camera, positioning it at the perfect angle to capture the wide expanse of the apartment. She panned the lens over the open space, the light streaming in from the tall windows, casting a warm glow across the sleek, modern furniture. Everything looked pristine.

Oscar was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets as he looked out at the view — the sprawling city of Monaco, the rooftops, and beyond.

Francesca adjusted the camera, her voice barely a whisper, but laced with that teasing tone that always seemed to slip out when she was around him. “So… what do you think?” she asked, her eyes shifting between the view and the camera.

Oscar, still gazing out the window, raised an eyebrow at her question. Without turning to look at her, he said, “It’s nice. Bigger than the last one.”

“Bigger is good, right?” Francesca asked, her gaze flicking to him through the lens. She took a step closer, bringing the camera angle in, trying to catch the look on his face as he processed the apartment.

Oscar glanced at her, then back at the leasing agent, who was mid-sentence about granite countertops or built-in smart lighting or something equally forgettable.

“So, no balcony at all?” Oscar cut in, polite but firm.

The agent blinked. “Correct. But the views are—”

“She needs to be able to see the water,” Oscar said simply, like it was obvious. “If she doesn’t feel like leaving the apartment one day, she should still get that.”

Francesca’s eyes flicked to him, caught somewhere between surprise and a quiet kind of awe. Her thumb hovered over the camera’s screen as she lowered it slightly, distracted by the weight of his words. The camera now aimed at her legs, her thumb still frozen mid-air.

The agent, sensing the shift in energy, shifted awkwardly, glancing between them. “Of course. There are a few others on the list. Some with terraces—”

Oscar didn’t miss a beat. He turned, already heading toward the door. “Let’s go see those.”

Francesca stood there for a moment longer, the camera still in her hands, capturing her legs, the apartment, then she laughed. Quiet, almost muted, but it was there. And it was fond.

[Camera Video | Francesca’s POV]

The lighting was soft and warm as sunlight streamed through the coved windows of the third apartment. The space felt intimate, calm. The floors gleamed, polished wood catching the light in a way that made the entire room glow.

Francesca held the camera in front of her, carefully framing each shot as she moved through the space, making sure to capture everything in just the right light. Every angle was deliberate, every shot chosen with care. She wanted the footage to feel personal, but she also made sure not to reveal too much. This apartment felt like theirs, and she wasn’t ready to let anyone else in on that just yet.

She zoomed in on a patch of sunlight spilling onto the floor, its warmth casting a gentle glow.

Her voice, soft and reflective, came through the lens. “Perfect for my Henry.”

She kept the camera focused on the sunlight for a moment, letting the warmth of the scene settle in. A faint smile tugged at her lips, but she lowered the camera quickly, as if to shield the moment from prying eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder. Oscar was stood on the balcony with the leasing agent. He had his hands on his hips, but there was a relaxed ease to his posture. He looked at peace.

Francesca’s gaze softened as she took a deep breath, the quiet contentment filling her. This was it. They had found it.

This place, this spot, felt right. The perfect balance of everything they needed — and nothing anyone would ever guess. She’d made sure of that. The view, the sunlight, the sense of space, and quiet privacy.

Everything was coming together.

She turned off the camera.

[Phone Video | Oscar’s POV]

Fading in from black, the segment opens with Francesca sitting in a racing sim, her hands gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

Behind the camera, Oscar’s breath hitched every time Francesca’s focus wavered and the car careened off the track. Lando’s apartment was filled with the muffled sound of tires screeching as she slammed into yet another corner.

"Wait, hold on!" Francesca’s voice cracked with frustration as she frantically tried to correct the car’s trajectory. “This thing is rigged!” she yelled at Lando, who was pacing beside her, visibly stressed.

Lando’s voice was strained as he pointed at the screen. “You need to brake, Francesca, brake before the turn!”

Francesca’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I am braking!” She mashed the brake pedal harder, only for the car to spin out of control again, slamming into the guardrail.

Oscar could barely breathe for the sheer hilarity of it. The camera was shaking with the force of his laughter “You’re supposed to brake before the turn, babe,” he said between gasps, his voice nearly breaking as he fought to maintain some semblance of composure.

Francesca shot him a glare over her shoulder. “It’s not as easy as it looks! This thing is impossible! How do you guys do this?!” she huffed, slamming her hands on the wheel. “I’m literally just turning left and right and nothing works!”

Lando, face flushed with the pressure of trying to help, dropped his face into his hand. “I’m trying, okay? Just… brake before the turn, Francesca! It’s like this with every sim! You need to focus!”

She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I am focusing! How do you focus when every turn makes you feel like you’re about to flip off a cliff?!”

Oscar was no longer able to contain himself. Behind the camera, he was laughing so hard, his chest was aching. He stepped back for a moment, nearly losing it as he caught a glimpse of Lando’s panicked expression, trying to explain the intricacies of sim racing as if this were a life-or-death situation.

“You’ve got to get the brake pressure right!” Lando urged, his voice strained. “Think of it like a real car, but faster!”

“I am thinking of it like a real car!” Francesca shot back. “And in real life, I don’t even have a bloody driving licence!”

Oscar, doubled over in laughter, could barely hold the camera steady. “I think you’re doing great, babe. You’re… you’re definitely, uh, getting the hang of it,” he gasped, trying to wipe tears from his eyes.

Francesca turned back to the screen, trying to give it another go. As soon as she did, the car hit yet another corner wrong, sending her flying off the track again.

She let out a loud scream of frustration. “I can’t do it!” she yelled, slamming her fists against the wheel.

Lando squeaked, his eyes wide in panic. “Francesca! That’s bloody expensive, stop—Stop hitting it!”

Oscar nearly choked on his own breath, clutching the camera in an effort to keep it steady while trying to hold back his laughter.

Francesca finally turned the chair away from the sim, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I think I’ll leave the racing to you two, yeah?” She said. Her words only made Oscar laugh harder, his laughter shaking the entire frame of the camera.

Lando let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Oscar, still struggling to regain composure, panned the camera to his own face, his cheeks flushed from laughter. For a moment, he couldn't even speak — he just gasped for air between fits of giggles. Finally, he managed, “Not sure how I feel about you wanting to get your license after seeing that,” his voice cracking from laughing so hard.

Francesca leaned back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back dramatically. “Yeah, no kidding,” she said with a mock-grumble, flipping her hand dismissively.

Lando, still staring at the rig in disbelief, shook his head, muttering under his breath, “I need a drink. Or ten.”

[Phone Video – Shot from Passenger Seat | Francesca’s POV]

The camera was a lot steadier as it shifted into a new scene, Francesca holding it close to her face as the soft hum of the car filled the quiet space. Her eyes were a little tired, but there was a calm resolve in her gaze.

“Hey guys,” she began, her voice softer than usual but still grounded. “So, today’s been a bit of a rollercoaster. I had a panic attack in a store earlier, which… you know, isn’t fun. Not that I’m expecting any of you to feel sorry for me or anything,” she said with a small, self-aware smile, “but sometimes it’s just a little overwhelming, and I get caught up in it.”

Oscar, who had been driving, glanced over at her for a split second, his expression gentle. She returned a quiet smile, her voice growing a little warmer as she continued.

“The thing is, though, I’m not going to let it ruin my whole day,” she said, lifting her chin a little, almost defiantly. “I’ve been in this place before, where it feels like everything’s crashing in on me, but… I’m not going to let it take over. Not today.” She took a breath, steadying herself. “And honestly, I don’t think I would’ve been able to say that a while ago. But today? I’m choosing to move on.”

Francesca turned the camera slightly, drawing the lens to the bag in her lap. She opened it carefully, revealing the soft leather and the small tag still dangling from the inside.

“Oscar actually surprised me with this,” she said with a soft laugh, her fingers brushing over the bag’s edge. “I didn’t even know he was planning on it, but I think he could tell I was having a rough day. So…” She shrugged lightly, a small, fond smile creeping up her lips. “This is from him. It’s a little over the top, but I guess it’s nice to have something beautiful to look at after a crappy day.”

She gave the camera a playful, almost teasing look. “I swear, though, I’m not, like… flexing. It’s more like… a reminder that the world doesn’t stop spinning because I’m having a rough time.” Her voice grew more firm, more grounded. “So yeah, that’s my little pep talk for today.”

The camera zoomed in on the bag again, its pristine white leather catching the light.

Oscar glanced at her again, the corner of his mouth curling into a quiet, loving smile, and she caught the look, giving him a soft nod in return.

“Anyway,” Francesca said, taking another breath, “I’m going to enjoy the rest of today. And I hope you guys do, too. Thanks for being here with me, as always. I know that this video probably feels a bit… thrown together. But it’s been fun to film a vlog. My first one, really. I hope you like it.”

With that, she lowered the camera slightly, the last shot of the video capturing her calm but resolute expression before it faded to black.

—

Top Comments:

@litwitch420

this entire video felt like a fever dream

@casgyt

THIS IS GOING TO GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THE CRAZIEST HARD LAUNCH EVER. WHAT THE FUCK

@crymewithcoffee

we knew they were together. like after seeing her in bahrain we KNEW. And yet here I am…. still GAGGED

@thisissochaotic

“he got me this bag” AND IT’S A FCKING MINI KELLY?????????????

@traumabrat98

Make more vlogs!!!!!! This was the most entertaining piece of content that I’ve consumed all week

@henryhasfans

You zooming in on the little sunspot for Henry….. I’m so happy for you both. Good luck in your new home!!!

