#together is the only way we can get through it

[okwonyo]

CUFFING SEASON 𓂃 gymrat!enhypen 𓈒

𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗭𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗘 ✶ ────── 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒. 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

엔하이픈 & fem!rea 14OO fluff established relationship cautions kissing skinship ˊᯅˋ altero

❛ 姫　❜ thanks to danipie for the heeseung prompt and tam for jakes >< plus to jenn, tam and pockemonz for being my emotional support 🎀

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG ｡｡ ever since you moved in together, your boyfriend likes to walk around with a tank top embracing his upper body, showcasing his biceps and making you daydream about his chest.

frankly, this habit of his isn’t new to you— back when you lived in different apartments, he would always open the door while dressed in that sort of clothes.

you admired his arms for a while during the long times whereas you were together. gaze dragging over his hands to reach his biceps, you always wondered if the ribbon you put in your hair could fit around his big muscles.

“do you think it’d fit?” the ribbon is held between your index finger and your thumb as you question your boyfriend.

he looks at his biceps then at the pink hair accessory in your hand. seeing the sheer happiness on your face, he smiles “we can always try, sweetheart.”

wiping the grin off his face as he watches you wrap the thing around his flexed bicep is impossible. it is fun and you find it irresistibly hot— wrapping his arm is like marking him as yours. and you both love it.

JAY ｡｡ honestly, you think you are dreaming even now, deep in doze still, when you step into the kitchen and are met with a heaven-sent view in front of you.

with a mouth agape and eyes growing wide, you admire the back of your boyfriend. you want to thank whoever created gyms and thank your fortune for making your boyfriend such an addict.

his muscular and defined back shines, stares back at you as he is focused on making breakfast. the laces of the pink apron he wears on top of his naked torso wraps his waist perfectly.

it feels like heaven when your cheek collapses on his hot naked skin. you hug his waist like a teddy bear— almost melting into his skin. and god, he smells too good.

it’s dreamy when he kisses the top of your head, “good morning, baby,” he greets you, but you are too enamored by the vision of his broad shoulders a few moments ago to respond just yet.

you only hum, thinking that today will be a great day.

JAKE ｡｡ your phone rings as you are making yourself lunch. upon picking it up, a breathy voice reaches you through the phone. given the hour of the day, you don’t need to double check to know who it is.

“hi, princess, you good?” he greets you and you can hear the grin in his tone. a groan comes quick after— proving his current physical effort and confirming that he is at the gym, as he always is.

“yes, i’m good, jake,” the deep breath you take makes you able to respond after a few seconds. the next question is automatic, “how are you?”

“’m good, babe, i’m on the lat pulldown machine right now.” it would have been better, way better, if he hadn’t said that. or if he never showed you what a lat pulldown looks like.

but he did, and you cannot wipe the image of him sitting, his wide shoulders flexing alongside his back as he pulls the lat down. it makes you feel dizzy, him groaning again doesn’t help.

due to your silence, he continues. his voice is whiny, your knees get weaker, “i’ll finish my set quickly and take you on a date, alright?”

imagining him at the gym makes your whole behind fragile. your voice is locked in your throat and you tongue won’t move. but you’d let that man take you anywhere he’d like— the frail sounds of agreement you make are a confirmation of it.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ “stop moving around,” he commands, rather gently. his smile is too big for his words to be an order, he is so close to you that you can’t stop giggling. but you do stop moving.

the man’s beauty hits you one more time as your eyes focus on him. your boyfriend has his hands either side of your torso, next to your arms while you lay down on the floor.

he lower himself slowly, his lips brush over yours ever so gently, a quick kiss before he pushes on his arms and gets in his initial position. he is the one who got that idea, claiming that it’ll motivate him more.

it is in the privacy of your living room that he does another push up, his chest presses against yours when he lowers himself. this time, the kiss linger a little more than the last one.

you should have known that this exercise wouldn’t last long. it takes him less than three pushups to start focusing on your lips a little too much. “you know what? nevermind.”

his weight drops on you, a little ‘oof’ escapes from his mouth and a gentle ‘sorry, darling’ does the same from his. you kiss him back quickly when his mouth gets on yours.

SUNOO ｡｡ when you first met, his gym journey wasn’t as long as it is currently. therefore, you were used to his old, already quite muscular build. when he started going more regularly to the point where it was almost everyday, the changes weren’t very obvious to you.

of course, you knew he was getting more buffed every passing day but you didn’t realize how much until now. when your head is resting on his chest, covered by the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

it takes you a bit to realize how firm his chest feels under your resting head. you stay still for a moment, then your eyebrows furrow as you rub your cheek against his chest.

his arms tighten around your form, and you realize that his pecks are not the only parts that got more muscular. his chest vibrates as he laughs, “what are you doing?”

taken out of your examination, your gaze shoots up. it’s absurd how his natural cute face is on top of that kind of build. “since when are you hulk?”

JUNGWON ｡｡ during the time when he isn’t getting on your nerves or teasing you, he spends his energy on lifting weights at the gym and working on his muscles.

therefore, you know how well his body is built. you can tell, honestly, whenever you surreptitiously peek at him while he takes off his shirt to put on a hoodie instead. his big shoulders and small waist looks back at you, his beceps flex as he folds the clothing piece.

his muscles might be one of his greatest assets, to both send you into a spiral and irritate you the most. because being manhandled everywhere by your boyfriend creates an eruption of butterflies in your stomach but not being able to fight back makes you want to bite him.

“leave me alone!” you laugh when he lifts you off the floor in a swift mention. you are unable to move your arms as he jailed them in his embrace when he rushed to you.

the man quite literally throws you on your shared bed, making your body bounce against the mattress. you are breathless from both laughing, running away from him— even more when you find him on top of you.

you try to push him away when he leans closer. well, not really trying, because you don’t put any strength in the process. he ends up getting his kiss at the end, and he is quite content about it.

RIKI ｡｡ after occupying your room more than you do, even when you are not here, it is natural for him to have a place in your dressing where he can put his clothes.

the first time you thought about it, there wasn’t any big deal or issue related to it. it is the natural course of things, and you love that he is always there with you.

but it gets harder for you when he actually changes. when he takes off his shirt right before your eyes, letting you have a look of the creation he worked hard to have.

embarrassment becomes a prominent emotion in your head whenever you catch yourself staring at his defined abs. it is torture, you cannot yake your eyes off of them.

only a short amount of time passes before he notices it. soon enough , your boyfriend is smirking at you with his shirt in his hand, “like what you see?”

it’s a shame that you actually do. rather very much than not.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[moonstruckme]

my queen of comfort 🙇🏻‍♀️

can i pls request a marauders with reader who has seasonal depression and it gets bad especially during the winters??? thank u 🫶

Thanks for being patient with me lovely <3

cw: depression, no harmful thoughts but general apathy and lethargy

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 995 words

It’s warm in your bed. Almost too warm. The backs of your knees and the place where your arm is folded against your side feel uncomfortably heated. But Sirius kisses the back of your neck when he wakes, and you wouldn’t move for anything. 

“Let’s go to the farmer’s market today,” he says, voice sticky with sleep.

You look out the crack in the curtains covering your bedroom window. “It’s so cold out, though.” 

“So we’ll bundle up. You can put your hands in my pockets if you don’t feel like wearing your gloves.” His nose bumps your nape as he kisses you again. “It’ll be very romantic. The woman who sells the apple tarts said she’d be back this week, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m okay.” 

“You won’t let me get my girl a sweet? I thought you really liked those.” 

“I do, just.” Just. It feels like it’s all you say lately, like all you do is make excuses. Just, just, just. “It doesn’t seem worth it. It’s really gross outside.” 

Sirius’ arm comes around your waist. He doesn’t contradict you. It’s dreary and gray out your window, drizzling rain that bites like ice when it lands on your skin. You’d rather lose track of the day lying here with him, let it slip through your fingers and not think very hard about what it means that you have. Sirius’ fingers playing with yours make this all the more appealing. 

“What if we went to the cinema?” he asks. “That comedy film is showing this weekend.” 

“Didn’t James want to see that one?” 

“Think so, yeah.” 

“You should take him.” 

“I don’t want to take James.” Your joined hands press to your hip, a gentle request for you to turn around. But you don’t want to look at him, and Sirius doesn’t make you. He squeezes your fingers instead. “I want to take you.” 

That’s the important bit. Sirius doesn’t care about the farmer’s market, or even really about the film. You know he only wants you to get up, to go anywhere and do anything at all, and you feel like shit for resisting him. You shouldn’t, either. You know how sadness can sink its talons in the longer it holds you. 

“I’m sorry. Yeah, let’s go.” 

“Don’t be sorry, lovely girl,” he chides fondly. “We don’t have to go if you won’t enjoy it. What do you want to do?” 

You try to muster something for him, you really do, but after a handful of hapless moments you can only be honest. 

“I don’t think I want anything.” 

“That’s okay.” Sirius drops a kiss on your shoulder. “Hey, could you look at me? Please?” 

You roll over, miserable and made more miserable by the aching tenderness in your boyfriend’s expression. This new spot on the bed is colder than where you’d been, but Sirius’ knee bumps against yours, his palm slipping beneath your head on the pillow. He doesn’t hesitate to touch you. Doesn't treat you like you’re breakable or wrong or contagious. His hand flattens under your cheek and warms your skin like he can bleed goodness into you. 

“It’s okay,” he says again, softly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “Now what for?” 

“Making things so hard,” you murmur. You’re trying not to disturb his palm with your mouth movements. 

“Sweetheart, nothing’s hard when I’m with you. I just want to be with you. We can just sit here and talk all day if you want.” 

“I don’t think I’m very nice to talk to right now.” 

“What does that matter? I know I’m awful to talk to half the time. We can be morbid bellyachers together.” 

With some effort, you lift one corner of your mouth. Sirius kisses it rewardingly. 

“You are a delight to talk to, by the way. Always.” 

“A delight?” you whisper. 

“Mhm.” 

There’s a piece of his hair that’s arching over his face, all sprightly and mussed about by the pillowcase. You’re close enough that it moves when you breathe. You blow, and it tickles Sirius’ nose. He smiles. 

“I don’t think I want to talk,” you admit. 

“That’s okay.” 

“I know I’m not fun to be around right now. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make everything miserable.” You look at the dip of his cupid’s bow rather than his eyes. “I love you.” 

It feels important to say. Even when you’re dropping it in his lap awkwardly, like a plea. 

Sirius tilts his head until his eyes meet yours. Dark lashes and silver pools, like moonlight glancing off water. “I love you,” he says, so sincere it burns. “I have another idea.” 

You hum. 

“We watch a film here instead. Or a show, whatever. But first, you tell me how to make french toast so we can have some for breakfast.” 

“You don’t want me to make it?” You don’t want to, but you’d try for him. 

“I want to do something for you.” He kisses you, soft and sweet. He tastes like sleep. “But you’re allowed to help if you like.” 

Allowed amuses you, though you don’t smile. Sirius’ eyes glint like he can tell just the same. 

“You do lots of things for me,” you say. 

“Good. I’d like to continue adding to the tally; it’s how I keep my edge.” 

You look at Sirius, thinking of how much you must love him for it to ache this deeply. Thinking of how he loves you, and how unfair it seems. He keeps doing it even when you give him every reason not to. 

Sirius can tell you’ve slipped away. He strokes his thumb over your cheek. “So, what do you say, gorgeous?” 

You don’t really want to eat french toast. You think you’d swallow battery acid if he made it for you, though. “It sounds nice.” 

“Yeah?” He grins. “Okay, let’s go then, yeah? I’m starving.” 

You give Sirius your hands when he reaches for them, and you let him pull you up.

[makaylaloves-words]

Jason Todd thought his need for touch had died with him.

Part two!!

here’s part one

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab reader

TW: Loss of virginity (male), nsfw, pinv, religious imagery, body issues mentioned.

1.7k words

The sun comes dreadfully early. Bright butter yellow beams forcing Jason away from the oasis that is your embrace. You kiss his forehead then head to get ready for work. You start your usual routine, unaware of his recurring thoughts. Usually, he will wake up a little slower then go to make breakfast while you get ready. Today he lingers like the last bits of snow as winter fades into spring.

He watches you come out of the bathroom after your shower, music still playing from your phone. Music he will never admit to liking but listens to when he misses you. Your perfect skin slightly damp as you put on that lotion that makes him want to take a bite out of you.

Clad in only your underwear and bra, hair up in a towel, you pick your outfit for work and start on your makeup. Humming and dancing to your music. He stands.

He’s silent as he approaches, a huge sleepy figure looming behind you.

“Hi” you chirp, rubbing lotion into your skin.

“I want to have sex with you.”

You slowly turn, eyes wide. “Well good morning to you, too.” he swallows but doesn’t back down.

“I kinda have work” you blink.

“I- I didn’t mean right now. Just soon.” he says and your heart picks up. “Okay, honey, soon.”

You step closer and lift on your toes to peck his cheek. You let your hand linger on his bare chest, his hips against you in a way you can feel as hard he is. It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

Four nights later, it’s the usual routine but something’s off. He goes out on patrol for a few hours and you get finish up some work and make dinner. You eat together then he showers while you wind down. You’ve been dating over a year so naturally you’ve seen eachother naked but he’s always been a little secretive about his body. That’s why you’re very surprised when he walks into your bedroom in just his towel around his waist. Raven hair still damp and water droplets clinging to the scared tissue of his muscled chest. As anyone would eyes would, you give him a good stare down. He looks.. nervous.

“Something wrong?” you finally say.

“Now.” he says

“Now.. what?” your head tilts

He looks away, swallowing in embarrassment.

“I want to have sex.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I- uh right now?” you nearly laugh. You have been on a dry spell ever since you started dating Jason so honestly just him shirtless has got you hot and bothered but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’ve made you wait this long” he nods and steps towards the bed. you stand, arms looping around his neck like a perfect ribbon. “You’ll help me know what to do?” he whispers and you smile “of course.”

Turns out you really have to tell him what to do. You don’t know if you pity the guy or are proud because he’s clearly never watched porn or anything of the sort.

“Just kiss me firs-” you instruct and before you can finish the words his lips are on yours. He’s grown a lot in his kissing ability. From small pecks on your forehead to now as he tangles his tongue with yours. Jason hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you with practiced ease. Your legs wrap around his hips and his hands hesitantly inch towards the back of your thighs. You nod against as your mouth works on his and his hands slide to grip your ass, holding you to him. He groans.

The towel is slipping off his hips and you can feel an anticipation that you haven’t felt in so long coursing through you, straight to your gut.

“Are you sure about this? You can change your mind.” you say, pulling back. your chest is heaving and you know his answer as he licks a stripe up your neck.

He slowly steps forward, setting you on the bed and looking at you like you’re a goddess who just offered him immortality. “Do i sit down or-“ he bites his lip and you giggle. “We can just do missionary.” he blinks in confusion. “i’ll lay down” you add, stripping your shorts and scooting back on the bed.

You strip your shirt and look up. He’s staring at you in a way you’ve seen very few times. He’s flushed, pupils dilated and hands gripping the towel on his hips so hard his knuckles are white. “Um you come over here now” you swallow as he drops the towel and crawl towards you.

For a long time, Jason thought he was disgusting. A foul ugly creature who rose from the dead and doesn’t deserve a single thing he has. You, however, have never understood this. He is beautiful. Greek god level. You can feel the arousal on your thighs as you bite your lip.

He leans down and kisses you again, hard length pressed against your bare stomach as you start taking off the rest of your clothes.

It’s a charming process in the way that it’s kinda clumsy. You haven’t done this in a while and well Jason’s literally a virgin so it takes you a couple tries to get your bra and underwear off.

He breaks the kiss to look down at you. Eyes trialing over your breast as he rests his hands on your ribcage. “You are beautiful” he whispers and you smile shyly. “You too” he blushes.

Both naked as the day you were born, he gulps “So do i just-“

“pretty much”

He gives himself a few strokes, dark lashes fluttering before he leans to you and presses against you. An inch in and he bites his lips. “God” he whines and you smile. he’s larger than most and you revel in the stretch as he pushes more.

“Oh i understand now” he mutters, hands fisting the sheets by your head.

“Understand what?” you say with a small whimper.

“Why people enjoy this so much” he cuts his words off with a moan as he pushes in a bit more.

With a final gasp from him, he’s all the way in and he swears he’s in heaven. He’s never been a very religious person but if there is a god then it is you and this fucking pussy. He groans, hands gripping the sheets beside your head as your hands delicately grasp his wrists.

“You can move” you say quietly, eyes loving as you look up at him.

“I-“ he should move. he knows he should but he is already close to coming and he doesn’t wanna come that fast. You’re just so warm and wet and tight and- oh no.

no no no.

you shift your hips, forcing his dick to rock in and out of you. It barely even moves. “Fuck, no—sto—"

Jason grunts. Chokes on it. 

you do it again, just the softest roll of your hips. “Baby, you don’t understand” he groans, arms shaking beside your head. “It’s okay” you coo, “it’s normal just- please” he swallows. yes he didn’t want to be the guy who blew it like a two pump chump but it’s true he wanted you to feel good to. god, he wants that more than his own pleasure. So, he moves.

A small thrust, just the last 2 inches coming out and in but he whines and turns his head away. You smile, “Hey. look at me, pretty boy”. he groans and looks down at you. god you look like a fucking angel.

He’s nearly drooling as he shudders and thrusts a few more times. Then he stops, “What are you doing?” he gulps.

You blink up at him. It’s true your hand had snaked down and drew a few circles around your clit but that was not a crime.

“I-“

“Show me how.”

“What?”

“That thing you’re doing. Feels good? Show. me. how.” Jason’s words would sound like a demand if he wasn’t bright red and pussy drunk. And instead of getting all butt hurt, he’s asking you to teach him and-

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You gently take one of his hands off the sheets next to him and guide his thick calloused fingers to your clit. “Just- circles or press a little.” you say, words cutting out with a moan when he rubs your clit. good to know he was a fucking natural. His eyes are glued to where his cock is pressed into you and he gulps before continuing his ministrations on your clit. Then he thrusts at the same time. You both moan in sync and he smiles, “‘m doing good? I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

You nod, simply letting him now it’s okay. A few more thrusts and he is shaking. Eyes closing as he gulps.

“Can i-.. in you?” he mutters.

“Yes.” you say calmly, chest heaving.

He buries his face in the warm crook of your neck, a bright flush over his scared skin. Then he’s coming and- “I love you” he groans and you pause.

“what?”

he’s only half conscious as he spurts into you. eyes rolling back as he gasps. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. I’m in love with you, have been for a while.”

you blink “i love you too, Jay.”

He keeps his head buried in your neck but he slowly trails some kisses along your jaw in response. His hand speeds up on your clit as he keeps pumping his slowly softening cock. After a few moments he sits back up, eyes hazy, “you haven’t- should i try again?” you laugh.

“Just give me a minute, love.” your hand snakes down and you lay your fingers on his, helping his finger your clit in that way that had you sparking. You tighten around him and he swears he’s seeing stars. “Fuck” he pulls out of you, grunts turning into a self satisfied smile when you come. You aren’t super loud or anything but he swears it’s the most beautiful melodic thing he has ever seen.

When you come down from your high, he’s laying half on top of you. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady. “You did so good” you kiss the top of his head. “You too” he teases.

you have officially deflowered the great jason todd.

thank you for all the support! this is my first time really writing and i’m having a very fun time. i’m kinda new to tumbler so let me know if i’m doing this tag list wrong, lol.

@theendofthematerialgworl @nwjsns @anamiranda7383 @vicky342 @jayskookies @cyberangel-graphics

[enwoso]

lovie as a newborn and just cute moments with alessia

MOMENTS WITH YOU | alessia x child!reader

nine cute little moments with lovie as a newborn/baby

grumpy masterlist

1. middle of the night talks.

— it was the middle of the night, 3:42am to be precise and alessia was busy pacing her bedroom as she rocked you gently in her arms, hoping it would lull you into sleep.

the soft glow of the nightlight casted a warm hue over the room, the only sound in the room was alessia's quiet shushing noises as she swayed from side to side.

"listen little one," alessia whispered, resting her cheek against your tiny head. "i love you more than anything but i need you to sleep."

your little lips smacked together, your body still fidgeting in your mummy's arms.

"i know, i know, it's a big scary world," alessia sighed rubbing soothing patterns on your back, "but lovie, i haven't had a solid four hours of sleep since your arrived. help me out?"

you responded with a soft whimper, burying your face deeper in your mummy's chest. alessia let out a tried chuckle, "you're lucky you're the cutest thing ever."

finally your tiny breaths evened out and alessia sat back down in the bed and your arms still wrapped protectively around you.

even in the exhaustion that was definitely piling up since you'd arrive just a little less than three weeks ago, there was something so peaceful about it. just the two of you in the little word, awake while everyone slept.

"you and me, baby," she whispered. "always."

