#this can fall very comfortably into that continuity

[stargirlstabber]

sharing is caring

featuring. sevika and jinx

a/n. i wrote this tonight and uh- not guaranteed that everything makes sense, i typed that in my notes with my eyes half in my skull already :) english isn't my first language, but i already know y'all don't care✨

cw. smut, MDNI, smoking, riding vika's strap on, nipple play, some spanks, dom/sub

sevika leaned back on the couch in silco's office. she smoked a cigarette while she watched you struggle to lift yourself up and down on her thick strap on.

ridden of any clothing that might get in the way, your body was bare. a big contrast to your girlfriend, who was almost fully clothed under you, pants only opened enough to secure the strap on on her hips. sevika liked that contrast.

"c'mon, little girl, you can do better than that", she patted your thigh with her mechanical arm, gripping your flesh before giving it a spank.

without a warning, sevika skyrocketed her hips, pushing her strap on up to a place you thought it couldn't reach. with squeezed shut eyes, you let your body fall forward, burying your girlfriend's face between your tits. a smirk was across her lips, liking the gaspy moan that left your plump lips.

her hand now gave your ass a rather harsh spank, "i didn't tell you to stop, did i? go on."

your trembling legs were on either side of her hips and your sweaty hands on her collarbones, trying to steady yourself, still feeling her deep inside as you continue to lift yourself up and down. the muscular woman comfortably slouched there, admiring your bouncing tits and enjoying your whines and whimpers as you ride her.

but she didn't expect jinx to come in. not at all. the blue haired girl was taken off guard by the sight, but shrugged it off quickly, walking towards the two of you. puffing some smoke out, sevika glanced at her over your shoulder.

feeling a new hand snaking its way up and giving your breast a squeeze, your head whipped around in surprise, seeing a hue of blue before the second hand quickly comes up and turns your head back to facing sevika.

"tut tut tut, keep your eyes on her."

jinx.

and you did, your eyes met sevika's orbs. she just nodded, wordlessly telling you that it's okay for her, if you were okay with it. it was your time to nod.

you didn't have anything against the idea of jinx joining in, knowing sevika would stop her if she'd done something she shouldn't.

jinx has always liked teasing you. ever since sevika introduced her to you after you unexpectedly showed up to bring your girlfriend something she forgot at home.

now she's teasing you again. just not with words, but this time with actions. with her hands.

her fingers rolled your nipples between them, tugging and squeezing the sensitive buds here and there to tickle a moan out of you as she helped you, guiding your movements on top of sevika.

the young woman's voice was close to your ear, "oh, you like that, huh? me playing with these little nubs, hm?"

the only answer she got was a whine when her hands left your tits.

"don't you worryyy, just concentrate on giving your girlfriend a show", her hands ran down your sides before going to your drenched little cunt, targeting your swollen clit as her next victim.

you were being a good girl, so you did as you were told. you concentrated on giving sevika her 'show'.

hands still on her collarbones for a tiny bit of support, you started once again. lifting your hips before going back down again and again and again.

the room was filled with moans, whines and whimpers from you, here and there a groan or a huff from sevika and snickers from jinx. and, of course, the squelchy sound of your pussy stretching around vika's dick.

soon, very soon actually, another orgasm tightened inside of you, crash I down on you like a tsunami.

your vision went white, limbs shaking as your mouth hung open, unable to push a single sound out at the overwhelming feeling.

with a smirk on her face, the blue haired kept on assaulting your clit, not leaving the overstimulated bud alone for even a second.

sevika started rocking her hips up into you with a steady rhythm, pushing two of her fingers into your mouth.

you, still in a daze, instinctively started sucking, swirling your tongue around her digits.

"sharing is caring", jinx's eyes practically lit up after she scooped a little amount of cum, that pushed itself fast the tight fit of you around sevika, and greedily tasted it, "gotta get her to give me more of that."

vika's hand now took a hold of your hair and  pulled you down, "you gonna be a good girl for me and give jinx what she wants?"

[svnflowerkae]

How LADS boys reacts to Caleb's return

So...first time ever doing this type of thing and since I can't sleep and my mind keeps me on thinking about this...here we go! Also sorry if thare are typos/errors.

tw: MC can be read as reader, gn!reader, angsty, comfort, they boys are MAD (esp Zayne), mention of death, grieving, time skip (based on the story events).

Sylus has been worried all day about you. He knew something off but he never insisted on letting you talk before you were sure. You've been pacing in his living room for awhile, your phone in your hands. You couldn't believe that the Official Linkon City Hall contacted you to confirm that Grandma and Caleb were officially dead. You whole life was falling about again, right in front of you, again.

As you put stop to go in circles, Sylus carefully approached you. He didn't want to make things harder than they were already were but he couldn't bear seeing you suffering. As he hugged you, you started to sob uncontrollably, trembling in his arms. Sylus kissed your head, swaying the two of you, trying to calm you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm here, let it all out". His hand caressing your check. His thumb taking away a few of your tears. You were so shocked that even if you wanted to talk, tell everything to Sylus, you couldn't. It's like your voice disappeared.

Sylus continue to kiss your head, caressing your face and giving you lots and lots of comfort. After a while you fell asleep on his chest.

Sylus didn't really knew Caleb and he just knew, from you, that you two were very close friends. He knew though that something was off and he was going to investigate it. If this Caleb was really going to be back he would make sure he never hunted you again.

Rafayel the day he was aware of the possible of Caleb was on the defensive side. You talked about him a few times and Rafayel saw how you grieved about his death. Countless nights and days passed by before you could get yourself together, even a little bit to be a functioning human again. And countless were the nights and days were Rafayel spent his time beside you, even if that meant not painting at all. You were is first and for most priority and, at that time, he certainly couldn't leave you all alone.

At the news, Rafayel made sure you were always by his side. His protective side coming off and scaring everyone who was approaching you. He barely showed this side of him, but in this case? In this case he couldn't let a stupid, foolish human to be near you again, not after what he saw.

"Miss bodyguard, what about I paint something for you?" Rafayel asked, his cheerful self trying to make you smile. Your eyes were watching the distant sea, completely lost in your thoughts. But Rafayel didn't have to wait for an answer. Posing his head on your thighs he looked at the most precious thing in his life: you. Caressing your thighs and hands, Rafayel never stopped to stare at you and when you turn your gaze to him a smile was on your face. Your hands messed up Rafayel'a hair. A playful pout on his face.

But for Rafayel that was enough to know you acknowledge he was there for you.

Xavier and you were cuddling on the couch, watching a film they were making on TV. Not to lie, it was a bit boring and Xavier was about to sleep when he heard a small sob coming from you. At first he was confused but then saw you with your telephone in hands, reading a message.

If weeks prior the Linkon City Hall had texted you that Grandma and Caleb were officially deceased, now, there was a possibility that, at least Caleb, was alive. You hoped for that dearly, your heart aching at the possibility of seeing your best friend. Xavier saw you were blocked on that screen for a long time, tears streaming down your face as your body subtly twitched.

Xavier hugged you, his head on the crook of your neck. He wasn't very good with words and he knew little to nothing about this Caleb and your relationship with him. You barely talked about the accident, too hurtful for you. Xavier kissed your cheeck many times, even biting it lovingly to make you calm down. He wanted to make sure you knew he was there with you and for you.

Whoever this Caleb was, Xavier would do anything to protect you. At the end, he was your Lumiere.

Zayne knew this moment was coming, it was inevitable but after seeing you destroyed after the bomb accident he couldn't let him hurt you again. How could Zayne forget how you barely eat and sleep? How could he bear the sight of his loved one suffer again?

You been quiet for days, always going to the Hospital Zayne worked for. He knew you did this especially when something was not right. Zayne shift ended a few minutes ago and he let you into his studios. You two were in complete silence, the only sound in the room were you and Zayne chewing on your food.

Zayne felt so sorry but at the same time he was controlling himself. Seeing your face calmed him down a bit.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. He wasn't one to show easily his emotion, but he too, knew you since when you too were little. He didn't gain an answer from you, but, that was an answer for him. He tried to talk to you, comforting you but you seemed in another space. Getting up, Zayne sited on the chair next you. His hands now were taking yours, leaving kisses here and there. You sniffed and, after a long time, you finally looked at him. A small smile appeared on your face. Zayne smiled back.

If it was true that Caleb's was really alive, he would make sure that he could never be near you again.

[bitchface24-7]

Bro holy fuck that JayVik Drabble was everything

Maybe you can do a fic where it’s JayVik x reader

(Plz be gender neutral, not fem reader ONLY 😭, male readers will love you istg)

and they aren’t public, like their relationship is still under wraps. But they fall asleep cuddled in the lab and Caitlyn and Vi come in for a hangout they were supposed to go to (like going to the lab to get the three and head off to their destination), and see the three cuddled up together, then teasing them with how cute they are after they wake up.

❤️

THANK GOD FOR JAYCE TALIS PT 2 - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Jayce has finally put his foot down in regards to the council, allowing for a more doable schedule. He gets to continue his councillor duties, but he also gets to see his two partners on a more daily basis; AND he gets to help with researching and trialing Hextech. The only thing is you’ve kept your relationship under wraps, and you’ve completely forgotten a previous engagement that you all agreed to. Oopsies….

warnings: allusions to sex, getting caught cuddling, funny argument, pre-established relationships, all in all; this is a fluffy mess, again no beta LMAO

genre: m/m/f, m/m/m, and f/f (caitvi obvi)

p.s. You’re my first ever request in my inbox and I’ve damn near had my Tumblr for a decade, so this is quite special to me. I hope my writing lives up to your standards!! Xoxo (I do indeed continue fics if I get comments asking as well, I love when y’all love my writing 🥹🥹)

After some heavy encouragement, Jayce had headed to the council’s meeting room with his head held high and his steps even. He was making a fair request, a request that many of the councillors would not deny him.

Why would they? He’s their “golden boy” the “man of progress” he’s gonna milk their forced upon image to get what he wants.

And he does.

He’s able to still continue his councillor duties, but he’s not as restrained. He’s still able to be in the lab with two of the people he loves most (not including him mama, she’ll always have a reserved spot in his heart.)

The three of you are overjoyed at the progress made. It feels like the first day all over again; all those years ago. The three of you in the lab, researching, testing, joking around. It’s like a secluded heaven.

The one upside is the couch you all pooled money into getting. Now, you know you’ve done some… inappropriate things on that couch. You and Viktor. You and Jayce. You, Jayce, and Viktor. Viktor and Jayce.

But you heavily sanitize it afterwards! You’re not animals!

The one major upside is that the couch is a pull-out bed. Is the couch itself appealing to look at? Maybe to some, but the bright salmon kinda clashes with everything else in the lab but who cares? It’s there as a means of comfort to you and your two partners; not as something to be looked at and never used (as some Piltovian people do in their own houses. Like… what?)

So when the three of you have pulled another all nighter, now almost 72 hours of no sleep. You’re exhausted. You’re smelling colours and tasting sound. You can’t possibly leave in this state in a safe manner; so you three decide to set up the pull-out bed and take a nap before continuing to work. You three may have forgotten something very important.

The planned lunch you agreed to attend with Caitlyn and Vi. And they’re coming to get you now.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Two sets of footsteps are heard reverberating in the academy’s halls. One is light, almost completely silent. While the other, is a bit heavier but quicker.

Caitlyn and Vi have been wanting to catch up with you three desperately. Jayce is like Caitlyn’s older brother, and one of Vi’s best friends. Vi feels like a part of home came with her in both you and Viktor, and Caitlyn loves the two of you. You’re both witty and sarcastic. The two of you are older figure Caitlyn can go to when she doesn’t want to deal with either of her parents or Jayce.

So imagine their surprise as they enter the lab, unlocked for once, and see the three of you cuddled up in a pull-out bed. Fitting together like a small puzzle.

Jayce is closest to the lab doors, his back facing them as he breathes deeply, an arm stretched out over your waist and a hand clasping at Viktor’s. You’re in the middle, on your back as one hand lays cross your stomach and the other in Viktor’s hair. Your head is tilted to rest upon Jayce’s chest. Viktor’s on the side closest to a window, his weaker leg is supported by a pillow as his other leg is bent, coming over one of your thighs.

You three look adorable.

Caitlyn and Vi can’t help but smile at the three of you, it isn’t until Caitlyn sees a mischievous look on Vi’s face does she realize what her girlfriend is about to do.

“Vi don’t—“

“WAKE UP SLEEPY HEADS!”

The three of you groan, Jayce jolts up and runs a hand over his face, you cover yourself in the blankets, and Viktor just grumbles, “What the fuck, man.”

It takes about a minute or two before the realization kicks in.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ve been caught.

Jayce tries to sputter an excuse as you and Viktor just lay in bed silently, trying to pretend Caitlyn and Vi aren’t there. It’s isn’t until Caitlyn sighs do the two of you look at her.

“My brother… really?”

Jayce is stunned speechless as the two of you roar in laughter. His sputtering for an excuse has changed into an indignant whine, “Cait, you’re so mean to me.”

“Looks like you’re into that.”

“Vi!”

“What pretty boy, am I wrong?”

You wipe a tear from your eye, only to be sent into hysterics again by Viktor’s response, “She’s right.”

Caitlyn fake gags and dry heaves, “Oh my god, I did NOT need to know that!”

Vi just puts a fist out for Jayce to fist-bump, “Good on ya man.”

Jayce smiles and fist bumps her. You three really had no need to worry.

“So… was it the rugged look that did you in?”

“Vi!”

“What cupcake, I’m just asking a question!Jeez.” Vi says innocently, her hands raised in surrender.

“Kind of,” you start, as you finally sit up and try to get out of bed. Viktor’s leg stops you, “I mean I’ve always loved them, but the council keeping Jayce away for so long amplified it. The rugged looks did indeed help. But we’ve been together for…. Almost a year now.”

“Eleven months this upcoming August.” Viktor adds as he looks at the two of you lovingly.

The joyful atmosphere dulls a bit at that statement. Vi and Caitlyn look at each other, a bit hurt.

“You… you’ve been together for that long… and you weren’t going to tell us?” Caitlyn asks, her voice quiet and tense. At that, Jayce jumps out of bed and pulls Caitlyn into a big hug, messy shirt and pants be damned.

“Oh Sprout… we didn't mean to hurt you. Any of you,” he says as he glances towards Vi, “we were just nervous. We weren't sure how people would react.”

You and Viktor slowly get up to join the group, “And you know how the council is regarding Jayce…” you add hesitantly, Viktor puts a hand on your shoulder and says what you're all thinking.

“They’ve built Jayce up as a symbol. A desire to be, to have. They've made this nonsensical parasocial relationship regarding Jayce and the people of Piltover. We were just trying to be safe, we didn't want anyone breathing down our necks…” Viktor's hand tightens on your shoulder.

Vi snorts, “You’re right. That fucking sucks. And for you to play safe, from what I've heard… that's saying something.”

You laugh as Viktor rolls his eyes, Jayce pulls away from his hug from Caitlyn and puts his hands on her shoulders, “Ya think you can forgive us, Sprout?”

Caitlyn’s lips thin and she narrows her blue eyes at him, Jayce feels like gulping. The two of you know what she's doing.

She's getting her little sister revenge.

“Fine.” she complies and Jayce deflates like a balloon, and you two giggle at Jayce's dramatics.

“Please tell me you clean that couch, I've sat on it before.”

“Oh my Janna, Vi!”

“What?! It's a serious question!”

Jayce gives Vi a look, “We do indeed clean it, but next time we break it in, we may not. We may accidentally forget.”

Vi jokingly puts a hand on her chest in horror, “Why would you say that?!”

“Cause I want to see you squirm next time you come in here and sit on the damn thing.”

All of you burst out laughing, this couldn't have gone any better. “Our reservation is at three. So tidy up as best you can, you three probably haven't eaten all day.” Caitlyn orders.

You, Jayce, and Viktor look at one another before slowly nodding. Damn. She's got you, she's got you good.

“Shut up Caitlyn.”

“If you continue that attitude with me Jayce, I’ll make sure all the sweet milk goes to Viktor.”

You chuckle as Viktor states, “Keep the attitude up Jayce. That sweet milk is mine.”

“I've never got to try it! You keep drinking the glasses you make for me!”

“Sucks to be you.”

Jayce sputters and you just smile at the two ridiculous men you're in love with.

You can't wait to see what the years have in store for you three.

I saw your request as soon as I woke up and put this together asap. I hope you (and everyone else who reads this) enjoy this fluffy piece! If anyone else has any requests, my inbox is always open xoxo.

[lionwitch]

Give me Mexican Jason dancing Payaso De Rodeo in Park Row with other Mexican immigrants. Him teaching younger kiddos how to do it. Give me all the Mexican Gothamites having Posadas and fucking up a traditional Piñata (those are hard as fuck no mames) with their bare fists because yes, they're Mexican, but they're also Gothamites. The youngest ones do use the bat though.

Give me Jason belting Canciones De Señora™ while cleaning his safe houses and to other popular Latino Music when cooking or cleaning his guns or just randomly, and like, so very dramatically.

Like, imagine Jason just...

"Ven y cuéntame la verdad Ten piedad Y dime por qué, no, no no, oh ¿Cómo fue que me dejaste de amar? Yo aún podía soportar Tu tanta falta de querer" he looks at a picture of Tim as Robin, feeling replaced and unloved

"Hace un mes solía escucharte Y ser tu cómplice" he looks at a picture of Batman and him as Robin "pensé que ya no había—" he turns around to find Dick, who just sneaked into his safehouse, leaning against a wall.

"Don't stop on my account. Carry on."

"No, I was just... Nothing. Just. Uh. Looking through cases."

"And singing?"

"Yeah. Uh... Helps me process."

"Riiight."

But before that,

But before all that, give me this little fucker making Tamales on February 2nd. Give me this fucker making Pan de Muerto and Rosca de Reyes respectively. Give me this fucker making Chiles En Nogada and watching his family eat them happily.

Give me Bruce, Dick and Alfred learning about Mexican foods and traditions and continuing them on his behalf once he dies.

Give me them putting up his Ofrenda for Día de Muertos, with Pan de Muerto and his favorite foods, and his Robin mask. Give me them finding comfort on Día de Muertos because he's supposed to visit, right?

Give me Tim seeing this Ofrenda and shaking, falling to his knees. Give me him staying there on Día de Muertos, begging for forgiveness, promising he's not trying to replace him. Just in case he does visit.

Give me Jason knowing deep down that they set up an Ofrenda for him, because he may not remember what his soul did while he was dead, but he has a feeling, deep down, that maybe he visited.

Give me Jason teaching his family after reconciliation to dance Payaso de Rodeo and them treating it like endurance training, dancing again and again and again until one of them collapses or sits out.

What can I say? I'm Mexican, and I love my Mexican Jason Todd headcannon.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ SKZ IN A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!skz x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! slight angst & mild sex talk

୨ৎ from myeong: hello! so happy to get this request and was excited to do it for you. I hope you enjoy x

ʚɞ BANG CHAN

I don’t want to say “he would hate it!” because he wouldn’t at all but he would miss you and miss you and miss you and miss you even if you both haven’t met yet in person. he has found his home and that of course is you! isn’t that so sweet? cutie chan :(

texts you as soon as he wakes up in the morning to make sure you’ve slept well, are feeling okay, and will eat enough/stay hydrated and with that being said he continues to text you throughout the day to please take care of yourself for him because he’s not there to do it yet. he uses the word yet a lot.

“I miss you.” “I love you, did you know that?”

“have anything going on today?” “be safe baby.”

“call me when you arrive.” “did you eat lunch yet?”

he’ll make time for the both of you to facetime frequently and if not then you’ll both have time to call. he just wants to hear your voice because it’s his favorite sound in the world. if it’s not a good time to call then he’ll send you voice messages and he of course wants voice messages back but only when the time is right for you. he never pushes.

will send you some of his hoodies, tshirts, chains, bracelets, glasses, and sweatpants for you to wear. he’ll just buy new clothes and accessories it really doesn’t matter to him. you’re most important.

he’ll come up with fun games for the both of you to play even if they’re the most random ones ever. he just wants to have fun with you and be able to share memories together so with that being said he asks you to download certain apps that would be fun for you both, “this is going to be so fun!”

phone sex is frequent with him and it wasn’t until you both were comfortable in the relationship! he waited for and with you to be ready. it becomes quite intense if he’s had a really bad day and just needs you and to hear those sweet moans he adores. he won’t ever ask for pictures unless you want to take them yourself and send them to him.

ʚɞ LEE KNOW

when you both met he wasn’t planning on falling for you and getting into a relationship but it was far out of his control once he felt the need to have you in his life and form a relationship together. he knew that the love he had for you was real and important.

will literally buy you every plushie in the world and spray his cologne on it and send them to you. he won’t tell you that the package is coming either, he’ll just send it and tell you there is a surprise waiting for you at the door which always makes you think it’s him but sadly never is. one day it’ll be him!

“hi princess. wanted to call you because I miss the sound of your sweet voice. makes me feel better.”

“your voice is so pretty. I can listen to it all day.”

“can you spend me a picture of you? it can be a silly or cute one I don’t mind. just wanna see you.”

he’ll keep a book of everything that he’s written about you. everything you hate and love and want or need. he keeps it with him at all times so he never forgets anything when wanting to buy you things at stores he comes across. he’s very good at shopping for you even at times he feels he’s not.

when you both facetime he’ll take so many pictures of you and videos even if you say you’re not in the “prettiest” state without makeup or cute clothes on. he finds you to be the most beautiful when you’re your authentic self being lazy at home.

enjoys to tease you with pictures of him shirtless or wearing super tight white tees. he knows that gets you going and wants to see how you react. typically he enjoys it when you call him and whine about him teasing you which leads to you not having phone sex if the time is right of course.

ʚɞ CHANGBIN

he’ll try to find ways to see you one way or another. especially if you’ve already met once or twice he’ll do what he can to meet you another time and make it longer this time around but if not? if you haven’t met at all yet then he’ll take things slow and wait for you to be 100% comfortable with him as your boyfriend of course. that doesn’t stop him from missing you and wanting to see you though.

sometimes you both argue about very small things and it’s nothing serious! but he just gets upset if he plans to finally come see you and they don’t work out well. either he’s gotten way too busy or it’s just not a good time for you. he’ll constantly apologize to you and swear to make it up somehow and it always makes you feel much better. you hate arguing with the man you love the most.

sends you good morning voice messages that you love so much. it never fails! every single morning he sends them to you and he knows that it helps you have a much better day. also goodnight messages as well if you don’t call or have time to facetime.

“where’s my pretty baby?” “can we call tonight?”

“I might’ve sent you a little something, okay?”

“wanna see your pretty face..send me something.”

absolutely loves calling or facetiming you while he’s writing songs because it helps him focus better. if it’s a song about you he won’t say a word about it until he knows he’s completely finished.

will set his phone up so you can watch him move around his room, clean up, or even record music in the studio. he wants you to be there through all of that because he can bond with you even more.

ʚɞ HYUNJIN

the sweetest boy ): he’s the perfect boyfriend even if you two aren’t physically together. he does all that he possibly can to make things easy and sweet for the both of you while you’re long distance.

“hey baby! can we hang out today? I have nothing to do and I thought we could facetime and I could read to you! I found a book I’m really enjoying.”

enjoys sending you so many videos of him dancing, drawing, painting, and playing some random sport. absolutely loves being active and he knows you love seeing it so he makes sure to document everything he does to send to you.

will send you so many of the books he’s finished so you can read them too and he’ll want to talk about it when you’re finished so be prepared for long hours of on the phone talking about the books.

“I love you. I know we aren’t together right now but never doubt me. I’ll make sure it happens soon.”

he sometimes likes to invite the others to say hello to you but most of the time he likes to be alone with you. in his eyes it’s very intimate and it’s very important for the relationship to have those moments together. he doesn’t like when his time with you is interrupted by something. at all.

he’ll take you with when he showers. places his phone against the wall and will sing to you while you watch him or he’ll want you to take a shower at the same time so it seems you’re together.

“you’re so pretty wish I could kiss you right now.”

“can you just lean in? maybe kiss the camera?”

“I know it sounds weird but please? just wanna kiss so bad and you look so perfect right now.”

he’ll send you photos of him shirtless or showing his bulge just to tease you and see what your reaction might be. once he knows what your reaction is he’ll do it often especially when he gets super comfortable with you. he becomes bold.

paints the most beautiful pictures of you and sends that to you so you’re able to hang them up in your room. he thinks about you 24/7 and at random times gets the urge to draw you or for you.