@softestheartsclub

Oh my god Oscar is GONE for her. The way he was laughing when she was trying to use Lando’s sim……. I’m dying

@pidgeinajar

HER LAYING ON MAX VERSTAPPEN’S FLOOR COVERED IN HIS CATS 😭

—

APRIL, 2024 (LONDON — JAPAN)

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Oscar

Hey baby

Are you busy?

Francesca

no i just finished filming

you ok??????

Oscar

Yeah

Kind of

What are you wearing

Francesca

………… oh my god oh my god

wait hold on give me a minute ok

Oscar

Babe.

Francesca

ok now ask me again

Oscar

Seriously?

Francesca

ask me again or perish

Oscar

What are you wearing, baby?

Francesca

nothing except for 1 thing

a pair of ur boxers

hehe

Oscar

Jesus

Show me how pretty you look, baby

Francesca

*insert mirror pic*

Oscar

Look at you.

So perfect

My girl

I miss you so much

God, I can’t stop looking at you

Francesca

can we facetime please? i feel like a cat in heat pls pls pls pls

Incoming FaceTime call from Oscar

The screen flickered to life, and there he was — soft hotel lighting, hair a little tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His voice came low, smooth, and quiet. “Let me see you again, baby.”

Francesca pulled the phone back, tilting the camera slightly as she sat back on her bed. Her cheeks were already pink. The oversized pair of Oscar’s boxers she wore hung low on her hips, her bare legs folded under her, skin warm from anticipation.

Oscar's eyes darkened as he took her in. “God, you’re beautiful.” He leaned in toward the camera like he could reach her. “You put them on them just for me, didn’t you? Knew it’d make me crazy.”

She bit her lip, a little shy now, her voice barely above a whisper. “I miss you.”

He smiled — slow and knowing. “Yeah? You gonna show me how much?”

She hesitated, not from embarrassment but because his voice alone had her breath catching. The way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing — made her stomach twist and flutter.

“Oscar…”

His tone changed, low and teasing. “Don’t play shy now, baby.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, dragging his hand slowly along his face. “You know what you do to me when you act all sweet like this?”

She tucked her chin to her shoulder, glancing at the screen from beneath her lashes. “What do I do to you?”

A beat.

“You make it very hard to be in a different country right now.”

Francesca gave a soft, breathy laugh, one hand coming up to play with the hem of the boxers.

Oscar’s voice dipped into something darker, quieter. “Keep going.”

She did, slowly, never taking her eyes off him. Every inch of movement was deliberate — slow, teasing, meant only for him.

“I love when you get like this,” he murmured. “All shy, all mine. You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”

The call stretched into silence except for the sound of their breathing, low and syncing across the distance.

She leaned closer, voice shaking just a little. “I wish you were here.”

“I will be. Two days.” His gaze burned through the screen. “And when I get there, I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Her breath caught, cheeks flushing deeper.

“Now,” he said, sitting forward again, his voice a murmur, “keep talking, baby. Tell me everything I’m missing.”

—

MAY, 2024 (Monaco)

Between Miami and Imola.

The apartment was still half chaos, cardboard boxes stacked in corners and a lamp sitting unplugged on the kitchen counter, but the bones of home were already there — her books on the shelves, Oscar’s caps tucked neatly in a basket by the door, Francesca’s coffee mugs lined up on the drying rack next to the sink.

The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, but the warmth of the day still clung to the walls. The living room was lit only by the soft glow of a floor lamp and the ambient noise of some gentle lo-fi playing from Francesca’s phone.

They were collapsed together on the sofa, legs tangled under a too-warm throw blanket neither of them had bothered to kick off. Francesca's head was on Oscar’s chest, his fingers moving absentmindedly through her hair while her hand rested on his stomach.

Their shared silence was broken by the familiar little mrrp of Henry announcing himself.

Francesca blinked open one eye. “Hi, lovebug.”

Henry leapt up onto the sofa and stepped directly onto Oscar’s chest without hesitation, then flopped himself neatly across both of them, his tail curling around Francesca’s wrist. He gave one regal yawn and promptly closed his eyes, fully satisfied.

Oscar groaned, but his arm never left Francesca. “He’s so heavy. Why is he so heavy?”

“He started stress eating about the move,” she mumbled into his shirt. “He’ll go back to normal as soon as he gets settled.”

“I’m being crushed.” Oscar complained.

“You’re being loved.” She muttered.

Oscar tilted his head down and pressed a lazy kiss to her forehead. “Same thing, I guess.”

Francesca smiled, eyes fluttering closed again. Henry let out a sleepy purr like an engine beneath them, and for a long while, the three of them just stayed like that — tangled, content, and utterly at peace in their new home.

—

JULY 2024 (HUNGARY)

Francesca stood tucked near the back of the McLaren garage, noise-cancelling headphones snug over her ears, her VIP pass swinging gently against her chest. Mark stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes flicking between the pit wall monitors and the track feed. She liked being near him — his quiet calm had a way of settling her nerves when the rest of the garage buzzed with sharp, electric energy.

When a Sky camera panned in on the pair of them, Francesca caught it in her periphery and gave a small, deliberate wave. Not dramatic. Just enough. She was starting to get used to being noticed here. Kind of.

Mark leaned over slightly, not taking his eyes off the telemetry screen. “You’re famous now.”

She snorted softly. “It’s not the first time I’ve been on camera.”

“Still. They filmed you for two seconds longer than they filmed me.”

That got a laugh out of her — short and breathless, because God, she was nervous. Not just about the race, but about the fact that her book — the thing she’d poured herself into — had officially hit the shelves earlier that morning. And she hadn’t had the courage to open social media once.

“It’s out today,” she said finally, her voice quiet under the buzz of engines. “My book.”

Mark turned his head toward her for the first time, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s huge.”

She hugged herself loosely. “It might flop.”

“It won’t.” He said.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know good things don’t fail,” Mark said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “Oscar made Lando pre-order a copy yesterday, right after the strategy meeting. Poor kid’s dyslexic.”

Francesca laughed — a little louder this time, a little more real. “I’ll have to tell him that he doesn’t actually have to read it.”

She turned her attention back to the front of the garage, nibbling at her bottom lip as the cars started peeling out onto the track. Her heart was already racing, nerves coiling tight in her stomach.

The race unfolded in layers — tense, dramatic, and inch-perfect from lights out to every nail-biting overtake. She barely breathed between pit stops and radio chatter, caught up in the frantic rhythm of it all.

And then, as the final laps ticked down, one thing became clear.

Oscar was going to win.

Francesca forgot how to breathe for a full minute. The garage erupted when he crossed the chequered flag — mechanics high-fiving, hugging, shouting over one another. The champagne would come later. Right now, it was all adrenaline and awe.

Mark hugged her before following the mechanics out into Parc ferme.

She didn’t move. She let him have that moment — the roar of the team, the photo ops, the press obligations. She stayed tucked away in the same corner of the garage where she always waited for him. Her safe little spot.

And then he found her.

Still in his race suit, hair damp under the cap, flushed with victory. His eyes scanned the space until they landed on her, and he didn’t hesitate.

He came straight for her, shouldering past cameras and crew and noise like they didn’t exist.

And then he kissed her.

Not soft or shy — but full-body, hands-in-her-hair, I-just-won-and-you’re-the-first-person-I-wanted-to-see kind of kiss. A kiss that knew there were cameras, and didn’t give a single damn.

Francesca melted into it, arms wrapping around him instinctively, one hand curling in the fabric of his fireproofs. The garage faded. The noise dimmed.

When they finally pulled apart, still grinning, still breathless, Oscar pressed his forehead to hers.

“You won,” she whispered, dazed.

“I won.”

—

Four hours later, in the haze of post-race adrenaline and exhaustion, one of the McLaren social media admins approached her during the debrief with a wide grin.

“Congratulations,” she said, practically buzzing.

Francesca blinked. “For what?”

The admin tilted her head, equally puzzled. “Your book. You’ve broken all kinds of sales records. It’s everywhere.”

She stared at them for a second, like the words hadn’t quite landed. “Wait — what?”

The admin laughed. “You haven’t even checked your phone, have you?”

She shook her head slowly, stunned. “No. I’ve been — well, here.”

“Well,” the admin said, already pulling out their own phone to show her the numbers. “You might want to check it now.”

—

AUGUST, 2024 (Monaco)

The sun dipped low over the water, casting the apartment in golden light. The breeze from the balcony was warm and sweet, carrying the scent of salt and blooming jasmine.

Francesca stood barefoot in the kitchen, hair clipped back messily, stirring something on the stove that had started as a ragu but had become more like a risotto. Somehow.

Behind her, the front door clicked open.

“Katie!” she called without turning around, already grinning.

“You live here?” Katie’s voice echoed through the flat as she stepped inside, suitcase trailing behind her, sunglasses still perched on her head. “Like — actually live here? This is absurd. You’re absurd.”

Francesca laughed, wiped her hands on a tea towel, and turned to greet her best friend. They hugged tightly, the kind of squeeze that said I missed you more clearly than any words could.

“It’s not that absurd,” Francesca argued playfully, though the apartment — with its panoramic sea view and soft sunlight bleeding across every surface — sort of spoke for itself.

Katie dropped her bag and immediately flopped down onto the sofa. “You look disgustingly domestic. Is that an apron? Oh my God.”

Francesca rolled her eyes, flicking a dishtowel in her direction. “It’s a cooking towel. And yes, Oscar’s turned me into someone who owns olive oil in more than one variety.”

“Tragic,” Katie said, stretching like Henry liked to do in that exact spot. “Where is Lover Boy?”

“Factory debrief in Woking. Back tomorrow.” Francesca padded over with two glasses of something cold and citrusy. “You have me all to yourself.”