—

2. facetime chaos.

you were curled up on your mummy's chest, your tiny body wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket as alessia propped her phone up against a pillow. her screen lighting up with a facetime call and soon, a chorus of excited voices filled the room.

"can we see her? let us see her!" ella shouted practically shoving millie out of her way just to get closer to the screen.

"chill guys!" alessia laughed, picking her phone up and turning the camera so the girls could see you, as you slept through the chaos.

"oh my days," katie breathed out as her hand went over her mouth, "she's so small"

"she's perfect less," maya beamed in awe, her eyes wide and filled with joy.

you stirred slightly, making a small noise as you cozied back into your mummy's arms. the noise making the whole group melting.

"less, you have to bring her to a match," millie said all the girls cheering in agreement as alessia smiled before adding that they'll have to wait till you were a little bit older.

"she needs her own tiny united kit too!" one of the girls piped up as a smirk appeared on alessia's face as they began to bicker about what name that you should have on the back of your tiny shirt.

"oh i already have one," alessia grinned, "she's gonna be the cutest mascot in history with the number twenty three!"

ella leaned closer to the screen, "little one, open your eyes if you wanna come live with auntie tooney."

you moved slightly but other than that you remained completely unfazed still fast asleep as small snores come from you.

"i think that's a no.." alessia grinned as the girls burst into laughter and for the first time in weeks since you had arrived, alessia felt like herself again.

sure, she was exhausted and her life had completely and utterly changed but for the best possible reason - but some things like her team and the love they shared for one another stayed exactly the same.

and now, she had you to share it with.

—

3. bath disaster.

alessia had seen plenty of videos on how to bathe a newborn, had advice from her midwife and her mum but none of them prepared her for how slippery a tiny wriggly newborn could be.

"alright lovie, this is supposed to be relaxing," alessia murmured as she gently lowered you into the warm water in your small baby tub.

your little arms flailed around as your face scrunched up as if you were considering whether to cry or not.

"it's okay," alessia soothed, cupping water over your belly and for a second it seemed like you were getting used to it, that you actually liked it but then suddenly you let out an ear piercing wail.

"oh no, no" alessia panicked slightly as she adjusted her grip, "lovie i swear i'm not trying to drown you!"

your tiny hands grasped at the air as your face turned bright red as you screamed.

"okay, bath times over," alessia announced as she lifted you out of the bath and quickly into a fluffy towel. "think that was a little traumatic for both of us, eh?"

you sniffled, still fussing as alessia sat on the floor of the bathroom, the same old hoodie which had baby milk and other days old stains on it as she brought you close into her chest rocking you gently.

"see? all good now," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your damp forehead as your body still shook slightly from your sniffles as your cries got quiter.

not even two seconds late, just as alessia was finally calming herself down, you seemingly over the whole bath thing as you peed all over the clean towel.

"yeah, okay," alessia groaned slightly, the joys of motherhood, as she shook her head slightly. "next time, nonna is doing this-"

—

4. watching football together

it had been weeks since alessia had even thought about football properly. of course it had been there but for once it wasn't the forefront of her mind.

she missed it, missed the pitch, the team, the rush of playing but for right now her world revolved around you and soaking up as many firsts with her first born as she could. knowing these moments would form core memories.

but still she figured it was never too early to introduce you to the game.

getting herself comfy on the sofa as she settled you on her chest, facing the tv. the women's super league match on the big screen and the match was no other than — united vs arsenal.

"okay, lovie this is important," alessia whispered as she ran her fingers lightly over your back. "you gotta know the game if your gonna be the next best thing!"

you let out a tiny sigh, your small warm body relaxed against your mummy. no doubt as you were moments away from falling asleep.

"see, that's auntie mary in goal — best in the world and there's auntie tooney but don't ever listen to her when she tells you she's better than me!"

your hand twitched slightly and alessia chuckled, "you agree, don't you?"

for a little while, alessia just lay with you content in her arms as she stroked a thumb over the back of your hair, smoothing down the small baby hairs sticking up on the back of your head.

the quiet sounds of the game playing in the background as you eventually dozed off, completely content.

alessia smiled down at you, pressing her lips to the top of your head. "one day you'll be watching me out there again," she whispered, "and i hope i make you proud."

—

5. sleepy cuddles

it had been another long night. you'd been up every two hours, fussing and crying and alessia was running on fumes.

she lay on the back of the sofa, her body aching and mind foggy. you were finally asleep resting on your mummy's chest as your tiny fingers curled onto alessia's shirt.

alessia knew she could put you down in your crib and use this time to rest herself, have some time to herself but she couldn't bring herself to move.

instead she just tightened her arms around you and closed her eyes, as she listened to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

"one day you won't need to hold you like this," she whispered as she pressed a sleepy kiss to your forehead. "so i'm gonna hold you as much as i can now."

and with that, she left herself drift off, wrapped up in the safest place she knew — right there with her little girl.

—

6. family time with a side of chaos

it was the first proper family dinner since you'd arrived into the big world and as much as alessia loved her family she was starting to regret it.

her dad, mario was in the kitchen debating with her brother, giorgio about which way was the best way to cook pasta while luca was arguing with their younger cousins over who would be your favourite uncle.

meanwhile you, who was completely oblivious to everything going on as you were curled up in your car seat in a deep sleep.

alessia leaned back taking a sip of her water bottle, shaking her head slightly. "she can sleep through all this but wakes up the moment i put her in her crib at home?"

alessia's dad appeared beside her, placing a plate in front of her. "she's got italian in her less, she's already used to the noise." alessia just laughed as she picked up her fork.

as dinner was well under way, you'd woken up as you sat in your mummy's lap. brightly curious eyes looked around the dinner table as luca began to speak.

"right little one, time for your initiation!" luca smiled as alessia's head turned her brows raised in curiosity, wondering what it was.

"which is?"

her brothers as well as her parents all grinned the same smirk all on there lips as you sat curious and oblivious to everything going on around you.

gio help up a tiny baby spoon, "her first taste of pasta sauce!"

alessia's eyes went wide as she looked at the spoon which had a small amount of sauce on the spoon, a loud gasp leaving alessia's lips, "absolutely not!"

luca pouted, "oh cmon less, just a little-"

alessia stood firm, she hadn't realised they were just joking. "i will fight you." she warned, sending her brothers a warning glare.

luca sighed dramatically but leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead as your curious eyes watched everyone movements. "okay, but when she's older, i'm teaching her how to make proper pasta!"

alessia's mum, carol smirked, "not if i teach her first!"

alessia shook her head, but the smile that was presence on her lips won't go away. you may not of understood anything but you'd been born into a family that loved fiercely, argued loudly but would always, always have your back.

and really, what more could she ask for?

—

7. a typical sunday

sunday morning had always been slow and cozy in the russo househould. music would be playing in the kitchen as the smell of fresh coffee and toast filled the air.

everyone lazing around in their pyjamas long past breakfast and now with you in the mix, it was even better.

alessia sleepily shuffled into the kitchen, you tucked into her arms. her mum was already at the coffee machine placing alessia's cup near it as her dad sat at the table reading yet another sports magazine.

"morning" alessia yawned, using one hand to rub her eyes while the other kept a tight grip on you.

mario looked up from his reading and grinned, "morning, you two" he reached over rubbing a gentle hand over the top of your head, "did you let mummy sleep?"

alessia let out a tired laugh, "not even a little bit."

luca and gio walked in next, still both half asleep, but the second there eyes saw you, they perked up sighing a second.

"alright, give her here," luca smiled holding out his hands.

alessia hesitated as she looked down at your comfy position in her arms, "i literally just got her to settle."

giorgio just smirked, his quick mind thinking of a smart retort, "she just likes us better, just admit it!"

but before alessia could protest, luca carefully took you from the comfort of your mummy's arms and into his as he cradled you from side to side. you barely stirred as your tiny fingers grasped into his hoodie.

"your joking," alessia's groaned, "why does she always sleep for you lot?"

you mum chuckled, placing a hot cup of much needed coffee on the table for alessia, "cause she knows she had all of us wrapped around her little finger!"

alessia shook her head, she couldn't fight the warmth which spread through her chest. she looked around at her family.

her brother bickering over who would get to hold you next as her dad still stared at his granddaughter like she was the most fascinating thing he'd ever laid eyes on. as her mum watched over them all with a knowing smile.

—

8. first time at the theatre of dreams

alessia hadn't made her return to the pitch just yet, but she was close. close enough that she was itching to be able to lace her boots up again.

for now though, she was in the stands with you watching as united took on chelsea under the bright lights of old trafford.

you were bundled in a warm red jacket, and matching red hat covering your soft hair and your own little pair of ear defenders to keep out the loud noises. your own little united kit on underneath your full body jacket which kept you warm under the chilled air of manchester.

alessia held you close, whispering the commentary into your ear. "there's mary, in goal - she'll make sure you never see a bad keeper in your life" alessia whispered as mary made a diving save.

"and there tooney - she's basically mummy's right hand but she can be a little silly but we love her anyway!"

you just yawned, unimpressed. alessia laughed, as she tucked another blanket around the two of you. "you're gonna love it here, baby i promise."

as the final whistle blew and the score ended level. alessia feeling a rush of emotions. emotions she'd missed while being out. but soon she'd be back out there again and this time she'd have someone extra special watching from the stands.

—

9. first time watching mummy play

alessia knew you would never remember it but she would, she would never forget it. her first game for united back playing football.

the roar of the crowd as the adrenaline filled her body as she was back on the pitch. and then after the final whistle she spotted her family in the stands.

you were bundled up in a tiny red united beanie one that had been specially made just for you as you were fast asleep in your nonna's arms.

alessia's heart clenched. she jogged over her body tired and breathless as she leaned over the barrier a big smile back on her face. "she seriously slept through my whole comeback?"

carol just laughed, "less she's just a baby. she doesn't understand what's going on!"

alessia shook her head but she was still smiling, nothing could stop her from doing that. "unbelievable."

she reached out and over the barrier as she brushed a gentle hand over your little cheek. one day, alessia would tell you all about it. but for now it was more than enough to know her little girl had been there.

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

So, I finished reading this post right as the alarm went off for me to make supper, and if that alarm hadn't gone off, it would probably have been subsumed in "the Scroll," but instead it had a chance to really sit and stew while I was cooking and putting the dishes away and...

I am fond of Fiddler on the Roof. I grew up with it, because we lived too far out of the city to get over-the-air TV and my parents didn't spring for cable or satellite. Instead, I grew up with videos, and because my mom loved the musicals of her childhood (think: Rodgers and Hammerstein--she was born in 1961), this was one of them.

I'm not Jewish at all. To borrow a phrase from my favourite author, "I can only reply that I regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people." Indeed, I grew up sufficiently far from urban centers that I don't know of having ever met anyone Jewish until after I left high school. My experience of Judaism was exclusively filtered through the Christian Bible and media--so Fiddler on the Roof was arguably rather important.

Certainly, I didn't understand what was going on the way someone Jewish would--I was the Catholic in-law in the earlier posts. And, as kids go, I was non-American enough and nerdy enough to have some interest in history, so I eventually had some idea what a pogrom, but I didn't get it; I didn't see the whole movie as a horror story. But I did recognise that it was a downer ending. I couldn't have articulated why, probably because I didn't see what a Jewish viewer did through the first parts of the film. But the ending did cast a shadow back over it. If nothing else, it yanked a the film from being a comedic set in la-la-land firmly back into reality. It kind of worked, if you didn't know what the Jewish viewers know, like the abrupt end of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but backwards.

I haven't thought too much about Fiddler in the intervening score of years, but if I did, it was sort of through that lens of being a kid and of it taking place "a thousand years ago" (rounding). Like, I sort of knew it had really happened... ish... to real people, but it wasn't something I thought about.

But now?

I'm still not Jewish (sorry--though I have been tempted). But I understand more than I understood as a preteen. Maybe it's the resurgence of Czarist Russia in the early 2020s... maybe it's the "rise of Fascism" vibe of the current "roaring" 20s... I don't know, but it doesn't feel like real life "back then." It feels like real life right now.

I'm absolutely floored that it's supposed to be set in 1905. This is what churned around in my butter-tub of a head putting away the dishes. As a kid, I had thought it set about 1880. I don't know why and I don't know what difference that 25 years would make--the last 25 years have flown by way too fast--but it made the difference I guess in my head that Fiddler was a period piece to me, rather than something "20th century."

The movie was released in 1971. That means a 10 year-old kid in 1905 was only 76. A 20-year-old (say... Tevye's daughter), would have only been in her mid-80s. In other words, the pogroms were in living memory.

(As an aside, the nearness of history shouldn't shock me, but it constantly does. In this case, it really shouldn't shock me. My own non-Russian great-grandparents were ALSO fleeing Russia in the 1900/1910s. I even sort of knew that as a kid. I just... didn't put it together.)

The tsarist pogroms are out of living memory now--barely. I don't think I ever really thought about what the end of living memory meant, but in my lifetime, living memory has ended for a few things (not all of them serious): the Victorian era and WWI, for example, and now we're fast going to see more things pass. All of which is to say that all things I and my generation assumed because we grew up "in living memory of" can't be assumed.

The span from the pogroms to today isn't even two lifetimes, but it only takes one to forget.

Dear God, did you have to send me news like that, today of all days? I know, I know we are The Chosen People, but once in awhile, can't you choose someone else?

[yailtsv]

Secret - p.b

💌 Syn: Azzi’s younger sister dates one of their teammates behind Azzi’s back

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i hate how this one turned out 🤠

»»— word count: 917

»»— pair: Paige x Fudd!Gfreader

“shhh we gotta be quiet” you tell paige after she knocked something off of your dresser when sneaking in

paige just ignores you and picks up what she dropped and then closed and locked your bedroom door - heading towards you.

you and azzi share a dorm together with caroline, carols asleep and azzi’s in her room doing homework, so what did you do? called your girlfriend to come over

but…said girlfriend has to sneak in because you both are hiding your relationship. azzi would not approve of your relationship and you both aren’t gonna ask your teammates to lie for you so you can be public around them, that’s just insane.

so that gets you to where you are right now - watching paige get clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser, and then changing into those clothes

“movie and cuddles?” paige asked after putting the clothes she just took off, onto your desk chair for her to grab when she leaves

you nod, already getting in your bed and under the covers, making paige do the same

you both fell asleep watching the movie, all cuddled up together. but you both woke up to consistent knocking, only waking up fully when you heard azzi say through the door “alright fine i’m using the key” making both of you sit up startled, but before you could move and push paige into your closet the door had opened and in walked azzi.

you could see azzi’s facial expression change, you could tell when she put the scene in front of her together in her brain, you could also see the look of hurt and betrayal all across her face

“az-“ “no! do not say anything!” she tells you before turning to face paige “you’re sleeping with my sister? AFTER i told you she was off limits?”

paige doesn’t really know what to say. azzi’s right, she did tell paige that you were off limits - and has been telling her since paige and azzi first met - which was years ago. paige did follow through with that, up until last year.

she never showed she was attracted to you - she was even in denial with her feelings for you. she always treated you as a friend - a very close friend but a friend.

she never thought you and her would eventually become a thing, she always fully intended to keep you at arms length - so that azzi wouldn’t be mad at her.

she’s not really sure on the time stamp of when she accepted her feelings, but whenever it was, was one of the greatest days. the even better day, was when she finally decided to do something with her feelings - that’s the day you guys started dating.

you and her have been dating for a little over a year now. she thought you guys wouldn’t be caught this far along, and she was wrong, and she’s having a difficult time on swallowing this pill.

“az- i’m sorry” paige stutters out, kinda overwhelmed with this situation “YOU’RE sorry?! you can date anyone in the world, and you chose the ONE person that i said was off limits, and you’re sorry?!”

“azzi i’m an adult, i can date who i want to date.” you tell her, wanting this conversation to be over

“you’re also my little sister dating MY best friend.” azzi responded back, still mad about the situation “why are you making it sound like she’s not my friend too? we’re all teammates, we’re all friends, we didn’t tell you we were seeing each other because we knew you were gonna act like this.”

“act like what?! i told both of you that i didn’t want you guys to ever date each other and look what’s happening now! you guys couldn’t of just respected that wish? i don’t ask anything of either of you but the one thing i do, you go behind my back and do it any ways?”

“azzi that’s not fair-“ paige starts but got cut off “fair?! you wanna talk about being fair?” “if you would let me talk that would be great!” paige said after cutting azzi off

azzi stopped talking and crossed her arms over her chest looking at paige expectingly “go on”

“we both did what you asked. we ignored each other romantically until last year, we spent all of our time together since me and you met at arms length, we’ve done everything, and unexpectedly fell for each other in that time. we are both adults, we can both do what we want - and what we want is to be with each other. you can’t stop us from dating, we’ve respected your wish this whole time but you never say why we can’t date you just say to not date, and that’s not fair at all. if your gonna forbid us from doing something at least tell us why. and until you can come up with a good reason - we’re gonna continue seeing each other”

azzi just looks at paige, her arms still crossed over her chest “i love her” paige replied again after a few moments of silence

azzi doesn’t say anything but after a few seconds walks out the door and back to her room. you and paige both make eye contact before sighing out loud

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

requested on wattpad

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Everybody’s on the Call Line (Jason todd x gn!reader)

Humor, fluff, established relationship. whole batfam gets involved. Reader is a hacker

This happened because I read the latest coffee shop au from @jjenthusee (and you should too!) and I remembered that I can also write cute fluff. So here this fic is, straight from my drafts where it’s been languishing for months. Anyway.

Swearing, as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is

———

Jason eases himself carefully onto the fire escape, metal creaking beneath his boots. He stifles a groan. He’s taking a risk sneaking into your apartment like this, he knows he is. If you wake up and see Red Hood snooping around outside your window, you’ll probably call the cops. But he’s tired as all hell, patrol was long and stupid, and your apartment was closer. Jason will just slide in while you’re sleeping, stow his gear where you won’t find it, and collapse into your bed. In the morning, he’ll just say he let himself in with the spare key you gave him. Easy. All he has to do is disable the window alarm he’d gotten for you, and then he’s home free.

The alarm trips, and Jason moves to silence it but then realized it doesn’t matter, you’re still up, working at your computer.

He freezes as you glance over your shoulder, then turn around to face him. He still has his gear on. Shit.

“Uh, hi,” you offer, looking at him with a curious glance as he races to figure out an excuse. “I don’t think we’ve met before?”

This throws him for a loop. You’re reacting very well to a vigilante crawling through your window at 2:30 in the fucking morning. But you’ve given him an opening, and he’s going to take it.

“No,” he says shortly, wincing behind the helmet. He’s never spoken to you like this and instantly hates the tone he’s using, but he’s got a persona to keep up. Or something.

You nod, seemingly unfazed. “No worries. Do you work with Red Robin?”

What? Why are you asking about Tim? Do you have some secret Red Robin crush that he’s going to have to push Tim off a building for?

Dumbfounded, Jason answers, “Uh, sometimes?”

You nod again. “Do you think you could give something to him for me?”

What the shit is happening right now?

As if to help tip Jason’s world off its axis, you’re interrupted by a tap at the window. Jason looks to see Red Robin crouched on your fire escape. You wave him inside.

“Hey, Escher,” Tim says. “Hood.” Jason has no idea what the fuck is going on.

“I’ve got the script,” you say, holding out a flash drive to him, but Tim shakes his head. “No good. They updated the security.”

“Well, shit.” You turn and dump the USB stick into a glass of water on your desk. “It’s a paperweight now. Only took me five hours to figure out.”

“I know,” Tim says, clearly frustrated. “They keep outmaneuvering us.”

Wait, wait. Jason’s still three steps behind you. “Escher?” he demands.

Both you and Tim turn to look at him, frowning. “Like, M.C. Escher? But, spelled ‘emcee,’” you say, as if that explains anything. “It’s my screen name.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we work together.” Tim raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”

Jason shakes his head, and Tim looks at you for a flash of a moment before turning back to Jason. “Sorry,” he mouths, shrugging. Jason waves him off. He’ll deal with that later.

Tim turns back to your computer screen, but your eyes stay on Jason, narrowing. “What does it matter if we work together? Do I know you from somewhere?”

Shit. You were always too sharp for your own good. Jason’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. “Uhh…”

You fold your arms over your chest. Behind you, out of your field of vision, Tim grins at Jason, delighted. Asshole.

“We don’t normally work with civilians,” Jason says, fishing for an excuse.

You sniff, rolling your eyes. “And yet, here you are. Which, the way, you haven’t explained. What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Fair. What is he doing in your bedroom? Would it freak you out if he said he was a burglar? Too late for that now.

“I told him to meet me here,” Tim says, pulling Jason’s ass out of the fire. “Sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

You shrug. “S’okay,” you say, spinning back around in your desk chair to face the screen.

Over your shoulder, Tim mouths, “you owe me.” Jason gives him the finger.

“Do you have a safe copy of the new security system?” you ask, looking at Tim intently.

He shakes his head. “Not yet, Oracle is working on duplicating it.”