ʚɞ HAN

cutie!! his smile brightens your entire day when you see him answer the facetime call. he normally just likes to facetime. sure he’ll call you but that’s not his most favorite. he wants to see your pretty face and watch your facial expressions while taking about your day or how your week is going so far.

movie dates!! he’ll set up his phone perfectly or laptop so you’re able to see the movie and him or you play the same movie on your tv and you both just lay next to each other the best you can.

very silly so he’ll make jokes a lot during the movie or make fun of the character if they’re doing something stupid. he loves hearing your laugh so he’ll do anything to hear it as much as he can.

of course he sends you plenty of gifts and a lot of them will be items from his room that he thinks you should have but deep down he also enjoys it when you send him things of yours. one night you were on facetime and seen he had been sleeping with one of your shirts that he said he loved so much.

“I’m so glad you sent it to me, I love it more than anything else in my room! want to see how much?”

he then proceeds to show you just how much he loves the shirt you sent him even if it was one of your favorite shirts to wear, seeing him so happy only made you feel the happiest in the world.

“can we have a date tonight? I can set up something for us! want to see what I can do?”

this man goes out of his way to make it look like a fancy date even though it’s nothing fancy at all and you two just stare at each other through the camera while smiling, and laughing at nothing.

will kiss the camera and make little “muah” sounds for you. he thinks it’s super cute to do that and knows that you find it cute as well so he does it often. sometimes the “muah” becomes much more on the naughty side and he’ll ask you questions about what you’d do with him if you were there.

ʚɞ FELIX

soft, sweet, clingy, and thoughtful boyfriend! that describes him perfectly and how he feels about the long distance isn’t negative at all. in his mind he’s not bothered by it because at least he has you in his life. he could be super unlucky and not have you at all. he’s just so thankful to be your boyfriend.

“want to come shopping with me? I’ll put my headphones in so I can hear you better and you can help me pick out a few new outfits for you, yeah?”

you get to watch him play soccer or swim which is your favorite! he’s got one of those phone cases that allow you to go underwater with and he takes you just so you two can have a underwater kiss.

you’re close with his sisters and always message them and in return? they send you so many cute photos of felix when he was a baby or toddler. you adore those photos and eventually get them printed out so you can have them safe and sound.

“should we bake together? cook together? we can make the same recipe and it’ll be fun, hm?”

he’ll sing to you. request any song you’d like to hear and he’ll sing it for you but you always end up falling asleep which he adores but takes so many screenshots of you because he thinks you’re cute.

texts you many times a day asking if everything is going okay and if you’re eating well for him. he knows you like it when he checks on you and of course he’s genuinely concerned about you at all times during the day especially if he can’t call you.

not so much into sending teasing photos since he’s not too confident with taking them but if you’re open to sending him pictures he’s never going to tell you no. he keeps them and looks at them when he’s alone and able to tell you how good you look in whatever it is you’re wearing.

“you’re my perfect girl and I adore you. I’m so glad you’re my girlfriend it just makes me much happier. we can see each other soon, okay? I promise.”

ʚɞ SEUNGMIN

shares absolutely everything with you and what I mean by that? he calls, texts, or sends voice messages rather quickly to tell you about what he’s doing or what he found out and that could mean his schedule, a show he watched, or on the news.

“can we wear our matching pjs while facetiming?”

if you don’t answer him the first time for whatever reason say you didn’t hear him correctly or you were doing something then he’ll ask you again but in a smaller voice because he’s become shy about it

“I..was wondering..if we can wear our matching pjs when we—um facetime? would that be okay?”

this man is so happy when you say yes to him and jumps up from his seat to hurry up and put his pjs on even if it’s a few more hours before you call.

with him he enjoys the long distance at first and of course he’s never going to complain about it but he’s always been a bit more shy and he opened up so much more the longer you two have spoken and gotten to know each other. he plans to make a trip out to see you and make it a huge surprise for you.

I know I just spoke about him being shy but when he gets a sudden boost of confidence that he can’t really explain.. that’s when it becomes dangerous and by that I mean he’s more dominant and willing to tell you things that he would be too hesitant about when he’s not feeling this weird confidence.

“I think about you so much during the day and just imagine what it would be like to have you here with me. was thinking about flying you out here because I just really want and need you. is that okay?”

will buy you expensive jewelry and send it to you because he wants you to feel and look pretty in them and of course you have to show him what it looks like in either pictures or a facetime call.

ʚɞ I.N

love this man he’s okay with the long distance because it’s you but if it was anyone else then no and I’m just being honest about it. he’s fallen deeply in love with you and will manage with the long distance until you can both be together.

when you both decide to call each other he’s a huge tease and doesn’t let you live but in a very playful way of course because that’s just how he is.

enjoys making you flustered and seeing how shy you get when you look away from the camera or cover your face with your hands and hide away from him, he loves that for some weird reason.

“you’re so cute! wish I could kiss you right now”

“I’ve had thoughts about us making out.. those are always so nice. what do you think about that, hm?”

he’s named his pillow after you and shows you in pictures how he cuddles with it and then proceeds to kiss it and act as if it’s you—you’ll call him weird and he begs to differ! he thinks it’s very cute and normal of him to act as if that’s you in his bed

he can get pretty sexual pretty easily and quickly but only if he thinks you’ll be okay with in or in the mood then he gets bold with asking for certain requests from you like.. for example, sitting on the bed a certain way or putting your pillow in between your legs and telling you to slowly grind on it.

he smiles the entire time and has the most cutest face possible but he really enjoys just being with you and teasing you or making fun of you in a good way it’s not annoying or rude in any shape or form.

he’ll ask you exactly what you want or need and buy it for you without hearing anything else. he’ll send you large boxes of snacks, clothes, accessories, some of his belongings, and random things he found that he knew you’d love.

this took way longer that it should have! so sorry but please enjoy it x

[riddlesrose]

last person you expected

w/ leona kingscholar

in which trein pairs you with leona for a history project but we all know his sleeping habits.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ᯓ★ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

the housewarden’s door opens, revealing a familiar savanaclaw resident peering down at you, a studied grin across his lips. you greet him kindly, thanking him for inviting you over to work on the duo project trein assigned earlier that day. well, it was more of a one-sided invitation, you suggested working on it now so that you could have the weekend to yourselves. he simply shrugged in agreement, telling you to meet him in his dorm by 7.

which brings you here, standing half-awkwardly in leona’s room, unsure of where to set your things, and yourself. he offers the desk, or the floor, or he doesn’t care let’s just get this done. you take the desk, the chair looks comfortable enough for a few hours of sitting on it, the floor does not. 

you two work in tandem, a concentrated pair; he’s answering your questions and flipping through books while you compile all of the research into a presentable project. it surprises you how serious he’s taking this, or how serious it looks like he’s taking the project. you can argue you’re doing more work, but who’s keeping score? 

you start to ask him another question while stretching, feeling your writing hand getting increasingly sore. when leona doesn’t answer or you hear the rustling of paper, you turn to fully look at him. you cross your arms and sigh at the sight; leona’s forehead is pressed into the history textbook, your history textbook, snoring ever so slightly. did he seriously fall asleep that quickly?

thinking of a way to wake him without bursting his personal bubble you grab an extra pen and throw it at his head. the thin plastic tube hits the crown of his head and he instantly reacts, giving you the most intimidating glare his sleep-ridden eyes can muster. it’s not very effective. he rolls his eyes at your apparent amusement at his nodding off, half-ass apologizing while leaning on his hand, flipping through the textbook he was just dozing in.

almost two more hours pass before the project is finally done. all information has been checked over by yourself and leona, though you’re sure he just looked at it and assumed it was right, handing it back a lot sooner than he should’ve. 

you can feel the weight of your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute, though it’s only nearing 10pm and you’ve definitely stayed up later, you’re beat. after a week's worth of classes, school work and everything else in between, you’re ready for this day to be over. you can practically hear your bed calling your name all the way from ramshackle dorm. 

the housewarden’s already halfway back to unconsciousness by the time you clear your stuff off of his desk. his eyes follow you with a sort of intent that has you scared you did something wrong while you sort through the papers and textbooks at the foot of his bed where you threw a stack of history notes at him when you arrived. while searching for yours, you neatly compile his books and few papers in a stack and leave it on his desk. his small amount of notes compared to your organized stack is almost comical.

when you go to leave you hear leona shift and call for you, asking you to wait. you pause and step back, turning to rest a knee on the edge of his bed so you can hover nearer to him, head cocked to the side. when he makes no effort to continue his statement you take the pen that previously struck his head and poke him on the forehead with it. he’s quick to threaten to snap the poor pen as if it’s at fault. you roll your eyes and turn to leave for a second time but you’re stopped by a hand catching your wrist, stopping you. 

leona doesn’t know what comes over him but all he musters is, “stay.” and it doesn’t sound like a question, but not a command either. more of a.. suggestion? before you could press further you’re slightly tugged closer towards his bed, the grip on your wrist is light enough that you could break free at any point, but you don’t. 

you allow yourself to be guided into leona’s hold, head tucked deftly under his chin. an arm makes its way around your torso, its owner humming in satisfaction. 

you were here to finish school work, not be dragged into sleeping with savanaclaw’s housewarden.. not like it’s a bad thing though, he’s always been on your radar. from the first day you accidentally woke him up and his (almost) empty threats, it's a weird sort of endearing, you find. 

your eyelids betray your curious mind, the warmth enveloping you lulling you into a quick rest, you can see why leona calls upon sleep so easily, he’s warm as hell, making for a comfortable meat-headed radiator. 

you wake the next morning significantly more rested than you expected, thanks to the warm rays of sun drifting in through leona’s window. leona, however, is not a fan of his personal pillow moving, so he drags you back down for what you surmise is going to be a lazy saturday with the last person you expected. 

masterlist

[tinyluvs]

⁺‧₊˚ lazy gillplay 𖤐 swiss&rain ˚₊‧⁺

❥ summary; swiss plays with and shotguns from rain’s gills :))) ❥ warnings; gillplay, smoking, they’re both high, fun happens ❥ authors note; i don’t know if i still like this but anyways :333 ❥ wc; 2.6k ₊˚⊹♡⁺‧₊˚𖤐 read on ao3; ˗ˏˋ ꒰꒰ here !! ꒱꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𖤐˚₊.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it’s no secret that rain is gorgeous, terribly angelic considering he’s hellspawn. he knows it, everybody knows it but swiss really knows it as rain sits in his lap, straddling him, his thighs pressing into swiss’ waist. rain’s wearing one of his shirts, slightly oversized on his smaller frame causing the hem to brush over his thighs, just below where his boxers end 

the neckline falls to one side, leaving rain’s gills exposed, ready to be kissed and bitten and swiss cannot wait. rain tilts his head to the side, his gills fluttering gently as they open. his dark curls fall in front of his eyes with gravity as he looks down at the joint between his fingers 

“if you want to do this, i’m going to need a lighter,” rain hums, his eyes flickering up to look at swiss through his long lashes. a smirk pulls at rain’s lips as he catches swiss in one of his favorite acts, staring at him, “or, are you just going to keep staring?”

swiss blinks at rain as he leans in, his hand reaching up to hold swiss’ jaw. he gets close, brushes his lips right over swiss’, a threat of a kiss is all it is as he pulls back when swiss tilts his chin up, trying to chase rain as he leaves but rain holds his jaw a little tighter, “lighter,” he quips, holding his free hand out in the space between them

with an over exaggerated huff, swiss leans to the side, his hand braced on rain’s hip to stop him sliding straight off of his lap. his free hand reaches for his lighter, swiping it from the top of his nightstand, “here,” he continues to huff with a playful roll of his eyes as he drops the lighter into rain’s hand 

rain hums and swoops in for a kiss, the one he stole from swiss a moment ago, “thank you,” he mumbles against swiss’ lips before sitting back on the multi ghoul’s thighs. swiss straightens, leans back against his headboard and rolls his hips up, trying to get comfortable, “careful,”

as swiss moves, rain bounces lightly in his lap, his ass grinding over swiss’ semi hard cock, which had chubbed up the second rain had sat down on top of him. rain is in no better condition though, his stiff cock tenting in his boxers. neither of them are in any particular rush to do anything about it though

“sorry,” swiss chuckles, not at all sorry as his cock jerks against the swell of rain’s ass. rain knows he’s not sorry, his head shaking a bit as he looks down to his hands, one holding the joint and the other flicking the lighter, there’s a quiet metallic grinding sound as he does it, “light it,”

the water ghoul doesn't very much like being told what to do, so, he rises up onto his knees and then drops his weight back down onto swiss, making the ghoul under him huff out a small, oof, his breath punching out of his lungs but rain grins unapologetically and swiss can’t find it in himself to be mad 

between them, an orange flame burns as rain flicks the lighter to life. the joint hangs from his lips, waggling slightly as he brings the flame closer to scorch the end of the paper. he rolls the joint over the flame, evenly burning the tip all the way around before pulling it away from his lips and tucking it between his fingers 

“ready to see it?” rain asks slowly, tilting his head from one side to the other, a silly display of showing off his gills, as close to a mating dance as he can get. the three little slits on either side of his neck flutter as he breathes, partially hidden by paper thin skin that stretches taut as his head rolls 

swiss’ hand slides up rain’s body, fingers dancing the line of his collarbone and the further upwards, loosely wrapping around the bottom of his neck,  “go on,” swiss whispers, tapping his fingertips over his gills gently. he watches in anticipation as rain brings the joint back to his lips and starts to inhale 

and then, it happens. as rain sucks in his breath, taking the smoke back into his throat and lungs, the smoke starts to spiral gently out between his gills. milky tendrils of smoke curl around swiss’ fingers where they hover mere centimetres away from rain’s skin 

“unholy shit,” swiss whispers, his eyes flickering from rain’s neck, to his face and then back again. he’s never seen anything like it and he needs to see it again, “do it again,”

“c’mere then,” rain whispers back, leaning into swiss until their chests are pressed together. his free hand slides into swiss’ hair, fingers twisting and pulling, guiding swiss head to his neck, “suck,”

swiss makes a little choked sound and his cock fills out fully underneath rain, just the thought of it all getting him hot and bothered, “you’re sure?” he asks

rain hums an, uh huh, his hand holding swiss close to his neck and his other bringing the joint to his lips once more. he inhales, just as he did before and swiss waits 

when the smoke starts to pour out from his gills, rain pulls swiss in, his head tipping back as swiss attaches his lips to his neck, open mouthed and slotting over as much of rain’s gills as he can before he sucks, hard

“fuck,” rain sighs, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he talks. between the smoke trickling out and swiss’ soft lips against his neck, it tickles, in the best way possible. it’s a feeling rain isn’t sure he could ever describe to someone, all he knows is, it feels good 

eventually swiss pulls away from rain’s neck, slumping back against the headboard of his bed. he smiles, all fang, and then blows smoke over rain’s face, watching as the water ghouls eyes flutter shut, his lashes tickling his cheeks 

“like that?” swiss asks, a little breathless. something flickers in his eyes, lust, rain thinks and he would be absolutely right. swiss is looking at him like he’s the only being to ever exist, placed purposely in swiss’ life just for this 

rain leans, taps ash into the little plate on swiss’ nightstand, “exactly like that, feels s’good,” rain mumbles, scratching his blunt nails against swiss’ scalp, “again, please,”

at risk of whining, rain doesn’t ask further. instead, he rolls his hips, slow and languid, lazy in it’s purpose. his ass grinds just right over swiss’ erection, the soft swell of his ass cushioning around swiss 

swiss moans, one of his hands settling on rain’s waist, his thumb rubbing over the front of rain’s hipbone, all the way down over his boxers, conveniently avoiding rain’s cock, even though it twitches with excitement when he gets close 

before rain can continue to smoke, swiss leans in and licks slowly over one side of his neck, tongue dragging over sensitive skin. rain gasps, his breath hitching in his throat as warm wetness coats his skin. the tip of swiss’ tongue glides over his gills, barely dipping underneath the surface but rain moans like he’s done something filthy anyway

“smoke, before it burns out,” swiss hums against his neck, pulling away just enough to swap to the other side. rain nods, almost in time with the beating ache in his cock, while bringing the joint back to his lips 

and so, rain smokes. with each inhale, swiss follows a second later, pulling smoke from between his gills before it can travel to his lungs. in the silence of swiss’ room, rain starts to pant, shallow breaths as he takes a short break from smoking

“swiss,” he whimpers, tapping ash away before it can fall onto swiss’ stomach. the multi ghoul hums and then gets curious. smoke fills his cheeks and instead of letting it mix with the already foggy room, he leans back in 

his lips part gently and then, he blows, pushes the smoke he’s just extracted from rain’s body, right back in. rain chokes, his chest heaves and his fingers sink into swiss’ biceps, trying his best not to burn him with the joint 

“fuh-fuck,” rain grits his teeth, smoke spills from his mouth and his hips stutter, an uneven movement over swiss’ lap that makes both ghouls groan, “please, fuck, please do it again,” 

“entertain me first,” swiss lulls, his body sagging backwards just slightly. slowly, his fingers trail down rain’s jaw until they’re at his chin, fingertips pulling his bottom lip down “open, pretty boy, get them nice and wet for me,”

rain’s jaw drops, his tongue lolling out of his mouth at swiss’ request, never one to deny another ghoul anything. swiss slips his fingers in and then presses down on rain’s tongue, dragging over his tastebuds 

swiss watches rain close his mouth around his fingers, feels rain’s tongue swirling around, figures of eight around the two digits in his mouth. and then painfully slowly, rain slides down, past swiss’ knuckles until he’s gagging, though he will blame that on his mouth being dry

slipping his fingers free of rain’s wet, hot mouth, swiss starts to drag them across his cheeks, inching closer to his neck whilst leaving glistening trails of spit across his skin. carefully his fingers slide over rain’s gills, teasing and threatening to slip beneath the surface 

“do it,” rain whispers, swallowing thickly. he brings the half smoked joint to his lips and that starts a domino effect of things. he inhales, pulling smoke into his throat and as he does, swiss doubles down.

on one side of rain’s neck, he sucks, shotgunning smoke that makes his head fuzzy in all the right ways. on the other side his spit soaked fingers press under the slit in the centre. it’s gentle, tentative, swiss just allowing rain to make room for him and he does, his body submits immediately. swiss’ fingertips dip under the thin skin and into his gills, the slits widening to accommodate him. 

“oh,” rain whines pathetically, his cock spits a steady stream of pre into his boxers, soaking a large wet patch into the front of the fabric, “oh, swiss,” the marijuana swims through his system nicely now, his body feels heavy, leaning further and further against swiss as the drug continues to take it’s hold over him 

the haze is also spreading through swiss now too, so, he takes the joint from rain’s between fingers and presses it between his own lips. swiss inhales hard, fills his cheeks and throat with smoke and then drops the rest of the joint into the ashtray 

swiss is everywhere, all around rain, drowning him, which is ironic since rain can’t drown but right now, it feels like a very real possibility. swiss leans in close and parts his lips over rain’s gills, blowing smoke while his free hand starts to travel down rain’s body. he suddenly feels like doing something about the problem they’re having 

“ah!,” rain cries, tilting his head back to let the smoke being blown through his gills, out. it spirals up and out between his lips. his fingers thread into the back of swiss’ hair and hold him there

rolling his hips, rain starts to grind, desperate little humps of his hips over swiss’ cock. his own cock wags between his thighs, so hard he’s pulling his boxers away from his skin but that, thankfully, gives swiss an easy way in. his warm fingers tease at rain’s wet tip, swirling over his slit until his fingers are sticky

“fuck, you’re so hot, letting me do this to you,” swiss moans, unlatching from rain’s neck for all of a second. his fingers slip out of his gills and then back in, there’s a slick wet squelch as he does it, a sick little display 

“yeah?” rain whines high, his words slipping off into just a sound as swiss, finally, wraps a hand around his cock. swiss slides his fist up and down, lazy and slow, letting rain roll his hips and fuck through his fist as he pleases 

underneath rain’s ass, swiss’ cock jerks and throbs, rain can feel it through the two layers of clothing separating them and swiss, poor swiss, doesn’t have a hand to spare, one at rain’s neck, the other around his cock. so, it’s only right that rain helps him out 

he pushes up onto his knees, just enough to slide one of his own hands underneath him, cupping his palm right over the tent swiss’ cock is making in his pants and then, he sits back down and the response it elicits, is exactly what rain was looking for 

swiss moans loudly, no shame in the way his lips part and the sound he makes bleeds through rain’s gills, vibrating through rain’s throat the same way it does his. his hips buck up, grinding the sticky head of his cock up into rain’s hand. neither of them will last long, too high to even consider holding out as they hump and grind, using each other for all they're worth.

rain’s head starts to feel heavy, his neck not strong enough to keep it from wobbling. he sways left, coaxes swiss’ fingers further past his gills which makes him yelp, his eyes pinching shut as bliss spreads through his body. then, he sways right, presses his neck further into swiss’ mouth and multi ghoul takes his chance. 

the tip of swiss’ tongue flicks at one of rain’s gills and then without hesitation, slips just underneath the thin sensitive skin, “o-oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” rain whines, his hips speeding up, the slick sound that happens when his cock slides through swiss’ fist speeds up too

“that’s the plan, c’mon, give it to me,” swiss huffs, tilting his head to graze his fangs over rain’s neck, nibbling and worrying thin skin between them as he works his way down and then back up.  

rain makes a little, ah, ah, ah, sound as everything starts to feel sensitive. the head of cock squeezing through swiss’ fist, sensitive. his gills, whether they’re being fingered open or licked and nibbled, feel sensitive but all on the right side, all of it making his cock pulse, “it’s gonna, i’m gon-, fuck,” rain rambles, tears springing to his eyes “gonna cum,”

swiss smirks, rain feels it against his neck and then he starts to buck up and as rain gently squeezes at his cock, on purpose or because his entire body stiffens as he cums, swiss can’t decide but it forces his orgasm out of him regardless 

“oh fuck,” is the only warning swiss can get out before his cock jerks, shooting his load over the inside of his pants, dripping through the fabric and soaking rain’s palm just as rain’s cock pulses and follows, cum dribbling and erupting from his tip, running in thick steady drips down his length and over swiss’ fist 

a hiss escapes rain when everything becomes too much, prompting swiss to pull away. his fingers and tongue gently slip free from rain, leaving the water ghoul feeling empty, he places a wet kiss at the front of rain’s throat before he slumps though, properly laying back against his headboard while rain pants, a stray tear dripping from his cheek

“we’re so doing that again,” rain mumbles eventually, leaning over to grab at the solitary water bottle on swiss’ nightstand. his mouth and throat are beyond dry, feeling scratchy as he tries to swallow. he sips slowly, half lidded eyes raking over swiss, who smiles lazily at him

“yeah, we are,” he finally agrees with a breathy chuckle. rain smiles when he finishes drinking and then leans forward gently, reaching up to tilt swiss’ chin back enough for him to pour water into his mouth, “right now?” swiss teases after he swallows, waggling his eyebrows at rain, fingers pinching at his waist 

“fuck off,”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

𖤐 ghouls masterlist

[squiirming]

guy who is a heavy sleeper being woken up by his bladder. sleepy and comfy, he just ignores it and tries to go back to sleep. as he drifts in and out of sleep, his need gets progressively more urgent, but so does his resolve to actually catch more solid sleep. subconsciously, he goes to hug his comforter between his legs, eventually ending up with it bunched up high between his thighs, his ankles crossed to help. he starts to squirm and rock back and forth, trying to suppress the need for a bit longer. the motions have his soft dick slowly drag inside his loose pyjama pants, providing a gentle friction that toon have him not so soft anymore. he ends squeezing his thighs and grinding, now not only as a way to hold back his need to relieve himself but also because it just feels good. having an erection does help him hold, so much so that he manages to fall back asleep for a while… until he awakes again, now positively desperate. he finds himself already humping the bunched up comforter, softly panting, when he comes to realize his predicament. he needs to go now. he’s still sleepy tho, sluggish from waking up, and also finding it hard to think, because of his pressing need, and also the jolts of pleasure coursing through his groin with every shift. he’s fully hard, hard and leaking precum in his pyjama pants. the urgency of the situation means he can’t just stop grinding or he fears he’ll lose control. if he was more awake, he’d trust himself to make it to the bathroom quickly, but he isn’t, and he also can’t deny his slightly delirious self that this feels good. unable to reason, all he can do is hold onto the comforter tighter so it’s pulled taught between his thighs, providing both much needed pressure to help his bladder, and pleasure that makes his eyes roll back behind his closed eyelids. he desperately humps the blanket, feeling his desperation heighten and his muscles weaken—he has no idea how ling he’s been holding like this, but it must’ve been a while for how tired he feels already. pissing the bed isn’t an option tho, so he continues and can only moan in pleasure at the friction on his hard, leaking dick. a particularly good thrust sends him twitching in near overstimulation, and he has to halt his motions for a moment. doing so is what makes him leak for the first time. the feeling of warmth blooming on his dick head makes him frantic, he immediately resumes his humping with urgency. his pyjamas are too rough on his sensitive skin now, threatening his very control, but he he does dare stop or slow slow. he yelps and his hips stutter when another leak escapes him, and then another, and then another. feeling the limits of his ability to approach, he starts humping with desperate and renewed vigour, only speeding up every time his muscles spasm and another spurts escapes him. through it all, the pulses of warmth make his precum-slick pyjamas feel good like nothing else on his throbbing erection. unable yo think of getting up and making mad dash for the toilet—unable to think at all—the guy only moans and gasps as he begins losing control, though he never stops trying to hold it. he’s not done having an accident, and trying not to, when the pleasure in his stomach reaches a peak. he leaks forcefully, gasps, twitches, and then ruts against the blanket in short little trusts, until he forgets everything about holding and can only chase his imminent orgasm. he comes like that, hot and intense, inside his pyjama pants. for a brief moment, he forgets all about his desperate need to piss and just lays there, grinding, milking it out, until the pleasure begins to recede and his desperation comes back all at once. he leaks, a strong spurt that hisses, and immediately doubles down on his frantic grinding, only, this time, the movement is nothing but overstimulating his sensitive dick, so soon after coming. it has the opposite intended affect, as the sensation makes him twitch and his exhausted muscles spasm, allowing more piss to escape him. he tries to cling to control, he really does, but it’s futile.

moaning from the harsh overstimulation, he doesn’t stop grinding, too far gone to reason that it’s no use, besides, it still feels good through the pain. with every rut, more piss leaks out of his dick, which refuses to fully soften under the constant stimulation. just like that, he slowly loses control of his bladder, until a near continuous stream is pouring out. delirious, he continues to rub his hard dick through it. he doesn’t stop when the stream finally dims and stop, still turned on beyond relief. right away, he grinds to another orgasm, not satisfied until dick is throbbing in his pants again and the pleasure overwhelms him.

while he lays in the aftermath, soaked and twitchy, his bladder throbs again, and he can’t help but moan as the very last drops escape him, feeling almost as good at the other types of relief he just got.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 41

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: All That Glistens Is Not Gold

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  41/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

One moment you were in a room with Pym, and now you found yourself alone and laying down in a bed in one of the bedrooms of the castle. It was enough to frighten anyone and cause panic, it truly felt like no time had passed.