Katie took the glass and lifted it in a toast. “To you, my beautiful best friend, who lives in the most beautiful apartment in the world and still cries whenever someone says something vaguely mean about her bestselling book on Goodreads.”

Francesca pouted. “Some of those reviews are brutal.”

“I’ll kill them.” Katie said it so casually it could’ve been mistaken for a joke — but it wasn’t.

Francesca grinned at her. “It’s so good to have you here.”

Katie tilted her head, gaze soft. “You seem so happy, Fran.”

“I am,” she said, and meant it. “Come on. I’ll show you the sunspot Henry likes to nap in. It’s very exclusive.”

“Oh, please,” Katie muttered, trailing after her. “He’s becoming even more spoiled than he already was.”

“He’s Monaco royalty now. Jimmy and Sassy love him.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Right, because the fact that your cat is friends with Max Verstappen’s cats is a totally normal thing to tell a person.”

Francesca just grinned over her shoulder, unbothered. “You get used to it.”

Katie scoffed, but there was affection in her voice. “I don’t think I ever will.”

They disappeared down the hallway, the soft thump of their footsteps blending with low, familiar laughter — comfortable, easy.

—

AUGUST, 2024 (Monaco)

The soft click of the apartment door shutting echoed faintly behind her. Francesca dropped the shopping bags by the entryway and stretched, still slightly flushed from the sun. She barely had a moment to relax, the safe warmth of home settling into her bones, before she heard him.

"Don’t move," Oscar’s voice called, smooth and low from down the hall. It had that tone — just on the edge of command, threaded with teasing.

She stilled, instantly curious. “Why?” she asked, one brow raised.

He appeared a second later, leaned casually against the doorway to their bedroom, arms folded across his chest. He was in race gear — mostly. Suit half-unzipped and hanging at his waist, undershirt clinging to him, and the black balaclava still pulled over his head, only his eyes and mouth visible.

Francesca blinked. “Um,” she said, unable to form any more words. Her heart skipped. That balaclava shouldn’t have looked good — shouldn’t have made her feel anything. But there was something about it. About him. Her voice came out softer than she meant it to when she eventually managed to say, “You look ridiculous.”

“You sound like you’re lying,” he said, pushing off the doorway and walking toward her slowly.

She backed up instinctively, until her spine met the wall. He stopped in front of her, hands braced on either side of her head, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the scent of clean sweat and sun.

“Be honest,” he murmured, eyes catching hers through the fabric. “You like it.”

Francesca gave a helpless little laugh, breath hitching. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm, maybe,” he murmured, nose brushing hers through the fabric. “But you’re still blushing.” His voice was still so calm, so in control — and it made her knees feel unsteady. He tilted his head. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

Oscar’s lips curved behind the fabric. “Good. Then let me take care of you, baby.”

His fingers brushed over her waist, deliberate and slow. The balaclava stayed on, and his eyes were almost black as he stared at her.

Francesca’s breath hitched when he leaned in again, kissing just beneath her jaw, letting his lips linger against her skin before dragging down to her neck. She tilted her head for him without thinking, her hands finding purchase on the front of his undershirt, clinging just a little.

“Thought you would be tired,” she murmured, dazed.

He hummed, lifting his head to meet her eyes with a quiet smile. “I’ve always got the energy to take care of you,” he said, voice dark and velvet-soft. “Always.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the words or the look he gave her, heavy-lidded and utterly focused, but something fluttered low in her stomach, heat curling through her limbs.

His hands slid up beneath her shirt slowly, fingertips ghosting along her ribcage, and when she gasped softly, he just smiled again — pleased. Confident.

“I love how responsive you are,” he said, almost to himself, leaning in to kiss her again. This time, it wasn’t soft. It was demanding — possessive, the kind of kiss that left her dizzy and aching.

When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, and his forehead rested gently against hers.

“Bedroom,” he murmured. “Now.”

She hesitated, just barely. Then nodded.

Oscar didn’t give her a chance to lead. He took her hand, guiding her backwards through the apartment until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She fell onto it with a soft laugh, only for it to catch in her throat when he followed her down slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

He kissed her like he had something to prove. Hands trailing, anchoring her, touching her; he already knew every inch of her body, he just wanted to relearn it all again.

“You don’t have to hide anything with me,” he murmured, thumb stroking along her hipbone as he kissed lower, slower, more deliberately. “Not a single thing.”

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling softly, and he let out a quiet groan.

He was savouring. Worshipping.

And by the time her back arched off the mattress, and his name broke from her lips like a prayer, Oscar was right there, kissing the words from her mouth, catching every tremble and gasp with steady, careful hands.

After, he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, brushing damp hair off her forehead, kissing her temple, her jaw, her shoulder like she was something fragile and precious and entirely his.

“You okay?” he asked softly, fingertips stroking her side.

Francesca nodded, smile lazy and blissful. “Yeah. You?”

Oscar leaned down again, kissed her just once — slow and deep. “So in love with you, it’s not even funny.”

—

It was a quiet afternoon in Monaco, the kind of day that hummed softness. The café was tucked into a shaded corner near the marina, half-hidden behind flowering vines and white umbrellas. Francesca stirred her iced coffee absently, the rim of her sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, Oscar sitting opposite her, legs stretched out, one ankle crossed with hers under the table.

They weren’t in a rush. They rarely were on days like this.

Oscar was mid-sentence about something, probably tyres or brake balance, but then he paused, eyes flicking past her shoulder.

Francesca turned slightly to look.

A couple sat a few tables over, tucked into the corner with a stroller parked beside them. The mother was speaking gently while sipping her drink, and the father had their baby cradled against his chest, cooing something only the baby could hear. It was quiet and tender. Beautiful, really.

Oscar watched them for a long moment, expression unreadable, then leaned forward slightly. His voice was low, almost shy.

“Is that… something you’d want? One day?”

Francesca blinked, caught off-guard. She looked over at the family again, at the warmth of it, the calm in their shared space, and then back at him.

“Yes,” she said, voice quiet but certain. “One day, yeah.” Oscar’s gaze didn’t leave hers, so she kept going, the words spilling out more honestly than she expected. “I want to be the kind of mum I didn’t get,” she admitted, her thumb brushing against the condensation on her glass. “The kind that’s endlessly patient. Who listens. Who hugs for too long and cries at every little achievement and keeps every single awful piece of art they ever make.” She paused, swallowing. “I want to be warm. Safe. I want them to grow up knowing they’re so loved it hurts.”

Oscar reached across the table then, gently taking her hand in his, thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles. There was nothing teasing in his smile. It was reverent.

“You will be,” he said softly.

Francesca blinked again, the back of her throat tightening.

Oscar leaned in, voice just for her now. “And when you’re ready, next year, in ten years, whenever it feels right, I’ll give you as many babies as you want.”

She laughed, a little teary now. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It is,” he grinned. “I’m going to be the king of car seat installation.”

Francesca rolled her eyes fondly, squeezing his hand. “I can see you spending months practising, just to prove a point.”

Oscar smiled like the idea delighted him. “Can’t wait.”

She smiled at him and the world softened. It folded in around them; just the two of them, sunlight filtering through the café canopy, coffee going warm on the table, and a quiet promise that someday, they'd build something even bigger together.

Something that would always feel like home.

CHAPTER EIGHT PT. 2 (THE EPILOGUE)

568 notes · View notes

targaryenluvs · 1 year ago

Text

— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

#criminal minds x bau!reader #criminal minds x reader #suits x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #harvey specter x fem!reader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you

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deerboybreeder · 11 months ago

Text

LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

#ftm breeding #ftmpreg #forced impreg #preggo kink #cnc stalking #cvntboy #r@pe fantasy #stalking fantasy #ftm pregnancy #cnc drugging #noncon drugging #forced intox #f0rced impreg #f0rced breeding #f0rced int0x #my writing #i have been playing way too much sta.rdew and those yandere mods have caught my attention so I might be doing some of that

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okaylikeschaewon · 11 months ago

Text

Convinced

~4k words, KAMPFyre Part 2, smut

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I don’t see the issue. I feel like it actually worked.”

“Oh my God!” Karina shouted, her voice brimming with exasperation. “How do you not realize that this guy basically just convinced you to give him a blowjob?”

“He seemed really kind, though,” Winter pleaded, starting to get embarrassed. “He did it to help me.”

“Help you? You realize it makes no sense, right? Letting a guy cum down your throat isn’t going to help your vocals.”

“He said it did, and I believe him,” Winter muttered quietly, looking down at her feet.

“Yeah?” Karina scoffed, crossing her arms. “Did he also say you’d dance better if he fucked you?”

“No! He never tried to force anything like that!” Winter argued back. “I’m not stupid.”

“So it was just a blowjob? That’s a relief at least,” Karina sighed, letting her arms fall to the side. “At least you didn’t do anything really stupid.”

“Y-Yeah, just a blowjob,” Winter lied, avoiding eye contact with her bandmate. “Please don’t tell anyone else.”

“Come here,” Karina said while pulling Winter into a hug. “I won’t tell anyone. In the future, be more careful, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Winter whispered.

“It’s fine, no one else will find out,” Karina reassured her while patting her back. “It’s in his best interest to keep this a secret, not that anyone would believe him even if he did speak up.”

“I’m really dumb, aren’t I?” Winter asked while standing up, pouting at Karina.

“No, you’re not really dumb,” Karina sighed. “It’s fine, you learned a lesson, that doesn’t make you dumb.”

Winter nodded, feeling a bit better about the whole ordeal.

“So, how’d it taste?” Karina asked casually.