You slump down in your chair. “Drat. I hate waiting.”

“Yeah,” Tim sits on the floor next to your bed, knees to his chest. “She said it’d be ready in a few hours.”

“Balls.” You fidget with a pen on your desk.

“Hold on. How did you start working with Red over here?” Jason asks. He knows you work in tech, that you’re a programmer, but he didn’t realize you were building code for fucking Batman.

Tim laughs. “I found them solving random problems on a Swedish forum.”

Jason blinks. Okay.

“Well, yeah. You found me there. Oracle found me hacking your comm links,” you grin, pleased with yourself.

Holy shit. “You got into the comm links?”

“Yeah,” you nod, satisfied. “I’ve done it twice now,” you add smugly.

“Don’t tell B,” Tim warns. “He doesn’t know. Oracle said she wouldn’t tell.”

Wow. You must be the real deal. He wonders if he can get you to fuck with Bruce’s plans, just to be a shit. "How long have you been working for the Caped Crusader, then?"

"I don't work for Batman," you say primly, as Tim sighs. "I help him out when you guys can't get your shit together."

Jason snickers under his breath. "Sore subject, huh?"

"They don’t like B," Tim confirms from the floor. "If you did it would make everything easier," he grumbles.

"It's stupid," you insist. "Come on, how is this a viable solution to any long-term problem?"

Jason laughs outright as Tim sputters. "He's a detective! He detects!"

"Then why does he have to dress up like that?" you point out. “You can be a detective in normal clothes, you know.”

"He needs armor, he keeps getting shot at!"

"Explain the cape, then," you shoot back. "Justify that monstrosity."

"It's fucking idiotic," Jason adds, piling on gleefully. "It'd be different if he could fly, but he just hops around."

Tim gasps, affronted, while you crack up in your chair. "Thank you. I mean, look at yourself, Red. You're sitting on my bedroom floor in a goddamn cape."

"It looks cool," Tim says defensively.

"No," you counter, "that looks cool." You point your finger in Jason's direction, and he feels his face heat up.

"Oh, come on," Tim scoffs. "You think his costume is cool?"

"Uh, yeah," you say, eyes taking Jason in as you nod. "Very cool. Very hot."

"Oh my god," Tim mutters. "It's tactically stupid. Why are his forearms exposed?"

"So I can see how muscley they are." You stare at them, eyes wide. Jason coughs awkwardly, and your eyes flit back up. "Sorry," you say, not sounding sorry at all. "I like leather."

"Of course you like his costume," Tim mutters under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you shoot at him, and Tim flusters. "Why do you care if I don't like your costume?"

"Yeah," Jason adds, letting some menace fall into his voice. "Why do you care if they don’t like your costume?"

"I didn't—I wasn't trying to—"

"I have a boyfriend," you interrupt, looking at Tim scornfully.

"They have a boyfriend," Jason parrots, grinning behind the helmet.

"Oh my god. I know you have a boyfriend. Relax," Tim pacifies you. "Relax," he adds, nodding at Jason. Jason grunts.

Before you can argue further, there’s another tap at your window, and Cass slips softly into the room. You light up. “Hello, my love!” you greet her excitedly. Cass raps you on the top of your head, and you beam up at her. Your hands twitch toward her before you stop yourself, folding them in your lap. Cass turns to Jason, placing her hand carefully on his arm. He bumps against her, waiting until she pushes back lightly. She then moves onto Tim, tugging gently on a lock of his hair, before depositing a flash drive on the desk. You snatch it up eagerly.

From Oracle, Cass signs.

“It’s O’s duplicate!” Tim plucks it from your fingers, driving it into your desktop.

“Be nice to her,” you warn, running a hand over your computer as the file loads. Strings of code write themselves across your screen. Jason moves forward to get a better look at you. He can’t help it, he wants to see you in action. Your face is scrunched up, tongue between your teeth as your eyes flash back and forth, following the cursor. “It’s incomplete.” You squint at Tim. “What gives?”

Tim tsks. “I don’t know. Let me get Oracle.” He puts a hand to his ear. “Oracle, come in.”

Barbara’s voice answers in Jason’s ear. “Here. I know, I know, it’s not all there,” she says, annoyed. “Let Escher know that I had to reverse engineer it from what we found.”

“She says she has to reverse engineer it,” Tim repeats.

You drum your fingers on the desk. “Okay, what else does she know?”

“What else do you—”

“Hold on, this is stupid,” you interrupt. “Can you, like, put her on speaker? Actually,” you click over to another screen, enter a command. “You’re broadcasting live, O.” Jason hears Barbara’s sigh through the speakers of your computer. “That’s three times,” you add smugly.

Jason let’s out a low whistle. Damn. You’re really good at this.

“We've got to stop meeting like this, Escher.” Barbara almost sounds amused. “How did you get in this time?”

“Hiya, babe.” You click back to your project. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out. I don’t want you closing your back door.”

Barbara chuckles. “Red and I will shut you out.”

“But for how long? I’m too slippery, baby.” Jason almost blushes underneath his helmet. It always trips him up when you talk like this.

“I had to reverse engineer the code from what it spit out when I tried to get in this time,” Barbara explains. “Can you fill in the gaps?”

“Some of them.” You type quickly, deleting code as you get error messages and retyping just as fast.

“Wait, here…” Tim points to something on the screen.

“Yeah, okay,” you back up to where he’s pointing and add something.

“There’s something about the updated security,” Barbara adds. “I think there’s a pattern somewhere.”

“Where?” you demand.

“I don’t know. Gut feeling. But I think I’m right.”

“Do you think there’s something generating new code?” Tim asks. “Like, a program that’s spitting out new security?”

“Oh.” Your fingers still on the keys, face relaxing. “Yeah. Good call, Red.” You scan the code again, scrolling back to the top. “Okay. This changes things.” You start from the beginning, erasing whole sections of Barbara’s work and typing out new code. “Well, shit,” you laugh under your breath. “This is some sexy-ass code we’re looking at.”

“You can fill in the blanks?” Jason asks.

You glance up at him. “Of course I can. I wrote it.”

“What?” Tim shouts. “This is you?”

“It’s me,” you confirm. “Guilty.” A small smile plays around your lips. “Sorry.” Cass steps forward, pinching your ear until you yelp.

“Fuck, Escher.” Tim rubs the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know you were a traitor.”

“Chill, bird brain,” you say defensively, leaning out of Cass’ reach. “This was from, like, five years ago. I needed some cash.”

“You could be on B’s payroll,” Tim offers.

You snort as Barbara huffs a laugh over the comm line. “Fat chance, I’ve been trying to convince them for months.”

“I’m not a fucking lapdog. I play by my own rules,” you insist.

“Yeah?” Jason can’t help but push you. “And what rules are those?”

You cock an eye at him warily. “The rule of not tying my kite to some lunatic.”

Jason nods. Can’t argue with that one.

“Anyway,” you turn back to the computer. “Because I wrote it, I can build you the malware.”

“To get past the security or to neutralize the program spitting out new code?” Barbara asks over the line.

“Dealer’s choice,” you say, then stick your tongue between your teeth as you squint at the screen. “I can make both happen.”

The comm crackles in Jason’s ear. “Oracle, come in,” Bruce barks.

Tim whips his head toward you with a crack. “Nothing from you now, Escher,” Barbara warns. “I’m patching him through.”

You grin, eagerly pretending to zip your lips.

“Here,” Barbara answers.

“I heard from one of my informants,” Bruce’s monotone growl fills the room. Jason catches you roll your eyes and almost bursts out laughing. “They’re going to get into the controls for Blackgate prison.”

“This is Black Mask?” Barbara clarifies.

Bruce grunts as your eyebrows shoot up. “This is Black Mask?” you whisper, except you’ve never been very good at whispering. Tim slices a hand over his neck to silence you as Jason moves to your computer. He’s been eyeing the program you’re using to broadcast the comm connection, and he thinks he’s found the mute button. He taps a key and then turns his head toward you. “Off?”

You nod. “Off. Thanks. This is Black Mask’s security?”

“Yeah, he’s making a move against the jail. He’s going to get some of his guys out,” Tim explains.

“Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.” You tap your fingers against your chin.

“What?” Tim folds his arms over his chest.

“I originally sold it to the Falcones.” You flick your hair out of your face. “Guess they sold me out behind my back.”

A security program that’s making its way through the mob? That’s…really useful, actually.

“Can you get in and stop them?” Bruce asks.

“Maybe,” Oracle hedges. “Hold on, I have to call in reinforcements.” She mutes Bruce’s line. “Escher, you’re up.”

“Wait, you want it now?” you say, aghast. “Christ, how long do I have?”

“Act quickly.” Bruce orders. “My intel says they’re moving at 3:45am.”

Your eyes fly to the clock on your monitor. “What the fuck!” you screech. “That’s in forty minutes! I can’t do it in forty minutes! I have to break through my own walls!”

“Escher,” Barbara starts, just as Tim says “listen, you have to—”

“I can’t, it’s not enough time!” you wail.

“Hey, hey,” Jason cuts in. “Easy. Don’t worry, love. You can do it.”

You look at him fearfully. “You haven’t even told me what to do!”

“Just get past the security,” Jason says patiently. “Don’t worry about shutting down the whole program.”

You nod at him, eyes wide.

“Deep breaths, now,” he instructs. “Come on, in for two, hold, out for four. We’ll do it together. Ready?”

You nod again.

“Okay.” Jason sucks in a breath, loudly so it’ll register over the modulator. You copy him, inhaling, holding, and exhaling on his rhythm. After a few breaths you shake your head, turning back to the computer.

“Alright. I can make it happen.” You resume typing, eyes narrowed as you focus.

“We’re alright, B, I’ve got someone on it,” Oracle says, satisfied.

Tim turns to Jason, clearly impressed. Jason shrugs. You’ve been together for a while now, he knows how to pull you out of a spiral.

He turns back to you. You’re ripping through code at a hundred miles an hour, hunched over the keyboard. Jason grimaces, he’s always trying to get you to sit up straight to help your tech neck. He’ll have to rub out the knots in your shoulders later.

Jason feels Cass’ eyes on him, and he tilts his head toward her. Less than forty minutes, she signs to him. I’ll have to take it back to the Clocktower.

Jason’s thought of that. He evenly points his chin in your direction. You can handle it, he knows you can. Cass nods.

Tim coughs quietly, and Jason raises his head to look at him. “You want the keys to the castle?” he mutters.

He means code you built that generates new security programs. Jason nods. “But that’s just between us, yeah?” It would be loads easier for Jason if he keeps the code out of Bruce’s hands. Black Mask has been operating in Jason’s territory, and Jason has a long string of investigations against him, well-beyond the scope of this Blackgate shit. Bruce needs to keep his nose out of it.

Tim scoffs. “Fine. Seems like you should get first dibs anyway.” He nods towards your desk where you’re still working stubbornly.

The room is silent, all three of them letting you work. After a few minutes, Tim steps toward you. “Here, you need any hel—”

Jason throws an arm out to stop him, just as Cass grabs his wrist and tugs him backwards, shaking her head. He holds up his hands in surrender.

Fifteen minutes later, you rap your knuckles on your desk. “Oi, peanut gallery!” You spin around in your chair, smiling wickedly. “I solved your case for you!”

“It’s not a case,” Tim mutters, and Jason scoffs.

“Don’t be jealous, RR,” Babs says over the line. “You can both be the prettiest.” Tim splutters as you laugh delightedly.

“Nice job,” Jason says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You grin up at him. He catches Cass and Tim share a look, sees her sign something too fast for his eyes to follow.

“Batgirl’s bringing it to you now, Oracle,” Tim says as you unplug the flash drive and hand it to Cass. You wave to her as she slips through the window.

“My backup came through,” Babs reports to Bruce. “They’ll be obsolete in a few minutes.”

“Copy.” The line fizzles as Babs cuts him off.

“Fuck yeah,” you grin in satisfaction. “Nothing like hearing that overgrown Bat say ‘copy.’”

Jason cackles as Tim rolls his eyes. “Oracle,” he says loudly. “Hood was in the dark about our friend here.” His eyes flick to you before he looks at Jason meaningfully.

And just what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Jason all but snarls at him.

“Huh. I could’ve sworn you were smarter than that, Hood,” Barbara admonishes.

“Shut up, O,” he grumbles. Jason glances at you to make sure you haven’t caught on to what they’re talking about, but you don’t seem to be paying attention; you’ve pulled up Steam and are scrolling through your game library.

“Maybe it’s time to clue them in. Take off your party hat,” Barbara says meaningfully. Tim nods forcefully.

“Butt out,” Jason says half-heartedly, but it doesn’t stick. He’s been thinking about telling you about Red Hood anyway; you’ve been together for a year and a half. He’s been…well, he’s scared. But maybe he shouldn’t be.

“We’d have to vote on it,” he says gruffly. Tim pumps his fist in the air. “In person,” he says meaningfully. Comm links aren’t safe, apparently.

“You have my vote,” Babs says confidently. “And Batgirl’s, too, she’s here.” Barbara pauses meaningfully. “I’m happy for you, Hood.”

“Me too!” Tim pipes up immediately.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason waves them off, like his heart isn’t pounding. “Can you call everyone over?”

“Roger that.” Barbara seems pleased. “Hood is asking us all to meet near him,” she broadcasts aloud. “Sending you coordinates.”

Dick, Steph, Bruce, and Damian all copy. Jason steels himself. “Alright, RR, time to go.”

You glance at him as he moves toward the window. “Heading out?”

“Yeah,” Tim answers. “Got a big family meeting to get to.” He grins at Jason.

“Okay. See you around. Nice meeting you,” you say to Jason, before turning back to your screen.

“Uh, yeah,” he says uncomfortably, while Tim snickers. “See you later.”

The troops have already assembled two rooftops over. “Hood, what’s the situation?” Bruce asks sternly.

“The situation,” Tim starts happily, “is—”

“Hold on,” Jason cuts him off. “Disconnect comm links.” He watches warily as everyone takes them out of their ears.

“Compromised?” Dick asks with concern.

“Uh, yeah.” Jason scratches the back of his neck. “Listen, uh…” he looks at Tim helplessly.

“Jason’s dating Escher.”

“What!” Dick screams as Steph claps her hands together excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating anyone?”

“Uh—”

“Fuck, yeah!” Steph interrupts. “This is great! Escher’s the freaking best!”

“Language,” Bruce says as Jason takes off the helmet to glare at Steph accusingly.

“We play Minecraft together,” she explains. “I didn’t know you two were dating!”

“Wait, hold on. I thought you all knew about that.” Jason shifts his glare to Tim.

Tim shrugs. “Only me and Babs knew,” he says.

“Timmy, why didn’t you share!” Dick groans, bounding over to ruffle Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes him away, trying to swipe his feet out from under him. Dick dodges easily, throwing a light right hook in return. “Wasn’t any of your business, now was it?” Jason says gruffly.

Tim looks at Dick, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Fair.” Dick grins softly at Jason, bumping shoulders with him. “Nice job, Little Wing.”

Jason blushes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Congrats, Todd, but why are we all here?” Damian interrupts.

“I’m gonna tell ‘em,” Jason says simply. “About this. If it’s cool.”

“Fine with me,” Steph says instantly.

Tim nods, “seconded. Babs and Cass say it’s fine with them, we asked before we went dark.”

“Well, who am I to stand in their way,” Dick half-jokes, but he’s looking at Bruce with serious eyes. So is Jason.

“I’ll follow Father’s ruling,” Damian says stoutly.

That leaves the big man himself. Bruce smiles gently. “Of course, Jaylad. We’re all happy for you.”

Jason blushes all over again. “Thanks, old man.” He lets out a breath.

“But we have to ask Duke,” Bruce adds meaningfully.

“I texted him, he says it’s fine,” Tim says quickly. “But also, uh—” he holds his hand to his ear.

Warily, Jason puts his comm back in. “Jason, what the fuck!” you shriek. “What the fucking fuck is this!”

“I forgot to disconnect,” Babs says sheepishly.

“Jason, you ass! Why didn’t you tell me you ran around in a fucking costume?” you shout down the line. Steph and Dick keel over laughing. Jason realizes everyone has taken the liberty of putting their comm back in.

“Baby, please,” he says resignedly.

“Baby?” Dick mouths, beaming.

“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me!” you holler.

“Babe, you are a hacker,” he points out. “How come you didn’t share that with the class?”

That makes you pause. “Fair fucking point, I guess,” you mutter. Jason sees Bruce try to tug the comm out of Damian’s ear, but Damian dances out of reach.

“Uh, also, can you cool it with the swearing?” Jason asks. “There’s a kid here.”

“…if it’s Robin I am going to throw up.”

“Hello,” Damian says helpfully.

Your end of the line is silent.

“Hey, Escher, it’s Spoiler!” Steph cuts in. “Nice job shacking up with Hood.” She eyes Jason evilly.

“This is a fucking ambush,” you grind out. “Jason, you fucking ambushed me.”

“Language,” Bruce orders gently. Tim just about busts a gut while Jason waves frantically at Bruce, shaking his head rapidly. “Nice to meet you over the phone,” Bruce adds. Dick gives him a thumbs up.

“…likewise,” you say eventually. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but this has been insane, and I’m disconnecting. Jason, get your as— get back here after you’ve finished your family dinner.” Your end goes dead.

“They seem nice,” Bruce says after a moment. “We’ll have to talk about how they got into the comm links,” he looks at Tim reproachfully.

“See you later, Hood,” Dick says easily, nodding at your building.

Jason turns back to your apartment. He can already see you in the window, arms crossed over your chest. You’re trying to scowl at him, but he can see the smile trying to escape.

He shrugs his shoulders, grinning. You throw up your hands but beckon him anyway. Come on, come back.

Don’t worry, Jason’s coming.

[illuminatedquill]

How are you watching this episode and then your immediate reaction is that Mark and Gemma did not have a good marriage.

SHE HAD A MISCARRIAGE. THEY WERE GOING THROUGH AN INSANELY TRAUMATIC EVENT.

They were suffering apart - Mark growing increasingly frustrated and concerned because of his inability to reach his wife and Gemma becoming distant and obsessed with finding ways to overcome their infertility issues - but they still loved each other! They were still together through it all!

And my God - my heart breaks for Gemma even more in this episode. She is so fucking resilient through this hell and desperate to see Mark again. SHE’S ALIVE AND REMEMBERS HIM AND WANTS TO GO HOME.

The lie that creep doctor told her about Mark having moved on and then saying that “maybe she has too, and he’s seen it” - I need him to be boiled in a vat of acid. Gemma’s stoic facade breaking just for a moment, denying it but you can see the doubt creep in. Only us, the audience, knows that is an absolute lie and that Mark never moved on.

Gemma making a run for it, almost making it out only to be thwarted by the damn severance chip in her head. Her breaking down in the elevator, realizing she’s stuck in this hell transitioning to the shot of Mark seeing the police outside his door as he’s slowly swallowed into the darkness. Incredible.

What is Lumon doing to her? What the hell is with all these rooms. Did Dichen get a sense of deja vu as she read the script and realized they were essentially having her do Dollhouse again, LOL. We still don’t know how they got a hold of her. Did she agree to some scientific procedure that would resolve her infertility issues? Oh, Gemma. She made a deal with the devil it seems.

Dichen finally being able to show her acting range at last. Engrave her name on an Emmy right fucking now.

I want to be happy that all the people saying that Gemma is definitely dead or comatose and doesn’t remember Mark at all (or that she loves him) are wrong but I’m certain that Lumon didn’t take her escape attempt lightly. What punishment they gave to her . . .

Mark, YOU NEED TO LOCK IN NOW MORE THAN EVER. GET HER OUT.

There’s so much more I want to say but ahhhhhh, I need to sleep.

[patchworkideas]

I have a folder named 'Story Ideas' in my home system, for easy access.

In there, I have a folder for each fandom that I write in.

If a Wip stays a one shot or only an idea post it stays in the general fandom folder it belongs to - with AUs and Crossovers in the fandom that uses the characters or has the biggest influence.

If it grows it becomes it's own folder. If I already know the future name at that point it will be named that, otherwise it gets a descriptor that stays even after it has a name. (example: My 'Coming Forth By Day' Story is still in a folder called Subnautica AU in the Yu-Gi-Oh Folder.)

The chapters are neatly named 'Chapter 1' or 'Chapter 1-6' etc, depending on how frantically I was writing. If it got written in one file it stays in one file. (This became more common since I started dictating, where i need to check for dictation errors before I can close a file (to listen to my own voice to check) and often new ideas are howling to be given voice before the check for the prior one is finished.)

Most bigger stories with their own folder also get a subfolder called notes.

That's the danger folder, where the wild things go and nothing is safe or certain. I have doubles, often actually writen or rewritten notes, sometimes removed scenes or whole removed chapters. Notes in order and notes very much not, in whatever order they came to me or I thought they fit best.