“Pym?!?” You sat up in the bed and felt dizzy and nauseous right away, you had to lay back down again.

The door opened and Merlin stepped inside, a sigh of relief escaping him upon seeing you conscious again. “Pym is having supper.” He walked to your side. “Fear not, I do not believe that you fainted from the fall.”

You found comfort in how calm he sounded. “Then what happened to me?”

He picked up a plate with a sliced pear on it, offering you a piece. “When did you last eat, and what was it?”

You had to think for a moment. “I had some bread this morning. I wasn’t really hungry.”

“I fear your body disagrees with you on that matter.” He held the piece of pear right under your nose. “Something sweet will help you feel better. Go on.”

It was a bit uncomfortable to eat while laying down, but Merlin stood by to make certain you didn’t accidentally choke on it. “I fainted because I didn’t eat enough?”

He gave a slow nod. “Indeed. With everything going on, it is common for hunger to go unnoticed until it makes us ill.”

“Is my head alright?… "

“I have had centuries to learn all there is to know of healing, whether it be from a curse or sickness, you have my word that you will be well.” He took a vial with a strange looking liquid from his satchel. “But just to be certain, drink this.”

The whispers of the Hidden were in your ears at the sight of the vial. “That contains magic.”

He was surprised to hear that you could tell. “Did the Hidden let it be known?”

Your brow furrowed. “Yes. And I can smell it from here, it doesn’t smell normal.”

He put the vial in your hand, looking at you curiously. “It will not taste well either, but this bottled magical concoction will help with any pain your head causes you.”

You eyed the vial. “It’s not poison, is it?”

Merlin was amused by it. “Poisoning one of the last to carry the Fey Fire in their blood would be foolish. If only you knew how I risked my life to have just a small jar of it.”

You sensed he was truthful and drank the vial, he had been truthful about the taste of it too. “Thank you, Merlin. Not just for helping me, but for helping all of us.”

A gentle smile appeared on his face. “You are very welcome. I have stood aside in this battle between Manblood and Fey for far too long, it took me losing my daughter to see how wrong of me it was. I will continue the fight she could not.”

“A noble choice.” you told him.

He disagreed on that, “It would have been noble if I had made that choice before losing her.”

You could see that guilt was eating at him. “No one is free of mistakes, Merlin, it is how we handle them that is important.”

He fell quiet for a moment, seeming to ponder on that thought. “I will go and tell Pym that you are awake. The poor girl was quite shaken after she saw you faint.”

Poor Pym… “Tell her that I’m alright and that she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

He gave a nod, opening the door and finding Gawain standing outside ready to knock. Gawain greeted Merlin and stepped into the room, closing the door behind Merlin. Gawain came right to your side to help you sit up a little and adjusted the pillow behind your back for support.

“You had us worried.” He said, putting the plate with sliced pear into your lap. “How are you feeling?”

It was easier to sit up now, the small bite of pear was starting to help. “My head still doesn’t feel good, but Merlin gave me some medicine for that. Don’t worry, Gawain, I’ll live.”

He pointed in a scolding manner. “You’d better.” Upon seeing you frown he explained, “The Ash Man threatened to fight the Hidden if you did not wake again.”

You tried to be serious about it, failed and chuckled instead. “How does he plan on doing that?”

He sounded confident on the matter, “He may just be mad enough to find a way.”

True. “Tell him to behave. He will listen to you.”

“I have.” he assured. “And once Merlin told us you would be alright after some rest and a meal, I gave Lancelot some tasks to focus on to keep him calm. That man is a bottled storm.”

You took another piece of pear to eat. “Best to keep him busy. Or that storm unleashes.”

Gawain headed to the door again. “I will have someone bring you a meal to eat. Soup was made.”

Poor, poor Pym. She would not have been happy with that. “Thank you, Gawain. Do tell Lancelot, and Percival, that I am alright.”

He opened the door to step out. Just then Percival darted past Gawain and into the room right towards you, in his hands was your satchel.

“Tell him yourself.” Gawain chuckled.

The knight left you to handle the boy alone, who promptly went to stand by the side of the bed. Percival put the satchel down beside the bed.

You noticed him glance down at the slices of pear. “Do you want some pear?”

It looked like he wanted to say ‘yes’ but he stopped himself. “No. You should eat, or you’ll faint again.”

He had sounded so worried… and it was adorable how he tried to look like he was not worried at all.

“Come sit with me.” You patted the spot beside you. “I’d love some company.”

The boy took the offer right away and plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Merlin said you’d be alright. You will be alright… won’t you?”

The loss of his friend had scarred the child’s heart. Too many goodbyes, too many loses.

You hoped to put his mind at ease. “I will be back on my feet in no time. Don’t you worry about me, Percival. I’m stronger than I might appear.”

He pressed his lips shut, as if he hoped not to say what he did, “I hope so.”

Wait… was that in response to you being back on your feet again soon or…

The cheeky grin that appeared on his face gave you that answer.

You snatched hold of his arm, pulling him into you, ruffling that wild hair. “You little rascal!”

“I’m not little!” He tried to squirm free, a joyful laugh escaping him.

Finally you let him go. “Still a rascal!”

Percival was still chuckling and a little out of breath from the playful attack on him. “And you’re a minx.”

You barely held in the gasp, it was stated like it was a fact to him. “Where did you learn such a word?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Lancelot once said it really quietly when you were walking away and he thought no one could hear.”

“He said that, huh?” That sneaky twit…

The boy nodded, ratting out the Ash Man. “What does it mean though? He wouldn’t answer when I asked.”

Speak of the devil, the door was opened quickly and there stood your worried husband. A quiet sigh of relief fell upon seeing you conscious again.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Ah, there you are. Just in time. Percival was just asking me what the word ‘minx’ means. Does that sound familiar to you?”

His relief turned into confusion, then concern and ultimately guilt. Like a child caught in a crime. “Percival, why don’t you go and see if the Green Knight needs your help?”

“But-”

“Now.”

The boy grumbled whilst getting up from the bed and glared at the Ash Man until he was out the door, leaving the door wide open behind him. Lancelot sighed, closing the door.

Your brow arched. “Well?”

He shuffled a little where he stood. “I may have referred to you as such. It was not my intention to have the boy overhear it.”

Of course it wasn’t. “Uhu.”

Whenever he felt out of his comfort, he would fold his hands behind his back and try to appear taller than he already was. It was so easy to tell he feared being reprimanded over it.

He came to stand beside the bed, his tone half-serious, “Must you insist on trying to make me a widower today?”

“I’m trying not to.” you jested.

It did not make him smile, and that was how you knew he was still shaken from it. A slight frown set on his face as he looked at the floor, as if he wanted to hide how shaken he was. “Your markings have gone back into hiding I see.”

“Have they?” you hoped the question would make him look at you again.

He simply nodded, then took in a deep breath, tilting his chin up to the ceiling for a brief moment. “Are you certain you wish to stay here?”

Your smile fell. “What?”

His eyes locked on yours, searching for the answer. “Had the gods not opened that door, you would not have fallen and you would not be here like this now-”

You stopped him right there. “Lancelot, I fainted because I haven’t eaten well today.”

He said what he needed to say, “If you feel unsafe, we will leave.”

You sat up more. “The fall was an accident, I can feel it. And the fainting was my fault. I don’t feel unsafe here.”

He was quiet for a moment, then picked up the satchel from the floor and took out the journals to hand them to you. “Forgive me for showing caution. I may never put my trust into any deity again.”

Once a monk, a loyal servant of the god the paladins prayed to, but he would never be so blinded by faith again.

And you were happy he was able to listen to the voice of reason inside of him. “I understand that.” You reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. “Gawain said he gave you some tasks to keep you distracted. What have you been doing whilst I was here?”

He summed some of it up, “Taking inventory of what we have and what we need. Near half of the bed linen in the castle is too worn down to use. Much needs to be washed, some is good to use. We will have a lot of work to restore this place to it’s former glory, I fear. There are broken windows that will need to be repaired, the stables need to be tended to…”

There was so much to be done. Some parts of the castle needed to be stabilized. Doors needed to be repaired or replaced. And the whole place was covered in a layer of dust that would take time to clean away. But underneath all the flaws was a glimpse of the beauty the castle had once held, and deep down he knew he could restore it. This could be home, as it once had been to the Fey.

It was clear he was a bit overwhelmed by it all, the work, your health, that fear of failing the Fey. “We’re not alone in this, Lancelot. We can do this.”

His eyes softened at the sheer determination in you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, curling a finger under your chin to let his intention be known when he leaned in. The opportunity of a kiss was stolen away when Percival barged into the room with a bowl of soup. Lancelot was quick to sit up straight again, cursing internally.

The sweet child came to personally hand you the soup. “Careful! It’s warm.”

You gave Percival your sweetest smile. “Thank you, young knight.”

Percival beamed with pride over to mention of his title and fulfilling the task the Green Knight had given him. He turned to Lancelot. “The Green Knight said he still needs our help.”

Lancelot tried to hide his reaction over having to leave your side again while you were still recovering. He stood up from the bed, glancing at you to see you nod in understanding. Duty called, and this time the work was to better life for the Fey. There would undoubtedly be busy days ahead, days where you’d work hard and to be able to do that you needed to rest and get your strength up again. And that is what you did once they left the room.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Later, in the midst of the night, the dipping of the mattress pulled you out of your slumber. Your vision was still a blur from sleep when you made a disapproving noise and lifted your head off of the pillow a little. The scent of him reached your nostrils with ease from how close he was.

“Lancelot?” you mumbled still half-asleep.

He hushed you, kissing your cheek whilst putting an arm around your waist. You could feel him lay down behind you.

He sounded very tired, “Will you let me rest here?”

You took hold of his hand and brought it up to hold it to your chest, scooting back a little to be closer than he’d probably thought he was allowed to be.

He hummed content. “Trying to push me out of the bed, are you?”

You matched the jest with your own, “You’re the one who crawled in and took up my space.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“No.”

That earned you a lingering kiss to your cheek. He held on tight, as if he thought you’d fly off into the night. “Are you feeling better?”

You let him rest his face in the crook of your neck. “I am. And you? You sound exhausted.”

He did not deny that it was true. “It has been an eventful day and I am glad it has ended.”

That did not sound very good. He must have tired himself out. Creating Fey Fire, the journey here, the visions and then the work this castle needed on top of that.

You curved into him more, a little playful. “Tomorrow I believe I will be back on my feet and able to help. And I’m going to make sure that you don’t overwork yourself, because I know you have a tendency to do so.”

His hand flew to your hip upon feeling the playful push of your behind into him. “I will not let you help unless you are truly better.”

“You won’t ‘let’ me?” You snorted a little arrogantly. “I will decide that for myself, thank you.”

If he thought you wouldn’t do exactly that, he was in for a shock. His protectiveness was sweet, but it was not going to stop you from helping tomorrow.

He dared it. He dared to jest, “Sometimes I miss the days when I could just put some rope on you.”

You sat upright instantly, grabbed your pillow and smacked it against his side. “Out.” Again. “Out of the bed!”

He shielded himself from another hit of the pillow with his arm. Even in the darkened room his smirk was visible. “You do not mean that.”

You were more baffled by the audacity than you were angry. “Did you truly just jest about how you once kept me tied up?!”

He took hold on the pillow too. “I was merely jesting.”

It made you roll your eyes and snatch the pillow from his hands. You scooted away from him, creating a distance, and laid down nearly at the last bit of space on the edge of the bed.

He disapproved of the spot you had chosen. “You will fall off if you sleep there.”

You closed your eyes, mumbling under your breath, “Perhaps I’d rather be on the floor.”

He did not know why seeing you get feisty made his blood run faster. It simply excited him, feeding a natural instinct in him to be the one that could weather the storm you cast down upon him.

He got closer again, gliding his hand over your shoulder and arm. Laying himself back down again just like before, only now he was vying for attention. Quietly he inhaled your scent and made a content sound. “I prefer you to be on the bed with me, where I can have you close.”

When you ignored him, he simply grew more motivated to get your attention. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, brushed the tips of his fingers over your arm. He knew what he was doing when he lowered his voice to a husk. “I know you are not angry. You would not let me do this if you were…”

You struggled to keep still when he proceeded to kiss your neck. “If you come near me with a rope again, I’ll strangle you with it.”

He chuckled and kissed your neck again, then the side of your head. “As is your right.” A squeeze of his hand on your waist made you ticklish and he did it again upon noticing it. “I do enjoy your fighting spirit. It excites me.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Is that why you decided to wake me up and annoy me?”

A cheeky grin was plastered on his face. “It was not planned. But I do not mind this result.”

“You miss the excitement from battle and decide to cause it in the bedroom. I am not surprised.” you blurted out matter-of-factually.

“Well…” He clicked his tongue. “An angry wife is a formidable opponent .”

You pecked his cheek. “And don’t you forget that. Now sleep, you are looking pale.”

“No.” His brow arched.

“Why not?” you sighed.

“First this.” He tilted his head, locking his lips to yours briefly. “Goodnight, my love.”

It was all it needed to cause the fluttering in your stomach to overwhelm you. “Sleep well, Lancelot.”

With one last kiss to your forehead he laid down to rest behind you, holding you close. It was quiet for some time, his breathing was getting deeper and slower.

“You feel so very warm…” He was close to sleep.

You held on to his hand as you fell asleep. Grateful for the chance to sleep in a proper bed again.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The next day, when you presented yourself ready to help, Gawain was relieved. The task you were given was simple. To go to the village and purchase the linen and wares that were needed. How you were to carry all that? Well, Lancelot and Arthur were send along. Gawain did agree with purchasing a wagon and horse to make it easier to transport everything. The journey to the village was… interesting to say the least. One moment the Manblood and Ash Man got along perfectly fine, the next they were rolling their eyes and annoying each other.

You were almost at the village when your patience ran out and you all but shouted at them as they rode a little ahead of you. “Good gods! Can you two just shut up if all you say is meant to bother the other?!? I have no interest in having to delay our task just to prevent the two of you from trying to kill each other!”

Arthur and Lancelot fell quiet immediately, like a pair of scolded children feeling the eyes of their parent burn into their backs. That silence did not last long.

“I wouldn’t be the one who first draws a weapon.” Arthur knew exactly what would rile Lancelot up.

Lancelot scoffed loudly. “Is that not what you did when we met again in Gramaire?”

“I had every right to have a sword at your throat. You tried to kill me the first time we met.” Arthur said.

He muttered under his breath, “How many times will you bring that up again…”

“Forever if I can.” Arthur deadpanned.

“Enough!” you barked the order.

Another silence fell. This time a shorter one.

“Gawain trusts me to complete this task without problems.” Arthur looked at Lancelot.

He arched a brow back at him. “Gawain ‘trusts’ you?”

Arthur tried not to let it get to him. “I’ve know Gawain longer than you.”

He did not hold back. “And still he has yet to show you the amount of trust that he shows me.”

“It is because you’re Fey. If you were Manblood he would have murdered you.” Arthur said casually.

He fired the jab to Arthur’s pride, “Or perhaps he knows I will not let my ego cloud my judgment.”

You did not warn them again, sick of hearing the continuous attempts to irritate each other. It was like listening to bickering children and to avoid having to hear it for the last bit of the way, you spurred Bear on and rode past them to get ahead. Their bickering continued a little quieter and by the time you reached the village it had changed into normal banter again. The horses were left under the care of a stablehand of the stables next to an inn, you paid him and promised extra when you’d return.

Arthur came towards you, gesturing at you a little awkwardly. “I’ve noticed you are wearing a different bodice today. It suits you well.”

It made you look down at it as well. It was one of the clothes you had salvaged from your old room in Ravenwick. “Thank you. I’ve had it for a while but wasn’t sure if it would look good on me.”

“It does.” He was glad the compliment was received well.

The one who did not receive the compliment well was the Ash Man who approached a moment later, his eyes said it all.

And as if to toss oil onto a flame, Arthur smirked at him. “Have you noticed how lovely she looks today.”

Lancelot knew it was meant to provoke him. “I have.”

You looked between them, sighing. “Let’s go and see if we can buy a wagon and horse from the one who owns these stables.”

You went over to the stablehand again and asked him where the owner could be found. The owner was in the inn, having his midday ale. And when you entered the inn, others were having their midday ale as well it seemed. With the description of the stablehand you found the owner sitting at a table with others and you introduced yourself first.

His nose had turned red from the ale he had drank. “What can I help you with, lass?”

Straight to the point it was. “We are looking to buy a wagon with a horse from you.”

“That’s a costly matter, lass. How do you want to pay for that?” The old man put a hand on your behind.

Arthur was quick to notice the movement from Lancelot and he planted a hand on his chest to stop him. The rest of the table laughed it off.

By remaining calm, you hoped to settle the deal without any hiccups. You took the hand off of your rear, feigning your best smile. “With coin, of course. How much will it be?”

“Two coins of gold!” He said it loud, half-jesting because he didn’t think you could ever afford it. “One for the wagon. One for the horse. They are worth the price.”

You reached into your satchel and put down his asking price. “I believe this is correct, is it not?”

The whole table stared down at the gold, having quieted down abruptly, the man scratched his beard.

The man took the coins and quickly put them in his pocket. “Uh… it’s the white spotted horse… I’ll show it… come.”

Lancelot and Arthur stepped aside, letting the man pass so he could show you your purchase. The wagon was not in the most perfect shape, but you counted yourself lucky that you were able to buy a wagon at all. The horse was a strong stallion who had experience with pulling the wagon.

The man turned to Lancelot whilst you and Arthur inspected the wagon. “I have more horses for sale, if you are interested?”

“No.” He was short, barely even acknowledging the man.

Arthur looked at Lancelot a little worried, knowing that he was still fuming internally about what had happened earlier. “Lancelot, what do you think of the wagon?”

He came to stand beside you. “It will do for now.”

You whispered to him, “You alright?”

“I am calm.” he said, more as a reminder to himself to stay so.

The tension in his jaw and the way he tilted his chin up just a tiny bit gave him away. He had hated to see the man touch you. At least he stayed in control over that anger now and it was oddly attractive.

First you looked to see if neither Arthur or the man were close enough to overhear, then whispered. “Don’t be jealous. You can touch my rear too later.”

His eyes snapped to you and upon seeing the wicked smile on your lips the tension in his features vanished. He looked so innocently flustered. A nervous smile settled on his face. A quiet scolding, “Don’t do that. Not here.”

You lightly bumped into him on purpose with your side. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just acting like a minx right now, aren’t I?”

The smile turned into a smirk, entertained by the throwback to the previous evening. He turned to you, leaning in to whisper right back, “Yes, you are.”

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, noticing the close proximity the two of you were in. “So we agree on this sale then?”

Lancelot gave a nod. Arthur proceeded to chat with the man a bit more and thanked him for a well-struck deal. The man returned to the inn to spend some of that earned coin again.

Arthur hopped onto the wagon, taking the reins. “There’s a merchant up ahead, in that building there, that sells what we’ll need. Are you walking or…?”

It was only a few houses away, you could manage. “We’ll walk.”

        There was so much to buy for the Fey, for the castle… And this merchant sold clothes and fabrics. It had to be one of the best days of that woman’s life when you nearly bought her complete inventory of wares. The fabrics could be used for so many purposes, and one could easily make bed linen, bandages and curtains from them. The clothes felt surreal to buy. You thought of all the Feys who’s homes and belongings had been lost to the war. All the children wearing clothes that were either worn down severely, or too big or small, would find joy in having some good clothing to wear again. Everyone helped folding the wares and loading them onto the wagon.

Lancelot had seen Arthur struggle to fold a pair of trousers and had not commented on it, showing that there was improvement happening between them. While loading up the wagon, you put a stack of clothes aside for Percival, hoping the boy would like them.

Soon the wagon was filled with new hope and wares, and you had retrieved the horses. Lancelot had tied the reins of Arthur’s horse to Goliath’s, as Arthur rode the wagon back to the fort. Arthur struggled in silence to steer the wagon, zigzagging from time to time.

Lancelot had noticed the struggle. “Perhaps I should-”

Arthur had felt it coming. “No. No, I can steer this wagon. It’s fine.”

The Ash Man send you a look, you tried not to laugh when the wagon swayed overly to the left again.

Arthur suddenly began to slow the wagon down, eyes set on the forest surrounding him. “Lancelot.”

One look was all Lancelot needed to know that something was wrong. He rode up to Arthur. “What is it?”

Arthur kept his voice low. “I think we are being followed.”

He did not show how alarming it was. “Keep going as you are. Stay calm. I will go and inspect it.”

From the corner of your eyes you had seen something move, there was a split second where you thought it was a bird. But then Bear reared up in fright of the burning arrow that had landed right in front of his legs. A scream fled your lungs, the sudden rearing of the horse caused you to fall out of the saddle.

The next burning arrows barely missed Goliath, Lancelot dismounted fast and send the stallions away, because as long as they were near the horses were a target. He moved to your direction until Arthur loudly warned him of the next set of arrows coming his way. There was barely enough time to dodge the arrows, from the trees the assailants charged at him and Arthur, their target was clearly the contents of the wagon. And unfortunately you, Arthur and Lancelot were their obstacle. They had send that arrow towards Bear on purpose, causing a distraction and preventing you from having an advantage on horseback against them.

Arthur jumped down from the wagon to help you and Lancelot, and immediately had to defend himself against these attackers. There were many, at least ten, all Manblood. You got up to your feet and barely had enough time to draw your sword to ward off the woman that lunged at you. Chaos had erupted from all sides. These thieves were ruthless and impatient, you saw Arthur get struck in the face by one of them. The same happened to Lancelot mere seconds later when four of them gathered up against him. The woman attacking you was growing angrier by the second, and as she lifted her sword into the air to strike it down upon you you sank down to your knees and send your sword upward into her chest. One of her comrades had seen it happen and there was not enough time to free your sword before you had to evade him. He swung at you with his axe and you grabbed his arm to block the attack, you held on, knowing that letting go meant getting wounded. The man roughly moved half a turn and made you trip over his feet, you kicked the back of his knee right away to get the idea out of his head that he was just going to put that axe into your skull, it send him to the ground too and the fight for the axe began. You balled your fist and struck his nose hard while trying to pull the axe from his hand.

A strong tug at the back of your jacket broke you away from him, and then you were being dragged over the grass while you tried to pry the hand from behind your neck. The cold steel of a blade touched the side of your throat. Just then, Arthur hit the ground, a sword was held to his throat as well. Lancelot was still cutting through them, meeting their violent attack with his own.

The one threatening Arthur drew his attention. “Drop your sword!” He saw Lancelot look at him, then at Arthur, then at you. “Kneel on the ground, hands behind your head, or we’ll gut them like pigs!”