“What? I’m not answering that!” Winter replied angrily.

“Come on, what’s done is done,” Karina chuckled. “We might as well talk about it now, it was your first blowjob, right?”

“Yeah, my first.”

“So how was it? It’s honestly kinda exciting,” Karina pushed. “I still remember mine.”

“You go first,” Winter said, her face getting warm.

“Well, he didn’t last very long at all,” Karina said, thinking back. “He wouldn’t stop apologizing for finishing in my mouth so quickly.”

“Did you like the taste?” Winter asked, her curiosity taking over.

“I loved it,” Karina gushed. “I let him play with my tits for like two minutes, and then as soon as my lips hit his cock he filled my mouth. He barely lasted thirty seconds.”

“Wow,” Winter sighed. “Mine took… a bit more effort.”

Karina cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t feel bad, every guy is different,” she added. “You got there eventually, not every girl can do that.”

“Yeah…” Winter exhaled. “I don’t think it tasted bad, but it felt so weird.”

“You’re just not used to it,” Karina laughed. “Since apparently you love giving random dudes blowjobs now, maybe you’ll find someone whose taste you like.”

“Hey! I don’t,” Winter whined while angrily walking away.

“Where are you going, I was kidding!” Karina shouted after her.

“Going for a walk,” Winter mumbled before leaving the room.

Karina sat there with her eyes squinted at the door, suspicious of what Winter was getting up to, debating internally whether or not she should follow after her.

“I can’t believe that happened,” Karina whispered softly while returning her attention to her phone.

—

“I can’t believe that happened,” you muttered to yourself, still in absolute shock as you sat on the couch, scrolling your phone to find out more about Aespa. Apparently they were quite popular, which made sense seeing as how they were closing. Winter also had a bandmate who caught your eye, Karina - she was stunning.

Suddenly, there was a very aggressive knock on the door. You got up, quickly running your hand through your hair and fixing your clothes to look presentable. As soon as you opened it, you were pushed back into the room.

“Did you lie?” Winter demanded, glaring at you.

“Lie about what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she hissed, her angry expression being unintentionally adorable. “The load thing, was it all made up?”

“Winter, you agreed to do it,” you argued, trying to calm her down. “It was my first time hearing about the… technique… but I think it actually did work.”

Her expression suddenly softened a bit.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you lied while grabbing her hand. “What got into you? Just a bit ago you were so excited and happy about it.”

“I told one of my friends,” Winter sighed, slouching her shoulders. “She basically called me an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” you said kindly, pushing her hair back over her ear. “I’m sorry if you feel like I tricked you, that wasn’t my intention.”

“I told her that!” Winter said, her spirits lifting. “I really don’t think you did either. I’m sorry for this, I think I’m just super nervous about tonight.”

“Hey don’t worry about it, I completely understand.”

After a bit of an awkward pause where the two of you simply stood there holding hands, Winter spoke up again.

“Did you really like my voice more afterwards?”

“I did,” you answered, despite not noticing any difference. “I don’t know how I can make you believe it.”

“You don’t have to, I believe you already,” she smiled warmly at you. “I just knew I could trust you.”

“Uh, yeah,” you were starting to feel guilty. This girl was unbelievably naive and it was starting to weigh on you.

“Could I ask another favor of you?” Winter asked, stepping closer to you.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you think I could try again?”

This had to be a joke - you were almost convinced there were hidden cameras watching you now.

“What do you mean ‘try again’?” you clarified, reluctant to jump to any conclusions.

“Well, my friend told me she could make a guy cum just by touching her lips to his cock, I want to learn how,” Winter explained as she dropped down to her knees in front of you. “Could you please guide me?”

“I don’t know if this is right,” you hesitated as Winter began unbuckling your pants.

“Why not? You were happy to help me earlier without thinking twice about it,” Winter argued. “What will it take to get more help?”

“It’s not like that, I want to help,” you answered. “But if we got caught, or if you told anyone again, I’d get in so much trouble.”

“Please,” Winter begged. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“As much as I want to believe it, you did just tell me that you told your friend.”

“I’m sorry, she won’t tell anyone else, please!” Winter begged, she almost looked like she was about to cry.

“Okay okay, it’s fine,” you calmed her down, if she was this desperate to suck your cock then who were you to say no. “Alright, go lock the door and then take off your clothes,” you instructed her.

Unable to believe this was about to happen, you walked over to the couch and sat down. Winter quickly ran over to you and wasted no time in stripping down to her underwear.

“Do you want me to take it all off?” she asked eagerly as she unbuckled her bra, tossing it to the side.

“Yeah, it’ll be better that way.”

She nodded and dropped her panties down, picking them off up off the floor and placing them on top of the pile of her clothes.

“Here,” you tossed a pillow onto the floor between your legs.

Winter dropped to her knees in front of you, eagerly waiting for your next instruction. You pulled your pants down to your ankles

“Start by using your tongue,” you suggested.

She nodded her head and leaned forward, sticking her tongue out and giving your shaft a lick. It was adorable how she licked up and down your shaft, not knowing exactly what to do, but doing it so passionately.

“Good, keep going,” you encouraged her.

The girl kept working, licking each side of your cock. Up and down she licked, spreading her saliva all over. Then she started working your tip, licking circles around it.

“Oh yeah Winter, you’re getting good at that,” you moaned, closing your eyes as her tongue coated your cock. “Lick my balls too.”

She was definitely a great listener. Without a moment’s delay, you felt her soft tongue press against your nuts, licking every single bit of skin. She put them into your mouth, still licking them while she sucked with all her strength.

“Good fucking girl,” you moaned again. “Now try taking my whole cock down your throat.”

This was something you had to see. You opened your eyes back up as she lifted her body up slightly to get a better angle. She took a deep breath before engulfing half of your cock and then pausing.

“You got this,” you encouraged her as she struggled to go deeper. “Come on.”

She was pushing as hard as she could, her face getting slightly red. She got about three quarters of the way down your shaft before pulling it out and gasping for air.

“I can’t, it’s like there’s a wall,” she coughed, a trail of saliva connecting her lips to your cock still.

“It just takes practice, try again,” you reassured her gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand and took another deep breath. After giving you a look of determination, she once again turned her attention to your cock, this time immediately plunging back down to the same depth she reached last time.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, watching her mouth stretch as she tried her hardest to push down.

It felt fucking amazing having her struggling to take your cock. The willingness was what really did it for you. Without thinking, you placed a hand on the back of her head and gave her a small push. Your cock went deeper down her neck for a moment before she immediately pulled back.

“I’m sor-”

“I did it!” she cheered. “It felt like the wall just disappeared for a second, I guess I just needed a small push! Thank you!”

“N-No problem,” you stammered, taken aback by her reaction. “Here, come up here.”

Winter got up off her knees and climbed onto the couch so that she was on her knees next to you, bending over your crotch.

“Try to relax your neck,” you instructed her as you grabbed her head with your hands and guided her back to your cock. “I’m going to help you, just let it happen.”

“Mhmm,” Winter agreed, her mouth already filled with your cock.

She moved up and down a couple of times on her own as you gave her a moment to adjust to the new position. After a few more, you pressed your hand down against the back of her head, forcing your cock down her throat.

This time, she managed to make it all the way down before launching back up and coughing. Before you could ask if she was alright, she had already pushed her mouth onto your cock. Again, you pressed the back of her head until she went all the way down, but this time she didn’t pull out - she moved back about halfway before pushing back down onto your cock.

“Oh fuck yes Winter,” you moaned loudly. “Now you got it.”

It went on for a few minutes where nothing but the sound of Winter gagging on your cock could be heard in the room. She’d pull back halfway, then push down all the way with the help of your hand. With each consecutive thrust, you felt less and less need to push with your hand - It was starting to get easier for her.

At this point, you were barely pushing the back of her head. You started to push your hips upwards, matching her pace so that each time she plunged down onto your cock you would shove your hips into her mouth.

Your free hand began to explore her body, reaching over and grabbing a handful of her ass. You squeezed it hard, gave it a few slaps, but nothing stopped the girl from throating your cock again and again. She was determined and it showed.

“Holy fuck I’m getting close,” you gasped, feeling the pressure building up. “Wait, stop.”

Winter released your cock with a plop and turned her head sideways to look up at you.

“I thought you were getting close?” she asked innocently.

“I am, I want to do it properly,” you answered, standing up from the couch and getting in front of her. “I’m going to fuck your mouth until I cum, alright?”

She nodded eagerly, sitting down and looking up at you.

“You’re doing a fantastic job,” you complimented the girl as you brought your cock to her mouth.

She opened up with a smile before you shoved your cock into her mouth. Just like last time, you started to slam your cock into her mouth relentlessly. With a firm grip on her head with both of your hands, you started thrusting with all your energy, slamming your balls into her chin each time.

The intensity of it forced Winter to grab your thighs for support, but she held strong. She took your cock like a champ, not fighting against it at all, letting you use her throat for your own pleasure.

“I’m about to cum,” you warned her, a mere two seconds before it happened.

It wasn’t clear if she even heard you, but as soon as you felt it happen, you pushed your cock as deep down her throat as you could. You held her nose to your crotch, making sure she could feel each and every gush of cum launching out of your cock.

“Fuck yes,” you gasped, letting your cock empty itself into the cute girl’s mouth.

Once it finally felt thoroughly emptied, you let go of Winter’s head. She didn’t immediately release your cock, she slowly pulled back - it was reassuring to know that she wasn’t struggling. A bit of your cum spilled out of her mouth, sliding down her chin.

“Here, let’s not waste any,” you grabbed your cock and used it to scoop up any of the white mess that escaped her lips.