The notes folder is the depth of my mind and very often contains a multitude more words than actual make it into the story. (Long Way Around is an extreme example - by the time I had 10k posted, I hit over 100k in notes for everything still to come. Something that has been invaluable for me as I continued writing it these past years. It's been slow going but it's allowed me to keep the plot for these last 3 chapters i still have to write after almost 4 years now. Though there's a lot more to edit and polish before we get close to posting those even once they're finally written, since I hiatused to ensure I don't drop one of the myriads of threads I'm weaving together in the critical third act.)

I love writing, and I lost so much in the chaos of not having it organized in the past. So now it is.

.... Don't look on my PC where I do most of my drafting via dictation though. There's a folder called 'transferred to phone' for everything I already copied over to my phone. My phone has fandom folders but no notes, big stories are only told apart by name + chapter number. I then send the draft from my phone via different email addresses to my tablet, where all the notes and edits etc happen. *That* is where I'm organized in the above fashion.

... There and in a dedicated backup drive where I copy my tablet files to - admittedly not as often as I should. But even if I lose edits someday I at least know that I'll never lose the original draft.

Which makes it much easier to edit without abandon since the original never lost if I fuck something up beyond recognition during editing. Or in case of technical issues, obviously.

Backups are important, doubly so for anything creative.

... And I still manage to lose track of small ideas because each fandom folder usually has a shit ton of those small idea files that never become a full blown story.

And I still very much enjoy reading through those occasionally and enjoying the diamonds in the rough, those I forgot and those I didn't.

I love writing, and I love my stories. <3

Edit: And now, after actually checking, since I didn't want to risk tumblr eating my post, I realize that for some unfathomable reason I forgot to set up the fandom folder system that I have literally been using for over a decade on my tablet - probably because I figured 'I love this new fandom! I'm going to write for nothing else ever again!' when I did it. *sigh* It always feels like that, it never is X-D

So the majority of everything has the fandom name in the title, aka 'Subnautica Yu-Gi-Oh'. The handful that don't I'll need to rename at some point and finally sort everything into folders as it should have been...

And what was i thinking when i wrote my game fandom stories in the gaming folder - which does have the 'fandom/game name' folder system at least! And I usually do back those up too, since my game notes are also fun (and just as long, looking at my +100k Oxygen Not Included notes...). And I suppose some of these are stories to help me remember what happened last...

But they're still stories, and I wonder if I'll remember to check for stories in 'Games' someday 🤔

Sigh. I have a very specific order in my head. It doesn't always make it onto the page. Kinda like in writing. But it's otherwise still as described above and I'm very proud of it.

only sort of related to the wip meme that's going around, i'm curious, now: how do you, personally, organise your wips?

this does not feel like a poll kind of situation—it's a 'just reply or reblog and add to the body of the post' kind of deal. please feel free; i'm genuinely curious.

[ryebread0605]

Hii! Hope you're doing great.

Can you do dorm leaders of twisted wonderland with a mute or blind reader? ( male reader)

It's okay if not and thanks! (✿❛◡❛)

This is a very fun one to do cuz I love to see disability rep in fanfics (especially as a disabled person!) I hope you don’t mind that I did deaf and blind!

Riddle: 

he just thinks you’re ignoring him at first when he yells at you to go to specific areas you don’t know, which leads to many instances of the collar being put on you 

He gets curious when he sees deuce leading you around everywhere 

Started to get suspicious when he found out you do all your essays and readings through the computer

Yeah he’s not the type to figure out you are blind on his own

Finally comes to a head as you’re painting the roses, he comes behind you and goes “NO THOSE ARE BLUE NOT RED! WHAT, ARE YOU BLIND OR SOMETHING?” 

Awkward silence begins and it finally clicks 

Poor boy is apologetic beyond belief and will do anything in his power to make up for it

Goes out of his way to make sure every single corner in the heartslabyul form has a cushion against it so you won’t hurt yourself 

“I’m so sorry (name) I promise I didn’t know. Please, if there’s any way we can accommodate you more, let myself or Trey know!”

Leona:

at first, he sees you as weak, an easy target

Until he tries to sneak up on you and get an elbow straight to the gut

He can tell right away that you don’t let being blind hold you back and DAMN does he respect it

Jack is given the duty of being your eyes, seeing as you have numeral classes together and are both freshmen

He adds a detail to spelldrive so you can play, making it so the disc beeps when it’s close to you so you can catch it 

He will never admit that his instincts are telling him to take the small weak cub under his wing

“Look, in this dorm it’s survival of the fittest. If you’ve spent this long at NRC without being taken out by a dumbass, you got what it takes to be part of the dorm”

Azul:

because of the Sea Witch stories, it became mandatory for all merfolk to learn some version of sign language

He can easily spot you are deaf and tries to strike up a deal first, only he mixes it up in his mind and signs ‘date’ instead 

Both of you are blushing messes but why not? 

You help to properly teach him and the tweels proper sign language and in return you now have 3 powerful and influential men there to protect you at any time 

“I must ask, do you think it would be a fruitful venture to hold a paid for sign language class? Of course the proceeds would go to a charity! That charity being getting you those hearing aids you’ve been wanting”

Kalim:

Is very confused as you don’t seem to hear him at all, making him practically yell

Jamil has to be the one to tell him that you could just be deaf

This mans is FLUENT in sign and will have the best gossip to tell you that only you two can hear 

Jamil is happy cuz it keeps him out of trouble and keeps the dorm quiet

Until Kalim realizes he can raise the music so you can feel the bass 

“Isn’t this awesome! I knew you’d love this song! Everyone deserves the chance to party in Scarabia!”

Vil:

he has worked with plenty of people so it’s no surprise he knows how to sign 

During the SDC, he makes sure you have a seat closest to the speakers so you can feel the vibrations the best 

Offers several times to make you a hearing potion but accepts that it is a part of you that you wish to keep 

ASL is now mandatory to learn in the Pomefiore dorm (with permission from Crowley who sees this as an opportunity to show how inclusive his school is)

“(Name) how does this seat work for you? Is it close enough to the speaker? Or would you rather have an interpreter? Just let me know potato”

Idia:

it makes him feel so relaxed to know you can’t see him

You enjoy video games AND you can’t clock his looks? Hell yes

He’s ringing up STYX right away to sent a Cerberus unit as a guide dog for you 

If you are up to it, he would love to make cyber eyes for you to give you sight back

Gets super excited hanging out with you and lets himself be himself because in his eyes you can’t see him so you don’t judge him 

“-and yeah! He should be all set up for your fingerprint id! If any problems happen, like normies trying to get in your way, he has an op defense mode”

Malleus:

by FAR the most protective of you

Since you can’t see, he worries others will take advantage of that and he is NOT having that

He is your person guard dragon and will follow you around everywhere  

Has set up his nest in Diasomnia (because I like the idea that he keeps dragon instincts like nesting and hoarding) to include a tactile pathway to both the bathroom and door so you have more sense of freedom

If he can’t guard you, Lilia will. Lilia is a lot more ferocious in his guarding as he had blind soldiers when he was a general

“Child of man, if you need anything, money is no problem. I could get you set up with working eyes if you would like. But if you prefer how you are, that’s alright too”

[00valentina-writes00]

Mmmh, I’m still sick but I needed to get this idea out into the world :> (plus I feel kinda bad for being dead)

♡♥︎ Warm Mornings ♥︎♡

Warnings: soft domestic fluff, reader speaks in broken English, lots of touching and affection, implied nudity but nothing explicit, Abby being the big spoon and a gentle softie.

The first thing you feel is warmth.

Heavy, steady, all-encompassing warmth, wrapping you up and holding you close. The room is cold, the early morning chill creeping through the cracks of the base, but Abby is a furnace against you, her bare skin pressed to yours beneath the tangle of thin blankets. Her breath is slow and even, brushing against the top of your head with each exhale, her strong arms locked around your middle, keeping you pinned to her chest.

You don’t move yet. You like this. You like the way she’s curled around you, how her hand is splayed over your stomach, fingers twitching slightly in her sleep. You like the weight of her, the heat of her, the way she smells—like pine, sweat, and something unmistakably Abby. Safe.

A deep sigh rumbles from her chest as she stirs, her grip tightening for a second before loosening again. You shift a little, tilting your head up to look at her, your cheek pressing into the swell of her chest.

She’s beautiful like this, in the soft, gray morning light. Her dirty blonde hair is loose, messy from sleep, strands sticking to her forehead. Her lips are parted slightly, her breathing deep and relaxed, and her freckles—oh, you love her freckles—are scattered across her cheeks and nose, standing out against her sun-kissed skin.

You reach up, tracing a fingertip over her shoulder, feeling the raised lines of old scars and muscle beneath your touch. She makes a small noise, something between a grunt and a hum, her brows furrowing slightly.

Then, her voice, rough and thick with sleep—

“Mm… you awake?”

You smile a little, curling closer. “Mmh.”

Her arms flex around you, pulling you in until your face is fully buried in her chest, and you laugh softly against her skin.

“Too warm,” you murmur, though you make no effort to move away.

“Yeah?” She shifts, rolling onto her back and taking you with her so you’re draped half on top of her, her hands smoothing up and down your back. “Better?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Her chuckle is deep, vibrating beneath you. One of her hands moves up, fingers threading into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp. It feels nice, makes your eyes flutter shut.

“Stay like this,” you mumble against her collarbone, pressing a soft kiss there. “Good here.”

She lets out a soft breath, her other hand trailing down to rest on your hip. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Good here.”

For a while, neither of you speak. The quiet is comfortable, filled only with the distant sounds of the base waking up—muffled voices, footsteps, the clang of metal. But it feels far away, separate from this little pocket of warmth and safety.

You shift slightly, pressing another kiss to her chest, right over her heart. “Dream?”

“Hm?”

“You dream?”

She hums, fingers still moving lazily through your hair. “Not really. Just… this. You.”

You blink up at her, tilting your head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Her lips twitch into a small smile. “You’re in my dreams all the time.”

Your face warms, and you huff softly, tucking your face back against her skin. “Flirt.”

She chuckles again, her arms wrapping around you fully, squeezing you just a little. “Just saying the truth.”

You lay there like that, tangled together in the quiet of the morning, her hands moving slowly over your back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

After a while, she shifts, turning slightly so she can press a kiss to your forehead. “You hungry?”

You make a noise of protest, clinging to her. “No move.”

She laughs, deep and warm. “Babe, we gotta eat.”

You shake your head. “Later.”

She sighs, but she doesn’t argue. Just pulls you in tighter, lips brushing against your temple.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Later.”

[stove-top96]

what if you did a valentine’s day one shot where the reader gets asked on a date and yandere batfam are not happy about it?

I LOVE your works so far!! I hope that you’re sleeping well and eating!! have a great day/night!!!💜💜💜

-🐈‍⬛

Please, Please, Please

Oneshot

Y Batfam x GN Reader

Featuring Platonic: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

2.5K Words

Masterlist

You glance at the clock—15 minutes tell school is over. To pass the time you doodle on the corner of your notebook. Mr Miller's chemistry class was the worst. His monotone voice could lull anyone to sleep.

Your eyes drift to your desk mate, Parker. They seem just as bored as you, staring blankly out the window. Chemistry was the only class you had without Tim, which left you alone without anyone to talk to. Parker is nice, they’re the only friend you have that’s not already a part of Tim’s circle— If you could call them a friend.

They seemed to catch you staring because they started to scribble something in they’re notebook. A moment later they slid it over to you.

‘You understand any of this’ you smile and glance up at them. They had a cheeky grin. It was cute.

You shake your head and scribble something down. ‘Not a bit’.

They take the notebook back, Parker chuckles as they read your message, rolling their eyes.

“Guess we’re screwed than” they whisper.

You let out a small giggle “guess so”.

The bell rings before you and Parker can chat more. You’re quick to pack up your things, you wanna get home as soon as possible.

You sling your backpack over your shoulder but before you can head out the door Parker speaks up.

”Hey Y/n I got a question for you”

you pause before turning all your attention to them “yeah what’s up?”

”I was wondering…” their voice wavers and their cheeks go pink “well you know how Valentine’s Day is in a few days” Parker stumbles out, fingers tapping on the notebook. you nod.

”I was hoping… you and me could go out together, like on a date” their voice seemed to gain some confidence, and a boyish smile tugs on their lips.

You paused. You haven't really thought about going on a date with anyone, but the more you think about it why would you say no. Parker’s nice, funny, and they’re pretty cute.

You smile “Sure sounds like fun”.

Parker stares at you, wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You take that as your cue to start heading out.

“Uhh. Yeah we’ll talk more tomorrow yeah?” They stammer.

“Yeah lets talk tomorrow” you call out from the other end of the classroom, before heading out the door.

Walking through the halls you check your phone. It’d been buzzing all class, it had to have been Dick.

<Dick>

Hey baby bird, how were your classes?

I’m in town today and we need to go out.

I Just asked Alfred I’m picking you up today!!

I’ll be waiting outside

Tim’s got a ride so don't worry about him

just you and me today!!

You scoff rolling your eyes. He easily could have sent these as one message, he just liked being annoying.

After putting your books away in your locker, you made your way to the parking lot. It’s packed with people and cars, but before you could spot him.

“Babybird I missed you so much!”

He yelled from across the parking lot, as he leaned against his car. You cringed as students stared at you and him. Could he get anymore embarrassing?

He ruffled your hair as you got into the passenger seat.

“C’mon let's go” he ushered you inside before, racing out of the parking lot.

“So I’m thinking we head to that new cafe you were talking about, and maybe stop by that old bookstore you like so much before we head home.” He keeps his eyes on the road.

“Yeah sounds like a plan” you smile.

He starts talking again, you tune him out. Your mind wanders back to when Parker asked you out. A giddy smile tugged at your lips. It made you feel all warm inside, this will be your first valentine’s on an actual date.

“You spacing out baby bird?” Dick raises a brow.

”sorry, sorry long day” you stammer. Dick makes a face, like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“sure.” His voice is a little irritated. Great, he's already starting to get pissy.

Your family’s always been weird about you. It's probably because you're not a vigilante but you can still take care of yourself.

It’s been getting worse as you get older, they just keep adding rules on top of rules. No going out past 7. No leaving anyone’s side at a gala. Always eat lunch with Tim’. Damian has way less rules than you do, and he doesn’t even follow them. It’s like they're scared to let you grow up.

Lately it’s been worse. Conversations stop once you enter a room. Touches lingering a little longer than normal. Eyes lingering for too long.

Whatever you’re used to their overprotectiveness.

It’s why you plan to keep your Valentine’s Day plans to yourself. You can just imagine everyone’s reactions. Dick will probably get super clingy. Tim will pull up their search history. Damian will go on a rant about how Parker doesn’t deserve you. Jason might corner them in some alley. and Cass will have that disappointed look on her face, the kind that makes you feel horrible.

Bruce might even ground you.

“Yeah” Dick’s grip tightened on the steering wheel tightens “no way” he mutters to himself.

Dicks muttering snaps you back to reality “what did you say?” You ask.

He forces a smile “Oh nothing baby bird, just excited”

You and Dick make it back after a few hours, and you’re exhausted. He took all across Gotham, trying to any and everything with you. It’s pretty obvious that he was trying to make up for lost time. He’s been in Blüdhaven more often.

by the time you step through the front door you want nothing more than to calloused into bed.

Instead you’re greeted by Damian. Judging from the scowl on his face he’s more pissed off than usual

Damian crossed his arms. ”You said you’d only take them out to eat.” He scoffed.

Dick slid off his shoes lazily , not even bothering to look up.”We were having too much fun and lost track of time.” Dick forced laughed.

Damian doesn’t move. ”You were gone for nearly 3 hours.” His voice is flat, clearly not buying the excuse.

“It’s my fault” you chime in, trying to diffuse the tension. Damian’s head turns toward you, his expression softens. “I asked Dick to drive me all over town” you smile, Dick ruffles your hair before heading down the hall. Damian doesn’t spare him a glance, his eyes locked in on you.

You start to make your way to your room, Damian follows— of course.

”you promised to be my model for my newest painting. When do you expect to make it up?” He asks. You hum “After dinner? You’ll still have a few hours until patrol”.

He pauses for a moment “I suppose that will work.” He says, the faintest smile forming on his lips.

You grip the handle of your bedroom door, praying you’ll get some alone time for once.

You don’t.

As you step inside Damian follows, his sharp gaze assessing the space. You sigh but don’t say anything.

Dinner should be ready in an hour, Damian’s not gonna leave anytime soon. might as well scroll through your phone in the meantime.

You and Damian head downstairs and as you make your way to your seat the conversation at the table does. everyone's eyes flicker towards you. You raise a brow but before you can say anything Alfred pipes up.

”I cooked your favourite tonight master y/n” he says, as if nothing is off.

You smile, shaking off the tension. “thank you Alfred”

As you go to take a bite you notice Jason’s gaze. it’s not his usual lazy smile. It’s sharper, more intense, watching. Did something happen? His anger is almost never directed towards you. Did Bruce say something?

Before your mind starts to wander your eyes glance towards Cass, she’s frowning like she’s almost disappointed in you but not quite.

“How was school today y/n?” Bruce’s voice cuts through the silence.

Everyone’s head turns to look at you. Waiting, as if they’re expecting something.

It’s fine you’re used to your family being weird like this.

You take a sip of your water ”it was fine” you force a casual tone. There is no way you can let them know about Parker.

Jason tilts his head “Nothing exciting happened?” He asked, studying your face.

You swallow “No not really.” You take another bite of your food, praying they don’t press the issue any further.

The family shares a look, silent but you noticed.

you pretend you didn’t.

Dick tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. But everyone seemed to be too lost in their thoughts to put in much effort.

The air remains heavy, the tension is palpable, and you feel everyone’s eyes on you.

It was the longest family dinner ever.

As the week drags on your family grows more intense.

It’s different this time.

They watch you closer, you never get any alone time. Even after spending more time with them than usual, they still expect something from you.

But what?

You don’t have time to think about that, todays the 14th, your first real valentine’s date. And you have everything planned.

At lunch you subtly drop a hint to Tim that you have this big chemistry project due tomorrow. Then after Lunch you’ll text Bruce and Alfred that you'll be home late, ‘working on it’. Bruce might check in with Tim, but Tim will confirm your story.

It’s practically fool proof.

Excitment courses through you all day. You have chemistry next, so you’ll be able to see Parker. You were just so excited— you deserved this.

At lunch Tim did not seem amused, in fact he looked quite pissed.

When you told him about your ‘Chemistry project’ he just forced a simile and nodded, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the period.

You didn’t pay him much mind though, you were to focused on your date.

As you walked through the halls to your chem class you kept glancing at your phone, waiting for Bruce’s response.

<y/n>

I have this super big chemistry project due tomorrow. My partner and I are gonna work on it together after school.

They’ll give me a ride back, don't worry.

<Bruce>

Ok, Tim will wait for you.

Shit.

what were you gonna do now? Tim was already onto you, there’s no way you’ll be able to go out now.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even notice Parker sitting down.

“Hey y/n you okay?”

You frown ”I don't think we’ll be able to go out today, my family is on my ass right now”

Why can’t you just have one nice thing, for once?

”oh” Parker pauses, they fiddle with their bag. Parker’s clearly upset about the situation as well. Then suddenly their face lights up.

Parker grins ”What if we go right now?” they exclaim. Quickly packing up their things.

You blink “What do you mean?”

“There’s only 10 minutes until class starts. We can leave right now and the teacher will never know” Excitement exudes from their voice.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

you’ve never even thought of skipping class before. You family would kill you.

But then again they’re the ones that never let you do anything. They control everything

So who cares what they do, you want to have fun.

A grin tugs on your lips. You scramble to pack up your stuff “sure lets do you”.

Parker gives that same childish smile from when they asked you out.

Despite the small voice telling you this is a bad idea, you felt excited, giddy.

you felt free.

You race to Parker’s car. A mix of adrenaline and excitement made you run faster than you ever have before.

Behind you, Parker struggled to up ”Jesus, Y/n— I’ve never seen you run so fast before” they gasped, hands on their knees trying to catch their breath.

You chuckle “sorry I got excited”

Parker shakes his head, same childish smile on their face as they unlock the car, before sitting on the driver’s side.

Before you get in you look back at the school. A shiver runs down your spine and a little voice whispers at you to turn back.

For a moment you pause. If you turn back now you wont be in any trouble.

You shake it off and hop into the seat.

+++

A cozy cafe would be the best choice. It’s close to the school you’ve been there a couple of times, and the food is really good.

As they pull into the parking lot you’re nervous. This is your first date, what is supposed to happen? What’s even the proper etiquette?

You shake your head and brush those thoughts away.

As you and Parker walk inside, you relax. The cafe is warm, with subtle pinks and blues on the wall. It smells like coffee and pastries. Parker picks a table near the back, and you settle down across from them.

Conversation between you two just seems to flow. You never realized how funny they are until today.

Any doubt you had washes away.