The broad man that held on to your jacket chuckled ominously, then proceeded to drag you over the ground towards the wagon and only then did you notice it was your own sword you were being threatened with.

Arthur saw them drag you to the wagon and understood their intent. “No! Lancelot!”

What choice did he have? If he continued to fight whilst you and Arthur were held at the blade this would end in tragedy.

Arthur received a hard kick to the stomach for that and tried to crawl away to no avail.

“Leave him be!” Lancelot let the sword fall from his hands and knelt down as they had ordered.

They bound his hands behind his back and fortunately they did not see the importance and value of the sword near their feet. Arthur was bound by rope too, left to struggle to get himself into a seated position. Your eyes locked on Lancelot’s, your worried ones found his to be eerily calm.

“Lance-” you couldn’t say what you wanted before you were being pulled further away.

“Be not afraid.” he answered the question he could read from your eyes.

The broad man held your hand up all of a sudden. “Gerold! Look here. Gold!”

You closed your hand into an iron grip when realizing he was going to steal your ring.

He twisted your hand, digging his dirty nails into it to pry it open. He nearly broke your finger to get it off. Another came to look inside your satchel to search for valuables, you prayed the bracelet did not slip past your sleeve as it would certainly tempt them to steal it too.

“Gerold…” The scrawny man held up one of the golden coins that was found in the satchel. “This one is worth more than she appears.”

Gerold looked at the wagon full of newly purchased wares, at the coins found in your satchel, and he came to his conclusion. “There’s more where that came from. She’s coming with us.”

The nasty comment made you want to strangle the life out of the scrawny one. They forced you onto the wagon, some of the thieves got on the wagon as well whilst others went to retrieve their horses.

Lancelot called out to Gerold, “I will bring any gold you desire if you leave her be!”

Gerold was disinterested. “Unlike her, you do not have a satchel with gold on you. We are taking her.”

The wagon began to move, those on horses rode along to guard it. A few of them stayed with Lancelot and Arthur, keeping them under control until the wagon was at a safe distance. You kept calm as they bound your hands behind your back as well. It was an odd calmness, one that hide the storm brewing underneath your skin. This wagon, your ring, you were not going to abandon it. Lancelot and Arthur were alive, and safe now that those thieves had left them there. They believed you were the key to the gold they so desired, if only they knew what you planned to do to those who threatened your newfound home.

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[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

HOW TO WRITE A CHARACTER WHO IS IN PAIN

first thing you might want to consider: is the pain mental or physical?

if it’s physical, what type of pain is it causing? — sharp pain, white-hot pain, acute pain, dull ache, throbbing pain, chronic pain, neuropathic pain (typically caused by nerve damage), etc

if it’s mental, what is the reason your character is in pain? — grief, heartbreak, betrayal, anger, hopelessness, fear and anxiety, etc

because your character will react differently to different types of pain

PHYSICAL PAIN

sharp and white-hot pain may cause a character to grit their teeth, scream, moan, twist their body. their skin may appear pale, eyes red-rimmed and sunken with layers of sweat covering their forehead. they may have tears in their eyes (and the tears may feel hot), but they don’t necessarily have to always be crying.

acute pain may be similar to sharp and white-hot pain; acute pain is sudden and urgent and often comes without a warning, so your character may experience a hitched breathing where they suddenly stop what they’re doing and clench their hand at the spot where it hurts with widened eyes and open mouth (like they’re gasping for air).

dull ache and throbbing pain can result in your character wanting to lay down and close their eyes. if it’s a headache, they may ask for the lights to be turned off and they may be less responsive, in the sense that they’d rather not engage in any activity or conversation and they’d rather be left alone. they may make a soft whimper from their throat from time to time, depends on their personality (if they don’t mind others seeing their discomfort, they may whimper. but if your character doesn’t like anyone seeing them in a not-so-strong state, chances are they won’t make any sound, they might even pretend like they’re fine by continuing with their normal routine, and they may or may not end up throwing up or fainting).

if your character experience chronic pain, their pain will not go away (unlike any other illnesses or injuries where the pain stops after the person is healed) so they can feel all these types of sharp pain shooting through their body. there can also be soreness and stiffness around some specific spots, and it will affect their life. so your character will be lucky if they have caretakers in their life. but are they stubborn? do they accept help from others or do they like to pretend like they’re fine in front of everybody until their body can’t take it anymore and so they can no longer pretend?

neuropathic pain or nerve pain will have your character feeling these senses of burning, shooting and stabbing sensation, and the pain can come very suddenly and without any warning — think of it as an electric shock that causes through your character’s body all of a sudden. your character may yelp or gasp in shock, how they react may vary depends on the severity of the pain and how long it lasts.

EMOTIONAL PAIN

grief can make your character shut themself off from their friends and the world in general. or they can also lash out at anyone who tries to comfort them. (five states of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and eventual acceptance.)

heartbreak — your character might want to lock themself in a room, anywhere where they are unseen. or they may want to pretend that everything’s fine, that they’re not hurt. until they break down.

betrayal can leave a character with confusion, the feelings of ‘what went wrong?’, so it’s understandable if your character blames themself at first, that maybe it’s their fault because they’ve somehow done something wrong somewhere that caused the other character to betray them. what comes after confusion may be anger. your character can be angry at the person who betrayed them and at themself, after they think they’ve done something wrong that resulted in them being betrayed, they may also be angry at themself next for ‘falling’ for the lies and for ‘being fooled’. so yes, betrayal can leave your character with the hatred that’s directed towards the character who betrayed them and themself. whether or not your character can ‘move on and forgive’ is up to you.

there are several ways a character can react to anger; they can simply lash out, break things, scream and yell, or they can also go complete silent. no shouting, no thrashing the place. they can sit alone in silence and they may cry. anger does make people cry. it mostly won’t be anything like ‘ugly sobbing’ but your character’s eyes can be bloodshot, red-rimmed and there will be tears, only that there won’t be any sobbing in most cases.

hopelessness can be a very valid reason for it, if you want your character to do something reckless or stupid. most people will do anything if they’re desperate enough. so if you want your character to run into a burning building, jump in front of a bullet, or confess their love to their archenemy in front of all their friends, hopelessness is always a valid reason. there’s no ‘out of character’ if they are hopeless and are desperate enough.

fear and anxiety. your character may be trembling, their hands may be shaky. they may lose their appetite. they may be sweaty and/or bouncing their feet. they may have a panic attack if it’s severe enough.

and I think that’s it for now! feel free to add anything I may have forgotten to mention here!

[flovverworks]

sorry i got overwhelmed with love for akira again

[chuluoyi]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 (𝐔𝐍)𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋

- sylus x reader

master and servant. man and his right hand woman. you and sylus are labeled many things, but does love exist in many labels of your relationship?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, fluff, unrequited love, explicit smut, fwb, jealousy, hurt/comfort, description of major injury, blood loss, gore, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), spoilers! takes place throughout long-awaited revelry

note: my very first love and deepspace fic! :') w.c 5.2k ! i have a severe brainrot omg

Everyone knows of your relationship with Sylus.

The leader of Onychinus and his notorious lady assassin, you two strike fear into his foes and allies alike. You are as deadly as you are beautiful, and that's more or less why he keeps you around.

What everyone doesn't know, however... is that behind closed doors, you too share his wealth and his bed.

“I don't mind to spend the whole night with you,” he’d whisper in your ear seductively at nights, deft and veiny hands roaming your body all over. He often made you ride on top of him, dark burgundy eyes hazed with lust, knowing full well that you desired the very same goal he did.

And you’d respond his hunger with the same fervor, crashing your lips into his, your tongues intertwining, your hips moving vigorously against him.

“Ahh... ah!” Before you knew it, his cock—thick and long in size—slid inside you in such a snug fit, making you throw your head back and dig your sharp nails into his skin.

“Keep me going with your voice, kitten.” Sylus growled, eyeing your wobbling lips and tightly-pressed eyes as he sank even deeper inside you. “Yeah, just like that...”

Sylus always began roughly, seemingly not minding your breathless moans and wishes, and you liked him that way too—

“Is this... all you've got?” you panted in a hoarse voice, sweat lining your neck and forehead, the coil in your belly tightened so deliciously each time he thrusted into you. “Surely... y-you can do better...”

“Ha,” he gave a low snort, his red eyes blazing as he grabbed your bum and squeezed it, making you gasp. “Careful what you wish for... sweetie.”

And then your vision literally tilted upside down—Sylus gladly flipped your position so he could see you even better. This way, he also had even better access to you, intertwining your hand with his, spreading your legs wide so he could rut into you.

“—!” Breath was knocked out of your lungs as immeasurable pleasure washed over you, crashing and receding in an instant. You almost screamed as your back arched.

He broke into a satisfied smirk. “Let it out,” he murmured against your neck, biting gently into your skin, voice muffled. “You never hold back with me, do you, hmm? So, don’t start now.”

“You b-bastard...” you looked up at him with a breathless smile, knowing how close you were to losing your wits.

He simply made your nights worth remember. His allure was undeniable, with a voice that was naturally sultry. And his hands... fuck, they did heaven's work.

It didn't take you long to finally reach your climax, and once you did, your moans were the nastiest all night as you continuously lined his back with scratches.

You could feel how he was chasing his own orgasm all the while, before pulling out right at the last minute and made a mess on your belly, falling beside you.

“Tired?” Sylus’ chest rumbled with laughter as you laid sprawled there in a haze. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your burning cheeks. “I really like this look on your face right now.”

You rolled your eyes, catching your breath and shivered. “I bet you tell that to all other women you manage to lure to your bed.”

“How presumptuous.” He sent you a sour scowl. “I have a high standard— you should consider yourself lucky.”

Well, you do. Holding back a smile, you changed the topic. “I’m cold. Clean me up already.”

“Now, now… what a spoiled little thing you are…” Sylus chuckled, his voice deep and low, yet wrapping his arms around you nonetheless, hoisting you up.

Nights of passion. Mutually beneficial relationship. Nothing more and less.

No strings attached.

This is thrilling. Intimacy without commitment is more than enough to spice your checkered life. After all, what could be better and more rewarding than fucking the hottest man in N109 Zone and getting away with it?

At least, you thought so.

. . .

“Damn, you’re going to make me sore…” you grumbled, letting out a deep sigh as you sank into the sheets after he had cleaned you up, still basking in the afterglow and ready to drift off to sleep. “Ahh...”

Sylus’ lips curved into a wry smile as he watched you make yourself comfortable on his bed, slipping on his black shirt. “Well, I’m just that good, and you did ask for it.”

“Are you going out?” you asked in a small voice, teetering between sleep and wakefulness as you noticed him taking out his favorite gun. “It’s midnight.”

“Luke and Kieran said she has arrived.” Sylus said in low voice, not even sparing you a look. “After all, she has gone through all that trouble to come here, it is only right that I greet her myself.”

The woman. Sylus had told you several times, how a woman with Aether Core and powerful Resonance Evol would eventually come to N109 Zone. And that when the time came, he would make her resonate with him.

A part of you didn’t really know what to feel about this vague plan of his. “Will you bring her here too?”

“I’ll have her stay here until we have reached resonance,” he responded casually while shrugging on his coat.

Sylus valued others depending on their worth. He said it so himself—he isn't a philanthropist. He saw potential in your evol—the Speech Manipulation—which is why he rescued you three years ago, even after you had swung a blade to his throat.

This time must be the same. You played with the edges of your hair. “Well, consider me jealous then. Seems like I’ll have a rival soon.”

Your quip finally caught his attention, as he finally turned to you, one side of his mouth upturned.

“Ha.” Sylus strolled over to where you lay on the bed and placed a hand under your chin, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Is there even anyone brave enough to go against you?”

You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “We shall see about that.”

Little did you know, the coming of this new girl would be the start of the undoing of your mutually beneficial relationship.

You would've expected the woman bearing Aether Core inside her to be way more interesting than that clueless, weak and easily spooked hunter from Linkon City.

But your and Sylus' definitions of interesting clearly differed though, as you caught him smiling after he pulled the most outrageous stunt on himself— having her shoot him right in the heart.

“She is funny,” he said to himself, almost snickering even as you wiped the blood off his toned body. “She was shaking so much the moment I pulled the trigger.”

“Is that your only finding—” you snapped as you wrapped the bandage around his bare chest, fuming. “—after shooting yourself just to mess with her?”

Luke and Kieran told you how he had used his Evol to pull the hunter girl onto his lap, then handed her a gun and made her shoot him. You couldn't believe it at first, until the sight of Sylus staggering to his bedroom, his shirt bloodied and clutching his chest made you almost scream in horror.

“Is that really necessary?” you scowled, tightening the bandage with more force than needed. “Or are you just trying to get her attention?”

Sylus’ sharp gaze settled on you then, seemingly not taking your comment well.

“What’s got you so worked up about this, hmm?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he observed your cross expression. “Last I checked, we agreed not to get involved in each other’s personal affairs.”

Personal affairs, he said? Everything you two had done had long past breached all personal boundaries.

But the fact remains that you two are nothing more than—

“Fine.” You tied the bandage abruptly and about to storm off, making no effort to conceal your ire. You couldn’t say you were worried or that you hated seeing blood smeared across him. That was never in the agreement.

Until you felt a hard tug on your arm—

“And where does the angry kitty think she is going, hmm?”

Before you could discern it, your back was pressed against the wall—your left arm pinned beside your head, with Sylus filling your view.

His sculpted abs were right in front of you for the taking, his scent permeated the air, and his unsettling swirls of crimson eyes had you completely captivated.

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” Sylus laughed as he leaned in, gripping your chin with his other hand. “If I didn’t know you were more than capable of slitting my throat in my sleep, I’d want you to look at me like this every day.”

It struck you how your heart raced wildly under his intense gaze. With his perfect face so close, the only sound that seemed to be most prominent was the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“What’s wrong? We’ve been closer than this,” Sylus taunted with a wide grin, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed his body against yours. “What’s making you so nervous?”

If you knew anything about Sylus, it was that he took pleasure in seeing you squirm in his hold. You glared daggers at him. “I hate you.”

“How lovely.”

“You’re infuriating,” you spat, devoid of any amusement.

He barked a satisfied bout of laugh once again, before releasing your chin. However, to your surprise, that very same hand groped your chest roughly—

“Then perhaps...” he hummed, a wicked glint in his red eyes, whispering to you with sultry voice right before he pulled you into him and devour your lips in heat: “You can help to fix me, sweetie.”

His kisses were hot as his tongue and hands made his mark on your body. Pressed against his bare skin, you gripped his strong, broad shoulders as he lifted your legs to his waist.

As always, he managed to dissolve all your lingering thoughts with lust. You just never knew one day you would finally reach the last straw though.

. . .

"Are you going out again tonight?" you muttered, tracing your fingers along his abs as you lay in his arms, still a bit giddy after your passionate session.

"No, I'm sleepy," he replied quickly, his voice low as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep already, kitten."

"I can't sleep."

"Poor you. I can though."

You quirked a frown at him. "You're so annoying these days."

"Oh?" Sylus cracked his eyes open, a smirk on his lips. "If you find me so disagreeable, you can always make me obey you, no?"

Your speech manipulation could make people do your bidding and it was a pretty useful talent. Apart from the first day you met Sylus three years ago in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you had never tried using it on him again.

"I won't, you idiot." You sighed and turned away, your back facing him. The idea of bending him to your will somehow didn't sit right with you. It was against your conscience now.

"Why are you facing away? It's freezing," he grumbled almost in a petulant voice. You nearly rolled your eyes, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your middle from behind.

"Why are you hugging me? We’re not usually this touchy after sex."

"I'm telling you, I'm cold, and you're my heat pillow."

"You're so damn insufferable..."

Despite your sharp retort, a smile found its way to your face. Moments like this were rare, and when he was the one seeking you, you couldn't help these butterflies in your stomach. Still...

You two are not in love, dammit. Sometimes it confused you a great deal. What is love anyway?

“Caw, caw, caw!”

“Mephisto, shush.”

Sylus’ robotic pet crow had surprisingly taken a liking to you shortly after you began living in the base. He obeyed your commands just as he did with his owner. The same couldn’t be said for Miss Hunter though, as Mephisto seemed to have a strong dislike for her.

You were idling at the living room with the crow when you realized how close it was to dawn.

“Luke, Kieran,” you called to the twins, who were bickering over a crate of oranges, frowning. “Where did Sylus go?”

Both stopped and looked at you, and Kieran blurted out, “Boss? Oh, he went out with Miss Hunter!”

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were nonetheless. “And he still hasn’t come back?”

“Ah, yeah... but I think they just went on a short errand. He’s probably back or already on his way?” Luke mused, and you clicked your tongue.

It irritated you, it gnawed at you—how Sylus had been spending so much time with that hunter these days. He was trying to make her resonate with him, but still, the way you saw it, he was going through his playbook—

Just as he had done when he pursued you.

Calling her “kitten”, “sweetie”... everything he did with her seemed like a replay of the first year you spent in this place.

Deep down, perhaps you had hoped that, in some way, Sylus would see you as you saw him. Love might be out of reach in your bleak existences, but you at least wished he would consider you an irreplaceable presence.

You were petty, and you knew it.

“Mephisto,” you whispered to the cooing crow as it turned to you pliantly. “Go find and bother her, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight,” you added, letting the bird fly away on your command.

Deciding to rest in his room, you left the living room with a sense of exhaustion. You had stayed up for Sylus on a whim, as he had promised to share his plans for the upcoming auction soon. However, sleeping at dawn was giving you frequent headaches, and the habit was wearing on you.

You took a bath and then headed to his bedroom, and you would have never guessed what scene you'd walk into—

Sylus, in his bathrobe, and that girl… nestled against his chest on his bed. The very same bed where you two made out just the other night.

“Y/N?” Sylus looked at you over the girl’s shoulder, and you were frozen on the spot, feeling an indescribable rush of emotions washing over you.

In the next moment, the hunter girl scrambled away from him in panic, her face flushed with shame. “I-it’s not what it looks like! I swear! Sylus— I was just trying to find his brooch and—!”

In that instant, something inside you turned ice-cold. Her frantic explanations—none of it registered to you. The fact that he let her into his bed was enough for you.

You weren’t sure if Sylus noticed, but your eyes darkened, your fists clenched, and a storm raged within your chest.

“Sorry for intruding,” you said frostily, cutting her off and casting a contemptuous glance at both of them before turning on your heel and slamming the door shut.

It was no use, you finally realized. In this twisted relationship you two shared, there could never be anything more than hot sex and flirtations.

Somehow it hurt more deeply than you expected, as though your heart were being scorched. Yet, you couldn’t even find the tears to cry—as you weren't allowed to do so.

Sylus noticed the change in you immediately.

You vanished from the base and returned in the evening, not sparing him even a look and he could tell then that you had come back a different woman.

And it was the part he hated the most. These days, he couldn't read you at all.

"Luke and Kieran, keep an eye on her tonight," he instructed his two underlings as the two of them were getting ready.

"Who? Miss Hunter?" Luke questioned.

"Or the missus?" Kieran supplied.

Both of them liked you as well. Unlike him, you’d spend your free time indulging their nonsense, and over time, they even gave you that friendly moniker.

They didn't really know the nature of your physical relationship though. Or at least, didn't really know fully.

"The latter," Sylus gruffly replied, and then he went to the hunter girl to prepare her as well.

He had a justified explanation. If you had asked him, he would tell you nothing had happened. Your ire was better than silence, definitely a hundred times better than this.

But why didn't you come to him?

And why does he want you to come and demand him for an explanation?

However, tonight was the auction for the Aether Core. He had to finish this first before he could get a word with you later.

At least that was what Sylus had thought... until he saw you at the auction venue.

You were stunning in that black cocktail dress. He didn’t know when you had your hair done, but you looked as if you had spent the entire day preparing for this occasion despite having barely two hours after coming back. You were definitely a head-turner, drawing the attention of many vermin as you navigated the ballroom with grace and everlasting smile.

And it grated at him. Severely. Sylus's eyes were locked on each lowlife hell-bent on taking his life and desperate to get into your pants, knowing he would end them all tonight.

...and as if it wasn't enough, he then saw you entertaining one of them with that sort of smile you used to reserve for him.

. . .

"Mm-hm, really?"

"Yes, I've heard they are inside the safe number 209."

You coyly smirked, looking the man with mask in front of you, whom you had led to a deserted hallway, who had been complying and smiling at each and every question of yours.

"Thank you then." You flashed him your best smile, about to go back to the main hall.

"And uh, miss," he suddenly turned to you in a flurry. "I believe I haven't gotten your name—"

You chuckled, facing him again. "Oh, you want to know my name?"

"Very much so!"

This was like bread and butter to you. You effortlessly wrapped an arm around the man's neck, standing on your tiptoes, and whispered in his ear:

"Halt."

He went rigid the moment the command left your lips, and you could feel his panic rising as you pulled away.

"W-what happened—!?" he thrashed against the invisible hold manifested by your Evol in pure panic, to no avail, whereas you regarded at him with a cold smile.

"What a shame. I planned to let you be, but then you gave me the perfect opportunity." You maintained your eerie smile as you pulled out a thin, needle-like blade from the hem of your dress. "You have been a great help. Thank you."

With that, you slit his throat, and blood splattered onto the ground in a continuous pool as he jerked, collapsing like a broken statue.

You felt nothing at the sight, but you knew you weren't alone as you felt his presence.

"You started the party without me?" Sylus' deep voice resonated through the hall. "Didn't know you have that much of bloodlust this early, sweetie."

The clench of your heart was still there, even when you had decided to discard all your lingering feelings for this man. Still, you put on the perfect poker face when you met his eyes.

"I want this to be over and done with quick. I'm exhausted already."

Sylus eyed you calmly, yet somehow it felt as if the depths of those red eyes were trying to assess your soul. "Your actions said otherwise. Is flirting with him necessary?"

"You're one to talk, Boss," you scoffed at the last word. "As long as it entertains me, why isn't it?"

Sylus didn't deign you with an answer, and you decided to pour more oil into it.

"Strictly professional, no?" You lifted your chin defiantly. "Last I checked, we were not supposed to meddle in personal affairs—"

You didn't realize it until he did, because the next thing you knew, his right eye suddenly glowed with that terrifying shade of crimson. "You—!"

He has seen it all. In the three years since he took you in, Sylus had never used his Aether Core-infused right eye on you to peek into your mind. The first and only time it had happened was when he restrained you from attacking him on the day you first met.

This was the second time. And now, he knows. Of your petty feelings, of your deepest, truest desire.

At first, Sylus remained silent, but then his eyes narrowed at you, low voice booming through the hall.

"Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Y/N."

And after all that he knew, that was the only thing he could come up with?

You felt shame wash over you. You wanted to run from him. This was too much because he most definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings, did he?

"I don't want to hear it," you resolved, the space around you felt constricting all of a sudden. You walked past him, about to break into a sprint—

Sylus immediately caught a hold of your arm though, sending a glare at you. "You—"

"It ends here," you blurted in heat. "I don't want it anymore. We're through, Sylus."

"Listen to me!"

He snarled at you, and it was the very first time he did so. However, you paid him no mind and pulled out your ace card, staring hard into his eyes. You could feel the start of his black and red mist, but your Evol was faster—

"Move."

His hold on you loosened, and he jerked back several foot away from the impact. You kept your manipulation on him, avoiding his fury-blazed eyes, bolting away before he could catch you.

. . .

The night escalated so much worse than you had imagined. Explosions and a sudden appearance of an Arbiterwings threw the whole auction into chaos.

You were fighting off the sudden wave of wanderers alone, relying solely on your blade since your voice was too hoarse to use your Evol. When one of them struck you and sent you crashing into a wall, you just sat there in a daze.

It was exhausting. Usually, Sylus would be by your side, covering your back at the very least. He wouldn't let a single scratch get to you. His black and red mist of doom would dominate the battlefield, offering you protection while at it.

You loved that bastard. It was so beyond stupid. Why did you have to ruin everything by having these feelings? If your heart was gone, would these feelings go with it too?

You got your answer sooner than you thought.

White-hot pain engulfed you when something impaled you right in the chest. The searing agony was mind-blinding, the only thing you could discern was your own wails.

No, the feelings didn’t go. Even as you teetered on the brink of death, that damned love only evolved into many regrets.

And in your final moments, you could've sworn you felt the exact moment your heart stopped beating.

"Oh my god! Luke! She is here!"

"Kieran...! Is she alive?!"

"So much blood—! Luke, call Boss! Call Boss here!"

"Boss! We found her!"

"What do we do?! Shit! It's right... in her heart..."

"What!? Boss! S-she is...! Oh lord..."

You had a dream, and it was of your first meeting with Sylus.