She gracefully opened her mouth to suck the cum off your tip until it was all clean. After swallowing as much as she could collect, she closed her eyes and sat there obediently as you began rubbing your cock all over her face.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Instinctually you pulled your cock away from Winter’s face and turned around, covering your junk with your hands. In the doorway stood Karina, the girl you had looked up earlier, Winter’s bandmate.

“I thought I told you to lock the door,” you whispered to Winter.

“I thought I did!” she defended herself.

Karina closed the door behind her and walked into the room, right in front of the two of you. The anger in her eyes was somewhat terrifying, but it was difficult to not be blown away by her beauty even in this moment of anger.

“So, you’re the one lying to my friend?” Karina hissed, staring right into your eyes.

“He’s not lying to me,” Winter protested from the couch.

“Shut up,” Karina turned her attention to Winter. “And why the hell are you naked?”

Winter sheepishly crossed her arms and legs to cover up.

“No point covering up now, you have no dignity left to maintain,” Karina scolded her. “And you, why are you also trying to cover up? Come on, move your hands, you clearly have no shame.”

It was odd, you couldn’t explain why you listened to her, but you moved your arms aside so that your messy cock was in the open. Perhaps it was because Karina was so fucking beautiful, you just had to listen to her. As she took a look at it, she seemed to pause for a second, losing her train of thought momentarily before snapping back into reality.

“So who’s going to explain what the fuck is going on here.”

“It was my idea,” Winter mumbled from the couch. “I was jealous of what you said, I wanted to get better at it.”

The tone in the room immediately shifted. Karina crouched down next to Winter, wearing a soft expression on her face.

“Hey,” Karina put a hand on Winter’s thigh. “I didn’t tell you that stuff to make you feel bad, it’s not a competition.”

“If it was, I’d be losing.”

“It’s not,” Karina repeated herself.

“And I know you think I’m stupid for thinking swallowing cum helps my voice,” Winter continued, the sadness felt in each syllable of her words. “But I really believe it.”

“I…” Karina looked torn, not knowing how to tell her friend she was an idiot while also not hurting her feelings. “Look, I don’t think you’re stupid for believing it, maybe it does work for some people, and maybe you’re one of those people. I don’t think it’s dumb to try.”

“You really mean it?” Winter looked up at Karina with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, it can’t hurt to try, right?” Karina smiled back at Winter.

“Did you want to try?” you asked, suddenly feeling audacious enough to take the opportunity at hand. You wanted to see how far this beauty of a girl would go to make her friend feel better. “Maybe it works for you, too?”

Before Karina could even speak, Winter lit up in excitement.

“That’s a great idea!” Winter cheered. “Like you said, it can’t hurt to try! And then I could also learn how it’s done properly!”

“W-What…” Karina began to stammer. She was stuck and she knew it.

This felt like a fever dream. Standing there with your rock hard cock out while this drop-dead gorgeous girl consoled her nude friend. It made literally no sense. What made even less sense was what Karina decided to do next.

“I… guess I could…” she sighed, gasping as Winter jumped up from the couch and hugged her.

“Thank you for believing!”

“No problem…” Karina answered half-heartedly while she glared at you over Winter’s shoulder.

After letting go of Karina, Winter got up and sat on the couch where you joined her. Karina slowly dropped down to her knees, lifting her arms up behind her head to tie her hair into a bun. Your cock was already itching to blow again, and you tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, but you knew already there was no chance you’d be able to last very long.

Winter watched intently as Karina began to lean forward, giving you a clear view of her very deep cleavage. Karina didn’t even bother using her hands, she brought her lips to your tip and slowly parted them, engulfing your cock slowly.

The way she slowly inched your cock down her throat in its entirety made you realize immediately that this girl knew what she was doing. Just as slowly as she swallowed your whole cock, she moved back up until only your tip was in her mouth. She licked at your hole a couple of times before slowly going back down your cock.

Winter was in shock, watching her friend take your entire length with ease. You almost felt bad as you were reminded of how much the girl was gagging on your cock just moments ago, but those feelings lasted barely seconds as Karina’s mouth was taking over all your senses.

Just as you predicted, this was going to be fast. As Karina bobbed up and down your cock, you could feel the pressure building up already - It was almost embarrassing. She started to move faster, steadily increasing her speed, consistently taking your entire length down her throat with each pump.

Karina’s lips made a tight seal around your cock. Perfect, it meant not a single drop of cum would be wasted. She kept her lips tight, up and down your cock, using her tongue every time she came back up to coax your load out of you. It was working - much faster than your prediction even.

The thought of warning her as you were about to blow crossed your mind, but when you remembered that sexy glare of hers from earlier, you decided against it. You’d probably feel bad about it, however right now everything felt right. She was fucking amazing at sucking your cock.

One final little lick of your tip was all it took. You started unloading ropes down her throat. Karina jolted as the first spurt shot into her mouth, but just as you predicted, she kept her lips tight around your shaft. By the time your second and third shots of cum surged out of your tip, Karina had already pushed her mouth down your cock. She held her mouth at your base until you finished unloading.

Then, as slowly as physically possible, she began lifting her mouth off your cock. She stared at you with that burning passion in her eyes, those unrealistically beautiful eyes, before tilting her head back slightly and parting her lips, showing you all the fresh cum on her tongue.

Winter squealed in excitement, covering her mouth and watching intently as Karina then closed her mouth again. In one singular motion, Karina swallowed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

“That was so impressive,” Winter gushed, in awe at what her friend just did. “Can I try again?”

It took great effort to not burst out laughing at the absurdity of her words, but you held it together. You leaned back into the couch, breathing heavily as your cock softened in front of Karina’s face, finally receiving some much-needed rest.

“Not now, you need to go get ready,” Karina replied to Winter’s request while keeping her eyes locked on you.

Winter quickly hopped off the couch and started putting her clothes back on. Even though you could see her in your periphery, your eyes were fixated on Karina. The two of you stared at each other, it wasn’t entirely clear what was going on in her head.

“Are you not coming?” Winter asked after getting dressed.

“You go, I’ll catch up in a minute,” Karina said, still staring at you.

No more words were spoken until Winter left the room and closed the door behind her. The pause felt like an eternity, only being broken up by the sound of your deep breaths.

“A warning would have been nice,” Karina broke the silence casually.

That was not what you expected. You thought she’d be mad at you or threaten you or yell at you or all of the above.

“My bad, I was lost in the moment,” you responded, equally casually. “You’re pretty good at that, by the way.”

“I know,” Karina commented confidently.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you.

“So…” you began to speak before Karina cut you off.

“What are you doing after the show?”

---

A/N:

Random inspiration, wrote this in basically one evening. I know it's not super long or anything, but this mini series is very much just a fun side project! I don't know exactly why I find so much enjoyment in writing such a ridiculous scenario, but hopefully someone else enjoys this silliness as much as I do.

Karina is very hot. Bit of a cliffhanger at the end I guess, but I'll just confirm now; Whenever I do get to writing the next part, it will probably be very Karina heavy. I don't know, I'm just on a bit of a Karina high lately.

#kpop smut #male reader #aespa smut #aespa winter smut #aespa karina smut #kpop fanfic #smut #winter #karina #aespa

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gf2bellamy · 4 months ago

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hi lovely,

i hope you enjoyed your birthday :D

i’ve had this idea for a while but i don’t think i’ll personally be able to write it so i thought you possibly could, it’s where spence and reader sit on the same seats on the jet every time they fly and it’s always next to each other, and reader is on his left. the whole team knows about their relationship and they think it’s really cute. the thing is, both spencer and reader are left handed so they can never hold hands under the table if they need to write on their files, because of this, spencer learns to be ambidextrous so he can write with his right hand and hold reader’s right hand with his left simultaneously. i’ve always found this really cute but i never knew if it would work.

again i hope you enjoyed your birthday :) thank you so so much for everything you’ve done for me and everyone else, you’re a star !!

- 🐚

ambidextrous — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing ! a/n: hiii !! thank you so so much !! this is such a sweet idea and soooo spencer <3 i love it and i hope you like this <3

Every time you boarded the jet, you always sat in the same seats—Spencer on the right, you on the left. You and Spencer didn’t even need to discuss it. It was simply tradition.

At first, the team had noticed. They'd raised their eyebrows, made a few teasing comments, but over time, it had become a familiar scene.

Now, it was just the way things were.

No one ever mentioned it anymore—there was no need. A glance, a small, almost imperceptible smile from the others when they saw the two of you settled in your spots was enough.

Yet, there was one small problem.

You were both left-handed.

It wasn’t a big issue, not really. It was just one of those small quirks of life that made the otherwise easygoing routine of the jet slightly…awkward at times.

It first became apparent the time you tried to hold Spencer's hand during a flight. You’d been reading through your notes for the case when you found yourself glancing at him. You’d reached out absentmindedly, your fingers brushing against his. He froze for a second, looking down at your hand before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

"Just need to finish this," he’d murmured, offering you an apologetic smile of his.

You’d nodded, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, right. Sorry,” you’d muttered, settling back into your seat with a soft sigh.

The problem, however, became more noticeable the more time you spent together on the jet. When you’d be deep in thought, scribbling down notes, you’d often catch him doing the same.

But then, you’d both hesitate, realizing what was happening at the same time.

“Oh, sorry, just—” You’d start, only for him to quickly reassure you with a quiet, “It's fine. I'll wait until you're done.”

At first, you didn’t realize what he was doing. You started catching little things—him writing slowly with his right hand while reading something, small scribbles in the margins of his notebook in a shaky, uncertain print.