Once you’re finished giving the waitress your order, you take a sip of water enjoying Parker’s company. Then the bell to the door jingles.

You briefly glance up— just to see who’s there.

Bruce. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Damian.

They stand in the doorway, eyes locked in on you. Their faces are unreadable.

your stomach drops.

You’re stuck. frozen like a deer in headlights, under the weight of their stare.

How did they know?

They make their way over to your table.

Bruce stops in front of you, towering over the table. “I’m disappointed y/n” his voice is monotone, but you can see the crinkle in his brows.

you just stare back at him. Too stunned to speak.

you try say something, anything. But the words die in your throat.

Dick grabs your arm, his grip is soft but firm. ushering you out of your seat.

Dick and Damian walk you out. You don’t resist, you couldn’t even if you wanted to.

Before you walk out the door you glance back.

Parker is surrounded.

Bruce says something too low for you to hear. Your chest sinks. You can only guess what they’re saying to them.

They look petrified.

It feels like an eternity before everyone else gets into the car.

“You’re grounded” Bruce states. A faint smile, barely there tugs at his lips.

You want to disappear forever.

Being grounded meant one thing.

You’ll never be alone again.

Tears start to slide down your checks, your voice wobbles ”I’m sorry— please don't ground me”

No one speaks.

No one listens.

You glance out the window, watching your freedom slip away.

I got my first request done!!!!!! As you can tell I need a lot of practice with writing short stories/oneshots. I suck at making things fast paced but I did my best. I hope you like it 🐈‍⬛ anon, tysm I had a lot of fun writing it. I also kept Parker GN so that way the reader can truly be any self insert. I’m working on CH. 03 of wicked Game rn so that’ll be what I post next. But if you have any ideas send a request I need more practice.

Also 215 followers! Thank you!!!

[zlut4rina]

Airplane mode

Storyline: On your way back home from your trip to the Bahamas, your girlfriend decided now would be the perfect time to use her bet winning prize.

Pairings: Nonidol!Giselle x Fem Reader

Warnings: Fingering, public sex, cum eating (?), little plot in this one.

Note: blonde giselle I miss u blonde giselle 💔🙏

Word count: 1.5k (it's short ik 💔, hardly proof read btw)

___________________________________________

After a quick week long get away with your girlfriend Giselle, it was time to head home. Packing your things and making your way to the plane which would be a 16 hour ride back home.

About 6 to 7 hours in, you and your girlfriend were enjoying your time together. Watching movies and shows you both enjoyed. Playing games while laughing amongst each other. Losing the track of time, due to being distracted by one another. Time flew by and honestly you didn’t want the trip to end, but all good things have that outcome sooner or later. That was until your girlfriend spoke: “Hey, remember that bet we had back at the air bnb?” She questioned looking over at you. You looked at her a bit confused before a huge smile formed on your face. “OH YEAA, you cheated me in that” you said crossing your arms. Giselle smiled at your antics before placing a hand on your thigh rubbing circles on you with her thumb.

“Do you remember what the prize was if either of us won?” she questioned this time now gripping your thigh a bit harder sinking her nails into your skin a little. You bit the inside of your lip, placing a hand on top of hers. Giselle leaned down to your ear “You have to do whatever I tell you to..” She whispered in a low husky tone. Your face flushed with a tint of red, you gripped her hand off of your thigh holding it next to your body. “What about it?” you asked trying to keep a bit of composure in your voice. Your girlfriend chuckled a bit, wrapping a arm around you pulling you closer to her. “I want you to do something for me..” her voice laced with a hint of lust. She pulled you as close as she could get you to her, closing any possible gaps between you two.

You looked at her giving her a questioning hum in response. She took her arm from around you and went to squeeze your thigh a bit harder than before, this time looking you in the eyes. “Do you think you can be quiet from me pretty girl?” She questioned tilting her head a bit at you. You finally catching on to what she was planning you took her hand off of you. “What the hell, really? Now? Here?” you basically bombarded her with questions and concerns. Yapping away at how risky and scary it is to even think of doing something like that on a plane.

Your girlfriend smirked at you “I mean does it really matter as long as your quiet.” She asked slightly annoyed. “Besides I won that little game fair and square, you owe me.” That was all she said before her hand started trailing up your thigh. Moving up and down at a slow agonizing pace that she knew would set you off. Her fingers rubbing against your heat ever so slightly before going back to caressing your thigh. You try to close your legs only for her to pinch you instead , forcing them to stay open. “Now? Are you serious…” you said softly below a whisper. Your girlfriend smiling at you “Everyone is sleep, nobody is gonna care”. She slowly brought her hand up to your chin making you face her, pulling you into her kiss. Which soon turned into a a sloppy make out with you trying to contain tour moans. Whimpering in her mouth she put her tongue inside, you both immediately fighting for dominance. Which she obviously beat you to, taking this opportunity to slide her hand down and unbutton your pants.

She rubs your clothed clit through the fabric of the panties she bought you during your trip. “So pretty” she spoke into your lips. Moving down to work her magic on your exposed neck. Her pace with her fingers grew faster, causing you to jolt your body into her touch. Using your hands to push her away, to no avail she didn’t even flinch. “Wait, what if someone catches us?” you whispered reaching to cover your mouth after, due to the way she was working on your neck. She finally let up “nobody’s gonna catch us, as much as I wanna hear you. As long as you keep it quiet, we’ll be okay.” While she spoke her hand went into your panties rubbing circles on your sensitive clit. Her fingers trailed down sliding into your wet warm cunt immediately coating her fingers. She brought them back up to your clit making it wet and slippery. “For someone so against this you sure seem to be enjoying yourself, huh.” Trying to contain your moans you grit your teeth together placing your hand on your mouth. Her motion on you stopped abruptly, your entire body relaxed to the sudden disappearance of her. “You sound so cute trying to hold back. But I love it better when I can hear you.” A grin formed on her face looking you in the eyes. “Let me hear you.” She took your hands away from your mouth, starting her way back in your neck leaving noticeable marks all over your neck. You moaned a little too loud biting your lip right after realizing. Causing your girlfriend to smile against your neck, leaning up to kiss you again.

Her fingers went back down on you, digging her digits deep into your heat her fingers were soaked and covered with your juices. Finally done with her teasing she slowly entered two fingers inside you. Pumping into you slow and steady, earing quiet soft whimpers from you. Finally letting off your neck she sat up straight in her chair looking out the window or ahead of her as if she wasn’t ruining you. All it took was for one of your seating neighbors to awaken, and be met by you sweating, hands clamping on your chair and the arm of your girlfriend. Throwing your head back, mouth slightly open taking in quick gasps, drying your throat. You let out airy moans and silent curses under your breath. Beads of sweat sticking to your forehead and neck. You girlfriend on the other hand was checking her phone and looking around as if everything was casual. You gripped her arm tighter digging your nails into her skin leaving marks there, she’ll definitely tease you for later. Her movement became faster and messier causing the wet noises between your legs to grow louder. You were sure not everyone on the ppane was sleep, and with how loud things were getting between you two you were sure they could hear faint noises in the distance. Or maybe the people behind you or in front of your were listening all along.

“Fuck I’m close..” you said in between breaths leaning your head on your girlfriends shoulder. Her fingers became quick, adding an extra digit fucking you with three stretching you out in the process. You bit your lip, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. Allowing yourself to let out the most sinfully sounds. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer the way you clenched around her, struggled to keep your legs open. The way your body humped her hand desperately, looking for some extra friction. Giselle lifted your chin up to face her bringing you into a sloppy heated make out as you came all over her hand. She didn’t stop her movements, continuing to fuck you deeply as you came down from your high. Closing your legs around her hand trying yo pull her away with your hands. You moaned into her neck a little drool flowing out the corner of your mouth and onto her shirt. She took her hands out of you slowly, bringing her fingers to her mouth licking all of you off. Still acting nonchalantly looking out the window, not paying you no mind. She finally turned her head to you “Your such a great listener baby” you smiled against her as your chest rose and fell like crazy.

You finally let her go, relaxing in your seat whipping the sweat from your forehead, still trying to catch your breath. “I should go clean up.” You said quietly attempting to get out your seat to make your way to the bathroom. Giselle stopping you by holding your hand down. She looked at you in the eyes with a stupid smile on her face, “There’s no point baby, it’s just gonna be way worse for you when we get home.” Your face flushed with red once again, sitting yourself back down comfortably. You felt a kick on the back of your chair, Turing around to see who it was, to give them a piece of your mind about it. You were met by multiple glares from the people behind and across from you. Of course your worse fear had to happen. You turned back into your seat sitting up straight staring at the back of the seat in front of you. Slowly Turing your head to your girlfriend she had a stupid smirk on her face.

Maybe next time you should bet on things your confident you would win.

___________________________________________

Sorry this took forever to post 🙏

Glaze it rn n ill give u a big smooching 👅

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Tess’ jealousy reaches a new level when she finds out you might be pregnant.]

PART TWO

Angst

“The hell did you tell her?”

Tess stood silent and he knew right then and there…he knew she had told you about Sarah and scared you away.

It had been a little over a month since you and Joel had first gotten together, since then you both were inseparable. A few things had changed since Joel confessed his feeling for you although they weren’t exactly changes you hoped for. Tess was still around, silent but always obvious of her dislike towards you. Instead the changes involved a new task, a task that involved a young girl named Ellie. Marlene, whom Joel had known but didn’t seem to like had asked him to take Ellie to a group of firefly’s that would then take over where she needed to be taken to. The only reason he went along with it was because his last chance to get a working car fell through. Now Marlene promised him he’d have a working car to get to Jackson as long as he took Ellie where she was supposed to be.

One thing you noticed was Ellie seemed to be more gravitated to you than Tess, just another thing that pissed Tess off. Especially with seeing how Joel seemed to be getting closer to Ellie.

Ellie and you laughed together at certain jokes she would tell you, looking over you caught Joel trying to hold back a smile.

“You thought that was funny didnt you?” You teased walking beside them through the woods.

“Oh yeah, look at him, he could barely keep himself together” Ellie continued, poking fun at Joel. Tess rolled her eyes at the sound of the laughter, it’s like she hated hearing how well you all got along.

“Can we focus on where we’re goin’?” Tess called out over her shoulder without looking at any of you.

“Someone’s grumpy” Ellie whispered making you look down with a smile until it hit you again. The nausea you had been ignoring for the past week, the nausea that you’ve somehow managed to hide from everyone. At first you didn’t think anything of it but as the days went on, you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on. Keeping track of your period was pointless with it never being on schedule anyways, so you weren’t alarmed when it didn’t come the same time as the month before. But now you were starting to feel all these things you had read about, all these symptoms you remembered this pregnant woman Dolores spoke about feeling.

Joel and Ellie hadn’t noticed you stopped at first until he looked over to see you weren’t walking beside Ellie. Quickly turning around he found you a few feet behind leaning over on a tree. Ellie noticed Joel’s look of concern and turned herself to see the same thing.

“Hey-“ Joel called out to you making you quickly look up.

“Oh god” you whispered to yourself.

“I’m fine” you attempted to assure him but you should’ve known better, Joel was already quickly making his way to you.

“What’s wrong? You alright?” He spoke low.

You couldn’t speak in that moment, quickly nodding to assure him that you were fine until you looked up. He must’ve noticed something because the look on his face only seemed more concerned than he originally was.

“Here take some water” he passed you his bottle that you quickly took. As if your nausea couldn’t get any worse, Tess’ voice made your stomach turn.

“What’s the hold up?” She called out.

“Give us a minute” Joel responded as she loudly sucked her teeth.

“We don’t have a damn minute, it’s gonna get dark soon” Ellie looked back at how rude Tess was and raised her brows.

“She’s fine, keep walkin’” Tess stubbornly spoke. You nodded quickly handing Joel his bottle of water.

“I’m fine, let’s go” you wiped your lips, still feeling the nausea but not as bad as it was just a few moments earlier.

“We can sit down for a moment” Joel insisted not giving two shits what Tess was saying.

“N-no. I’m fine”

“Let’s go” Tess insisted.

“Hey-“ Joel whispered delicately turning your face to him.

“Ya sure?”

Tess once again rolling her eyes crossing her arms.

“I’m sure, let’s go” you began to walk beside Joel catching up to where Ellie was as Tess walked off.

Throughout the walk you could feel Joel’s eyes on you, although you continued, he didn’t believe you were ok.

The first stop you all made was at a pharmacy, you were surprised to see there was any product left. Tess, Joel and you made sure the building was clear before checking what was left. Thankfully your nausea had gone away but you knew it would come back sooner or later, it always did around the same time every day. Joel was distracted looking in the back of the store while Tess was in a stock room. You watched as Ellie happily packed a few feminine products before you realized the very next aisle had a few things left that caught your eye. Quickly without anyone noticing you grabbed a box of pregnancy tests and some prenatal vitamins stuffing them into your bag just incase.

“I’m surprised there’s anything left in this place” Tess voice made you jump as you turned to find her behind you, her eyes darting between the few boxes of pregnancy tests left and you.

“What are you doing here?” She raised a brow. As if it was any of her business, but the second she saw you even eyeing a pregnancy test she couldn’t help herself. God she hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was.

“N-nothing, I- I just-“ she squinted her eyes, changing her worried expression when you looked up at her.

“Oh god…he’s knocked you up…Hasn’t he?”

“N-no, I don’t know..I-“

“Oh…I feel sorry for you” she chuckled.

“he’s gonna hate you for this”

“What?” You whispered confused.

“You think he wants to have any more kids?” She laughed as you stood silent. More?

“Oh I’m sorry, that’s right…you don’t know certain things about him..” you could hear the taunting in her voice.

“What certain things?” You whispered.

“He never told you about Sarah, did he?” she seemed to get a kick out of this.

“Sarah?” Your chest felt as if it was caving in.

“No” you looked away in shock.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it but she died years ago…when this all started and it….it changed him.” You swallowed uncomfortably.

“He isn’t gonna want this, sweetheart. This will only upset him. You’ll see a side of him that’ll make you want to run away. You’re better off not even telling him if you are and just…taking off” you pressed your lips together holding back tears. For the first time Tess made sense to you.

“We can stay here for the night” Joel called out from the back quickly distracting you from the conversation. Without saying a word you quickly walked away, you had no idea to where but anywhere away from Tess. Of course that was when you ran into Joel.

“Hey-hey, what’s goin’ on?”

Joel could tell you were upset, his hand caressing the side of your face.

“Nothing, I’m just looking for stuff” you lied, you couldn’t even look at him.

“Did somethin’ happen?”

“No!�� You stubbornly lied taking a deep breath.

“Just let me look at what they have left” you composed yourself and looked up at him. He silently nodded and let you walk off before looking up at Tess down the next aisle. She didn’t notice him looking at her and caught her chuckling to herself before walking away.

Ellie sat beside you pulling out a sandwich from her bag that Marlene had packed. The smell instantly striking you making you quickly turn your face. Ellie hadn’t noticed, you quickly stood up and ran off to the back room as Joel looked at you strangely.

“Just let her be already” Tess spoke as Joel stayed staring at the door you had ran into.

“If I were you, I’d ignore her” Tess snacked on a cracker as Joel stood up.

“Well I ain’t you and she ain’t your problem, she’s mine” he uttered under his breath as he walked off to where you were.

Hiding in the back you heard footsteps coming close, you already knew it was Joel and quickly turned away.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He stopped a few feet away making sure to give you space.

“Nothing, I just-“ you squeezed your eyes shut with your hand over your mouth as another strong wave of nausea hit you.

“You alright?” You heard him begin to get closer and snapped.

“I’m fine!” You screamed without turning back to him.

“Just get the hell away, give me a damn minute!”

He stood silent for a moment feeling defeated, hopeless. How could he not know what the hell was wrong with you?

“Did I do somethin’ to upset cha?” His question creating a knot in your throat. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to this way, but you knew it was the only way he’d listen.

“Just go” you whispered.

Joel took a step back silently leaving the room leaving you to cry alone. Still you hadn’t taken a test but you knew, you knew you were pregnant.

Later that night while everyone slept you found a private space and finally took the test. Just as you thought two bright pink lines appeared. You cried in a panic, it was all real now. Hiding the test and the packaging where it couldn’t be found you wiped your tears and grabbed your backpack, you knew what had to be done.

Never did you think in a million years that you would be needing Tess’ help, yet here you were carefully waking her up out of her sleep.

“Tess” you whispered, she looked up at you confused.

“I need you to help me get out of here without Joel or Ellie waking up. Distract them as much as you can so I can get as far as I can” a rush of excitement went through Tess as she sat up.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to” you whispered.

“You did the pregnancy test?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Yes, I just did” you pressed your lips together.

“Where do I tell him you went or why you left?”

“You don’t. You act like you never saw me leave, hell, I don’t even know where the hell I’m going. I just…I’m too afraid to tell him and I need to leave now.” Tess stood up straight as you struggled to hold your tears back.

“Take care of him for me ok?” You whispered through a trembling voice before turning away and as quietly as possible sneaking out of the store.

Tess for the first time in a while felt satisfied, her plan had worked. You were gone and Joel never knew you were pregnant but neither of you knew that as you spoke with Tess, Ellie lay awake listening to every word being said.

Afraid to say anything to Tess, Ellie lay quietly looking over at Joel. She didn’t know what Tess was doing but all she could hear was footsteps around her, she closed her eyes pretending to be asleep, she didn’t trust Tess.

Once she heard Tess finally walk into a room she quickly threw a rolled up paper at Joel and closed her eyes. At first he didn’t budge, making Ellie sigh and try once more, this time his eyes flung open. Squinting, she found him staring directly at her a few feet away before he began to look around and that’s when he realized you weren’t around.

Joel quickly stood up looking around the store just as Tess walked out of a back room with a surprised expression not expecting him to have woken up.

“Where is she?” He asked looking around as Tess hesitantly walked towards him.

“Um, I don’t know…I just woke up she must’ve snuck out-“

“Snuck out?” Joel turned to her with confusion as Ellie opened her eyes. Quietly she got up without saying a word to either of them, both of them distracted with what was going on Ellie wandered to the back.

Looking around for any possible evidence she needed, Ellie heard you say you had taken a test. Of course, there it was, an opened pregnancy test box stuffed between 2 bricks in the wall. God you were sneaky. Inside the box lay the positive test you had taken, Ellie quickly ran out to Joel who was in the middle of a heated conversation with Tess.

“Joel!” She ran to him as he looked down at her confused. Without saying a word she handed him the box, Tess’ eyes widened.

“Where the hell did you get that?” She whispered.

“The hell is this?” Joel looked inside the box.

“It was y/ns, I heard her say she took a test Joel” his brows furrowed as he pulled the test out of the box and read the positive results. His face turning pale as he realized what he was looking at before he snapped back to reality. His eyes darkened, looking straight up at Tess.

“The hell did you do?” He whispered coldly.

“I-I didn’t do anything, Joel, you barely knew her-“ Joel stepped forward with a deadly look in his eyes making Tess step back.

“The hell did you tell her?”

Tess stood silent and he knew right then and there…he knew she had told you about Sarah and scared you away.

“She needed to know about Sarah, Joel, she’s here thinking you two can actually have this-“

“That wasn’t your decision to make” Joel responded as he began to pack his back pack.

“Oh come on, Joel, you know damn well you don’t want that baby” he stopped moving, the silence so tense Ellie held her breath. Joel stood up and slowly walked towards Tess-

“If anything happens to her or my baby, I’ll find you.” Tess couldn’t believe how Joel was speaking to her. Speechless she watched as he walked out and called Ellie to follow.

He had no idea how or where he was going to find you but he knew his priorities were now only you and the baby and he was going to make sure he found you.

Joel’s tags

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@readingiskeepingmegoing

[mochinomnoms]

why were you digging? what did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

art by wolfythewitch

Hozier lyrics in which they embody when loving you.

multi x gn!reader

[tw/cw} - some of the lyrics are gendered, few suggestive parts

[note] - i forgot i had this drafted for a while lol anyways only romantic vibes cause i couldnt find satisfactory lyrics for grim and ortho :( i also was gonna add the halloweenie boys but then it wouldnt have been evenly split and i didnt want that lol

"I know who I am when I'm alone/I'm something else when I see you" - It Will Come Back

He's always been sure of who he is and how he presents himself. He has an image that he must uphold, his reputation is dependent on it. Yet, that perfectly sculpted person comes crumbling down, firm marble turned into malleable clay with you. He should be appalled by the very idea of someone having so much hold over him, yet he can't bring himself to care. You see through him, and it's addicting. You see through him, but still show him kindness, and it's addicting. You see through him, still show him kindness, even knowing just what thoughts he has of you at night, and it's addicting. He has an addiction, and you're his drug of choice. There is no rehab for getting him off of you, once he's hooked he's never letting go of the high that you are. Then again, if you knew just who he really is, perhaps the addiction was mutual.