Three years ago, in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you were a mere scavenger until he found you. You had thought he was a threat much like others in this lawless city, so you unwittingly showcased your Evol before him in defense, until he pinned you down on the hard ground, crimson eyes holding you in place.

"I'm giving you two options: go with me and live, or die here in vain," he had told you then, a smug smile on his face. "I assure you, so long as you're still useful to me, you won't have to worry about food or roof above your head ever again."

What kind of homeless person would refuse that tempting offer?

Since you followed him, Sylus had never been untrue to his word. He made good of his words, idly engaged you in his circle, showered you with gifts, and at one point—

"You're... trying to tempt me, aren't you?" he growled amidst kisses, pinning you on his desk. Apparently, seeing you up close and personal every day in his home had worn down his patience. He was just a man, after all.

You wickedly giggled, even breathless, cradling both sides of his face and admiring those ruby eyes of his. "What if... I am?"

"Then consider me tempted, little kitten," he chuckled, his baritone voice casting a spell over you. "Remember though, curiosity can kill most cats."

Thus began your thrilling relationship, and you knew you would gladly stay with him just to have a taste of that heaven. And you knew too, he wouldn't cast you easily this way.

And of course, so long as you are useful to him, that is.

When you came to, you felt warm, and your position was so comfortable that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

At first, it didn't register to you where you were. The scene before you was so familiar, but you were so lethargic that you were late to recognize it.

"Awake?"

Sylus' bedroom. The realization dawned on you as that deep, low voice questioned you flatly. You jerked instinctively, looking up at him as he came into view, holding a glass of wine.

He was still the same. Even with you out of commission, he would still indulge himself with his wine. Somehow you couldn't really pinpoint what you should feel about it.

However, Sylus then did the thing you didn't expect him to. He went back to his pantry to get a glass of water, and then he came to your side to prop you up.

"Drink," he commanded, positioning the glass on your chapped lips. You complied and did so, feeling relief for your throat. Once you were finished, he gently laid you back on the bed and tucked you in, never once taking his eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Have been better," you quipped dryly. Then it dawned on you that he had never been this gentle with you before. He was showing care, which confirmed one theory you had about him: Sylus could be considerate when he chose to be.

The very fact that you ended back here didn't really faze you much, because in the end, you belonged to him out of all people. Just one thing that still didn't make sense in your mind: "What did you do?"

His burgundy eyes squared at you. "What?"

"There’s no way I could've survived that," you mumbled, trying to gauge his reaction. "You must’ve done something."

“Ha, when it comes to these things, you’re sharp,” Sylus said with a light scoff, and you frowned.

"Answer me."

"Aether Core," he supplied. "It was now in you, repairing your coronary system."

"You..." you were rendered speechless. "You—what? You infused my heart with a Protocore...?"

Just like the one in his eye, he had implanted you with that dangerous fragment that was from something as horrific as a Wanderer. The very thought made your breath hitch.

"Stay calm," he commanded, his hand found yours when he noticed your horrified expression, squeezing it as if to provide some sort of reassurance. "You'll be fine."

"H-how... why..."

"That was your only chance, or you would’ve been dead." Sylus' tone was harsher now, his jaw set firmly. "I keep telling you not to rush in carelessly, and yet you did. Did you even know how bad your state was when I found you? No, you didn't."

The way he spoke made you feel as though you were being blamed, and overwhelmed with your frustration, you retorted sharply, "No one asked you to save me."

Awkward silence lingered for a good one minute after your jab. You turned away from him, feeling conflicted, because you knew you should be grateful that he did so, because it meant the Aether Core inside you now was the one he had been looking for in that auction.

He gave it up to save you.

Still, it confused you.

“If I died...” you began, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Then it just means I’m no longer useful to you. You always discard things that no longer serve your purpose.”

You turned back to him, meeting his impassive gaze. “So why? Did you pity me after discovering my feelings? Is that why?”

There are many labels in your relationship. Master and servant. Onychinus leader and his right-hand woman. But you were also his lover, even unsaid. Was that fact that did it? Or a mere charity for the weak, you?

Suddenly, Sylus placed his palm over your chest, right where your heartbeat pulsed. You stiffened, bracing for some sort of impact.

But no, it wasn’t anything sensual like he usually did. His hand—large and warm—was a comforting presence, resting on your chest and feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Haven't I told you that I never act out of pity?" Sylus' voice was strained but softer than usual, his deep burgundy eyes holding yours. "Do you really need me to spell it out?"

You didn't dare to look away, for the moment of truth was right in front of you.

"My only regret is not being able to pull you back," he said quietly, his tone somber. "I shouldn't have let you get hurt."

Oh. You blinked, taking in his sincere words, something inside you softening and warming at his words.

You had noticed it too. Despite his roguish exterior, he had always looked after you during your time together. It was just that you hadn’t dared to hope for more.

“The naughty little kitten has managed to worm her way into me, it seems,” he chuckled then, flashing you that cocky smile. “So now, she has to be held responsible for her actions.”

His red gaze narrowed as he added. “Moreover, since I have saved your life— you owe it to me not to throw it away so easily. So you can’t rush into danger carelessly again, you hear?”

Those playful remarks were enough to dispel your doubts and insecurities. They answered everything you had been questioning, and knowing it, finally you let out a relieved sigh and exasperated snort. “You shameless bastard...”

And when he leaned in to place a fleeting, innocent kiss on your forehead, you realized that, in his own way, he saw you just as you saw him, even if only a little.

Sylus settled into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his arm. Tonight, there were no passionate kisses, no steamy foreplay, or dirty talks— just you being alive and well in his embrace.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, woman. Luke and Kieran keep mourning you everyday.”

“Three weeks?! How did you manage without me for that long?”

Sylus glanced at you, a contented smile on his face as he held you close. “It’s been horrid.”

Neither of you would be caught dead saying “I love you”, and yet, regardless, you knew that right this moment meant so much more.

[leaderwonim]

❀﹐𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: in which married couple park sunghoon and park y/n are on their way to court to divorce when they suddenly get into a car crash, losing their memories entirely. over time, they start to fall inlove with each other all over again.

genre: angst, exes to lovers + strangers to lovers (ynhoon are soulmates your honor!!) fluff

“You are the most immature person I have ever met!” You shout, “I should’ve never married you in the first place!”

“Finally, something we can both agree on.” Sunghoon seethes, and you just know the taxi driver is uncomfortable by the way he’s awkwardly looking in the car mirror.

The both of you crossed your arms stubbornly, huffing like little children who just threw a tantrum.

The only reason why you and Sunghoon were getting a divorce in the first place was because he was so busy at his office, inheriting the CEO position from his father just months earlier.

You felt lonely, and it really didn’t help that Sunghoon didn’t give you any reassurance because he was too tired.

“Aish, why is this red light taking so long?” Sunghoon angrily mumbles underneath his breath.

“Well maybe it’s your negative energy.”

“Can you be mature once in your life?” Sunghoon snaps back.

The taxi driver, very annoyed with the both of you, continues driving when the light turns green.

Then all of a sudden, a car rams through the intersection, crashing directly into the taxi.

You scream, and Sunghoon instantly puts his arms around your frame, shielding you.

Then, all goes black.

For a second, you could see the day that you and Sunghoon got married.

It was a Sunday, at the beautiful church nearby Sunghoon’s parents house, and you were wearing what Sunghoon called the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. It was plain white, but long and so beautifully designed that it didn’t need any other colors.

When you arrived at the altar, Sunghoon had bursted into tears. Some of his friends, Jake, who had traveled all the way from Australia to attend, patted the boy on back as comfort.

That day was nonetheless the happiest day of your life. You don’t know if Sunghoon feels the same, and looking back, it feels like such a shame that you’re throwing it all down the drain.

❀﹐

BLEEP. BLEEP.

Your body jolts awake, head practically killing you with the amount of ache it produced as you tried to sit up.

“Patient is up!” The nurse says before walking into your room with a tray. “Good morning, are you feeling okay?”

You raise your hands to touch your head, which was bandaged by some soft tissue material.

“Where am I?” You say, looking around the room. You spot a unknown man groggily getting up, and for a second, you can’t help but notice how handsome he was.

That was besides the point, though.

“You’re in the hospital.” The nurse says, smiling softly. “Do you remember the events leading up to this?”

“I.. I don’t remember anything, actually.”

The nurse still smiles at you reassuringly. “It’s alright lovebug, it seems as though you two have lost your memories.”

“Us two?” You question.

“Yes.” She points to the guy on the other bed right next to you who just looked like he woke up from death. He too looked badly injured like you, having a broken hand and bandage around his head. “Park Sunghoon-ssi was in the same car as you and got injured as well.”

Park Sunghoon. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Well since you're both awake," she said, relief evident in her voice. "You've been in an accident. Do you remember anything Sunghoon-ssi?”

Sunghoon shook his head slowly. "No... I don't remember anything."

The nurse nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “It's not uncommon for victims to lose their memories after a traumatic accident. Memory loss can be temporary. Just focus on resting for now.”

The nurse leaves the room, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

“She said we were in the same car together,” you say slowly. “But I really can’t remember what you are to me.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Me either. All I remember vividly is my parents. You must’ve been an acquaintance of mine, then.”

You nod, stretching your limbs. “You got more injured than me.”

He lets out an airy chuckle, lifting his broken arm which was in a cast into the air. “Yep, broken arm.”

You want to remember so badly what had happened leading up to all of this. What were you doing? Where were you going, and why were you with this Park Sunghoon guy in the first place?

“What did you get for breakfast?”

Sunghoon breaks the silence between the two of you, and you slowly look down at the tray in front of your bed.

“Uh, the nurse got me tiramisu and oatmeal.”

“Tiramisu?” Sunghoon’s mood automatically brightens up. “Can we please switch sweets? I really love tiramisu.”

You laugh at his childlike behavior, but nod anyway. “I’ll bring it to you Sunghoon, wait.”

You don’t know why, but it feels so right saying his name. Sunghoon must’ve felt the same way, because he swore his mouth went dry at you calling out his name.

You carefully make your way out your hospital bed, making sure not to accidentally detach any monitors that were attached to you. Grabbing the tiramisu cup, you make your way over to Sunghoon, who’s already shaking in excitement.

Then you make your way back, opening the lid of your oatmeal bowl.

“I may not know what happened in the accident,” Sunghoon says. “But I know this tiramisu is so fucking good.”

You shake your head, laughing at his words. “Yah Sunghoon, you think we were best friends before all of this?”

“Maybe.” He mutters, the mascarpone cheese of the tiramisu leaving a mark on the side of his lips.

“Well our humor is alike.” You say. “Would explain why we were in the same car together. Maybe we were going out to lunch.”

The rest of the day was spent with Sunghoon and you cracking jokes then and there, the awkwardness of the two of you being strangers quickly faded.

❀﹐

The next day, you were given tiramisu once again while Sunghoon was given cookies.

You descended from your bed, once again, and gave the tiramisu cup to Sunghoon while you grabbed his bag of cookies.

“You know what’s funny?” You say, biting into the warm chocolate chip cookie.

“What?” He says, although it’s muffled from the amount of tiramisu he’s stuffed into his mouth.

“Yah, you gotta stop doing that, it’s gross.”

Sunghoon sticks his tongue out at you, which makes you giggle.

“We’re both Parks, isn’t that funny?”

“Huh,” Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, thinking for a brief second. “Park Sunghoon and Park Y/N. That is funny.”

Maybe both of your humors are broken because you hit your head too hard during the crash, but even though you were at the hospital, you’re glad you have someone like Sunghoon to keep you company.

“Do you want to watch the stars with me tonight at the balcony?” You ask the boy, who nods softly.

“I’d love to, actually.”

And that’s what the two of you did. By the time it hit 10pm, you two tiptoed out to the balcony, making sure to not let any of the night nurses see you.

“Whoaaa, it’s beautiful.” Sunghoon says, letting his broken arm lean against the railing. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

You smile, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“Sunghoon.” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure what we were before the accident,” you stop for a second. “But I’m glad we knew each other.”

Sunghoon turns his head to look down at your face, his expression morphed into a genuine smile. “I’m glad we knew each other too Y/N.”

That night, you slept the most compared to the other nights at the hospital. In your dreams, you see Sunghoon—only instead of being at the hospital bed right beside you, he’s in the kitchen, wearing a black suit.

“You look nice today.”

“Thank you baby.” Sunghoon leans down to give you a kiss on the lips. “Is that tiramisu?”

You nod, your eyes full of love. “Of course, you’ve been working so hard so I decided to make your favorite.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, letting the two of you swing back and forth slowly. “Thank you my love, I seriously don’t know what I would do without you.”

You woke up in a cold sweat, the dream feeling all too real.

“What’s wrong?” Sunghoon says, and you swore your heart almost leaped out of your chest, not expecting the brunette boy to be awake.

“It’s 2am, why are you even awake?” You say croakily, hands coming to rub your tired eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs. “Hey, I had a really weird dream just now.”

“Me too.” You say, “you were in it.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t further question it. “You were a lawyer in my dream, you just graduated from Seoul University. We bought a house, and you told me you wanted to continue with your career.”

At least his dream was somewhat normal, you think. I can’t just tell him I dreamt of us being together and being all lovey dovey. He’d be thrown into a coma!

“Ah, mine was similar.”

Nice save Y/N.

Sunghoon suddenly gets up from his bed, deciding to sit at the dining table the nurses had brought out for the two of you yesterday night.

“Come sit with me.”

You slowly creep out of your bed, sitting on the empty seat next to Sunghoon.

Suddenly, you’re hit with a sudden pounding headache.

“You’re the worst, Sunghoon!” You scream on the top of your lungs, “I hate you! I hate you!”

“Stop screaming!” He grabs your arms gently, eyes directly looking into yours. “Y/N-ah, stop it.”

“So I’m Y/N to you now?” Your voice breaks. “No more baby or love? Am I just another person to you Sunghoon?”

“Of course not, why would you say that?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep inhale. “Let’s just talk about this calmly, okay?”

“What’s there to talk about? You are never home, you’re always cooped up in your office! We might as well get a divorce!”

Sunghoon’s hold on your shoulder makes you snap out of your daze.

“Hey, you okay?” He says concernedly, “you were breathing heavily.”

“What?” You gasp. “Yeah—yeah, I’m okay. I just think I had a flashback.”

“Really? What was it?”

You don’t want to tell Sunghoon that it was the two of you fighting. Why did you even mention divorcing in the flashback? Were you and Sunghoon something more than just friends?

“Just the crash.” You say. You want to tell him the truth, you really do, but you’re not sure if these were hallucinations from how hard your head was hit during the trauma or if they were actual flashbacks.

“Well, I’m here.” Sunghoon whispers reassuringly. “I’ll always be here. We survived a car crash together anyway, we’re kinda bonded to each other.”

You laugh, smacking him on his shoulder softly. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

❀﹐

“Do you remember what your passion was before all of this?” Sunghoon asks, peeling his orange with his injured hand.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you say, “l think I really would’ve liked becoming a mother. I love kids, the thought of them makes me happy.”

“I think you would be a great mother.” Sunghoon says quietly. “Even though we don’t know each other much, I can tell you’re loving.”

You look down at your lap, trying to suppress the bright smile forming at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks Hoonie.”

“Hoonie?”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable? I should’ve not—”

“It’s okay Y/N,” he chuckles. “It’s fine. I like it.”

You can’t help but laugh along with him. “Okay.”

The next few days go by quickly, with you and Sunghoon already warming up to each other.

You were both comfortable enough to speak your thoughts freely around one another, no matter how silly or ridiculous some of them seemed.

When the nurses brought you two breakfast, Sunghoon almost dropped his fork in shock.

“They gave me tiramisu.” He says, eyes glistening with joy. “They finally gave me tiramisu.”

“I don’t know why you’re so excited.” You snicker jokingly. “You’ve been eating my tiramisu this entire week.”

He turns around to look at your tray, which had a bag of snickerdoodle cookies on it.

With shaking limbs, he makes his way over, handing the tiramisu cup to you and swapping it with your cookies.

“I thought you hated snickerdoodle cookies, Hoon?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I do.” He admits. “But you’ve given me your tiramisu all week, I wanted you to have mine this time.”

Your heart swells at that, and you point your spoon at him accusingly.

“Yah, is this because you want my chocolate pudding at dinner?” You joke.

“Pffft, what? Nooo.” He quickly defends himself. “But if you’re willing to share—”

“Shut up Park Sunghoon!”

“Yes ma’am!”

❀﹐

You don’t know why, but you’re starting to feel giddy whenever you talk with Sunghoon.

Your palms does this thing where it sweats profusely, and your tongue feels like dried sandpaper.

There’s no way you like Park Sunghoon, right? You’ve barely known the guy for two weeks, so why was the heart racing at the thought of him?

“I’ve convinced the nurses to get us two bottles of coca cola,” Sunghoon says, practically jumping up and down as he entered the room.

“Really? Out of all the drinks you could’ve persuaded them to get us, you got us coke.”

“Don’t diss Coca Cola like that!” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

Just like Sunghoon had said, the nurse approaches the two of you an hour later, 2 bottles of coca cola in her hands. She hands one to Sunghoon, then to you.

"Enjoy." She says, smile reaching her eyes.

Sunghoon's eyes light up when he opens the bottle and takes a sip. "Ah, for some reason, this feels so nostalgic."

A little memory pops up in his head, one of him playing at the park with his mom and younger sister.

"Sunghoon-oppa! Mom says she brought us coca cola!" The young girl, Yeji, says. "C'mon! Come with me!"

The young Park Sunghoon lets his younger sister take his hand, running towards their mom who was on the other side of the park.

"What's wrong Sunghoon-ssi?" You ask, noticing how his thick eyebrows were furrowed and his grip on the bottle had tightened.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out for a bit."

He chuckles nervously, glancing around the room. "Sorry, I think I just had a flashback." He says. "Park Yeji."

"Who?"

"My younger sister." He explains. "I could see her clearly. I wonder where she is right now."

You too wondered where your family was. Maybe they were too busy to come visit you. You could briefly remember having a younger brother. Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.

"Cheers." He says, mood changing quickly. His canines shined brightly as he smiled, making him look all too gorgeous in your eyes. "To the car crash, for bringing me and Park Y/N together."

You giggle, raising your bottle in the air. "Cheers to the car crash, for bonding me with this weird guy named Sunghoon."

"Yah!"

❀﹐

"Is it weird?"

"Hm?"

It's 11pm, and you and Sunghoon face each other as you're both laying on opposite ends of the room.

"That we've known each other for only a few weeks and I already feel like I've known you for an entire lifetime?"

You smile at his words, shaking your head. "No, I feel the same way Hoonie."

"Would it be stupid to say out loud how much I want to kiss you right now?"

Your mouth almost drops at his boldness, but you quickly shake your head.

Sunghoon takes your silence as approval, sitting up to come over to your side.

He brushes the hair away from your face, leaning in to close the gap between your lips.

When the both of you pull away, you automatically lean in again, the feel of his lips on yours felt so right.

"I love you Sunghoon." You say as you cup his cheeks. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"I know," he whispers. "I love you. Cause even though we were both going down, we were going down together."

"I hate you." You say, a smile playing on your face. "I hate you for being the only person who I can't stay mad at."

"And I love you," he says. "For being there for me, always."

"Sunghoon."

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He smiles down at you, uninjured hand coming to hold yours. "I love you too."

❀﹐

"What?" You say flabbergasted.

The next morning was the date of both yours and Sunghoon's discharge, and both your families decided to come visit.

"You two were married." Your father explains, a bewildered expression on his face. "How could you not know? Was the Park Y/N not obvious?"

"I thought that was just my last name!" You say, defending yourself.

"Your last name is Yang, noona." Your little brother speaks up. It was Jungwon, the same boy you kept seeing in your flashbacks, only this time, his face looks more clear and matured. "It was before you married Sunghoon-hyung."

"You're telling me we got married and divorced?" Sunghoon says, stuttering over his own words.

"Yes son," Sunghoon's mother explains. "Well, not quite exactly. We don't know why you guys wanted to divorce, you kind of shut yourselves out when you were arguing. You didn't officially divorce yet, you got into an accident on the way to court."

That made so much sense now. The flashbacks of arguments between you and Sunghoon, the makeups after the arguments, the cute moments, everything. It started to all click in your head.

"You still share houses and everything, the lawyers had to put your case on hold because you were both hospitalized." Jungwon says. "We were here to pick you up separately, in case you weren't comfortable staying with each other."

"It's fine." You and Sunghoon both say at the same time.

"Are you sure honey?" Sunghoon's mom asks concernedly.

"Yes mom, I'm sure."

The drive home was awkward, you both drove in different cars but to the home you had bought before the accident happened.

"Noona," Jungwon calls out to you. Your parents are still in the car, looking at the scene in front of them.

"Yes Jungwon?"

"Listen, I may not know a lot about love," he says, "but I know what you and Sunghoon-hyung have is real. I could still see somewhere in his eyes that he remembers parts of you and he still loves you whether or not his memories came back or not. I could tell you love him too. I don't know why the two of you decided to divorce but I know you called me crying hysterically because of it. I just think you two needed to talk it out, without the lawyers, without the paperwork. You two are the two most stubborn people I know, but also the two most loving people I know, you wouldn't just leave each other like that."

You want to cry at your younger brother's words, tears already leaking from your eyes. "Thank you Won."

You reach your arms out to hug him, a hug that he instantly melts into. "I love you noona."

"I love you too."

❀﹐

"This isn't what we expected, huh?" Sunghoon says, leaning his head on the marble island in the middle of your kitchen. "This whole time I thought you were my best friend, turns out you were my soon to be ex-wife."

You laugh quietly at the irony of the whole situation. "Whatever we were in the past is in the past Hoon."

He nods. "I can't believe we were going to divorce."

"I can't believe it either."

"You know what my mom told me in the car?" Sunghoon sits up straight to look at you. "The reason I have a broken arm and you don't was because during the crash, I put my arms around yours to protect you. Isn't that funny? Even though we hated each other at that moment, my first instinct was to protect you."

You stay still at that, his words sinking into your brain.

"It's like the universe wanted us to be together." You say quietly.

"Hey Y/N?"

You turn around to face Sunghoon. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad I married you."

Even though you and Sunghoon aren't sure where you stand in terms of relationship, all you know is that you love him, and that is enough for the both of you.

[acid-ixx]

ch.3: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: allusions to sexual assault, prostitution, and alcohol abuse.

"hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!"

please stop.

"i know that we haven't been talking for quite a long time—"

no, you have never once had a solid conversation with him.

and you wish it stays that way between the two of you.

"—so let's catch up over coffee, yeah? i'll be staying at the manor for a week!"

you don't want to, you don't want to see his face at all, his dismissive eyes. don't want to hear his voice, how it only sings praises for everyone but you.

"(name)??? it says you have seen the messages :( are you asleep? you shouldn't sleep with your phone on, baby bird, that's dangerous!"

he doesn't have the right to scold you, he's not your older brother anymore. and you're not asleep, fuck, you regret not dozing off this afternoon. hell, you're more than awake and aware of the messages he's sending you, eyes scanning over the train of spam that clutters what was once an empty one-sided conversation.

"baby bird? c'mon, i miss you!!!"

lies, lies, lies. all he ever says are lies and you wouldn't fall for it, not anymore.

yet you're simply frozen in shock, seated up in bed as you simply watch dick's messages stack upon each other.

you watch, and wait. it's like you have lost autonomy over your body's actions.

five minutes pass.

your phone rings.

it was the only sound that fills the room other than the wringing in your ears.

it continues ringing, reverberating throughout the room, but all you do is stare, stare until the it ends, for everything to end and for all of this to be a sick hallucination your brain played on you.

there's nothing else you could focus on, your heartbeats spike the longer the call sound continues. you didn't even have the strength to decline the call, let alone move as you fear you might end up pressing the accept button.

so you wait, you wait until it stops.

and once it does cease, your sweaty thumb immediately pressed the block button on dick's profile, even going as far to delete all the past chats you had sent him. then, without moments hesitation, hastily scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, where their other contacts lay barren of messages.

you have only used enough effort to message dick. that's what probably triggered his sudden intent on spending time with you, no? or was this all for his sick pleasure?

fortunately, all your other contacts with your past family are empty.

it will remain empty.

so you immediately blocked them, all of them. the thumps in your heart are erratic, so much so that you had to remind yourself to breath. through your nose, and out your mouth.

that's it, right? he'll get the message, definitely. that you don't want him to talk to you, to get rid of the false pretenses between the two of you, you don't want to "catch up" over coffee, or over anything.

it's all over, you tell yourself.

'calm down, relax...' you're in the safety of your own apartment, you should feel safe right now, he wouldn't bother you anymore.

not anymore would you be led to believe that they care for you.