You thought maybe he was just testing something out, or maybe he was bored.

But then one day, Spencer casually reached over with his left hand and took your right one, lacing your fingers together under the table.

Your heart fluttered, a small, surprised smile tugging at your lips.“You don’t have to stop writing just because of me,” you whispered, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not.”

You blinked, glancing down at the open file in front of him.

Sure enough, Spencer was still writing.

With his right hand.

Your brows furrowed slightly.

“Since when do you write with your right hand?” Spencer’s lips twitched.

“Since I realized I couldn’t hold your hand if I didn’t.”

Your breath hitched. It took you a second to process what he had just said. “You learned to be ambidextrous? Just so you could—”

You broke off, warmth spreading through your chest so fast it almost made you dizzy. He had changed something about himself—something as basic and fundamental as the way he wrote—just so he could hold your hand.

Spencer flushed slightly but held your gaze. “I mean, it’s not perfect yet,” he admitted, glancing at his writing. “My handwriting is kind of terrible like this, but I figured with enough practice…”

With a smile, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion.

Spencer’s shy smile widened, and he squeezed your hand back just a little tighter.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #🐚 anon

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

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˖˚⊹ i need help

➤ summary: Rafe has a breakdown, and he finally asks for help

➤ w/c: 1.4k

➤ warnings: angsty and fluffy?, crying, mentions of drugs and alcohol, ward is the worst father (this is ward’s hate space btw💋)

➤ a/n: I just want to baby him. so yeah, soft/clingy Rafe again because apparently, I can’t write anything else right now🙂

masterlist

You were sitting on Rafe’s bed, patiently listening to his firm footsteps on the staircase. The room was dimly lit only by a lamp from the nightstand and you fought back an urge to fall on your back and fall asleep with your face in his pillow.

Yet the harsh and cold voice made your head clear of your thoughts and you finally noticed your best friend walking into his own room.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe grumbled at you as soon as he slammed the door, turned the lock and turned around, only to see you sitting on his bed.

“What?” His bloodshot eyes were burning holes into you and you innocently blinked at him, not understanding why he was acting so weird.

“I said, what–”

“Don’t yell at me.” You interrupted him calmly. “We wanted to hang out; it’s been a few days since it was just the two of us. You never complain when I come here.”

“Ye-yeah, fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You watched how Rafe started pacing around the room, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was almost shaking, his hair looking like a mess, and you would’ve thought that he was on the verge of tears. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay? We’ll do it another time. Can you leave now? I– I need to be alone.”

“No, Rafe, I’m not leaving. What happened?” Your brows furrowed, concern and nerves bubbling inside of your body as you watched how your friend and the guy you had a crush on was slowly breaking down.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, Y/N.” He mumbled, still not staying in one place. “Just go.”

“I told you no.”

“Why can’t you listen to what I’m fucking telling you?!” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you as if he were trying to scare you away. Yet you remained still in your place, not even flinching. Your brows shot up in silent question, eyes were glued to his face, and especially to the way his own eyes became more glassy and watery with every second. “Fuck, fuck—I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to yell at you.”

“Then don’t. You know I hate it when you’re doing it, Rafe.” You continued calmly. “Sit here and tell me what happened. I see that something’s wrong. It’s been that way for a long time, right? You’re acting differently… C’mere.” You patted the bed near you, giving Rafe a reassuring smile.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” Sitting near you on the bed and holding his head in his hands, Rafe spoke so quietly that you could barely hear him. “I’m going insane. I have issues and nobody hears me.” You slowly, as if you were touching a wounded animal, put your hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down.

“Tell me. I’m here and I hear you. Please tell me what’s going on.” You tried to sound as soft as you could, moving a little bit closer. “You know you can trust me.”

“There’s something wrong with me. I— I have thoughts in my head that I don’t like. They’re bad. They’re wrong. I don’t want to be violent or feel these things inside of me but I c-can’t stop. They’re stronger than I am and sometimes they’re messing with my head.” Rafe’s voice cracked at the end and you felt the violent beating of your heart in your chest. He sniffed a few times, desperately trying to be strong in front of you and to hide the disgusting things that were eating him up alive.

“Are they dangerous to others or to you?”

“Both.”

You slowly nodded, processing the information and trying not to show the way it actually freaked you out. Did you know that Rafe struggled with anger and was not everyone's favorite person? Well, yes. He was nothing but sweet to you, though. You saw that he was a nice person, with a good heart. The only thing that he wanted in return was to feel needed, important, and loved.

And you always gave it to him.

But realizing that there were problems so much deeper and that he was now screaming for help because he could not live like that anymore made you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice the signs earlier.

“Did you talk to your dad about it? Maybe anyone else? Or is it just me? ” You finally reached Rafe's face with your hand, turning him in your direction. You’ve never seen him even shed a tear, not to mention the state that he was in right now and it was shocking how much it hurt you too. The look in his pretty eyes was so desperate and so hurtful that you felt sick.

“He told me to man up. Cool, right? Can’t even do shit without disappointing him. I–I said that I have problems, but he just ignored it. He told me to rest and that it'd be okay.” He smiled at you, even though tears were still freely streaming down his face. “I just thought that maybe once he would hear me. See me. Not Sarah. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He shook his head and looked down. “So it’s only you. Nobody really cares about me anyway, so...”

“Oh, Rafe… Come here.” He wasn’t resisting when you dragged him closer to you by his arm. No, instead, he wrapped his arms around you as if his life were depending on it. You hugged Rafe back, slowly lowering both of you on the bed, until he was lying almost on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers slowly brushing through his hair.

What you noticed is that Rafe was always cautious with physical contact. Sometimes it seemed like he tried to be closer to you, sit near you, or casually play with your hands or hair, but the next day he was completely dispant and hesitant.

It was obvious that now Rafe lowered his guards; he let you see the damaged parts of him and he craved your touch because it was the only thing that could ground him.

“I need help. I’m tired of this shit in my head, and I don’t want to continue ruining my life with alcohol and drugs…but it just calms everything down for some time and I don’t know how to come out of this circle.” Rafe sobbed harder, his arms wrapping around you even more, until you were closer than you'd ever been before. Your own eyes were filled with tears, but you refused to show them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a disappointment. P-please don’t walk away.”

You knew about Rafe’s lifestyle, but despite your words, he always made it seem like not a big deal, like something fun that he does at parties. Though now it was obvious that the facade that he had built was slowly falling down and drowning him in it too.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rafe. It’s not your fault. But you do need help, darling.” You whispered, pet name rolling from your tongue faster than you could’ve processed it. “It’s important that you understand it. And I’m not leaving. It’s the last thing that should be in your head.”

“I do. I want to get clean. I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.”

“That’s okay. I’m here for you, yeah? Your dad may not hear you, but I do and I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together tomorrow, okay? Now you need to rest a little bit.” You reached the end of the bed, dragging a duvet and covering both of you with it. Rafe didn't move an inch from your warmth.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Rafe. You mean a lot to me; you know that, right? More than you think.” You whispered, soothingly brushing his blond hair again.

“You mean a lot to me too. More than you think.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff

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theminecraftbee · 5 months ago

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Pearl stops and stares once she gets to the front of the line at the Hermitopia Permit Office. She’s here to renew her ID, since she’s required to have a valid driver’s license for her mail carrier job she’s only recently moved here. Normal stuff, really. If it weren’t for the secret of why she’d actually moved to town, she’d have probably taken the license photo, filled out the paperwork, and left.

She is not here for a mail carrier job, and she can see things no one else in line can.

“I know, I know, I have a very beautiful face,” says the demon at the counter in the flattest affect Pearl has heard in her life. “Look, lady, there’s a line and I want to be on break, so if you’re going to sexually harass me or something can you hurry up and speedrun through doing it?“

She also doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“What?” she says.

“I mean, you’re staring at me awfully closely,” the demon says. “What am I supposed to assume? Surely you know that’s rude.”

“I’m not into men,” Pearl instantly lies for absolutely no reason.

“Okay? I don’t need to know that for your driver’s license?” the demon says.

“Right. Um,” Pearl says. She’s a little reluctant to hand the plastic sandwich bag she’d put her proof of address in over to a demon. If she’d just been a mail carrier and couldn’t See, it would be one thing, but she simply hadn’t been expected to come across the consequences of Hermitopia’s rumored hellmouth so immediately.

Or so…

The demon sighs again with an impressive amount of passive-aggression.

Pearl slides the documents to him. She watches as the demon gives everything several once-overs. He’s neither seemed to have noticed that she’s a psychic or that she’s a hunter. If anything, he seems to be trying his level best to avoid doing anything other than playing with several small desk nicknacks he has. One appears to be a magic eight ball shaped like a robot. Another appears to be a miniature game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Yet another appears to be some kind of controller for the painfully inoffensive music the permit office plays.

Frankly, they’re all almost as distracting as the eyes that cover every inch of the demon’s body that isn’t wearing the permit office uniform. The eyes glow, faint and unsettling. They move as though on a higher framerate than the universe, giving a strange, out-of-sync effect with the way the demon otherwise moves. They make Pearl’s heart pound.

Hermitopia Hellmouth. It’s real. It’s real.

The demon gives her paperwork back. “You’ll be mailed a new license at some point. Here’s the temp. Have a day or whatever.”

“Thanks, er…” She squints at his name tag. It’s in deliberately small font. “Grian?”

Grian waves her off. “If my boss gets mad I’ll tell him it’s your fault I’m not meeting KPIs. Go away.”

“Your boss must be tough,” Pearl says.

There is a long, eerie silence.