Riddle Rosehearts, Cater Diamond, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper

"We lay here for years or for hours/So long, we'd become the flowers" - In a Week

He is admittedly a simple man, even if he might portray or say he desires otherwise. But deep down, he is very simple: he'd like to be with you forever, that's it. Laying in the grass, the sounds of cicadas and birds singing, the smell of dewy grass and freshly bloomed flowers, all of that with you would be his dream. He hopes that you two will live a long life together, that your graves will be one, your bodies decomposing together into the earth as nature intended. You hope that centuries into the future, some bright-eyed archaeologists will see the patch of flowers growing over your grave and dig to find your two skeletons intertwined. You both hope that theories and myths are created in the image of your long gone bodies so that the memory of your love will live forever on.

Ruggie Bucchi, Jack Howl, Rook Hunt, Silver

"She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily/Better yet, she wouldn't care" - Jackie & Wilson

Loud and impulsive to a fault is how most would describe him, and really he should care more about the problems this causes. He should, but why when you take him as he is, flaws and all? To you, the impulsivity, his loud mouth, his rash nature, his bluntness, they weren't flaws—they were him and you love him. And he loves you—for all your naivete, doting, and enabling ways. If there's trouble to be found, it's likely you're both involved: you chasing after him as he goes of. Is it naive to think that this sort of relationship won't eventually burst into flames? Probably. Is it a bit toxic if you were to look at your relationship critically? Probably. But he doesn't care (even if he normally would or should), and neither do you. Instead, for just a bit, you indulge in the present, rather than the past or future. Just for a bit

Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Epel Felmier, Sebek Zigvolt

"You're bright as the morning, soft as the rain/Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape" - Too Sweet

Something about you is just a bit off-putting: you're a bit too put together, too cheery, too sweet for someone in your situation. It's more off-putting to him that he's drawn to you anyways. Part of him holds himself back, as he's a realist at heart. One day, any day now, you can go back home, where your sweetness rightfully belongs. Part of him though wants to that sweetness, make it rightfully his and his alone. It's why he can't keep himself away from you, he'd rather defile you, ruin you for anyone else so that you'd have no choice but to come running back to him for that sweet satisfaction that only he can provide. You're not stupid though, you know just what he's doing; lucky for him, you're happy to let him age you into a fine wine, made just for his taste.

Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Lilia Vanrouge

"Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I" - Francesca

You have ingrained your very being into his own. The sight, the sound thought of you has him yearning for your touch in ways that would put a god to shame. But Eros had no role in his love for you. Since he's met you, somehow you've managed to core out a space in his heart in the shape of your body. Without you, he'd be empty. Without you, he'd be devastated, experiencing an anguish that would kill his very soul. His love is so strong, so overwhelming, so earth-shattering that he'd alter the very laws of the universe just to keep you with him. Could you even bring yourself to deny him if the choice to leave ever came? You have him in the palm of your hand, like a god with their worshipper. You'll be a merciful and loving god to your devotee, won't you?

Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝑔𝓃! 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Crowe has been working himself into the ground dealing with the never-ending mountain of student council paperwork, ridiculous club requests, and—worst of all—the ever-demanding student council president. 

You've begged him, time and time again, to get an assistant, but of course, he refuses. Something about ‘not trusting anyone’ and ‘preferring to suffer in silence’ like some kind of tragic protagonist. So, naturally, you took matters into your own hands. if Crowe won’t take care of himself? Well, you’ll just have to do it for him.

Even if it means driving him absolutely insane in the process.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: this was a request from anon! so, of course, my dumbass turned it into a full-blown story. MIND YOU, I’VE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH THIS FOR THREE WEEKS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE ENDING. And it's not really poof read as I just annoyed looking at it but i haven’t written crowe in a minute, so here we are.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: overworked student council vp!crowe, chaotic & teasing assistant!reader, fem body!reader, reader takes no shit, boss/assistant relationship, playful banter, teasing, mutual pining, secret relationship, possessive behavior, possessive crowe, sassy reader, fluff and smut, slow burn (kinda), soft dom!crowe, playful sub!reader, and mutual obsession  

Sooooooo……

What’s an assistant? you should already know

Well, an assistant can be a person who helps someone else—or a device, or a product designed to make life easier. Something you’d been telling Jericho Ichabod—sorry, Crowe, Prince Charming himself—that he desperately needed.  

The campus was alive with its usual midday bustle. From noon to around two, the student center became a chaotic mess of movement and noise. 

The hallways were clogged with students threading through the crowd, half-zipped backpacks slung over shoulders, their conversations weaving together into a dull roar.  The on-campus market beeped and whirred as it spat out overpriced snacks, and groups of friends hovered near the food court, laughing, talking, and shoving each other playfully before heading to their next class.  

None of it really registered with you.  

While the rest of the student body thrived in the high-energy atmosphere, instead, you moved at a different pace—faster and more worried.

Your thoughts were elsewhere as Crowe had been on your mind since the moment Geo had texted you while you were in the middle of your classes. ‘He's stuck with more student council crap,’ as Geo had so eloquently put it.  

That wasn’t surprising. 

Crowe had a habit of stretching himself too thin, juggling responsibilities like it was some kind of sport. But what bothered you wasn’t just the workload—it was that, for all his charm and effortless control, he never let anyone see when it got to him.

You’d planned to meet him for lunch today, a rare breather in the middle of his overbooked schedule, but now you weren’t even sure if he’d bother to eat.  

Annoying.  

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you made your way upstairs toward the student council room. It was tucked away in a quieter part of the building, hidden beside the upper-level seating area where students went to eat lunch away from the main chaos. You’d come straight here after class—your day was already done, but his, knowing him, was far from over.  

And if he thought he could brush this off like everything else? 

Yeah, no. Not happening.

The second you reached the door, the noise from the hallway seemed to dull, like the chaos of the outside world just couldn’t quite reach this space. The air felt heavier here, still in a way that made you hesitate. Even the fluorescent lights above barely made a sound, their low hum swallowed by the quiet. It was almost eerie—like stepping into a place that existed just slightly out of sync with the rest of reality.   

Through the small window on the other door, you spotted him.  

Crowe was hunched over his desk, his shoulders drawn tight with the kind of tension that looked like it had settled there hours ago. His head was bent low, nearly buried in a mountain of papers that had practically taken over his entire workspace.

 It wasn’t just a mess—it was a battlefield of assignments, reports, and hastily scribbled sticky notes, some half-crumpled, others barely hanging on. His usual easygoing energy was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was only this heavy, rigid focus that clung to him like a weight.   

His fingers drummed against the desk in a steady, repetitive rhythm—soft, but insistent. You’d seen him do it before, a nervous habit, a tell he probably wasn’t even aware of. The sight of him like this, so unlike himself, made something sink in your chest.

The usual spark in his eyes—the one filled with humor, mischief, that unmistakable Crowe charm—was nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he just looked… drained.  

You hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or leave him be. Before you could decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts.  

Turning your head, you spotted Geo strolling down the hall, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. His expression was that signature mix of exasperation and indifference he always seemed to wear, like he was perpetually caught between amusement and suffering.

As he reached you, he let out a deep sigh—whether it was for dramatic effect or genuine exhaustion, it was impossible to tell. 

“He’s been at it since, like, forever,” Geo muttered, jerking his chin toward the window without breaking his stride. His boots scuffed lightly against the floor as he came to a stop beside you, one shoulder propped lazily against the doorframe. 

The bad lighting light from inside the office cast long shadows across his face, but the slight furrow in his brow was still obvious. “Pretty sure he hasn’t even looked up once. Council’s been dumping a mountain of work on him lately.”  

You followed his gaze to the desk across the room. Crowe sat hunched over a chaotic spread of papers, ink stains dotting his fingers as he scribbled something with near-frantic precision.

Again, the lighting itself was casting sharp angles against the exhaustion clinging to him. His normally neat braid was barely form together—stray strands falling into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

Your frown deepened. “He hasn’t even taken a break?”  

Geo let out a short, exasperated scoff, shaking his head. “Please. When does Jericho ever ask for help? He’s as stubborn as a damn mule when it comes to work—worse, even. Dude acts like taking a breather is some kind of mortal sin.” He tilted his head toward the office, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to concern, though he tried to keep it casual. “I mean, just look at him. He’s running on fumes. Won’t be long before he passes out face-first into those papers.”  

Something twisted uncomfortably in your chest as you studied Crowe. He was always the composed one, the one who had everything under control—even when he didn’t.

But right now? Right now, he just looked... weighed down. Buried under the sheer amount of responsibility he refused to share with anyone else.  

Geo nudged you lightly with his elbow, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You should probably go snap him out of it before he actually fuses with that desk,” he said, tone dry but not unkind. “Just... don’t expect him to admit he needs it.”  

You inhaled quietly before stepping forward, your footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Crowe didn’t react, too absorbed in whatever he was working on. Up close, the signs of his exhaustion were even clearer—dark circles under his deep blue eyes, tension carved into his shoulders, the pencil awkwardly tucked behind his ear like some absentminded afterthought.  

You lingered just long enough to take it all in before leaning down and knocking your knuckles lightly against the wooden desk. “Knock, knock,” you said, keeping your tone light. “It’s me—your lunch date-slash-concerned friend, here to drag you out of your impending paper-induced demise.”  

For the first time in what felt like hours, Crowe blinked and finally looked up. His eyes, wide and unfocused for a split second, darted around in mild panic before recognition settled in, dulling the shock. He blinked sluggishly, like he was dragging himself out of some deep, paper-induced trance, before exhaling through his nose and shifting his gaze back to the disaster zone that was his desk.  

“Oh. Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy from what was probably hours of silence. “Didn’t see you there.”  

“Yeah, no kidding. You were about five more minutes away from fusing with these papers.” You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. His posture was stiff, shoulders hunched in that telltale way that screamed exhaustion, and the dark circles under his eyes looked even worse up close. “Are you even taking a break? Or let me guess—‘I’m fine, I’ll finish soon,’ right?”  

He mustered up something that might’ve been a smile in another life, but now it just looked strained, like his face wasn’t quite up to the task. “I’m fine,” he said—right on cue. “I’m just trying to catch up. There’s a lot to do... I’ll finish soon.”  

You gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “Geo ratted you out,” you informed him, watching as his eye twitched just slightly. “Says you’ve been glued to this desk all morning. So unless you’ve suddenly figured out how to cram ten hours of work into two, I’m calling total BS.”  

Crowe opened his mouth, either to deny or argue—probably both—but you were already moving, plopping yourself onto the edge of his desk without waiting for an invitation. Papers crinkled beneath you, but honestly? He had too many to begin with.   

“Alright,” you announced, clapping your hands together. “New plan. I’m your assistant now. Consider me officially hired.”  

His brows furrowed, somewhere between confused and mildly alarmed. “What?”  

“You heard me.” You grinned, reaching for the nearest folder. “If you won’t take a break, I’m gonna help you power through this so you can. Think of me as your unpaid intern—but better-looking and way more fun to be around.”

Crowe thrust out a hand like a human stop sign, his usual smooth-talking charm dimming under the weight of sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion. “I don’t need an assistant,” he grumbled, voice teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “And definitely not one who thinks ‘alphabetical order’ is a conspiracy theory.”  

You scoffed, waving him off like an irritating fly. “Oh, come on. Filing is just alphabet soup but with extra steps. Besides, it’s either this, or I start making the most obnoxious noises known to mankind until you surrender and flee this room.”  

Crowe stared at you. Hard. You could practically see the internal debate waging behind his tired eyes. He wanted to fight back, to assert some semblance of authority in his own workspace, but let’s be real—he didn’t have the energy for that. 

After what felt like an eternity of silent suffering, he let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that screamed, ‘I have officially given up on life.’ He dragged a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat. “But don’t touch anything important unless I told you.”  

“Relax,” you chirped, already rifling through a stack of papers with the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be trusted with paperwork. “I’ve got this. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

The worst did happen.  

Many times in fact.

You just didn’t realize it until it was too late.

By the time two weeks had passed, it was like you had unknowingly signed a blood pact with Crowe—minus the actual blood, but definitely with the same level of inescapable obligation. Somehow, without fully realizing how it happened, you had been roped into the prestigious yet completely unpaid role of Crowe’s unofficial official assistant.

Like clockwork, as soon as your classes wrapped up for the day, there you were—reporting for duty like some poor soul enlisted in a student council boot camp, minus the combat training but with twice the paperwork.  

And the workload? 

Oh, it was something else. 

You couldn't make this up if you tried. The sheer volume of tasks dumped on Crowe was enough to make you question whether the entire campus had collectively mistaken him for their personal secretary.

Student club events? His problem. Fraternity and sorority requests? Yup, tossed onto his ever-growing pile. Small-time guest speakers, whose only real compensation was probably free coffee and a handshake? Also somehow his responsibility.  

At one point, you found yourself holding a stack of papers detailing plans for a campus-wide "stress-relief yoga night," and you very nearly asked if Crowe had been secretly elected mayor of the university while you weren’t looking.  

And, because you were clearly a genius with absolutely no impulse control, you had, at some point, volunteered to help him with all of it.

Cleaning up his disaster of a desk? You were on it. Sprinting across campus to drop off forms like some kind of academic carrier pigeon? Already flapping your metaphorical wings. Sitting through excruciating planning meetings for student events? 

Sure, why not? It’s not like watching Crowe argue with five sorority reps over whether they could hold a ‘glow-in-the-dark karaoke night’ in the ‘library’ was a fever dream you ever expected to have—but here you were, living it.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that Crowe wasn’t just overburdened—he was the burden. A walking, talking monument to suffering.  

“Hey, uh, question,” you said one afternoon, dumping yet another stack of papers onto his already paper-laden desk. You weren’t even sure if there was a desk under there anymore, or if Crowe just sat upon a sacred altar of unfinished paperwork. “How many of these events actually needto go through the student council? Like, for real?”  

“All of them,” Crowe said flatly, not even sparing you a glance as he scribbled furiously on some poor soul’s event approval form.  

“No, no, I mean…” You leaned in, lowering your voice as if you were about to drop some grand revelation. “How many actually need to go through you?”  

Crowe finally paused, pen hovering mid-signature as he slowly—painfully slowly—lifted his gaze to meet yours. His expression was the physical embodiment of ‘I will throw you out of this room myself.’  

“All of them,” he repeated, but this time, slower. Like that somehow made it less absurd.  

Sometime later, while you were valiantly battling yet another stack of event proposals—seriously, why were there so many bake sales?—you dramatically collapsed into the chair across from him.  

“So, uh,” you drawled, tossing a paper into the abyss that was Crowe’s inbox, “is this a student council or a circus? Be honest.”  

Crowe didn’t even look up. Didn’t even hesitate.  

“Yes.”

What.

Anyway, somehow, even with all the chaos, you managed to find a rhythm in it all. Cleaning Crowe’s desk became second nature—so much so that you started questioning if you had become some kind of sentient maid. You even unearthed what could only be described as a historical artifact: a half-eaten sandwich wedged between two stacks of papers. Given its fossilized state, you figured it was either from last semester or from the founding days of the school itself.  

Running errands across campus turned into an unintentional workout program. Who needed a gym membership when you were speed-walking between buildings, dodging rogue club recruiters, and carrying stacks of paperwork heavier than your will to live?  

And attending meetings? That became your personal form of entertainment. You even started timing how long it would take before someone made an absolutely insane request—your record was three minutes. The last champion was some guy from the Gardening Club who tried to get funding for a “therapeutic koi pond.” In the middle of the cafeteria.  

Today, though, you and Crowe were actually making progress, discussing the upcoming club events without any major disturbances. A miracle, honestly.  

Then the door slammed open.  

What waltzed was him—the student council president, looking like he had just stepped off a runway and onto your last nerve. He was an upperclassman with the kind of aura that screamed, ‘I was born better than you, and I will remind you every chance I get.’ 

“Ichabod,” he drawled as if merely saying Crowe’s name was a task beneath him. Then, with all the grace of a medieval tax collector, he dumped another towering stack of paperwork onto Crowe’s desk, causing several precariously balanced forms to slide to the floor. “More approvals. Get them done.”  

Crowe had been hunched over, pen in hand, scribbling out what seemed like his last remaining shred of hope. But as soon as the president stormed in, dropping the latest avalanche of paperwork onto the desk, he froze. His hand hovered in the air for a moment—was he about to launch his pen at the door, or was he just letting the despair wash over him? 

You couldn’t tell, but you knew Crowe had just about hit his limit. He closed his eyes briefly. Was he praying? Meditating? Or was he visualizing the sweet, sweet release of just escaping this nightmare by launching himself through the window?

It was hard to say.

You, on the other hand, were getting mildly entertained by the absurdity of the situation. "Wow," you said, blinking at the fresh chaos that had just descended upon the desk. "I didn’t know you were accepting job applications for ‘Official Paperwork Mule.’"

The president—who had somehow magically entered the room without making a sound, like some kind of overpriced ninja—turned his icy gaze on you. He looked you up and down with all the disdain of someone who had just stepped in a puddle of something they’d prefer not to identify, his eyes narrowing like you’d just insulted his firstborn. "Oh, you're still here?" His voice dripped with condescension. "How quaint."

You couldn’t help but grin. You had been waiting for this. "Yep. Unlike the funding you approved for that haunted house event last week." You paused for effect, casually flipping through the pile of forms as if you weren’t even phased. "I suggest you get to it quick, though, before I let the officials know about your… interesting decisions."

Crowe made a noise. It was an odd noise—something between a strangled laugh and a desperate cough. He tried to cover it up, but the damage was done.

The president, however, either completely oblivious or choosing not to dignify your retort with a response, turned back to Crowe with the practiced air of someone who thought his very presence should be worshipped. "This needs to be finished today."

“Of course it does,” Crowe muttered under his breath, already sinking into the depths of his inevitable paperwork doom. You could practically hear the weight of his soul dragging itself down further into the abyss.

The president gave a tight, self-satisfied smile, like he’d just handed down some sort of royal decree, and turned on his heel to exit the room. His steps were as calculated and ridiculous as his whole existence. You couldn’t help but notice his outfit—tailored suit, perfectly polished shoes, and the kind of cologne that probably cost more than your tuition. 

It was almost as if he thought his appearance alone could somehow make him better than everyone else in the room. It was adorable.

He was halfway out the door when you casually called after him, "Hey, by the way—are you wearing that suit to go rescue puppies or attend a high-society funeral?"

The president paused, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression that could’ve been carved into marble. He said nothing, but his eyes briefly flashed with the kind of ‘I’ll ruin you’ look that only the truly entitled could master. 

You, however, weren’t even remotely phased.

"Yeah, I thought so," you added, pushing another pile of forms onto Crowe’s desk. "You’ve got the whole ‘I’m better than everyone’ look down, but next time, maybe try not looking like you belong in a museum." 

Crowe groaned as the door slammed shut, leaving the two of you alone with the mountain of paperwork once more. You sighed, nudging a piece of paper that had somehow escaped the clutches of the abyss. "So… koi pond in the cafeteria is looking less ridiculous by the minute, huh?" 

Crowe didn’t answer.

He was too busy looking like he might spontaneously combust from exhaustion, or maybe just give up on life entirely. You considered offering him a donut or a bucket of coffee, but really, at this point, nothing was going to save him.

“Crowe? You good?” you asked, leaning in closer. His entire posture screamed ‘I’m about to faceplant into this paperwork and never wake up’. You wondered if he was trying to figure out how to escape into the sweet oblivion of the nearest nap corner or if he was plotting his own demise. At this point, it could go either way.

“I’m... fine,” he muttered, but the way his hand slid across the desk in slow motion, like he was having a mental breakdown in real-time, told you everything you needed to know.  

“You sure? You look like you’re one coffee away from crying on a stack of forms."

Crowe groaned, a sound so filled with despair it could’ve been the opening line to a sad indie movie. “I just want to finish one thing today, ‘just one thing,’ without someone handing me more stupid paperwork. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Probably,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “But, hey, that’s what you signed up for, right? Like, what was your grand plan here? To turn the student council into your own personal administrative hell?”

Crowe shot you a glance that was somewhere between ‘I could kill you’ and ‘Please, for the love of all that’s holy, be quiet.’ You could practically see the little clock in his head ticking down, counting how much longer he could withstand his own existence before he collapsed in the pile of paperwork like some sort of sad, overworked martyr.  

"At least give me a minute to process the chaos." His voice had that exhausted, cracked tone that made you wonder if he’d been functioning on three hours of sleep for the past week.  

You took pity on him. "Alright, alright," you said, grabbing the latest stack of event forms and flipping through them. "Let’s at least start brainstorming for these. I’m guessing half of these are doomed from the start.”

Crowe’s response was a wordless nod, his head still resting on his hand as if that would somehow reboot his brain. It looked like he might pass out at any moment, but somehow, he managed to pull himself back together. Barely.  

"Alright, what's the first one?" you asked, leaning over to get a better look at the next form.  

Crowe’s finger shakily pointed to it. "‘Classical music night... on the roof... with fog machines.’"