— so why is it that you can feel that familiar rise of bile? taste it, even? why is it that your body is shaking so uncontrollably?

what the fuck.

seriously, just what the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

you never take yourself as an overdramatic person, especially not now, at the age of eighteen where you had finally learned to live for yourself, to never yearn what you knew was unattainable. your past tantrums were no more, no more you say but you wish so badly to carve a knife into your very heart.

why is it that now— now that you were out of your comfort zone, out of their empty presences and their overwhelming absences; why is it now that he just suddenly decided to appear? why is it just now that you feel your skin scorching uncomfortably at just a single message.

shit, your heart hurts so much. you want to take the beating organ out of your chest, just to make the pain stop.

your momma always told you, she said it herself that you are a brave child, her pride and joy despite the hellish living conditions you both were subjected to.

why is it so hard to believe her now?

just, why are you so weak?

when your mother hid you inside that closet - one too small for even a malnourished child like you to fit - telling you to hush for her, and that it's just a game of hide and seek with the 'bad guys', to not make a single sound at all or even come out if you hear screaming— you did what you were told, obediently, covering your mouth, trying your hardest to ignore your sore joints and heavy breathing.

"woah, mommy! is this really me?! you always make me look so nice." a young voice squeals, the sound echoing throughout the hollow room.

"yes, it's you, baby. you who are so strong, unlike me. momma will always love you." scarred hand, littered with gashes and soiled bandages run brush through your messy hair as your small form sat on the dirty bathroom sink. your eyes are drifted towards a mirror, checking out the new shirt your mother had bought for you.

"i love you too..."

you never cried that loud when light suddenly hits the cramped interiors of the closet, when you were caught and shoved outside of your hiding space by strange men, your mother nowhere to be found. when you felt the same men ripping your clothes apart, knives branding your skin like a searing hot pan; you never fought back because that's what your mother taught you. even when they pinned you down and injected you with a strange substance, head suddenly numbing and vision darkening; you still woke up alive, no?

... you woke up alive and conscious in a police station, where you had questiomed to the kind officer about your mother's disappearance, where she had bared the news that you would be taken in to a new family; a new home where your father resides in. one way cleaner, way safer she says.

yet for the next 15 years you were neglectef of the love your mother had given you. you were only raised by a butler too busy to fully focus on you. you had compared yourself to your siblings, siblings who had achieved so much in so little time.

and you?

you are only a wayne by name, but a (last name) by heart.

but you are brave, you are strong— you came from the lowest of the low, yet you pushed through and through to be a better person, and look where you are now...!

... just look at yourself now.

your phone lays untouched on the bed sheets. it tempts you, mocks your panicked state, and you want to rip that rectangular piece of metal apart. yet all you do is stare at it, sitting upright as one hands supports your weight. your fingers clench the mattress, it does nothing as your vision darkens from your lack of breathing.

breathing.

oh, breath in, breath out. do what alfred has taught you years ago, the- the one he uses whenever you would run alone in the desolate halls of the manor to alfred's room, just because you were anxious of the monsters in the corner of your eyes, where he would help you return to your senses and play you a lullaby from an old music box right after. the one he uses after you two would watch horror movies and you were too scared of any sounds that engulf your surroundings.

your throat tightens, and you want to vomit out the contents of what you have eaten— but you have to try.

five things you can see.

your eyes, although frozen wide and stinging with tears, darts around the room. everything is darker now, it's cold and you feel so small. your apartment was small. unlike the place you had lived before, it lacks of furniture, of life, of personality. the only things in your tiny apartment were basic necessities, but even food was scarce for someone like you who had juggle working multiple jobs and college just to pay for rent.

you can see your phone, the candy wrappers you had forgotten to throw, the overflowing trash bin, an empty bottle of prescription pills, alfred's gifts on the shelves counts, right? you laugh sarcastically at yourself; even a trashcan has more contents in your shitty apartment.

fuck, your chest throbs, you remind yourself to breath a little deeper.

four things you can feel.

the mattress is too hot for you, sweat already running down your forehead as if you had ran a marathon. you can feel the tears well up your eyes, overflowing with bitterness that you thought you had already buried deep down, and your hands gripping the sheets so uncomfortably tight. the weather is too cold, winter's nearing but the blood pumping through your veins scorches your very being.

that's four, three more to go and you hope this would all be over. you hope that this would all be a dream, a hallucination, anything.

three things you can hear.

does your choked sounds count? or does it need to be anything else? fuck, why doesn't it work as well as when alfred helps you through? you told yourself that you could take on anything in life, but is it all just a lie—?

focus. focus on your surroundings. you can hear your sniffling, heavy intakes of air, and a repeat of the phone ringing with dick's name as the contact.

shit, shit, shit. don't remind yourself of that. move on, just get onto the next thing.

two things you can smell or... taste? you don't remember, why can't you remember? your thoughts keep running back in circles to the messages, that stupid '<3', the way his desperation could be felt through the phone.

it reminds you of yourself.

before you knew it, your fist brought itself to punch your chest.

thump, beat, thump.

every time your heart beats too loudly, you strike your chest as hard as you can, uncaring for the pain it inflicts you, uncaring for the way you beat the air out of yourself. as long as it distracts you from the bile rising up your throat and the unsated nausea from sitting in the same position— it'll be fine if you hurt yourself. you've already done so a million times, no?

... yet nothing works.

why doesn't anything work out in your favor?

please don't do this to me.

your fists eventually stops. everything hurts even worse.

just earlier ago, you were praising yourself for all the progress you had made. how you weren't in need of validation anymore. you try so desperately to erase any inch of evidence that you were a wayne.

it all crashes down, again and again, and again and again.

moments ago, you were laying on your bed, scrolling through social media, making plans to hangout with your small group of friends in college, trying to cling on to the good parts of your past— ignoring the empty chats of what was once family.

but even without them, even if they haven't knew that you pushed them away from your life— they're always seeping their way at the back of your mind.

you truly can not erase your past. no matter how much you shake your head to rid of the thoughts, no matter how much you try to erase any documentations, any

even talking to alfred reminds you of your stupid past. a past that eats you up every time you wake up from the nightmares, wishing that there would be someone, anyone, who would hold your body tight and tell you it's alright. your mother, your father, your brothers and your sisters— they just were never there for you for so many years. and you hate to admit it but; you still cling to the wish that one of them would...

would hug you and kiss all your wounds away. drive away the countless of dreams filled with terror and torture.

you're independent now, but at what cost? what good does it do when you still try your damn hardest to live? when you know it in your soul that you still desire for a semblence of familial love.

and now that you've pushed alfred away, you're truly alone.

alone and stuck in a loop of trying to run away from your past and failing miserably.

and all you can ever do is, well...

you cry.

the tears bursts out of your eyes like a broken faucet.

you cry because that's the only thing you know how to do. you let the waters loose, hands quickly tangling itself on your hair, ripping fragile strands apart. you cry because you've been living a such a life full of lies, of broken promises, a life where you have to constantly walk on eggshells. you cry because you want to turn back and throw away all your progress just to feel the embrace of a family who had never once held you in their arms. you let yourself heave, let your voice wail out to its deepest frustration, uncaring for the thin walls, or the sleeping neighbors next door, or the rumbling of your empty stomach.

you cry, for what seems like hours, unending like the memories of solitary isolation, like the wanting of a love that you could never quite catch. you let your eyes become all puffy and red; red like the gashes you have scratched upon your skin, like the crimson, beaded blood from your bitten lips.

you don't find any strength in yourself to stifle your sobs anymore.

not when you're so, so lonely in this world.

and when your voice dies down, when your hoarse shrieking becomes no more; you simply force yourself to stand, despite the spinning of your vision, the stumble in your steps and the lack of air in your lungs; you run to your bathroom, slamming the door shut, letting adrenaline take its course into your already tired body.

your knees, they buckle after its few wobbly steps. it's sore and lacks the circulation to be properly controlled, but you ignore it in favor of expelling the acidic bile that finally rushes itself up your tongue.

at least you find just one thing to be grateful for— that your knees slipped on the wet tiles and land coincidentally towards the toilet's rim, a loud thud vibrating through the room.

alfred says the best way to cope is to never jar your emotions.

it's painful, everything is so painful that you want to scream; you need to let it all out.

you don't care if your knees were to bruise because you couldn't help it anymore, spilling out the contents of your breakfast onto the toilet bowl. your throat constricts into itself, and all you could do is gag and force every bit of food out of your mouth.

and it tastes so bitter that you cry even more. there were some bits and chunks stuck on the sides of your tongue, you can taste the acid on the back of your throat. you feel the urge to vomit even more but there's no more to expel. all you can do is dry heave, shaking hands finding its way to cover your mouth from gagging anymore.

it's so pungent, so fucking disgusting— but all you do is force yourself to stand once more, to look away from the mess you had created and flush it away.

the tears just wouldn't stop, the throbbing in your heart could never be expelled just as easily as the contents of your stomach.

yet you chose this life, there's no more alfred to assist you on your own personal struggles. there's no more rubs on the pack, pats on the head or a warm meal that greets you every time you drown in your own emotions. it's only you who can solve your own problems. you can't depend on anyone but yourself...

if only life was as easy as it is to flush away unwanted contents from your stomach.

if only you weren't in gotham... if only dick wasn't in...

gotham.

he's in gotham right now.

shit.

shit, shit, shit.

dick is in gotham, and you know he just doesn't give up.

he can track you down, he'll find you, he might hurt you because you blocked him— you know of his temper, of his unadulterated anger; you're scared of that. just what have you done wrong? did you take something that was his? no, no, never.

you've never been in his room before. he knows yours because he had visited once, but you don't know his. you don't even know which hallway leads to it.

oh, fuck.

you stumble towards the bathroom sink, hastily twisting the faucet's valve. cold water immediately rushes down, you cup your two hands together to collect the running water.

you need to get to you bearings, prepare for the absolute worst because you know, you know the power he holds in his arms.

with the amount of times he had spammed you, called you even— there's something he wants from you, and you don't want to entertain whatever he has on his mind.

you splash your face - splotched with tears, snot and drool - clean multiple times, rub your swollen, red eyes, and wipe the bits of vomit on the sides of your mouth. you can still taste the vomit. god, it's disgusting.

so you hastily grabbed your toothbrush, pushing an insanely large amount of toothpaste on the bristles. you scrub your teeth aggressively, feeling the urge to rid of the pungent taste of stomach acid. then you gargle mouthwash, twice, and spit it all out.

your movements are too quick for your own self to catch up, but you have to do this. your brain tells you to follow through whatever it has to do.

follow through instincts, get him out of your mind.

distract yourself from dick and the cryptic messages he had sent, that you had thoroughly deleted but...

it dawns upon you that albeit all your failed attempts at bonding with him— you know nothing about dick beyond the circus incident that had killed his parents and his identity as gotham and bludhaven's vigilante, nightwing.

you know nothing about him...

and you fucking blocked him before you could ask for an explanation.

what does that message mean? what does he want to talk about all of a sudden? a person doesn't just fucking waltz in someone's life after 15 years of absence and exclaims himself as close as your friend, no?

it had been so long since you had last heard him call you baby bird, let alone even read your messages, so why spam you now?

your knuckles grip at the bathroom sink's tiles, it was the only thing that provides you balance, legs too wobbly to support the dizziness. you feel a huge lump on your throat again, but you can't just erase all the efforts you had done to get yourself together.

— but at the same time, it's too hard to ignore the panic that resurfaces on your very mind.

so what do you need exactly?

distraction, something to get your mind off of the current situation? before you run away from gotham—

you need a distraction, anything. even if it's stupid, you'll regret it later, just not now.

cigarettes? no, you don't smoke. alfred will kill you if he finds out and you can never lie to him.

drugs? you'll be shot in the head by nasty criminals scamming naive citizens for half the price before you could even purchase them.

... then what?

you look at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes glazing with emotions you yourself couldn't comprehend.

'despite everything, it's still you, no?'

if you could describe yourself right now, you would call yourself a mess, a big loser who had let their emotions run free for too long, let themself go way too quickly, gave up too quickly, and believed too naively. you had lost so much yet gained so little. a wayne so stubborn that it was the only thing you could ever relate to your father who had estranged you without knowing it.

there was more negatives than positives, you're aware of it.

but if there's one trait that anyone could generalize off of you, it would be that you're always desperate for something.

anything.

and just one time, you tell yourself. one time and that's it, nothing more, nothing less.

once you done relaxing, you're packing your bags and making a run for it. you'll even cut alfred off of your life once and for all. no matter how much it pains you to do so, it's necessary so you could make a new identity from scratch.

it'll hurt you so deeply.

but that's why you're going to do what you wish you had done back when you were still so young—

you need a drink right now.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

bruce wayne never considered himself the greatest father.

he could be gotham's best detective, the most feared vigilante, or the heavily beloved billionaire who donates millions on hospitals, hosts charity events, and so much more.

he could spend his entire life saving countless of other lives that do not deserve the turmoil of living on edge constantly, attend meetings, plan out his every moves, sit on cushioned seats as he broods over where the all the next criminal hideouts; he could do everything and he'll be damned great at it.

—but he will never be the greatest at being a father.

he had long accepted that fact, embraced it even, facing countless of criticism from both alfred and media alike, but it would never be an excuse to neglect or mistreat any one of his children, just like how it would never be right to just ignore a kid's cry for comfort in the barren halls of a manor.

bruce was never outright cruel towards anyone, every action of his baring significance to his moral code.

which was why bruce feels a pit of neverending regret now.

in all the years that he had spent trying to raise his children, children who, in a way, are trouble. who all differ from each other from ideals, to pasts, to habits, to preferences— he wouldn't lie and say that he never had difficulty helping each and every one of them grow to be who they are now.

living through his decisions are never easy, especially if the outcomes were unpredictable; raising a child, let alone children, could go so many ways.

the lives that he had to juggle, alongside his identity as bruce wayne and as batman, they were all an endeavor that he had chose to balance. he had come so far and stumbled so often. but at least by the end of it, he would be proud to say that he truly will never regret having them by his side when he was at the lowest points of his life.

he had his flaws and his mistakes, he had done irreversible actions that he wishes he could reverse, and most importantly, he had failed each and every one of his children indubitably.

but he really tried.

he tried his best to be there for every single one of them. he was there for dick when he had witnessed the death of his mom and dad, adopting the boy who was overflowing with rage towards the killer of his parents and utilizing his gymnastic skills for good. he was there to pick jason up when he had stolen the batmobile's tires, helping the child unlearn the past abuse he had fallen victim to (and although he had died, then resurrected, and turned cold-blooded towards criminals, murdering without hesitation— he still cares for jason deeply). he was there when tim had lost his parents. there for damian who had only been raised as an assassin since he was born. for cass, for duke, for everyone.

he really tried to be active in their lives, supporting them through their blood, sweat, and tears.

... but he had never tried to be there for you.

his forgotten third child, the biological firstborn, child of a well-known prostitute, (name) (last name), whose identity has long been erased off of the face of the internet; the scandal of a century that took the shared efforts of him and barbara to decimate whatever information the late (or missing?) (last name) has in the underground.

(name), his child he has never once bat an eye on, too preoccupied with tim, aversing his attention away from you to train the other kid; ultimately ignoring the immense trauma you must have dealt with from being raised by a mother targeted by most criminal organizations from extorting their cash. it was sickening for him to think of just how cruel were the conditions the two of you were forced to live through.

it was sickening for bruce to imagine the even lonelier years you had to suffer through after your mother's disappearance— years where your father's presence was elsewhere, years that a child has to suffer through alone without any figure to look up to.

it was your name that he had hesitated to even say, in fear of butchering the pronunciation and earning more of alfred's judgemental looks.

(name) wayne.

not even a face can be associated with you, not your voice, your hobbies, nothing.

he couldn't recall a memory where he had taken you to a fancy gala, or one-on-one father-child dates, or any occasions that requires bonding with each other.

he wasn't the man who welcomed you through the doors of the manor, nor was he the father who should've picked you up at the police station.

bruce wayne knows nothing of his third child.

if alfred hadn't confronted him about your terrible living conditions as of now, living in debt whilst trying to push through college, then how long would he have ignored your presence inside the manor? how long would the years pass without him acknowledging any important milestones that you would reach?

until your untimely demise perhaps?

he couldn't even remember a time he had at least given you a gift during christmas or new year or any time of the day.

not even the name of your elementary and high school, or your college university. he doesn't know of your friends, your teachers or what subject you excel in.

you had already graduated highschool, and he wasn't even there for your ceremony. he wasn't there to walk you up the stage, wasn't there to shield you from the thousands of photographers who would've attended should they know that a wayne would attend, wasn't there to offer you a pat on the shoulders for a job well done.

then who had to walk you up the stage?

"alfred..." he stops walking, clearing his throat as alfred turns back at bruce, offering a raised eyebrow at the sudden pause and bruce's rigid pose.

"yes, master?"

"when... (name) graduated," he hesitated on saying your name again, catching on alfred's sudden squint of the eyes. "who walked them up the stage?"

he hopes you didn't have to go up there alone, that a teacher at least accompanied you or—

"i was the one who attended in your stead, master bruce." the butler replies without hesitation, as if it was a normal occurrence. he sighs again, too tired to scold bruce's surprise for absolutely dismissing all the important dates that include you and instead turns back to continue on his treck to guiding bruce to your room.

alfred's look of condescension makes him sink deeper into the void of regret. for being unable to

fuck, how many important events had bruce missed? from school plays, to parent-teacher conferences, to talent shows— was there ever a "bring your father to school" day?

oh... he really hopes there wasn't.

his hands find itself scratching his head, fingers tangling itself onto his hair in hopes of providing distraction— but his thoughts all circulate towards you, a faceless entity, an itch that he could never reach unless he sees you for himself.

the further he walks through frigid halls, the smaller the space seems to get.

how many birthdays had he missed?

when even is your birthday?

you are eighteen now, five when you were taken in which means... almost fourteen years of missed birthdays...

he didn't even give you a single gift card out of pity. not even money for allowance, or a birthday cake.

bruce was never there for you, and he has a feeling that that may have been one of the reasons of you moving out.

he needs to make up for it at least, once he contacts you he'll apologize for everything—

but first, he needs to see the state of your room. to at least have a first impression of you, of what your life was in the manor; any clues that pertains to just who his child is, as humiliating as that sounds for a father.

which was why he didn't hesitate to let alfred lead him straight to your room, albeit the shame he feels for not even knowing where his own child's room is located.

back when he had taken damian in, it was him who introduced the boy to his own room, whom had promptly thrown a tantrum and demanded someplace bigger before ultimately accepting his fate.

... how would you have reacted to your own? he wishes to at least picture your face, probably opposite to damian's, as you get to live in an entirely different space from what you're used to.

would you be pleased? would you look at him with sparkling eyes and thank him? or would you maintain a neutral stance? an overwhelmed one?

he really wants to see you, your expressions, just a sliver of your presence.

but nothing comes up in his mind. not the length or color of your hair, not your height, not anything. he could picture a vague imagery of your mother, but not you.

it makes him wonder; does any of your siblings know what you look like? were you at least any closer to them that you are to him?

he hates just how much desperately the darkness in the pit of his chest is crawling in need to hasten his steps towards wherever your room was.

the rain outside had already ceased, but a newer thunderstorm was brewing inside bruce's heart.

he needs to see you.

as he walks behind alfred through the halls of the manor, he had just noticed how barren the other side of the manor truly is.

cob webs and dust particles litter through the corners of the untouched furniture, the wallpaper peeling off itself and revealing untreated mold and even more cocoons of baby spiders that would soon crawl out, and even most of the ceramic vases they had passed by houses no flowers, instead being covered in a thin sheen of dust.

it was obvious just how neglected this corner of the house is.

just like you.

alfred was always meticulous in his duty as a butler, but bruce had advised the old man to leave unexplored parts of the manor be, seeing as how nobody would stroll by; and to only clean it whenever he would host an expensive gala in the manor with spare rooms as guest rooms.

it made bruce wonder if these halls are the path that leads directly to your room, which it actually does, and he feels even more guilty at just how... different your living condition is compared to your siblings.

it was no wonder why the butler would always excuse himself early, seemingly always making a treck towards a forgotten chamber that he rarely visited.

he'll make a note of relocating you to a room closer than his if you ever were to decide to come visit during holidays or vacations.

... alfred said it had been six or seven months since you had left, just how many occasions have he missed?

counting only fills the dread in his the growing hole of the pit of his heart.

yeah... he will get you a new room, one preferably closer to his; just so he could greet you every morning by knocking on your door and at least escorting you to the kitchen for breakfast. he'll try to make small talk, invite you over and... bond with you.

that'll be a good habit he could incorporate into his daily life.

a small part of him wishes you wouldn't look at him in disdain if he had to forcibly visit your apartment.

he swears it's in all the good of his heard; he just needs to check for himself if you were doing okay.

as him and alfred nearly arrives at your bedroom, the two had already noticed the light peaking from outside the doors and what seems to be two voices ensuing an argument.

even alfred, who had ceased his steps, looked surprised at the presence of the people who seemed to be there before them.

bruce doesn't even hesitate jogging towards the room, unaware of alfred's immediate shift to a calculating gaze, as bruce immediately opens polished, mahogany doors, inviting himself in.

... it smells of bleach and fabric refresher.

his heart clenches at the implication.

"father...? why are you here?" damian's voice cuts through the tension, bruce merely dismisses youngest child as his eyes takes in the space, ignoring how the other presence in the room - dick, with wide, feral eyes - quips about an ongoing "family" reunion.

bruce analyzes every detail, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

small... your room is way too small, and lacks of any design or life whatsoever. a tiny bed is shoved in the corner, the closet too miniscule to even contain clothes for someone your age (just where do you store them, then?), the windows barely welcome any ventilation nor sunlight, even your bedside table was too small to be considered one; the lampshade on top of it could be easily toppled over by a single sway of a hand.

everything is clean, too clean and orderly.

his eyebrows furrow at its state. even a model's walk-in closet is significantly bigger than the cramped space he calls your bedroom.

no proper ventilation, not even any space is provided for... your hobbies. hobbies that he wasn't even aware of.

is this how you had been living for almost eighteen years of your life?

how do you live like this?

just how much has he neglected you?

"bruce...?" it was dick's voice that he had now registered. it sounds out of breath, way too abnormally distraught and out of character.

he slowly looks at dick, equally befuddled at the presence of his eldest and youngest sons.

he seems disheveled, stressed even. the athlete's blue eyes were wide and dilated, seemingly unfocused as his stance was rigid. he was breathing too deep, hand clenching his phone too tight, veins popping through muscles, and he holds a... notebook in the other, this time like it was a delicate piece or artifact.

"... why are you here?" dick tries to cover his current state with an awkward laugh, but he could never hide the furrow of his brows, the flickering in his eyes, nor the anxious stomping of the his feet. sweat runs down dick's forehead; it looks like he's been inside the room the longest.

and dick refuses to get out of it. he won't, not until he finds out just why were you pushing him always all of a sudden.

he's afraid of forgetting his baby bird once more and neglecting your needs. if you were just as self-depracating as he is then... just how well would you be coping all by yourself?

does bruce share the same intentions as him? he doesn't know, his thoughts all leading to a path of thinking about, well, you.

you and your wide eyes looking at him like he was the world.

"i'm just here to visit... (name)'s room." bruce replies, a deep tremor in his parched throat, threading even further into the cramped space as his eyes seem to lock into the multitudes of messily stacked notebooks in the center of the bed.

they were all captioned '(name)'s diary', each having different fonts for every notebook and a date plastered on the very bottom.