“Cub would have Stared back. I’m not paid to bother. Learn to shield better. Next.”

Pearl stands still for a beat too long before stepping out of line, clutching her temporary license in hand. The worst part is that she has to wait for the permanent one, and they’ll only mail it to the physical address she gave them. That’s the thing about government-issued IDs; they care where you physically are.

She breathes. The world’s been overwhelming since she’s learned to See, but her new organization has helped a lot. Now, she has an opportunity to help back, here in Hermitopia.

Pearl owes nothing less than her best, presuming the demons don’t come to the address they apparently have in the night, now that they know she’s here, and she knows they are. She shudders, deeply unsettled. She knows she will not sleep tonight.

(After all, for a moment—a single, horrifying, terrible moment—those hundreds of demonic eyes had seemed kind.)

#hermitcraft #pearlescentmoon #grian #a bee fic #I DONT KNOW MAN SOMETIMES I AM STRUCK BY AU CONCEPTS #maybe I’ll come back to this at some point #anyway: demonic dmv time.

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mister0ctopus · 6 months ago

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apart-mental issues part 1

mini series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: Neighbor JK x Reader

Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook.

PART 1: burrito warrior fuck my life 5 stars thin walls tangerines what's in the box? mission: possible perfect! easy fix

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbor JK, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.6K

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN Masterlist

AskMe

🌯 burrito warrior

You did it!

After months of endless scrolling, awkward tours, and disappointments, you finally found the one—the perfect apartment!

No roommates? Check!

Near the bus stop, grocery stores, coffee shops? Check!

Near your school and work? Check!

Modern apartment with high-tech amenities? Well, not check.

The building’s slightly dated exterior gave away its age, but hey, it was well-maintained and had that cozy, lived-in charm. So,

Vibes? Check!

It’s your first night in your new apartment, surrounded by a sea of sealed boxes (except for a mattress you’d laid on the floor). You feel accomplished. The drive from your old place was a nightmare, and you’ve got exactly five boxes with you, mostly clothes, books, and some appliances. Everything else is apparently still “on its way”, thanks to online shopping apps! You’re so ready for this fresh start. New apartment, new life!

You’d even spotted your next-door neighbor earlier—a tall, cute guy with arm tattoos and a sharp jawline. An eye candy wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t seem to notice you as he checked his mail while walking to his door, and you were glad, given your limited social skills.

After a much-needed shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and waited for your food delivery. Starving, tired, and ready to crash, you finally heard a knock at the door.

AAAhhh!!! My buritooo!!!

You had added a note to your order to leave the food by your door. When the knocking stopped, you sprinted to the door, too hungry to think straight.

You opened the door to grab the paper bag, but just as your fingers brushed the edge, your foot caught on the doorframe, and the next thing you knew, you were slipping. Your arms flailed, grasping for anything to steady yourself but it was too late. A loud thud, then your feet hit something heavy, followed by another crash.

Disoriented, you blinked and found yourself on the floor, head resting awkwardly against the door. Your towel clung to your damp body as you processed the scene: the potted plant that once stood proudly in the hallway was now on the ground, soil scattered everywhere—and somehow, all over you. You groaned in disbelief, covered in dirt, your towel the only thing that kept you from being fully exposed.

Shit. Fuck. Great.

You didn’t move, your eyes squeezed shut in disbelief. The floor was cold against your skin, and as you stayed perfectly still, wishing this wasn’t real, a door swung open.

Your next-door neighbor.

Tattoos, sweatpants, an oversized shirt, messy hair—and ogling at the crime scene with his round, shocked eyes.

"What’s going on? You okay?"

His voice was calm but obviously concerned, which, honestly, was fair considering the sight before him: soil everywhere, woman on the floor, clutching a towel and burritos, hair wet.

It’s like a storybook with no text—just look at the scene and you’ll get the plot.

“Oh, uh…” you gestured at the mess. “Yeah, fine. Just… gardening at midnight. It’s a thing I do.”

He leaned against the doorframe, huffing. “Cool hobby. Very niche.”

You exhaled sharply.

"You need help? Didn’t break your spine or something? Here." He didn’t wait for a response, just offered his hand like it was the most casual thing in the world.

But you were too embarrassed to process any of it. You didn’t want help, didn’t want to exist, didn’t want to be perceived at all.

“Nope, I’m good. Just gonna lay here for a while.”

You wished you could just sink into the floor.

"Alright," he said, shrugging as if he’d offered you a hand, not a whole rescue mission. "If you say so. Holler if you need help, I’m right next door, as you can clearly see.”

He disappeared back into his apartment, leaving you on the floor with shame, dirt, and your burrito.

Never speaking to anyone here again? CHECK!

Once the coast was clear, you carefully got up, trying to shake the soil off your body, your towel clinging to you like it’s the only thing keeping you together. With a frustrated sigh, you reached for the door handle, but as your hand gripped it and you gave it a shake, you realized—it was locked.

You rattled it again, more forcefully this time, but no, it didn’t budge.

Locked out.

In a towel.

At midnight.

With a burrito in one hand.

“Fuck my life.”

🖕🏼fuck my life

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

You paced the hallway, trying to come up with the best course of action.

Minutes later, your next-door neighbor’s door opened again.

“You still out here?” His voice was casual, and you saw him standing there, now in a gray pajama set, holding a water bottle, looking at you like you were the weirdest creature he’d ever seen.

You tried to play it cool. “Oh, just, uh… admiring the hallway. Great maintenance work here. Big fan of this paint job.”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. He narrowed his eyes, “You locked yourself out, didn’t you?”

You stared at him.

Yes, observant king. Just goooo…

You groaned. But you try to sound optimistic “Yes, I locked myself out. But it’s fine! I’ll just wait here for the landlord in the morning.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head as his eyes scanned you up and down. "At midnight? In a towel? Freezing?"

You gave him a pained smile, doing your best to hold it together despite the chill creeping through your towel.

Leaning against the doorframe, he gave you a look that said he was mildly bothered by your situation. "I’ll call the landlord, but knowing Mr. Kang, he’s probably gonna pick up in the morning." He paused, then added, “Wanna borrow some clothes or something? You’re gonna freeze out here."

Before you could respond, he vanished inside his apartment. A few moments later, he reappeared with a pair of gray sweatpants and a hoodie, phone pressed to his ear.

"He’s not answering, but I texted him. Hopefully, he’ll see it when he wakes up. They should be able to send someone as early as 6 am.”

As soon as you had the clothes in hand, you quickly threw on the hoodie. It was so big, it reached your knees, so you skipped the pants altogether. It smelled so good you wonder what laudry detergent he used. Meanwhile, he was still fiddling with his phone, his eyes focused on the screen.

“You have no one to call?” he asked, clearly trying to come up with a plan to help.

You didn’t have anyone to call. Your friends and family were either overseas, or hours away, but you didn’t want to get into that. So instead of answering him, you decided to with your genius idea and ask the question that had been floating in your mind.

“I haven’t asked for your name. I’m YN,” you said, offering an awkward smile.

“Jungkook,” he replied, his attention still on his phone.

“Jungkook,” you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. Then, with a serious face, you asked him, “Jungkook, would you be able to help me if I asked you to break my door down?”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 5 stars

"Alright, let's do it," he said, cracking his knuckles.

Jungkook was game. No hesitation. When you casually suggested the idea of him breaking down your door, he didn’t even blink. Like he was waiting for you to say it.

He popped his phone into his pocket and strolled over to the door like he did this sort of thing on the regular.

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he replied, smirking like this was the most casual thing to do. "If you want the door broken, we’ll break the door. Let’s keep it quick, though. We don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“Alright, door’s all yours,” you said, stepping aside and plopping down on the floor.

Jungkook was already squatting by the door, eyeing the lock with way too much focus. You, on the other hand, were sitting there, happily devouring your cold burrito.

He took a step back, raised his shoulder, and rammed into the door.

It only took one, or maybe two, solid hits before you heard the satisfying crack of the door frame giving way. The door literally flew open, and you casually took another bite of your burrito.

He stood there, hands on his hips, clearly proud of himself. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy." He glanced at you, asking, “You good?”

You gave him a thumbs-up, chewing slowly. “Yeah, excellent work. Five stars. Thank you.”

With a grin, he answered you with a thumbs-up and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood," before heading back to his apartment.

You strolled into your now wide-open apartment, finishing off your burrito.

That night, you used some boxes to keep the door “locked.”

The next morning, you opened the door to find your landlord standing there with a toolbox. He blinked at the door, taking in the wreckage.

You shrugged. “Sorry. Had no choice. Next door helped me out.”

He scratched his head before getting to work on the lock. When he finished, he gave you a pointed look. “Just… try not to have any more emergencies with the door, okay?”

You smiled. “I’ll try my best.”

🎧thin walls

You started to settle into your new place. There were still a few pieces of furniture you hadn’t assembled yet, but it was starting to look homey and feel cozy. You adjusted to juggling school and work, finishing the classes you postponed last year to finally graduate.

But every time you remember your first night, you wince.

Almost naked, dirt all over you, lying on the floor like you’re auditioning for a disaster movie… like what the hell.

Embarrassing. Okay, fine, the burrito part was kinda fun, especially when he casually broke down the door…

You even reenacted the part where you were lying on the floor, just to see how ridiculous you looked.

The incident kept replaying in your head, and the more you thought about it, the worse it seemed.

You couldn’t shake how embarrassing it was.

You were thankful to Jungkook, sure. He basically saved you, like some kind of real-life Spider-Man, but why, instead of just thanking him like a normal person, are you avoiding him?