You blinked. "I… I don’t even know what to say to that. What, are we trying to summon ghosts now?"

Crowe groaned again. "It’s a real proposal. They want it approved for next week."

"Okay," you said, rubbing your temples. "I think we’re officially past the point of saving this year’s student council. This is just a slow-motion train wreck."

Crowe was too exhausted to even form a proper sentence, his mind clearly whirling through a mental tally of disasters. You could practically see the gears grinding in his head—he was done. It wasn’t clear whether he was about to drop dead or have a full-on emotional meltdown, but either way, the path to recovery was nothing but more paperwork, endless meetings, and a growing sense of doom.

"Here," you said, tossing him a coffee cup with a little too much flair. "You need this more than I do."

Crowe didn’t say a word, just took the cup and stared blankly at his desk. You half expected him to fall asleep standing up, but then he took a long, defeated sip like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. For a moment, you swore you saw him look almost… human again. Though still on the edge of total collapse.  

“Only… five more hours of this shit,” he muttered, voice raw and tired. His words hung in the air like a bad omen, but the way he said it was almost like he was trying to will it into something less awful.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. 

You leaned against the desk—looking over a few documents that Crowe just signed, watching him as he rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage the chaos out of his brain. Then, he took a deep breath and dragged himself to his feet, his movements slow and heavy as if each step took effort.

You stood there, waiting for him to make the move, knowing he was about to drag you both back into the hell that was his office. 

You followed him out to the coffee area just outside Crowe’s office, the place practically empty except for the hum of a few vending machines in the corner. Most people were in class, living their lives while you and Crowe were stuck in this chaotic little bubble of misery together. But honestly, you didn’t mind. Being stuck with Crowe wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

In fact, you might even go so far as to say you kind of liked it—chaos and all. It was weird, but after all the hours spent with him, this was just your rhythm. He was like a broken record, and you were along for the ride. 

Crowe leaned against the the desk beside you, staring out at the empty room, looking just about as done as any human could be without literally face-planting. “Let’s just…” He paused, running a hand through his unbraided hair as if he were trying to shake the tiredness out of his bones. “Finish this,” he muttered, but there was no real conviction behind the words. 

It was more like he was just going through the motions, a man trying to survive one last round of office hell before he collapsed into a pile of paperwork rubble.

You shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, not caring much about the empty room around you. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just get through this so you can collapse into your desk in peace."

Crowe didn’t laugh, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d get today, and that was enough for you. He took another sip of coffee, staring at the distant empty chairs like they were mocking him. Honestly, the whole situation was ridiculous, but if you had to be stuck in this hellish paperwork vortex, you couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck with.

Despite the avalanche of paperwork, the never-ending meetings, and the constant chaos that seemed to follow Crowe everywhere, there were small, quiet moments when his gratitude actually managed to slip through the cracks.

It wasn’t loud or obvious—no heartfelt speeches or dramatic declarations of appreciation. No, it was more like a fleeting shadow, there one moment and gone the next, but it still spoke volumes.  

It was one of those afternoons when you were buried under yet another mountain of event proposals, flipping through them with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on a caffeine crash. Your eyes had glazed over, the words on the pages blending together into an unintelligible mess of overly ambitious plans and unreasonable requests.

You were pretty sure you could start a new career as a professional paperweight at this point, considering how often you were parked next to Crowe’s desk. But hey, someonehad to keep the chaos in check, right?  

Instead of fighting for your own desk—because, honestly, that would’ve been a lost cause given the sheer size of Crowe’s desk, which could’ve fit a small army and their gear—you'd just claimed a corner of it. You’d made it your own little nook, the edge of his mountain of papers your personal workspace. 

Sure, it was a little unconventional, but considering Crowe's desk practically looked like the inside of an office supply store exploded on it, it made sense. Plus, it was way more fun to pretend you were part of the madness instead of standing on the sidelines.  

So there you were, half-buried in a fresh pile of event forms that had been hastily shoved into your hands the second you walked into the room, flipping through them with the kind of mindless speed that comes from hours of sheer boredom. 

You didn’t even look up, thinking it was just another stray form that had somehow wandered into your orbit. But then you heard it—a soft clink. And when you glanced over, there it was: a steaming cup of tea, perfectly brewed and a small snack, sitting on the edge of his desk as though it had always been meant to be there. 

Crowe didn’t say anything. He didn’t even speak to you.

He just silently placed it down, then you felt his hand on top of your head, planting what felt like kiss on top. Afterwards, he gave you a brief, exhausted glance, and went back to his own paperwork like nothing had happened. As if that tiny, thoughtful gesture wasn’t quietly shifting the entire atmosphere of the room. It was his way of saying, ‘I see you’—without actually saying a word. 

Then there were the rare occasions when you handed him something that, frankly, could have been labeled as a ‘miracle’—like a perfectly organized event schedule, where the scattered mess of dates and details had somehow been magically turned into something resembling order. His eyes would flicker to it for just a second before he’d mutter a quiet, almost begrudging “thanks.” 

The words were always there, but they came out like he was fighting them every step of the way as if the concept of gratitude wasn’t quite his thing. Still, the small nod that followed—something barely noticeable, but unmistakably there—told you everything you needed to know.  

Those little moments were a rarity, but when they happened, they felt like an entire month’s worth of appreciation crammed into a second. No fanfare, no grand speeches—just Crowe, the overworked, underappreciated student council lifeline, showing his gratitude in the most subtle ways possible.

It was like he didn’t know how to say it out loud, but his actions spoke louder than any words could. 

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to keep you going.  

That, and the sheer comedy gold of watching Crowe try—and fail—every time a club proposed something so ridiculous it could’ve been pulled straight from a fever dream. Like the latest masterpiece—a ‘puppies and pizza’ day in the science building. The look on his face when he read that? Priceless. 

It was like watching someone go from a hopeful puppy to a full-on terrified deer caught in headlights. Half of him expected to ask if it was some kind of prank. It wasn’t.

But today?

Today’s mark a day of early freedom 

One of those rare, blessed afternoons where Crowe managed to finish his work before sunset. That alone was enough to make you believe in higher powers—like the universe had decided to give Crowe a break for once. And honestly, you were enjoying it too. 

Crowe seemed... different. Less like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and more like he was just a dude who'd had a good day for once. His hair was actually neat—an anomaly that deserved to be framed and hung in a museum—and his outfit looked like it had been picked out by someone who didn’t live off caffeine and stress. His usual tense, I’m-one-email-away-from-a-breakdown stance was gone, replaced by a more relaxed posture. 

And the best part? That trademark smirk of his wasn’t the usual ‘I’m-exhausted-but-I’ll-pretend-I’m-cool’ look. It was... real. Like he actually meant it. You had to blink a couple of times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"You know," he started, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking a little lighter than usual. He glanced over at you, his face not quite as guarded as usual, like he was letting his walls down just a little. "You've been a such lifesaver."

You raised an eyebrow, figuring he was about to make some sarcastic remark. But instead, he hesitated for a second, exhaled, and with a tiny shake of his head and a soft half-smile, he added, "I don't think I would've survived without you."

Okay, that? That was huge.

For Crowe, the guy who acted like he had the entire universe under control at all times, admitting that he needed help was like watching a robot suddenly develop emotions. You could tell he meant it, too, judging by the way he looked at you. There was no sarcasm, no defensive wall—just a genuinely appreciative look. And yeah, maybe it made your heart do a weird little skip. 

You coughed to cover up your smile, not wanting to get too sappy about it, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you. 

"I need to wrap up a few things before I can lock up the student council room," he said, voice steady and calm. "After that... we came to meet at my place?”

You couldn’t help it. Your lips twitched into a grin, arms crossed, watching him with an amused glint in your eye. "Wow, Crowe, are you suggesting a private date?"

The reaction was instant.  

His eyes widened, and for the first time, you swore you saw the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks—a slightly deeper shade against his usual warm brown complexion. Just for a second before his usual playful demeanor slid back into place. He let out a half-laugh, half-grumble. "It’s not a date," he muttered, though you could tell he was trying not to smile. "Just... you know. A thing."

"Uh-huh. Sure, a thing," you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, if ‘things’ include pizza and not having to talk about student council for once, I’ll consider it.” 

He rolled his eyes, but that little real smirk was back again. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you love it," you shot back with a grin.

Crowe let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head at himself. “You’re such a tease.” 

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

His deadpan stare told you he definitely knew exactly what you were doing. You could practically hear the thoughts running through his mind: I know you’re trying to distract me with that nonsense, but it’s not going to work.

But instead of entertaining your antics, he let out a long exhale, like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders, and straightened up. His hands moved quickly to gather the last of his papers, that familiar rhythm of someone who’d been in a constant state of ‘paperwork battle’ for way too long.  

"I’ll be done in a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock, looking like he was calculating the exact time when he could finally escape the clutches of his responsibilities. “Shouldn’t take long. Just… come to my place, please.”  

The way he said it was almost a plea, like he was clinging to the last shred of hope that you would save him from his own self-imposed chaos. There was something in the way his voice dropped, that quiet vulnerability that even Crowe couldn’t hide when he was completely overwhelmed. 

He didn’t ask for help. Ever. 

But right now, it seemed like he couldn’t bear to be alone with all that paperwork for even another minute. 

Without even thinking, you stepped forward, about to throw out some joke or tease him, but before you could, his hand shot out, fingers lightly brushing against yours, like he was desperately reaching for something, anything to ground him.  

You froze, blinking at the unexpected contact. Crowe’s hand lingered there for a moment, not quite holding yours, but not pulling away either. His gaze met yours for just a second—there was something there, a flicker of something deeper than just the usual exhausted annoyance.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his voice a little quieter, a little more raw than you were used to hearing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to give him the classic ‘it’s fine, we’re cool’ smile. But you could see it—he was yearning for just a little bit of peace, a little bit of support. 

Maybe more than he’d ever admit.

So, you squeezed his hand, just a little, before giving him a half-smirk. "Don't worry, Crowe. You’ll survive. Just don't expect me to help every time you feel like a nervous wreck." You smiled, slowly walking away. “I’ll gonna go change. See you later.” 

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything else, only shaking his head as he returned to his work. You turned on your heel, heading out of the student center with an extra pep in your step. Whether he meant it as a date or not, he still invited you over.  

And that was definitely something to work with.  

With that, you made a break for it, finally escaping the chaos of the student council room. You decided to take the scenic route back to your apartment—aka a detour to your place to freshen up a little. Nothing too extravagant, just a little something to feel less like a walking disaster.  

You slipped into your long-flare yoga pants, because, let's be honest, they were basically good thin material and nobody could judge you for that. You paired them with a long tank top and layered it with a cropped graphic tee that you’d definitely cut at the shoulder yourself for that ‘I woke up like this’ off-the-shoulder look. 

Sure, it looked like you couldn’t be bothered to try, but you weren’t heading to a red carpet event—just to Crowe’s place to eat dinner. Who needed to look cute when you were about to inhale your body weight in food, right?  

You kept your hairstyle in check, though—that was the one thing you weren't willing to sacrifice. A little effort to at least pretend you had it together. And the earrings? Oh, the earrings were a must. They hung from your ears like delicate little reminders that you were, in fact, capable of caring about something.

Maybe not your best outfit, but its’s something.  

Before heading back out, you made a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a small blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery. The one where the guy behind the counter always slid an extra smile your way whenever you came in, like he was secretly rooting for you to get that slice of dessert joy. 

You grabbed it like a pro, but this wasn’t just any cheesecake. Oh, no. This was the kind of cheesecake that required ID verification because they had to make sure you were worthy of its glory.  

It was rich, creamy, and topped with a glossy layer of blueberry wine reduction that probably had magical properties. Or at least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself. You figured the extra indulgence might help Crowe decompress a little, so, like a good friend, you were willing to go the extra mile.  

“Maybe it’ll help Crowe unwind,” you mumbled to yourself, adjusting the strap of your bag before heading out. “Not that he’d admit to it. He probably thinks ‘relaxing’ is a dirty word.”  

You snorted at the thought. Crowe would probably rather eat a salad than admit he was anything less than an overworked machine. But hey, everyone deserves a little luxury now and then, right? Even if that luxury was blueberry cheesecake and a very reluctant attempt at unwinding.

The walk to Crowe’s place was mercifully short, tucked just on the edge of campus. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering chill of the evening, and the faint glow of his windows stood out against the dimming sky.

It was a modest place—large, practical, the kind of space that was meant for luxury rather than convenience. But the moment you spotted the faint flicker of movement inside, a shuffle of shadow passing by the window, you knew he was home.  

You hesitated for just a second before knocking.  

Part of you hoped—no, expected—that when he answered the door, he’d look at least a little more relaxed than he had earlier. Maybe the stiffness in his shoulders would be gone. Maybe he’d be in something softer, a hoodie instead of that ever-present button-up. Maybe—dare you dream—he’d actually be smiling.  

But when the door swung open, it was immediately clear that reality had other plans.  

Crowe stood in the doorway, his hair once again was an absolute wreck—not the effortless kind of messy that turned heads, but the kind that screamed, ‘I’ve run my hands through it too many times out of frustration.’ A furrow was etched deep between his brows, and his usual sharp posture was stiff like he was physically bracing against the weight of his responsibilities.

And—oh, fantastic—a folder was tucked under his arm, looking as though it had permanently fused to him at this point.  

You exhaled through your nose. Of course.

Yet, despite the exhaustion written all over him, something in his expression softened when he registered it was you at the door. The tightness in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear, but there was the faintest tug of a smile at the corners of his lips—tired but real.  

“What’s with the face?” you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he stepped aside, silently motioning you in.  

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically, the words so robotic and rehearsed that you almost laughed.  

“Right. And I’m the student council president,” you deadpanned, stepping inside and crossing your arms. “You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Again.”  

“Funny thing about the student council president,” Crowe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you. “It turns out he can, and will, dump work on me at all hours. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have a life outside any paperwork.”  

Crowe allowed you inside, leading you up the sleek, polished staircase to his bedroom. As he pushed open the door, you were immediately struck by how effortlessly luxurious it felt—like stepping into a five-star suite rather than your living space.  

The room was spacious, barely lit by the warm glow of a single overhead light and a tall, modern floor lamp near his desk. The walls were painted a deep, muted blue, the color rich yet understated. But it was the bed that truly caught your attention—elaborate and inviting, draped in dark blue satin sheets that gleamed subtly under the soft lighting.

The bedding was pristine and neatly arranged with thick pillows and a comforter that looked like it belonged in a high-end catalog rather than a broke college student apartment.  

And yet, despite the undeniable elegance of the space, the desk against the far wall told a completely different story.  

Stacked with an obscene number of papers, open binders, and what you were pretty sure was the same coffee cup from this morning, his desk looked like a war zone of responsibilities. A sleek laptop sat open, its screen casting a faint glow over the scattered documents, and a small, gold-rimmed clock ticked quietly beside a stack of folders. 

The faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air, mixing with the rich undertones of expensive cologne and the barely-there scent of cedarwood. The place had the distinct feel of someone who had been trapped inside for far too long—like a space meant for relaxation had been forcibly converted into an office.  

And honestly? That pissed you off a little.

You turned back to him with an unimpressed look, arms crossed as he carelessly tossed his folder onto the desk. “You invited me to hang out, and now you’re telling me I’m supposed to just sit here while you work?”  

“I’ll multitask,” he said with a faint smirk, already lowering himself into the sleek, leather chair at his desk like that settled the matter.  

You let out an exaggerated sigh, setting your bag down on the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. Of course, even his couch was high-end—dark velvet with a few neatly arranged cushions, barely touched, like it was there for decoration rather than actual use.  

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “What a great person you are. Let me guess, next you’re going to ask me to fetch you coffee?”  

Crowe didn’t look up, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you’re offering.”  

You rolled your eyes before reaching into your bag and pulling out the carefully packed cheesecake you had brought. With deliberate flair, you set it on the small wooden table near the couch, ensuring the movement was just noticeable enough to break Crowe’s focus.  

And to your satisfaction, it worked.  

From his place at the desk, Crowe’s eyes flicked up, momentarily distracted from the mountain of papers in front of him. His gaze landed on the dessert, his brow raising slightly. “Is that… blueberry cheesecake?” 

You shot him a smug grin. “It is. And not just any cheesecake—blueberry wine-glazed cheesecake. Only the best.” 

Crowe’s lips twitched, almost forming a real smile, but as his gaze flicked back to the cheesecake, hesitation crept into his expression. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Wait… you said wine-glazed?”  

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yeah? It’s just a glaze, Crowe. It’s not like I’m trying to get you drunk off dessert.”  

He exhaled, glancing between you and the cheesecake as if debating whether he should risk it. “Still…” His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair. “…I don’t know if I should.”  

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before throwing him an exasperated look. “Crowe. It’s cheesecake. Not a bottle of aged whiskey.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the reluctant amusement in them told you he wasn’t completely opposed. He just wanted to be difficult.  

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” you added, crossing your arms. “One bite won’t turn you into a lawless delinquent, I promise. It’s just something to help you relax for once.”  

Crowe exhaled slowly, glancing at the dessert once more before shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry but no, I need to work—because if I suddenly start making reckless decisions, it’s your fault.”  

“Oh, please.” With a scoff, you pushed yourself up from the plush velvet couch, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric before stretching lazily. “I’ll be right back.” Crowe barely acknowledged your movement, too focused on whatever tedious task he was drowning in.  

Perfect.  

You slipped out of his bedroom, padding down the sleek hallway and down the grand staircase that led to the main floor. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of an ornate grandfather clock positioned near the entrance. Of course, he had something so unnecessarily extravagant in his house. You shook your head, making your way toward the kitchen.  

And, unsurprisingly, even his kitchen looked like it belonged in some high-end interior design magazine—black marble countertops, dark mahogany cabinets, and sleek, modern appliances that gleamed under the warm glow of overhead lighting. The air carried the faintest scent of coffee, no doubt from whatever caffeine-fueled disaster had taken place earlier that morning.  

You pulled open a drawer, rummaging through its neatly arranged contents until you found the gold forks—because, of course, even his utensils were unnecessarily fancy, polished to a pristine shine. You hesitated for a second, eyeing the wine bottle in your other hand. You could technically be a menace and grab another fork just for him, despite his earlier protests, just to see if he’d cave.  

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you picked up another fork and then made your way back upstairs.  

By the time you reentered Crowe’s bedroom, he was exactly as you left him—hunched over his desk, a hand buried in his long brown tousled hair, muttering something under his breath as he scribbled furiously onto a page. His laptop cast a faint glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, and the way his brows furrowed with quiet frustration.  

You shook your head in fond exasperation, setting the forks onto the small wooden table—top of a paper towel near the couch with deliberate flair. The sound of metal forks against wood was just loud enough to pull his attention away from whatever crisis was currently occupying his mind.  

His gaze flickered to you, then to the newly placed items, and finally, to the bottle of wine you were already uncorking with far too much enthusiasm.  “You don’t take ‘no cake for me’ seriously, do you?” he asked dryly, watching as you handed him a fork, which he took. You raised an eyebrow, swirling the liquid slowly before taking a deliberate sip. “Oh, I heard you,” you mused. “I just chose to ignore it.”  

Crowe exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, but there was no real irritation in his expression—if anything, the corners of his lips twitched upward, like he was fighting off a smile.  

You handed him a fork, gesturing toward the cheesecake. “Now, be a good boy and eat before I start burning your paperwork.”  

That earned you a full, amused huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t.”  

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, already reaching for the nearest document with mischief glinting in your eyes.  

And just like that, for the first time that evening, Crowe finally relented. With a quiet sigh of defeat, he grabbed his fork, cutting into the cheesecake with a small shake of his head.  

“Happy now?” he muttered, bringing a bite to his lips.  

You grinned, raising your fork in victory. “Ecstatic.”  

Later on, You ended up sitting in Crowe’s bed, which, honestly, wasn’t part of the original plan. You’d offered—very generously, might you add—to just sit on the floor, but Crowe wasn’t having it. And of course, that turned into a whole thing. A full-blown back-and-forth argument that went nowhere because, shocker, Crowe won.

So now here you were, cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone while eating cheesecake like it was just another day.

Meanwhile, Crowe was buried in paperwork, signing off on whatever ridiculous event proposals students had cooked up this time.

Between the scribbling of his pen and the occasional tap of your phone screen, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of conversation—nothing deep, just the usual random nonsense that somehow never failed to keep things interesting. 

You could say literally the most out-of-pocket thing, and Crowe would have an opinion on it. 

“You think pigeons ever feel bad about stealing people’s food?” 

“No. They’re menaces.” 

“What about geese?” 

“Demons in feathered form.” 

It went on like that for a while, but then, out of nowhere, Crowe, still focused on his paperwork, casually muttered, “If you end up drunk, you can stay here.” 

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh?” 

“I have hangover pills for situations like these,” he added as if that was just normal information to throw out there. 