"and you both are...?" he stares at them, demanding an answer as he sits on your too small bed (—it creaks, he hates that it does so he promises to get you a new one, a bigger one even, with enough space to fit in at least four people just as you deserve), picking up one of the diaries in his hand; it sports messy calligraphy and peeling stickers, reminiscent of just how old it was.

the hold he has on the diary is delicate as he flips through the first page the same way the eldest child had done. the papers were stained gray from the lead of the pencil, doodles littering every page, from flowers to animals and even faces that bruce couldn't recognize.

at least it provides the void in his heart food for thought, taking in every small detail about you and your hobbies.

you like documenting your life through diaries, that was the first thing he noted about you. the entries all date far from back when you were five or younger, the earlier pages highlighting, well, you and your mother's life. though the handwriting wasn't all that eligible, bruce finds himself becoming fond of the common topics you often rant about from "momma's burnt stack of pancakes" (paired with a drawing on the side, colored with dried markers and glitter gel pens), to the fairytales your mother loves to read you.

as much as it was entertaining for him to read through your mind, it's sad how aged the papers were and how some pages were crumpled to the point some contents were incomprehensible.

he'll get you even more high quality ones, rather than the cheap paper the one he's currently holding has. and he'll buy you designer pens, or do you prefer the more functional ones? would you like fountain pens or glass dip ones just to enjoy the experience?

bruce notices a pattern of the pen's strokes, an array of thinner lines were preferred in most of your entries compared to the thick pencils you sometimes force yourself to use, as there was an entry you had mentioned where if you use thicker lines then you'll run out of pages quicker, and "my mom doesn't have enough money to buy me one right now."

even the doodles in pencil had prefered line widths. finer quality for even finer details, thicker lines to emphasize and exaggerate your art on the side of the papers.

would you prefer mechanical or charcoal pencils? charcoal is messy and smudges, bruce knows as he sees small drawings of a tiny sprite that point towards a smeared sketch of a flower, a look of disdain on its furrowed brows.

he couldn't contain the upward quirk of his lips, blocking out dick's shadow that seems to get closer to bruce.

unfortunately, there were no ballpens of your preference on your bedside table for him to take for himself. he'll find out himself sooner enough though; what materials you like to utilize for your diaries and sketches. hell, it seems you like using a mix of normal and puffy stickers alongside a mix medium to obtain different colors.

journaling supplies, you'll find a lot of them in your arsenal soon.

he'll make sure of that once he finds out where you live.

he looks at damian flipping through what seems to be one of your sketchbooks.

art is, undoubtedly, one of your hobbies too— that's the second thing he notes, picking up what seems to be your second diary right after he flips through the first one, wasting no time to learn more about you.

this time, your second diary talks about your early life into the gotham manor. your anxious yet earger energy to meet your father, how the dick grayson (presumably your idol, with how you mention him as the) is now your brother, and how you almost got lost just wondering in the manor; they all highlight your innocence and curiousity about the world. you write so effortlessly, unafraid of writing down what you truly feel.

though you barely mention the incident regarding your mother, you have stated multiple times about how you miss her beautiful smile and her captivating laughter.

he's grateful that you're fond of writing diaries, exposing bruce to the deeper, more personal parts of your life. he doesn't need to pinpoint any lies or truth. all your secrets, your endeavors, your dreams and your passions are buried deep into the crevices of your diaries, etched in thousands of words and drawings that tell bruce just who you are.

and truly, you are his child.

bruce craves to know more about you in person the more he reads through your entries.

fortunately, it wasn't only him that feels an intense need to take you in, as the presence of his eldest cuts him off of the his train of thoughts.

"y'know, before you forget we're even here, bruce," dick quips with a fond smile as he looks at his bruce's unkempt state, taking a seat next to his father who seems to be in his own world just like damian. the bed creaks against their weight, both cringing at the sound before bruce returns to his own world of... analyzing you, just like he did hours ago.

but he knows that his father knows how to multitask, so he doesn't hesitate to answer.

"i'm also here for (name), i promised to take them out for dinner month's ago." that seems to actually catch bruce's attention, as he looks up from reading your second diary, gazing at dick as if to urge him to continue.

dick proceeds with a sigh, a smitten smile plastered on his face as he recalls the only memory he has of you.

"(name) really has a knack for writing and all, right? i love them for it. when i first met them, they were just so adorable. my baby bird tried to ask me for an autograph!" dick couldn't help himself from yapping, chuckling lightly as he remembers the deathly grip you had on alfred's cuffs, how you were hiding behind the butler's legs and looked at dick so enamored. he couldn't contain his unhinged smile, the goosebumps on his skin made shivers ripple throughout his entire body.

bruce (and even damian, who had all his attention on your sketches) had listened in on his monologue.

"i was the one who helped lead them to their room," he continued confidently, tapping his phone with his fingers, "they clung really close to me when we climbed up the steps, even tried to hide under my jacket..."

looking back, dick wishes he had carried you up the steps. thing was, you were incredibly small back then, and the manor's staircase is particularly hard to transverse through when ascending, so you must've felt exhausted and leaned onto him for support. your tiny legs must've been sore once you two had arrived by your room.

oh, he should've noticed. dick swears he won't make that mistake again once he gets you back in his arms, he promises to carry you the moment you even show the slightest bit of fatigue.

he swears he will, and he'll make sure to spoil you rotten with all the affection you deserve.

oh, dick really wants to see his baby bird again.

"yeah, that's, uh, the only time we had only ever talked." he admits shamefully, opening his phone for what seems like the thousandth time, looking at your profile over and over again, one that had him blocked.

he bites his lips, nibbling his skin in anticipation, in hopes that in the good of your heart that you just, unblock him.

it was just so unbelievable, despite you having all the reasons to push them away from your life, he just doesn't want to accept it. doesn't want to think of the worst outcome; of you hating him.

his baby bird blocked him and he just couldn't comprehend the amount of hurt he's feeling right now. what's wrong with checking up on his baby sibling? on someone he hasn't talked to for a long time already?

scrolling up through your previous messages fills him with both dread, and another emotion he doesn't want to admit— the slightest bit of pride he feels that you chose him over everybody else. you chose dick grayson as your idol, as someone to look up to and eagerly wanted as your older brother.

he was the favorite.

yet he feels terrible at the same time for taking it for granted, for forgetting your his own younger sibling. and bruce? bruce feels terrible just looking at how much your disappearance - an existence he didn't even know existed not until a few hours ago - impacted the atmosphere of the house.

is your absence the reason why the manor had felt too empty, then...?

even alfred seemed to sulk more often, always having his phone around and... talking to someone?

does alfred know where you are? or at least maintain communication with you?

it seems like the family was equally keen to find out just who you were.

whilst the two engross themselves in their own personal matters, damian continues to stand near the middle where the light hits the brightest, analyzing all the pages of your sketchbook. the youngest couldn't even afford to miss a single detail, green eyes mulling over the poses of your human sketches; the anatomy, the composition. all the progress, the mistakes, the erasures... his mind seems to eat up every drawing as if it was a piece of art hung in a museum.

which it should've been— but he wouldn't even let worthless critiques lay their eyes on any one of your sketches. they wouldn't understand you as much as he does.

it's his to look upon, nobody else could understand the meaning of your art, the meaning of his older sibling's art.

the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day. he was unable to ignore the glare you sent him, how he felt a pang in his heart after — the older sibling who he ridiculed endlessly in front of his best friend, whose actions he criticized without end; who had started to avoid him like the plague after all of his incessant bullying.

his older sibling who he had used as a punching bag for all his negative emotions, who he was incredibly jealous of, who he felt the need to fight, to compete with, all for the sake of grabbing your attention without seeming frail in his intentions.

his weak and incapable older sibling, who he knew hated him with all their gut.

the unwanted and undeserved treatment he had subjected you to was gruesome.

it was just exactly like your drawings... gruesome and brutal, to say the least. as if it was a medium of releasing all your unparalleled anger. charcoal strokes violently covers the entirety of your pages, it was unpredictable where the lines meet and end, whenever there is color, they blotch each other without harmony, all the subjects of your art either human or anything else within your vicinity.

if someone else with inexperienced, undeserving eyes were to witness your sketches, they would not understand and dare say, criticize your art pieces for being too contemporary, for letting your emotions run free through cheap quality paper without any ounce of care for the rips and tears of the pages.

but damian likes it... he likes the rawness of your pieces, likes it when you incidentally find a way to express tragedy, grief, and all the antagonistic traits a human could bare. he likes just how all thr subjects you paint were muddled with dull colors, sometimes too vibrant, sometimes too neon, sometimes a mix of all— your hectic personality bleeds through the pages.

you should've... shared your talents with him. albeit the jealousy he feels towards you, the sense of competitiveness— a small part of him admits his desire to bond with his only blood sibling... he doesn't even know why he treated you like trash, yet felt so incredibly heartbroken whenever you would retaliate with a blank, soulless stare.

he doesn't know why he felt so compelled to melt into your embrace, despite never once being physically close to you. your warmth always emanates off of your body; he hates that he wanted your validation, your praise and your attention.

he'll apologize to you sooner, damian will drag you back even if he has to, he needs to, actually.

needs to get you to forgive him, to look at him fondly, and to love him without bounds. he's on his path to redemption, he acknowledges his wrongs, all the wrongs he had done to you, he couldn't list it all out but he knows just much it affected your views on him.

damian knows he should've dismissed your reactions— he was raised by assassins for gods sake! he should not be so perceptive of every micro expression of yours, but the connection he feels towards his blood sibling is stronger than any bond, a bond that he himself chose to sever and came to regret afterwards.

he remembers one specific expression of yours after he had criticized your anger issues when he had heard news of you being transferred into another school. it was a glare that lacked any fight or bite, you had long since given up on him and allowed him him harass you whenever he felt like so. but that day was the same day you had snapped, nearly choking on his

he told himself to ignore it, that you were merely throwing a tantrum (despite how hypocritical he seemed)

yet he didn't expect to be overcome with regret.

with hurt.

with empathy at the tears that welled on your eyes.

damian doesn't want to admit it but, that was one of the first times he had hesitated to retaliate with an even crueler comeback to your glare. he wanted to so badly run to you and bond with you and your unadulterated anger, to comfort you and provide you the affection you had so desperately needed— but in the bitterness and the jealousy of his heart, he had forced himself to leave you be; a decision even until now he regrets because... you had no longer seen him as a younger brother, let alone treat him as one, as he desired to.

after that incident, you tend to avoid him more and more, not even eating in the same room as him, let alone ditching whatever you were doing in favor of keeping to yourself.

he should've held himself back from hurting his older sibling, the one who, despite doning no skills or talent in combat whatsoever, who knew that he was more of a threat than a younger brother; was brave enough to approach him with a tray of alfred's baked cookies and a hesitant yet welcoming grin.

and yet he had replied with a sword to your neck and an insult to your origin, calling you a bastard child; the product of a whore and his father's terrible decisions.

he had simply watched as you had left the hallway with a knick on your neck and a wobble on your steps, nearly dropping the tray of untouched goods due to the inconsolable shivers you must've felt.

you hate him, no? he could see it in your eyes, no matter how defeated it may be, there was always a tinge of resentment towards him that he knows he couldn't undo.

you hate him, you must've hated him so much and he hates that. hates how he wants to throw a rampage over the fact that you would never consider him as a younger brother.

... if things were different, if he had never let his emotions and his past dictate his actions, would you love him?

for the first time in quite a while, he had felt tender longing and desire, his hands caressing the pages of your sketchbook as if it could bring you back to the manor.

for the first time in a while, damian allows himself to want, to dream about a fantasy where you would cherish him, allow him to melt on your chest whenever he feels the pressure of the world getting to him, let him sulk about his deepest darkest insecurities as you would run your fingers through his hair and tell him it's all alright.

for the first time in so long, he would openly admit the immense regret he feels, wishing for an opportunity to turn back time, to never unsheath his sword towards you and to never open his mouth to allow vile words to spew out of it.

time passes by oh-so quickly when you are left alone with only your thoughts to accompany you.

it had been quite awhile since the trio were left pondering about your very existence, alfred noted, watching the three scramble about through their minds. they had seemed to have forgotten the very butler who had been observing every single one of their actions.

alfred had waited so long for this moment to come, for them to realize just how crucial you are to the family, how you are the very final jigsaw puzzle the complete the picture perfect definition of a home, how much they need you if they wish to maintain even the slightest bit of sanity.

it was only right that he decides to place the final nail in the coffin.

after all, this was all to get you back to your safety, to where you rightfully belong.

—"it seems like the family has finally taken notice of young master (name)'s disappearance...?" alfred buts in by the door, a single eyebrow raised, crossed arms, an all-knowing look that just screams 'i told you so'.

he continues once he had their complete attention, "i would like to say that i am heavily disappointed in how it took more than a decade and a half for all of you to find out about their existence. if it wasn't for the long months of their absence and even a personal sermon towards master bruce about their financial struggles, they would've long been gone. well... they would be gone soon if they are unable to pay this month's rent for their apartment."

his tone was sullen as he nitpicks every single one of their reactions, a mixture of confusion, shame and regret a commonality between the three.

"(name) is in financial debt?" it was damian who asked first with furrowed brows and wide eyes, unbelieving of what alfred had just stated. "but father wires money to all of his children, right?

the youngest turns back to his father's seated form, expecting a nod of some sorts, but all bruce had was a tense jaw and a solid stare. it speaks of volumes, all damian could do was shut his mouth, looking back at alfred with a pout.

alfred expected this reaction. it was truly unfortunate how the family would never know just how important you were in their life.

yet all he could do was press on, further their guilt and desperation.

"young master damian, i am aware of bruce's willingness towards providing for his children, but (name), like you, had adopted your father's stubbornness to accept any financial aid on their part..."

the silence was defeaning now, tension so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. fortunately, the people alfred were with are trained combatants, formidle not only through fights but with words.

it was a shame they had never used their brains to connect the dots with just how sullen the manor was the moment you were gone.

"how do we...?" this time it was dick who talked, albeit hesitantly. "bruce could at least send a few thousands to them, then? or i could do it, you could just give us their location and—"

"unfortunately, there is nothing i could do about it, master dick," alfred interrupts dick's sudden onslaught, "for even i do not have master (name)'s address. they refuse even the slightest bit of a clue, hence why i have confronted master bruce about it."

it was like a needle had dropped on the floor, an intense, numbing feeling everyone present was subjected to feel.

... what?

it was dick who had reacted first, springing up from his seated position as he stared at alfred's defeated eyes incredulously.

"are you serious, alfred? (name) could be anywhere in gotham right now? unprotected, unsafe, and in debt?"

a long, defeated sigh was what he had merely received from the alfred.

"yes, master dick, you hear exactly what i say."

"but the world outside is too dangerous for (name)! we can't just let them loose in a street filled with criminals who can take advantage of their innocence!"

"they're eighteen, dick." all of a sudden, it was damian who cuts back with a roll of his eyes, "i'm sure they can survive on their own."

"yeah right, and have you even read their latest diary, or are you just gonna pretend like you aren't going to keep their sketchbooks all for yourself, huh?" dick retaliates with clenched teeth, letting himself be swayed by his own emotions. "or... you're planning to track their location without us so you can get a reservation to visit them first?"

"calm down, dick—" bruce stands, immediately holding dick back, gripping the athlete's tense shoulders.

"why should i, bruce?! (name) can be anywhere, we— i can't afford to bide time on anything but them!" he glared back at his father, slammimg his fist onto your bedroom walls without hesitation. cracks immediately formed on the chipped wallpaper, a testament to dick's strength; you'll be relocated to another room, a better one anyways and they'll... they'll turn this one into a bigger atelier for you.

dick just needs to let his anger out, yeah... unfortunately, his father seems to think otherwise.

bruce retaliates with a snarl, "we need a solid plan, dick. we can't just randomly search where they are—"

"look, if none of you are willing to help, then fine, i'll track (name) all by myself—"

"— i've never mentioned not coming, grayson." damian cuts him off with a glare, possessively holding all your sketchbook in one hand. "i'll be the one spending time with them first."

"yeah, right... and you, bruce? you coming with or no?"

defeated, bruce replies, "... you already know the answer, dick."

"of course, dad. glad to know we're on the same team after all," dick lets out an airy laugh, returning to his old demeanor. but bruce could easily pinpoint the sharp edge to his giggles, how calculated it is and how it's all merely a cover up to hide the unbearable itch to get you into his arms.

not like bruce could help it too, feeling the same way dick does— all he wants to do is see you for himself after all.

"then call the others into the batcave, now. tell them it's a priority mission, don't let them say otherwise, and don't settle on any excuses."

bruce is so grateful that he had his hands on your diaries, that he was given the grace to read through your entries and embrace even the slightest clue about you.

although there was no face to associate with your name, no photograph nor portrait— he at least has an idea of your personality, of what you like and prefer; something that bruce would hold dear, something that feeds the growing urge to find you.

find you to not only correct his mistakes, to make up for all the lost time, but to also get closer to you. to bond with his child, the one he should've focused on all those years ago. the one who, despite showing disinterest to vigilantism, chose to not fall deep into the pits of resentment, of committing heinous acts— you had chosen to run away from them without any intentions of badmouthing your own family even after the years of neglect.

his child, (name) wayne.

you were a symbol of what he had strived to cherish, to protect. it was your innocence through these pages, your eagerness to the world despite its cruelty, that relays the message to bruce that he should've centered his attention on both you and tim instead of just tim.

maybe then the dispair he had felt after jason's death would've been less devastating, maybe then you'd act as his source of light in the darkness he had choose to brood in. maybe then he wouldn't have acted so rash, so impulsive and tense.

after all, you had lost your mother too early, and your father was just somebody you can watch through the television and read through the newspaper.

and you? you were forced to take the short end of the stick, without any familial attention nor emotional support whatsoever— a substantial failure on bruce's part. you didn't deserve anything you were subjected to, didn't deserve to know what pain and despair felt like.

bruce should've been the father who had to shoulder all your burden. he should've been there for you as he was there for all your other siblings.

he should've been the man who would kiss your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

there was so much things about you that he doesn't know of, so much he had missed out on. his absence was a constant in your life; what would you have felt if he suddenly barged in on it then? especially now that you've moved out on the presumption of neglect?

but could he help it if he does?

could bruce help it if he was already concocting a way to bring you back? alfred had explicitly told him that you were living off of debt

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,100+ words. no beta we just die. undertale reference. this is my least favorite chapter LMAO, despite it's length i had to waste blood sweat and tears for this and i hate it so much. anways guys pls comment or send as ask if u like this and what's good abt it bec this chapter literally made me question my ability as a write 😭 erm im gonna take a break after this and mostly answer asks bec istg my energy is so drained. also is it jst me or does everyone default the reader as female ^^' it's jst weird for me bec i always write them as gn/male. oh and if anyone is wondering, yes i am gonna add the batgirls too bec they r family !! the entire family (universe) is obsessed with u !! also yall i cant add anymore to the taglist, tumblr won't allow me.

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

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Yuu Needs a Hug 1

SUMMARY: What their comforting hugs are like when you're feeling sad or under the weather? And how would they behave if you started crying in their arms?

CHARACTERS: Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Bullet Points; In a Relationship

WORD COUNT: An average of 280 words per character.

COMMENTS: When I feel a little sad and under the weather, I often imagine these things to help me fall asleep. I thought you might like them too. 😘

Yuu Needs a Hug 2 (Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia)

CONTEXT: They are already in a relationship with you.

All of Riddle’s hugs happen in private, and comfort hugs are far from the exception.

If he is in his dorm uniform, a very characteristic hug from him is using the cape to cover you like a blanket and as a sign of protection. With his left arm around you.

His most common hugs are the ones where he hugs you with one arm while continuing his duties with the other, like homework, or some dorm-related paperwork. And with the hand that hugs you, absently caressing your back or head.

If you are really feeling very under the blue, he will occasionally kiss your forehead.

He's not the type to hug you tight. His arms will generally be very relaxed and loose around you, as if resting. For someone who is always so uptight and strict, that means a lot.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, then yes, all his attention goes to you immediately and his hug tightens. One arm around your waist and the other on your head, encouraging you to cry all you need on his shoulder.

He will be extremely understanding and act calmly as he knows, and shows you, that it is a normal thing and that he knows it will pass, that you will be fine because he will always be there for you. He himself knows from experience how crying can do a person good, and you were always there for him at those times.

And when you feel better, he will wipe your tears with his handkerchief (I'm sure he carries one somewhere in his clothes) and kiss your forehead with a sweet and reassuring smile.

Ace will gladly give you all the hugs you want. But he will always tease you saying that he wants something in return for every hug. But if you're really sad, he'll say he was joking.

If you really want hugs to make you feel better you'll have to ask in private, because in public he only gives you those more relaxed and playful hugs.

He can give you hugs standing up, but the ones he likes most are the ones when you're both lying on the couch. He likes to have you on top of him with your head against his chest and both of his arms around you, or to lie on his side between you and the back of the couch with one hand supporting his head and the other arm on top of you.

His main strategy to make you feel better is to talk about things that distract you. Generally silly things to tease you or make you laugh.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will panic a little and try to find out if it was something he said. After that, he will stop the jokes and hug you tighter and kiss your forehead.

He will be quieter than usual until your crying stops and only then will he return to his normal self.

Deuce will be slightly awkward at first. This is most likely the first time someone has asked him for a hug as a form of comfort. And since he doesn't have much experience with hugs either, he's afraid of messing it up.

He will start by hugging you standing up. You will feel his arms feel more comfortable around you as you explain to him that there is no way he could do that wrong. There is no therapeutic technique, he just needs to act as he feels he should.

If you are on the couch you will be sitting side by side. Your head on his shoulder, one of his arms around you, and the other he always not knowing what to do with it.

It will take a long time for him to have confidence in his comforting hugs because he knows that he is not the type of person who knows how to comfort others, much less physically. But he will always try his best for you.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will panic a little and, if he only had one arm around you, he'll quickly put the other one around you too. And he will hug you like you are in danger.

Maybe you will calm down by trying to calm him down and you'll both end up laughing about it.

Cater is the #best hugger! And as he is a person who likes to show affection, it doesn't matter if you two are alone or in public, he will give you all the hugs you need regardless.

Get ready for him to talk in that cute little voice like someone talking to a child. Not that he sees you as one, but he likes to talk and act cute.

And that's why his comfort hugs are also very cute, like someone hugging a teddy bear. He also gives you lots of kisses on your forehead and cheeks while hugging you.

Although he speaks in a cute way, he doesn't do it in a way that seems like he's minimizing your feelings, but rather in a way that tries to show that everything will be okay, that whatever it is will pass.

He can do this whether the two of you are standing together or if you are sitting on a couch. But in this last option, he will be so close to you that the most comfortable way for you to sit together is with you on his lap.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he won't change the way he's acting, as if knowing he was doing everything right and you crying was a good sign and an important part of you feeling better in the end.

When your crying calms down or stops, he will smile at you, wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs and say phrases like "Are you feeling better?" and "Everything will be okay."

In the case of hugging you to make you feel better, Trey has no problem doing it in public if you need to. And he also reacts to your request as naturally as he would if you asked him to make you a sweet dessert.

You might even be surprised by how naturally he hugs you and the way he rubs his hands comfortingly on your back, if you didn't remember that he has younger siblings and probably has some experience comforting them.

He smiles and laughs softly the whole time, as if he finds your attitude cute.

He can do this standing up or, if you are sitting on a couch, sitting next to you. But only if you are alone will he let you sit on his lap.

The relaxed way he comforts you is almost parental, it must be that older brother side of him.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he may become a little more serious, but he will always act calmly and comes across as having everything under control. One of his hands will also come from your back to the back of your head.

Once your crying calms down or even stops, he will wipe your tears either with a handkerchief he has or with his own blazer or shirt. He will smile at you, showing that everything is fine and ask if you would like one of his sweets to make you feel better.

Leona cares so much about being seen hugging you publicly that the botanical garden became your spot to take naps together as unbothered as a lion in the middle of savannah. He always wants you to be his pillow, whether it's your thighs or your chest. BUT showing genuine affection is only in private.

He had already noticed that you were sadder than usual, but you were the one who had to ask him for a hug, he was too proud to offer you one non-ironically.

He will open his arms and smile smugly, but he won't be the one to initiate the hug. If you want it, you have to take it.

But as soon as you do, he'll wrap you in a surprisingly affectionate hug. If you're lying down like when he takes a nap with you, his hands will encourage you to come closer and lay your head on his chest. You've just discovered the only way you can reverse your usual roles.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will remain calm and surprise you again. He'll start giving you soft kisses on your face and forehead, the equivalent of when felines lick each other's ears as a show of affection.

His tranquility can be contagious, especially because the calm beat of his heart is a reassuring sound.

Only when he is sure that your crying has stopped and you are better will he speak again: *sigh* “You just give me work, herbivore. I just hope you at least thank me in some way.”

Jack only hugs you in private! And if he ever does it in public, it's because he somehow forgot that you were in public and will quickly break the hug.

He is the complete opposite in private, after all he can be like a puppy: extremely affectionate if he feels comfortable with you. So it was always very common for you to cuddle on the couch.

His comforting hug ends up not being much different from usual, perhaps just less enthusiastic and more delicate. He likes having you in his arms, but he likes having his face close to yours more.

If you're sitting, he won't have any problem letting you sit on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. He won't take his arms from around you, nor stop kissing your forehead and cheeks softly and affectionately. All his attention is on you, and his main purpose at that moment is to dedicate himself to you.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will hug you tighter and the small and calm kisses will turn into love attacks on your face. Do you know when service dogs jump at their owner when they are having a panic attack, for example? It's something like that he's doing, without fully realizing it. Ok, maybe just not as intensely as service dogs do, but with a lot of affection.

This gesture will most likely make you laugh and start telling him you're okay so he can calm down. Which will make you calm yourself down as a result.

Ruggie doesn't really care if you're in public or not, he'll hug you regardless. And there's the bonus that when he hugs you in public, it's like marking territory and warning others.

He loves being cute and affectionate with you because he loves you being cute and affectionate with him back. He often does for you what he knows you would do for him. And a comforting hug is no different.