You’ve been dodging him for weeks now, and every time you even think about it, you feel like sinking with the floor.

And because you had been avoiding him, you became familiar with your next-door neighbor’s usual activities—what time he left for work, when he normally came home, whether he had visitors over…

Sometimes he’d have friends over. You assumed they were playing and/or drinking because of the cheers, banter, and sometimes you’d hear them wrestling (?), based on the violent slaps or panicked “ouch, ouch, I’m sorry, please put me down, Jungkookaaa!!!”

You knew he had the same friend group because you had already recognized them by their distinct laughs. There’s the windshield laugh, and then there’s the one with the high-pitched, sharp, hysterical laugh that’s always accompanied by clapping.

Thin walls.

They could be pretty loud, but they usually wrapped up before around 11 pm.

One night, when you had to wake up early for class the next day, you were kept awake by a girl’s high-pitched, giggly voice.

“Oh my god, Jungkook, stopppp,” she squealed, clearly not wanting him to stop at all.

Then came the sounds you really didn’t need to hear—the soft creak of a mattress, her breathy moans, and a muffled, “Fuck, you’re so good,” that made your stomach churn.

You groaned, stuffing a pillow over your head. “Fucking hell!”

This continued until dawn.

The next night, it happened again. Different girl, same obnoxious volume. This one was louder, theatrical, like she was auditioning for something.

“Jungkook!” she gasped, her voice echoing through the walls. “Right there, oh my god—”

You shoved your headphones in, blasted “Deep Layered Brown Noise,” and flipped a middle finger at the wall separating your rooms.

This kept happening for two weeks! TWO WEEKS!!! You were so done. Angry and ready to lash out, you thought, God, give me a break!!!

🍊tangerines

You were never the confrontational type. You were more of the passive-aggressive girlie... until you exploded.

So instead of confronting him, you carried on avoiding him. That was until you ran into him on the stairs, arms loaded with groceries in two paper bags.

“You need help?” he asked.

“Nope, I’ve got it,” you lied, seconds before one of the bags tore, and your tangerines scattered across the floor, some rolling down the staircase.

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head. “You good?”

“Totally. Love chasing fruit in public,” you deadpanned, scrambling to collect the scattered tangerines.

He helped anyway, gathering what he could into his hands. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You spotted a few tangerines still rolling down the stairs but decided it was fine. You could survive being vitamin C deficient.

“You’re still getting used to this ‘living alone’ thing, huh?” he said, amused.

“Yeah, well, I’ll never get used to having loud neighbors,” you shot back, surprising even yourself.

He froze, just as surprised as you. After a moment of thought, he bit his bottom lip and turned to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you could hear.”

“Well, now you know. Thin walls. Thin fucking walls,” you snapped, your weeks’ worth of irritation spilling over before you stormed off to your apartment.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Jungkook holding the remaining tangerines he’d picked up from the stairs.

You could tell he was about to say something—his mouth opened slightly—but you snatched the fruits, avoided his gaze, and quickly muttered, “Thanks,” before shutting the door.

📦 what's in the box?

You were just about to shut down from exhaustion as you reached your door after your late-night shift when you noticed a package sitting by your door.

A brown box.

Thinking it was just one of the things you’d ordered, you picked it up and fiddled with your keys to get inside.

But just as you held the knob, the door to your neighbor’s apartment opened. You panicked, your hand hastily sliding the keys in.

Oops. You'd already locked eyes with Jungkook.

He was standing there, grinning like a devil…

What’s he up to now?

In his hand is also a brown box, and based on the way it was crinkling at the top, it looked like it had already been opened, and you could see pink ruffles peeking through.

He strolled over to you, extending the box, and casually said, “There’s been a mix-up. This was delivered to me. I opened it thinking it was mine since I was expecting a package today, and it didn’t have a name on it, just the unit number. Sorry if I missed that.”

“Uh... okay?” you muttered, still not fully processing what was going on.

“I believe that is mine,” he smiled, casually gesturing to the box you were holding.

“Oh, okay,” you muttered, quickly swapping boxes with him. But the moment your fingers wrapped around your box and your eyes landed on the contents inside, your jaw dropped.

The entire box was full of pink toys—pink dildos, pink handcuffs, a penis-shaped headband, a pink gag, and… was that a penis-shaped stress ball? Who even invents this stuff? Genius! But oh my god.

You checked the box for any details, but nope—no name, just your unit number and address.

“It’s for my friend,” you blurted defensively, but your voice trailed off as the absurdity of explaining yourself hit you. Why are you explaining?

“Sure it is.”

You didn’t have to look at Jungkook to know his grin was now a full-on, teeth-baring smile. You could feel it.

Without saying another word, you quickly turned your back on him and hurriedly unlocked your door.

Once inside, you grabbed your phone, and angrily dialed the number for the suspect—

“Heyyy!” came the cheerful voice of Hwasa on the other end.

“Hwasa, I swear to God!” you started, feeling the panic rise in your chest. “Why did you send bridal party package to my new apartment?? We all agreed to send it to you!! Oh my God, my neighbor opened it, because our package got mixed up! He saw all those freakin dildos! Also, why didn’t they put a name on it?!”

“Girl, calm down! Why you panicking like this?” Hwasa said, her voice as chill as a cucumber. “First of all, I didn’t order it. It was Jen! Or was it Stace? Whatever! And it’s a discreet store, so they don’t slap your name on the box.”

“Make sure to fix this, okay?” you said, voice high-pitched with stress. “Send all orders to YOU from now on! I’m going to die of embarrassment here!”

“Oh my God, chill out! Why you so pressed about this neighbor seeing your fun box? What’s the deal, huh?” Hwasa teased, a mischievous grin in her voice. “Wait—hold up, is he cute? Is that why you’re shy shy?”

“I’ll tell you everything at the party, okay?” you huffed, trying to shake off the embarrassment. Then, you switched gears, like the best bridesmaids you are. “But seriously, we need to make sure Aera doesn’t suspect anything about her bridal shower, okay?”

🎯 mission: possible

Avoiding Jungkook became a serious mission. You had your reasons—perfectly rational reasons, mind you. It wasn’t like you were being dramatic or anything. It was just reason upon reason stacking up like a Jenga tower, each one reminding you why you needed to stay away from him and make sure nothing else added to the pile.

But humor me, you silently asked the universe: why did every encounter with him have to be either embarrassing or irritating?

Fortunately, you knew his schedule by now (thanks to the thin walls, but screw you still): he left just as you were getting up for school, and by the time you came home after work, it was late enough that he was probably already asleep.

No run-ins, no more awkward exchanges.

For three glorious weeks, your plan worked. You didn’t see him. Not once. It was bliss.

Lofi hip hop radio chill.

Jungkook-free, stress-free.

Perfect.

☕️ perfect!

It was one of those days that felt like it had lasted a year. Work was… well, work was always exhausting, your studies were an endless grind of beating deadlines and exams and lectures, and everything was going wrong. You got home, drained, and just wanted to curl up with a giant cup of coffee to prepare for your next round of studying.

But of course, your coffee maker had decided to just... stop working. Or something. And you had run out of instant coffee. Perfect.

You stood there, staring at it, willing it to work, until you finally snapped.

“Are you seriously kidding me?!” you screamed at the broken appliance, as though it would suddenly decide to come to life and apologize.

Frustrated, you suddenly craved some fresh air, so you grabbed your trash, decided to throw it out—along with the useless coffee maker—and unleashed your anger on the dumpster.

But frustration quickly morphed into full-blown rage, and for a moment, you felt like you wanted to fight someone. You were so angry that tears pricked at your eyes, as though crying was the only way to release it. But you wouldn’t.

So, instead, you kicked the garbage can. Only to hit your toes, causing you to squat in pain, while still hugging the coffee maker.

Now you were laughing, because the universe clearly hated you. Yes, definitely Mercury in retrograde. Nothing was fucking working!!!

And then, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned, and—of course—it was Jungkook.

Of all the days.

He gave you a concerned look. “You… okay?” he asked, tossing his trash into the large green bin.

“I’m fine. Just… you know, enjoying the ambiance. Haven’t really explored this part of the building.”

He stared at you, clearly not buying it. “Right. Well, if you need anything... I’m just next door.”

You gave him a tight smile and nodded, because, hey, if he didn’t see you having a full-on mental breakdown, it didn’t happen, right?

He didn’t see it, right?

🍬 easy fix

The next morning, you woke up with a headache, and an overwhelming sense of dread, bracing yourself for another long day. You got ready, but as you stepped out of your door, you froze.

There, sitting neatly beside it, was your coffee maker. Placed in a box, looking all shiny and clean.

And taped to it was a note, written in neat, handwritten scrawl: “It was an easy fix – JK.”

You blinked at it for a solid thirty seconds. What the hell?

You picked up the coffee maker and set it back where it belonged, plugged it in, and saw the ON button light up. You stood there, clutching your chest, staring at the note.

Jungkook had fixed your coffee maker. Just like that. He never had to, but he did. Out of the kindness of his heart?

This was... sweet? Too sweet?

And now, you were feeling things—things you weren't supposed to feel. Things like gratitude mixed with an embarrassing amount of attraction.

Listen... don’t judge, okay? If you’re a child who grew up with busy parents, barely seeing them, and left to tend to yourself, acts of service like this are dangerous.

Because they make you feel important. And loved. And other things you’d rather not name because it’s better that way.

But, you’re feeling things.

And it's making you uncomfortable.

Next ->

a/n: lmk in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist. I’d appreciate it if you let me know what you think! <3 Thank you and happy holidays if you’re celebrating! :)

-🐙

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