He will always tease with you a little at the beginning. "Aww, you want one of my special hugs? That’s so cute. But remember they are expensive, okay? You have to reward me later as a thanks.” He says this in a good mood that tries to put you at ease.

He will open his arms for you to hug him first and he will hold you in his embrace. He will be smiling playfully the whole time because he thinks it's funny how you can be so cute. And he will kiss your forehead with that same smile.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, his smile will fade. It was too serious for him to treat you with humor. He will tighten the hug and start saying sweet, soothing things in your ear like: "hey, don't worry. I'm sure everything will be fine."

When your crying calms down or even stops, he will smile at you again and say that it all made him hungry. What if you two went to eat something? Maybe, just maybe, he'll share some of his food with you if it's something you really like. But DO NOT get used to it!

ONLY when you are alone, in the VIP Room, Azul likes it when you sit on his lap while he does the Mostro Lounge’s paperwork. It's a healthy balance between the stress of business and the pleasure of having you in his arms.

The only two exceptions to the rule that he doesn't like others seeing you two like this are Jade and Floyd. Why? Because he likes to brag to them about having you all to himself. ("By all means, cry about it.")

He will hug you like he always does when you two are in the VIP Room. One arm around your waist, surprisingly firm, and the other on the papers. His attention is divided between reading and signing the contracts and turning to give you sweet kisses on your face and/or, if you allow it, on your neck.

If he feels you hugging him in a more clingy way than usual, he will comment in a soft voice: “You know, if I could be in my merman form, I'd let my tentacles do the paperwork and give you all the attention of my arms. The inconvenience of having two legs. No offense of course.” If this can get even a little giggle out of you, he'll be very happy.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, his right hand will immediately let go of the pen and join his left in hugging you. He hugs you so tight it's like you're trapped in his loving embrace. He is worried about you, but he does everything he can to not not show himself too worried.

“Just never forget that if there is anything I can do, you can ask. Anything. I will solve any problem for you... just for you...”

When your crying calms down or even stops, he will wipe your tears with a handkerchief and give you a pack of tissues. And when you're better, he'll give you one of his most tender kisses on your cheek.

Jade doesn't like to draw attention, he prefers to observe others than to be observed. That's why his hugs are private, especially those comfort ones that you are asking for.

“You know you can open up to me whenever you need to, but keep doing it only when we're alone, okay? You never know who might be watching you looking for a weakne- I mean, a sensitive moment to use against you, my love.”

He's not much of a hugger in general, so all of his hugs end up being special. And since you're alone, he has no problem having you sit on his lap if you want.

His arms and hands are premeditatedly affectionate and attentive to you, as if he knew exactly how you liked to be hugged at that specific moment and he fulfilled these requirements to the letter. If there's one thing he knows how to do in a frighteningly perfect way, it's how to study and please others. And you are his biggest study interest.

Whatever you wanted him to do, he will know and do it. The way you want him to hug you, whether you want kisses or not, and how you want them.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, you will feel him, in a way, disappointed. With you or with himself, you don't know. “What is the mater? Did I not predict your desires correctly? It seems like I still have a lot to learn about you. How exciting.” He will kiss your forehead and let you cry on his shoulder.

He'll probably compare your crying to Azul's, making fun of him in that passive-aggressive way he does, and end up making you laugh.

When your crying calms down or even stops, he'll help clean your face and suggest that you two go to the Mostro Lounge, where he can prepare your favorite dish to make you feel better if you want. For free? Hmm... he can think about it.

Floyd can be VERY clingy. He loves to hug you, especially in public. Whether he’s in a good mood or not. Which means that, as he hugs you a lot, he also has many different types of hugs.

The vast majority of her hugs are to satisfy him, but they end up satisfying you too. Don't worry, he never squeezed you. He jokes that he will do it, but never actually does.

No matter what mood he's in, he never refuses to give you a comforting hug. For 3 main reasons: 1st  an Octavinelle student never refuses someone's request for help. 2nd He thinks you're so absolutely cute asking him for a hug! It even makes him smile if he's in a bad mood. And 3rd You always give him the hugs he needs, it's only fair (even in terms of a deal) that he does the same for you.

He'll hug you, but he'll do what he wants in the meantime. Playing with your hair, resting his head on yours, swinging his legs if you are sitting down. And if you are, he will make you sit on his lap, it’s easier and more comfortable to hug you like this. He will probably also say silly things to pass the time or try to make you laugh.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will immediately shut up and if he was swinging his legs he will immediately stop too. He will straighten up, even if your head is resting on his chest. “You'll wash my clothes if you get them dirty, right Koebi-chan~?” He says this while stroking your head.

Even though he likes to provoke others, he has a perfect sense of limits, he just tends to ignore them most of the time. But it's different with you and that situation too.

When your crying stops, he will make you look at him, as if to check that the crying has stopped. If he confirms it, he will smile at you: "Is it over yet? YAY~! Can we make something fun now?”

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

[mggslover]

Between the lines

In which Spencer crosses paths with the woman he's been dreaming about. Their undeniable attraction turns fantasy into reality.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) x fluff Content warnings: lots of build up, perv!spence, lovesick!spence, lots of flirting, teasing, sex toys, p in v sweet sensual sex Word count: 4,6k A/n: part two of through thin walls! you can read this as a standalone, but it's a short one so give it a try ;)

It had been three weeks since Spencer last had a nightmare. Ever since his neighbor—a woman he had yet to meet—moved in next door, his nights had been calm, peaceful. Sleep had become something he looked forward to, but it wasn’t just sleep itself. It was the moments before, the quiet waiting in anticipation that became part of his routine.

Every time he came home from an exhausting case, he would crawl into bed and lean back against the headboard, his body settling as he awaited a movement from the apartment next to him. Feeling a sense of relief when her sweet moans would slip through the thin wall.

It didn’t take Spencer long to find a pattern in her routine. On weekdays, it was quick, urgent. The soft moans would rise, then fall—until Thursday. Thursdays were different. He could tell by the muffled groans and the frustrated sighs, that she was unable to find the release she so desperately sought. She would let out a final huff, signalling Spencer to stop his movements.

He was aware that he had no obligation towards the woman, but he found no pleasure in the act of touching himself when he knew she wasn’t enjoying herself. These days left a toll on him. Irritated by the fact that he couldn’t just knock on her door with the suggestion of helping her out. But luckily, there were still the weekends. The weekends were good. Her sessions stretched longer, her pleasure unraveling slowly but intensely. Spencer never managed to keep up alongside her, but he couldn’t help continuing to listen as he laid down with his eyes closed. Savoring each breath, each moment as he found peace in the fact that she felt satisfied by the end of the night.

It wasn’t every day that they would share intimate moments like these. On times she didn’t indulge, Spencer found comfort in the other sounds of her life. Hearing her television hum in the background, not loud enough to make out the words, but her occasional laughter—or her soft humming along with a song—was enough to remind him she was there, just beyond the walls.

It was strange, to feel such familiarity with someone he had never spoken to, someone who’s name he didn’t even know, but somehow Spencer had grown very attached to her presence. He often wondered what the rest of her life looked like. Making it a game to fill in the blanks with the inkling of behaviour he had.

One thing he could confidently profile was her loneliness. Whether that was by choice or by circumstance, or a mixture of both, he didn’t know. Only that he has never heard another voice besides hers, not even the typical hellos and goodbyes one would make on a phone call. He hoped she was settling in well, wishing he could bring her the comfort she has given him since her arrival.

It was noon, on a rare day where Spencer didn’t have to go to the office. But Spencer wasn’t the type to sit still on his free days. He grabbed his saddlebag from the leather chair next to the door, whistling a tune under his breath as he looked for his keys. He unlocked the door with a quick turn of the handle, but before he could step out, a yelp echoed from the hallway.

“I’m sor-,” he froze mid-apology, the automatic reply getting stuck in his throat as he processed the familiar sound. That gasp—it was embedded in his memory, a sound he could recognize anywhere, even though the circumstances were completely different. His cheeks flushed, heat spreading across his face, and he found himself afraid to tilt his head, knowing who he would face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I should’ve looked out.” The voice apologized.

Spencer’s mind scrambled. He wanted to tell her that he should be the one apologizing, that it was his fault for slamming the door open without considering who might be walking through the shared hallway. But all he could manage was a strangled silence, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. His stomach fluttered and his pupils blew wide as he made eye contact with her. She was more beautiful than anything beyond his wildest dreams. He was almost ashamed for picturing her any less than she is. He felt flustered as his mind began piecing her face and body together with the sounds that he’s been eavesdropping on for the past couple of weeks.

He realized how awkward he was making the situation when she looked up at him with big eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

“Did you like my cookies?” She asked, breaking the quiet, her voice a little hesitant but genuine.

Spencer blinked, surprised at the question, his mind struggling to catch up. "Cookies?" he repeated, brows knitting together in confusion.

The girl noticed his expression and rushed to explain. “I brought you cookies,” she said, her hands moving slightly, as if trying to emphasize the story. “When I first moved in here.”

Spencer stayed quiet, getting her to elaborate further. “You weren’t home. I left them on your doorstep,” she continued, a little sheepishly.

He nodded, letting out a small sigh as he made the connection. “It’s my neighbor,” he pointed to the door to the left of him with a vague sweep of his hand, the gesture almost apologetic. “The other one. Miss Cavanaugh. She has a habit of stealing.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth hung slightly open at the casualty in which he mentioned this fact.

“Oh no, don’t worry! she won’t steal from you.” He quickly corrected, raising his hand to wave off any concern. “Well, she might but it’s not likely she’d, like, break into your apartment. That would be a criminal act—breaking and entering—which is a felony in all 50 states. Actually, it's a federal offense in certain circumstances.” He glances off to the side for a moment, thinking, then gestures with a loose hand.

“My point is, she’s more of a, uh, casual thief, if that makes sense? Like, you know, she might nab food or a basket or something left outside, but the odds of her actually coming into your apartment are really low. Statistically speaking, this building has an impressively low crime rate for DC, especially for this price range. It’s safer than 75.3% of comparable buildings in the area.”

His brows furrowed together at the end of his sentence, as if his brain just caught up with his words. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

The corners of her lips lifted, a soft but genuine smile lighting her face.

“That’s good to know. I didn’t do that much research when I moved in here.” She held out her hand, introducing herself.

Her hand was smaller than his, and without thinking, he clasped it gently between both of his, needing to know if he indeed had the connection with her he assumed he had. The touch sent a jolt through him, feeling the spark of electricity he was hoping for. He surprised himself with how much he didn’t want to let go and, more so, how she didn’t pull away.

"I’m Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a genuine awe as he looked at her.

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Doctor, huh? Good to know there’s one next door in case I drop dead.”

“Oh, uh—” His words came in a tumble as he rushed to explain. “Not a medical doctor. I’m with the FBI. I specialize in criminal behavior. So if you were to, say, die by murder, I’d be the one—uh, the one investigating it.”

The words hung in the air for a beat longer than he intended, and before he could stop himself, he added, “Not that I want you to die, or—uh, be murdered. That’s… that’s not what I meant at all. I mean, if there was even a chance someone wanted to hurt you, I’d make sure to stop it before it happened, but—”

Her laugh, bright and airy, caught him off guard. She then tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made her seem like the profiler.

“I’ll see you around, Spencer,” she finally said, her voice teasing but kind. His cheeks flushed at the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked off. Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, her presence lingering even after her figure disappeared down the hall. He stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing from the exchange.

When he finally stepped back inside, he closed the door and leaned heavily against it, letting out a groan.

He’d forgotten all about the plans he previously had. Instead, his thoughts swirled around her—even more curious about his neighbor than he was before. As he replayed their brief exchange, one thing became startlingly clear: he needed to see her again.

It was like faith heard him. Later, on that evening, Spencer stepped into the laundromat of the apartment complex, the soft hum of dryers and the faint smell of detergent filling the air. He just finished taking his laundry out of the dryer when he saw her—standing at one of the machines, pulling her clothes out with an ease that made the mundane task look almost elegant.

Spencer moved toward her, a little too quickly, and nearly bumped into a man coming the other way. “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing his basket down beside hers.

Her eyes flicked up, catching his gaze immediately. The air between them shifted, filled with an undeniable spark.

“Hi, Doc,” she greeted with a warm smile. “We meet again.”

“Hi,” Spencer managed, his voice a little breathless.

He glanced down at the pile of laundry. “Sock day?” he asked with a smirk, genuinely curious.

She chuckled softly. “More like underwear day in general. I like to stick to a schedule.”

“Me too!” Spencer eagerly responded, excited to have something in common with her.

She sighed as she held up a sock, contemplating its mate. “Underwear day is the worst though. It’s going to take me hours to match these.”

Spencer gave a quiet laugh. “I gave up on that a while ago.” He casually rolled up his pants, revealing mismatched socks—one green with avocados, the other purple with yellow stripes. “It’s more fun this way.”

She crouched down to get a better look, her eyes scanning the colorful mismatched pair. Spencer bit down on his lip. The act was so innocent, but his thoughts wandered, imagining what it might be like if she were kneeling for a different reason.

Jesus, it feels like I swapped brains with Derek.

He cleared his throat, wiping his clammy hands on his pants. She noticed, getting back on her feet, though she didn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“It is more fun that way,” she agreed. “You see a serious guy like you, dressed up all neat and then, poof, funky socks. Like magic.”

His face brightened at the mention of magic. “I could show you another magic trick—a sock trick.”

She snorted, clearly intrigued. “A sock trick?”

Spencer’s confidence grew, knowing he could impress her and wanting to make her smile again. He grabbed a polka-dot sock from his laundry basket, holding it up between his fingers.

“Alright. I’m going to take this sock…” He moved with exaggerated care, his hands precise as he folded the sock in half, then folded it again. “And just like that, I’m going to make it disappear.”

He made a quick move, waving his hands dramatically to hide how he tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “See? Gone.”

She looked at him with wide, amused eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where did it go?”

He smirked and leaned in. “Ah, but that’s the trick—you have to keep an eye on me.” The back of his fingers softly trailed up her cheek, his confidence growing as he felt the heat radiating off her. In one smooth motion, he pulled the exact same sock from behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “No way.”

“Now look in your basket.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She looked at her laundry pile, and sitting right on top was the matching polka-dot sock.

She threw her head back, laughing, overwhelmed with amazement.

Spencer chuckled softly, enjoying her reaction. “I grew up in Vegas, so I’ve had some practice—but the real magic is in the timing. You were too focused on me to notice the disappearance.”

His words were meant as a mere observation, but the realization seemed to dawn on both of them. She had indeed been too focused on him—only him.

The tension between them grew. She toyed with her lip, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt as they maintained eye contact.

“Laundromat is closing, folks! Everybody out in five minutes.” The announcement through the speakers made them both jump, shaken out of the trance they were in.

“Can I walk you to your apartment?” Spencer asked.

Her eyes glistened, and her smile reached the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked out of the laundromat, continuing their small talk about magic and life while sharing the occasional giggle. The stairway was too narrow to walk side by side—especially when carrying a big laundry basket—but that didn’t seem to bother them. The sides of their bodies brushed, their pace matching as they ascended the stairs. Spencer kept an arm behind her back, ready to steady her if she stumbled.

They arrived at their neighboring apartment doors. The air was filled with a mix of the sorrow of their encounter ending and the anticipation of a new one.

The scene almost felt like the end of a first date. Tension hung in the air as they shifted back and forth on their feet, wondering if a goodbye kiss would follow.

“This is mine,” Spencer commented.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “I know.”

After a moment of lingering eye contact, she decided to take the lead.

“Good night, Spencer.” She smiled softly.

“Good night,” he repeated.

Spencer felt a rush of joy as he closed the door behind him. Flirting wasn’t his strong suit. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if their exchanges today could be considered flirting. But there was something comfortable about it. Something effortless. And, most importantly, he’d made her laugh. Several times.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer set his laundry basket down on the table, preparing to fold the clothes. He wasn’t paying attention as he reached inside—until his fingers brushed against an unfamiliar material.

He looked down with a frown. In his hand was a pair of red laced panties. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only stare at them in disbelief.

A vivid image flashed in his mind—those same red panties, nestled in his neighbor’s laundry basket. He frowned deeper, replaying their interaction in his mind. Could I have taken them by accident? He was sure he hadn’t. With an eidetic memory, he’d be able to remember something like that.

His confusement and worry were quickly overcome by a feeling of curiosity and lust. Spencer’s fingers lingered over the fabric, the soft lace slipping between them.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine her in it. The delicate lace tracing the curve of her waist, the soft dips and rises of her hips. Her body seemed to shimmer in the dim glow of his imagination.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shifted in his mind. His fingers curled slightly around the fabric, imagining the way it would feel against her skin as she moved. She lowered her hands, fingers trailing over her body as she slid the lace downward, over the curve of her hips, the fabric teasing the soft swell of her backside. He could almost hear it—the quiet rustle of the lace moving, sliding over her skin as she undressed, the tension in his chest building with each slow, deliberate motion.

His heartbeat quickened as he imagined her pulling the panties lower. The lace graced the insides of her legs, following the shape of her thighs as she removed it with such ease, such grace. And then, just like that, it was gone. The fabric fell, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing before him, utterly exposed.

As his fingers twisted the delicate lace, the image of her in his mind began to fade, slipping away like a dream that was never meant to stay. His subconscious seemed to know that any attempt to imagine her would only fall short. With a quiet exhale, Spencer loosened his grip, folded the lace carefully, and tucked it into his pocket—out of sight, out of mind.

He decided to lie down on his bed, not to sleep, but simply to relax. But his body had other ideas. Before he knew it, his eyes had closed, and his mind had drifted off. The soft purr of his name pulled him from his light doze.

For a moment, Spencer thought he was in heaven—that his pulse had quickened from the thought of her and now he found himself in a place where he could hear her voice calling out his name, like an angel. But as his eyes fluttered open, he realized the voice was more muffled and coming from behind the wall.

“Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?”

Startled, he swiftly propped himself up on his elbows, his mouth parting before he swallowed his words. Admitting that he could hear her—especially after the sounds from the previous nights—felt like a confession. The idea of those nights ending made his chest tighten, but if it meant he could speak to her again, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Yes. I can hear you,” he called back, his voice a little louder.

A long silence followed. Spencer cursed himself, anxious that he’d ruined it. But then, he heard the soft, familiar buzz.

“What about this? Do you hear this?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“I- I do. What is it?” Spencer asked, his curiosity peaked.

Her giggle echoed softly through the wall, and his chest tightened with warmth. He smiled without thinking, his heart aching at the sound.

“You don’t know what this is?” she teased, amusement in her tone.

“No,” he admitted, sheepish.

“It’s a vibrator, Spencer.”

Her words hit him like a sudden jolt of electricity. He could feel the heat rise in his face, but then came her sweet laughter again. Spencer shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked, her voice sultry, almost daring.

“No,” he responded quietly, his voice lowered.

“Would you like to?” her tone sounded persuasive.

“I- I don’t know,” he murmured, unsure but intrigued. “Maybe.”

A beat of silence passed, before she spoke again.

“You could come over and find out.”

Spencer’s face went red, his heart pounding in his chest. “N-now?”

“Yes, now,” she answered with a soft chuckle, teasing yet inviting.

Spencer scrambled off the bed, his pulse racing as he hurried toward the door, afraid she might change her mind. He forced himself to stop when he stood in front of her apartment, drawing in a deep breath to steady the surge of nervous excitement. The moment he’d been fantasizing about for so long was a knock away from becoming reality.

Knock, knock.

The door creaked open, and Spencer was met with the breathtaking sight of her.

She stepped aside and gave him that look—the one that made every nerve in his body stir with need. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer’s voice barely made it out, thick with anticipation.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she moved toward him, lifting onto her toes as she placed her hand on the back of his neck, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. And then, she kissed him.

There was no rush behind her soft lips. It wasn’t frantic like his thoughts had been. It was gentle—like she was savoring the moment just as much as he was.

She slowly lowered herself back to her feet, and she gazed up on him, a soft smile on her lips, eyes twinkling.

It took Spencer a moment to process what had just happened, but once he did, he pulled her back in, his lips crashing into hers with desperate urgency. She responded in kind, her hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer. His breath came in shallow gasps as he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and he carried her to the wall. Their bodies pressed against the same wall that had once held their whispered breaths.

His mind felt like it was spinning—this was real, she was real, and he was touching her. His lips trailed down her neck, the soft skin beneath his mouth sending sparks of desire through him.

“Spencer,” she murmured, and the sound of her voice made his heart stutter. He responded by lifting his lips from her skin, needing to look at her—to drink her in, to memorize every detail.

She met his gaze, her lips parted. “Take it off,” she breathed, pulling at his shirt, her hands shaking with the same feverish need.

Spencer stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving her, and pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes traced every inch of her as she began to undress too, throwing her clothes aside.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as she revealed her nude body, wearing no underwear underneath the clothes she just took off.

She smirked, her gaze burning into his. “I told you it was underwear day.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with awe and desire.

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she pulled him back into her embrace, their bodies stumbling towards the bed. She fell softly onto the sheets, and he moved on top of her, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Spencer began to pepper her with kisses, unsure where to start. He hummed as his tongue swiped along the curve of her neck. His wet kisses trailed down to her collarbones, leaving purple marks on his way down, each one encouraged by her sweet moans.

As he moved further up the bed, his knee brushed against something. His focus shifted as he noticed the small, purple object. “Is this it?” he asked, curiously, and she nodded.

He picked it up, noticing it was smaller than his index finger. As he rolled the toy in his hand, it suddenly buzzed to life, making him jump back. She laughed at his reaction, clearly amused.

He quickly figured out how to stop the buzzing and he hovered above her, tracing her lips with the toy. She instinctively opened her mouth, her tongue rolling around it.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “That’s it.”

She moaned softly as she closed her lips around it, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact. He slowly slid the vibrator from her lips, its surface glistening with the trace of her tongue. Turning it on again, he moved it to her nipple, the bud instantly hardening. She let out quiet whimpers, her body trembling with the sensation.

Once satisfied, he placed his mouth on her nipple while the vibrator moved to the other one. She arched her back with a moan as he sucked on the sensitive bud.

Her hips rolled in response to his touch, and with every movement her skin brushed against his length, making it harder to hold back his moans.

“Don’t go quiet on me now. You always make such beautiful sounds,” she purred.

His face flushed as he looked at her, her fingers brushing through his locks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I think the whole complex has heard you,” she giggled.

He opened her thighs, and without warning, placed the vibrator directly on her clit. She let out a high-pitched cry.

“I’m pretty sure all they hear is you,” he teased back. Her voice was a mixture of laughter and moans and he kissed her passionately, desperate to hold onto that sound, to keep it locked within him forever.

She loosely wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand brushing against his to keep the toy in place. He leaned onto his elbows, hovering above her, moaning when his length slipped between her folds. He moved steadily, each thrust coating him in her wetness. Every time he thrust up, his tip brushed against the vibrator, sending shudders through his body. She upped the intensity, and their moans became synchronized, echoing in the air.

Their breathing grew heavier, only interrupted by soft kisses. Spencer felt her tense beneath him, her legs trembling against his back.

“You can let go for me. Show me how good you make yourself feel,” he encouraged, his voice low and warm against her lips.

“It’s you who’s making me feel this good, Spencer,” she whispered, and he could feel the butterflies flutter in his chest.

He held her close as she reached her peak, her soft cries muffled by her face buried in the crook of his neck. Spencer was pressed against the vibrator, the sensation overwhelming him.

She placed the toy beside her, her hand finding his hardness and guiding him inside of her. Spencer let out a needy whine as he was enveloped by her warmth. She pulsed around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and he desperately moved his hips, driven by the overwhelming pleasure, until he spilled inside of her.

They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. Spencer eventually rolled off her, their legs remaining intertwined.

He turned his head to look at her, and she was already watching him with a sweet smile.

“That was nice,” he mused softly.

“Yeah, it was,” she replied, her voice just as soft.

They spent the rest of the night, and the entirety of the next morning tangled up in each other, until it was time for Spencer to leave for work.

She watched him with adoration as he pulled his pants on, her eyes tracing his movements. As he reached into his pocket, his hand brushed against the familiar lace, and he froze. His cheeks flushed as he pulled out the bundle of fabric—her red laced panties.

“I- uh…” he stammered, holding them out to her. “Here.”

She chuckled. “You can keep them. Consider it a welcome gift. You know, since the cookies didn’t exactly work out.”

“That’s okay. It’s yours,” he replied, holding them out to her once more.

Her smirk deepened. “I didn’t do that little magic trick just for you to give them back,” she teased.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait—you put them in my laundry?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re not the only magician here, Spencer.”

Spencer laughed, coming to a halt at the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked with a grin.

She chuckled softly, nodding. “I think I could get used to that.”