You squinted at him, completely lost as last time you checked—he didn’t drink. “Crowe, sir, what the hell do you have those for?” 

He didn’t even hesitate. “They’re normally for my mother.” 

Oh. 

…Well damn. That changed the vibe.  

You suddenly found a very interesting spot on the wall to look at, your brain screaming at you to not ask any follow-up questions. Just let it slide, move on, talk about geese again— 

“…How come?” Damn it.

Crowe paused mid-signature, his pen hovering over the paper for a second too long. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made the air feel heavier. You shifted a little on his bed, suddenly regretting asking. But at the same time, you had to know. 

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, setting his pen down and leaning back slightly. “She’s a businesswoman,” he said simply like that explained everything.  

It kind of did.  

You nodded slowly. “Ah. So… business meetings, long nights, expensive wine, and regrettable choices?”  

“Basically,” he said, rubbing his temple. “She doesn’t get wasted often, but when she does, it’s always a mess. It’s better to just have something on hand so she doesn’t call me at two in the morning complaining about a headache and demanding I fix it.” 

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin in your hand. “So what I’m hearing is… you’re the designated babysitter for your mom when she goes too hard on the fancy liquor.” 

Crowe gave you a flat look. “I wouldn’t call it that.”  

“But I would.” You grinned, taking another bite of your cheesecake. “Imagine that. Big, serious Crowe, the man who runs student council like a military operation, reduced to fetching electrolyte drinks and aspirin for his drunk mom.”  

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like he was reevaluating all his life choices. “You are so lucky I tolerate you.”  

“Tolerate? Please. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”  

Crowe rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips almost twitched up. Almost. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

You smirked, then gestured toward his desk. “Speaking of you tolerating me, when are you actually gonna stop working? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been signing papers for the last hour and I’m starting to think you might be stuck in an endless loop.”  

“I’ll be done when I’m done,” he muttered, flipping to the next page.  

You squinted at him. “Liar. You never finish. The work just keeps coming.”  

Crowe didn’t deny it. He just let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple again. You could tell he was exhausted but too damn stubborn to stop.  

So, naturally, you had to push a little.  

“Y’know,” you started, setting your plate aside and stretching out on his bed dramatically, “I’m not a heavy drinker. I won’t get drunk.”

Crowe quickly said, “That’s what you said last time.”

“Blame Britt, she needed someone to take shots with at that club.” You sighed, “But If I look drunk, there’s a chance I might be pretending.” You mentioned. “Why,” Crowe asked. “…I’ll be able to get the tender loving care of a certain man.”

Crowe somewhat blushed, then added. “And If I’m the one who gets drunk, will you look after me? Or will you let me fend for myself?”

“Ehhh, that depends. What kind of drunk are you?” You gave Crowe a pointed look, lazily kicking your legs back and forth. “’Cause remember when Britt got wasted after we passed our exams and threw up in the car?” You grimaced at the memory. “Still sorry about that, by the way.”

Crowe, who had been signing something, paused and flicked his eyes up at you. “There are different types of drunk?”

You snorted. “Uh, yeah. There are levels to this, Crowe.” You started counting on your fingers. “Tipsy, somewhat affectionate—y’know, the giggly, slightly dumb but still functioning stage. Then there’s a buzz, which is what I usually am. A nice little warm feeling, maybe a little too honest, but still got control.”

Crowe raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Oh, it just gets worse from there.” You grinned. “There’s sloshed, where your words start slurring, and you start thinking you can dance when, in reality, you cannot.” You pointed at him. “Britt was sloshed. Then there’s blacked out, which—self-explanatory. Bad decisions are made. Regret is guaranteed.”

Crowe hummed, going back to his papers. “Lovely.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” you continued, thoroughly enjoying this. “Then you got aggressive drunks—you know, the ones who suddenly wanna fight everyone, including their own reflection. Confident drunks, which are honestly my favorite ‘cause they act like they own the place and think they’re hot shit. Sad drunks—kinda self-explanatory. They cry about their ex, their childhood, or how the bartender didn’t smile at them enough.”

Crowe sighed like he already regretted indulging this conversation. “And?”

“The two everyone really looks out for are lightweights and heavyweights.” You leaned forward a little, smirking. “I used to be somewhere in the middle, but, uh… college happened. And Britt happened. So now I’m lowkey more of a heavyweight.”

Crowe set his pen down and gave you that look. The one that was half disappointed professor, half exasperated parent. “Really.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I build tolerance fast.”

Crowe pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not something to be proud of.”

You waved him off. “Anyway, what about you? Heavyweight or lightweight?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

Crowe let out a slow breath, glancing at you like he was debating whether to humor you or just ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “I have work to do.”

You gasped dramatically. “Avoiding the question? That means you’re a lightweight, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, grinning. “Crowe, do you get tipsy off one drink? Is that why you don’t go out? Are you—”

He gave you a look. A very pointed, very shut up before I actually throw you out look.

You just cackled. “Yeah, alright. Go back to work, lightweight.”

Soon after, it didn’t take long for Crowe to start feeling something—not that he’d ever admit it. You had finished your slice—even had another one without issue, enjoying every bite while Crowe had been more hesitant, taking small, slow bites as if waiting for some dramatic effect to kick in. And, to your delight, it did.   

He shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the odd sensation creeping up on him. His usually sharp gaze had softened just a bit, and though he kept his expression neutral, you didn’t miss the way his fingers drummed against the desk a little too loosely or the way he exhaled through his nose, slower than usual.  

You smirked. “Feeling okay over there?” 

Crowe shot you a flat look, but there was something off about it—like his focus wasn’t entirely there. “I’m fine.” You tilted your head, scrutinizing him. His dark brown skin had taken on a noticeable flush, heat blooming over his cheekbones and creeping down his neck.

 You knew that look.  

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning forward with barely contained laughter. “You’re lightweight, aren’t you?” Crowe blinked, frowning slightly before scoffing. “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “It’s just warm in here.”  

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your amusement. “Crowe, this is embarrassing. I ate the same cheesecake on my third slice, and I feel fine.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a second before he muttered, “You have an unfair advantage.”  

You grinned. “No wonder you avoid alcohol like the plague. You can’t hold your liquor.” Crowe furrowed his brows at your mocking tone, his face turning into a bit of a pout.

"I can hold my liquor," he grumbled, though the faint tinge in his face betrayed his words. He shifted in his seat slightly, crossing his arms defensively. "I just don't see the appeal of losing my inhibitions and making a fool of myself. Unlike some people."

Your expression turned into a smirk, tone still just as condescending.

"Ah, the classic excuse." Your gaze remained fixed on him with a hint of judgment. "Inhibitions are what make us human, you know. Or perhaps you fear the idea of letting go and having a little fun."

Crowe bristled at your words, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

"I'm not afraid of having fun," he retorted, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness. "I simply prefer to maintain control over my actions. I see no need for losing myself to something as shallow as alcohol."

He let out a scoff. 

"Besides, true fun can be had without the need for impairment."

You let out a short, derisive laugh. "Ah, yes. The need to control everything around you, even your fun. How incredibly dull of you." She leaned closer, her expression a mix of mockery and superiority.

"But tell me, Princess, do you ever truly feel alive, or is your life merely an endless cycle of monotony and self-imposed discipline?"

"Oh, please." Crowe rolled his eyes at your mockery. "Just because I don't partake in mind-numbing substances doesn't mean my life lacks excitement. I simply find joy in more meaningful pursuits." He crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "Unlike some, I don't rely on alcohol or other substances to feel alive. My life is filled with purpose and discipline, and I take pride in that."

You tilted your head, the smirk still dancing on your lips.

"Purpose and discipline…?” she drawled. "I bet you take pride in your ability to follow routines like a well-trained dog, too."

“Excuse me?” Crowe frowned, his voice sharp as he watched you lean closer, sensing the shift in the air.

You didn’t back down. “Jericho,” you said, using his real name with a seriousness that seemed to catch him off guard. “I’ve been your assistant for the past two weeks now, and I’m starting to notice something. You let the student council—and even the president—treat you like a dog, and I see the expression on your face every time. Pure irritation.” 

You shifted and hopped onto his desk, sitting beside him, your legs casually swinging back and forth as you watched him try to suppress his usual annoyance. 

Crowe’s frown deepened, his hand tightening on the paperwork as he visibly tried to keep his composure. You could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, a mix of irritation and something else, something less guarded. 

"I’m aware of the circumstances," he said, voice tight but still trying to assert some control, "and I can handle the student council just fine. I… I’m fine with it. Really." He trailed off, and his words faltered. You could tell he was trying to convince himself more than you. The bravado was fading as his frustration bled into something more vulnerable, something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you can handle things, Jericho. But here’s the thing—you’ve been avoiding something for a while. And it’s not just the paperwork.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes flicking away as he shifted uneasily in his chair. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, that much was obvious.

“Look, I get it. You’re used to doing everything by yourself, keeping things together, and letting everyone walk all over you if it means getting things done. But that doesn’t mean you have to take it. And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay with it,” you said, leaning forward, voice low but firm. You saw the way he struggled to keep his walls up, the cracks widening. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he muttered, barely audible, “but I can handle everything. I really don’t mind being treated like a dog.”

Your smirk faltered just a bit, and a hint of seriousness crept into your tone. “Hm, now I know you’re not the buzzed type…” you murmured, thoughtfully. “You say you don’t mind… but I can sense there’s more to it than just handling things. You’re avoiding my gaze for a reason, after all.”

Crowe didn’t respond right away, his eyes avoiding yours, but the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his discomfort growing, but there was something else, too—a sense of reluctance mixed with a desire for something else, something you both knew he wasn’t willing to admit yet.

You sighed heavily, making sure to add some extra dramatic flair before stepping closer. His desk, though structured, had a certain worn-in look, the wood slightly dulled from constant use, with scattered notes and open folders sprawled across its surface. The lamp at the corner cast long, soft shadows, adding a golden warmth to the otherwise sterile, paper-filled workspace.  

You crouched beside his chair and gestured toward his feet. “Move.” 

Crowe blinked down at you, finally breaking his focus. His brows furrowed. “What—?”  

You didn’t give him a chance to retreat into his shell. Instead, you were now kneeling down in front of him, slipping under the desk with the kind of confidence that said ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ “I’m going to see if you’ll actually let me help,” you said, your voice light but insistent, “because right now? You think you don’t need anything from anyone. But I’m betting you’ll let me assist you. And I’m going to find out just how much you really don’t mind.”  

The air between you shifted, thick with unspoken tension, as Crowe’s jaw tightened. You could almost see the internal battle raging within him—the need to keep control, to not rely on anyone, fighting against the small, desperate part of him that did need help, that did want something different. Something softer, something less exhausting.

“Stop acting like you can do everything by yourself, Jericho," you said gently, yet firmly. “Let me help. Please.”

His eyes flicked down to where you were kneeling in front of him, his throat working as if he were trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t move, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight of your presence. You were here, offering, and this time, you weren’t going to back off.

“I’m not going to bite, I promise.” You smiled, though it was a soft, knowing grin—one that suggested you could see right through the mask he wore.

For a moment, he said nothing, just staring at you like you’d asked him to do the impossible. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, His deep blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—something between exasperation and tiredness.  

Then, finally, his shoulders and arms sagged, just a little, and he let out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Fine. Okay. You win. Help me, then.”

Still kneeling on the floor, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his with a mischievous glint that told him you weren’t backing down anytime soon. You let your gaze linger a little longer than necessary, unwavering and unblinking, before slowly shifting closer, inching just enough to make your presence impossible to ignore.

You could feel the tension building between you two, a palpable electricity in the air, and you were loving every second of it.

“Y’know, as your assistant,” you began, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “all I’ve done is watch you mistreat me, running errands, picking up the slack... I mean, I barely get a ‘thank you’ for anything.” You leaned in just a little more, making sure he could feel the weight of your words.

It was a total lie, of course. He doesn’t actually mistreat you, but you loved getting under his skin, watching the way he reacted to your teasing. The slight furrow of his brow, the tension that flickered in his jaw—he was trying so hard not to take the bait.

Before he could respond, you lightly placed a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, your fingers barely grazing his skin. You could practically feel the sharp intake of breath he took, his body going rigid under your touch.

“You really should show your assistant some gratitude,” you added, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Or... maybe I’ll start taking advantage of the fact that I know exactly how much you don’t want help.”  

His eyes flickered to your hand, then back up to your face, but he didn’t move. His lips pressed into a thin line, clearly debating whether to stay stoic or snap at you. But you could tell that you were getting to him—just a little. 

You were testing him. And so far? You were winning.

You felt it instantly—the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his pants, his entire body going rigid for just a fraction of a second. His smirk, always so confident, faltered—just barely. Instead, he regarded you with something sharper now, something closer to curiosity than irritation. “Oh?” he mused, his voice dipping into a lower register, sending a slow ripple of heat down your spine.  

"I don't treat you badly," he protested, though his voice had an edge to it—strained, like he was trying very hard not to focus on the placement of your hand. “I always make sure to take care of you, even when I’m busy…”  

You chuckled slyly, inching closer so that you were practically hovering over him now. Your fingers traced absentmindedly along his thigh, feather-light but deliberate, as you tilted your head and gave him a teasing, knowing look.  

"Oh, Crowe," you crooned, drawing out his name, savoring the way his jaw clenched in response. “That’s not enough. And you don’t reward me ‘nearly’ enough."  

His breath hitched for the smallest moment, but he recovered quickly, exhaling sharply through his nose. Almost a laugh—almost. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something restrained, but the corners of his lips twitched upward in spite of himself.  

"Rewards, huh?" he murmured, the words slow, measured. He leaned back slightly in his chair, though his gaze never left yours, locked in a silent battle of wills.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the papers he had been holding—forgotten now, unimportant. 

You had his attention. Completely.

"And what exactly do you think you deserve as a reward, huh?" Crowe asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone deceptively casual, but his body language betraying him. You paused, considering his question, letting the moment between you.

What could you ask for?

What did you want from him?

Your fingers, still resting on his thigh, tapped once—thoughtful, teasing. "Well," you mused, lips curling at the edges as you leaned in just a fraction closer. "That depends. Are you finally done with work?"

Crowe exhaled sharply, the sound unmistakable as he shook his head—a familiar gesture that meant he was about to endure something he definitely wasn’t looking forward to. You could see the frustration in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if bracing for the inevitable storm that was coming his way. But before he could even open his mouth to express his exasperation—

His phone rang.

Shit maybe you don’t have his attention like you thought 

You didn’t need to check the screen to know who was calling. The ringtone had become so ingrained in your memory, it was practically a soundtrack to your time spent in the student council room. You could’ve recognized it in the dead of night, half-asleep and groggy.

But you still raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Who is it?”

“The student President…” Crowe muttered, barely a glance at the phone before he visibly grimaced.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned over his thigh and nudged him, giving him that determined look that meant ‘this was happening whether he liked it or not.’ “Pick it up.”

He shot you a look of disbelief. “What now?”

“Yes. Pick it up.”

Crowe hesitated for just a second, clearly torn between his usual aversion to the student council President’s calls and the sense of duty that always seemed to take over.

You could practically feel the battle within him: to pick up and face whatever nonsense was about to unfold or to pretend he hadn’t heard it ringing and hoped it went away. But, of course, he didn’t choose the latter. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Crowe picked up the phone, his fingers brushing over the screen like it was a ticking bomb. 

Above you, Crowe cleared his throat, the sound sharp and professional—the tone he always used when he was in full ‘I-have-to-do-this’ mode. It was crisp and controlled, but there was a thin thread of tension that clung to the edges of his voice, betraying the fact that he was anything but relaxed.

“President,” Crowe greeted, his voice polite but tight, like he was holding back the urge to snap. "Didn’t realize you were gonna call so late."

You could practically feel the irritation dripping off him, but he kept it buried under that forced professional tone. If the student council president had any clue how much Crowe was dreading this call, they sure weren’t showing it. Crowe shifted in his seat, like he was bracing for whatever nonsense the student council president was about to throw his way.

You almost felt bad for him—almost—but let’s be real, he was the one who willingly signed up for this madness.

Still, you had a feeling this call was gonna drag on a lot longer than either of you wanted. Your heart was hammering as you pressed your head flat against Crowe’s lap, barely breathing, just waiting—again for this stupid call to be over.

Every inch of you was aware of how close you were, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it was way too hard when Crowe’s leg was right there, brushing against you. 

On the other end, the student president’s voice—sharp and already full of annoyance—came through loud and clear. "It’s about the upcoming budget meeting. You didn’t submit the finalized report yet."

Crowe let out an exaggerated sigh from above, and you could feel the shift in his chair like it was trying to rattle your very bones. You clenched your jaw, trying not to squirm as you felt the brush of his knee against your shoulder. It definitely felt deliberate, like he was trying to mess with you, making it impossible for you to get comfortable. 

You swallowed down the discomfort and forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. 

"It’s almost done," Crowe said, smooth as butter, his voice way too casual for how much of a lie it was. "I was just in the middle of… reviewing it."

Such a liar. You rolled your eyes internally. 

"Good," the student president replied, clearly distracted by whatever papers they were rifling through. “I need it by tonight. No excuses.”

Your stomach dropped. You held your breath, teetering on the edge of panic as Crowe leaned forward, his lower body inching closer to yours. He reached for something on his desk, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. 

Like, way too small. It was suffocating, but you didn’t move. 

You couldn’t. 

…Right?

“Noted,” Crowe said, his voice only slightly strained. You could hear the tension in it, though, and it made your pulse spike. 

The student president sighed on the other end of the phone call, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in Crowe’s office. “I don’t know how you manage all this paperwork, Ichabod. You’d think with your assistant, things would be more efficient.”

You nearly choked. Excuse me?

Crowe let out an amused huff, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well. Sometimes, they can be a handful.” 

Your eye twitched. Oh, he did not just say that. That smug little—oh, he was so not getting away with this. 

From under the desk, you moved quickly, your fingers darting to his pants. You undid the buttons with practiced ease, then unzipped them, pulling them down to his thighs. And then—oh. 

Oh~

The first thing you saw was the massive tent in his briefs, and you almost choked on your own saliva. How was he even walking like that?

“Hey—what are you—what are you doing—?” Crowe hissed, his voice low and frantic. You glanced up at him, and the look on his face was priceless. His jaw was tight, his dark blue eyes wide, and there was this desperate, pleading expression that screamed, ‘Don’t you dare.’ 

But oh, you dared. 

You brought a hand to him hesitantly, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his briefs. The second you started palming him, Crowe let out this low, shaky sigh that he barely managed to stifle. How the hell was he already this hard? And why did that make your stomach flip in the best way possible?

You could feel him twitch under your touch, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning. This was payback, plain and simple. He wanted to call you a ‘handful’? 

Fine. You’d show him exactly what that meant.

Crowe’s voice was strained as he tried to keep his composure on the phone. “Yes. I’ll—uh—make sure to follow up on that.” 

You smirked, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his briefs. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he shot you a look that was equal parts warning and begging. But you weren’t about to stop now. Not when he was squirming like this, not when you had him right where you wanted him.

“Crowe?” the student president’s voice crackled through the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes,” Crowe stammered, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just dealing with something. Urgently.”

You stifled a laugh, your hand wrapping around him fully now. Crowe’s head tipped back slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but you could see the cracks forming. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white, and you could feel the way his body tensed under your touch.

Crowe was trying to focus. 

Keyword: trying. 

But you were making it impossible.

You had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, your fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, while your other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them in a way that made his leg twitch under the desk. You kissed the tip of him, soft and teasing, and when you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“Yes, President,” Crowe said, his voice strained but impressively steady. “I’ll make sure the budget report is finalized by—” He cut off with a sharp inhale as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, slow and deliberate. His free hand slammed down on the desk, and you could see his fingers trembling.

You smirked, your lips curling around him as you took him deeper, your tongue flicking against the underside of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. “Apologies,” he said, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just a bit of a cough.”

You almost laughed at that, but you were too busy enjoying the way his thighs tensed under your hands. You pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and then—because you were feeling extra mean—you slapped his cock against your cheek a couple of times, the sound muffled but still way too loud in the quiet space.

Crowe’s eyes snapped down to you, wide and panicked, and you gave him your best innocent look before leaning in to lick a slow stripe up his length. His hand shot out, tangling in your hair, but he didn’t push you away. No, he just held on, his grip tightening as you took him into your mouth again, deeper this time.

“Ichabod?” the student president’s voice came through the phone, sharp and impatient. “Are you even listening?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Crowe managed, though his voice was definitely higher-pitched than usual. “Just—uh—just reviewing the numbers.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk involuntarily. He bit down on his lip to stifle a groan, but you could still hear it, low and desperate. You pulled back again, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent.

“You’re doing so good,” you mouthed, your voice silent but your meaning crystal clear. Crowe’s face flushed a deep red, and he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried—and failed—to focus on the phone call. His free hand, the one not clutching the phone, gripped the edge of his desk so hard you thought the wood might splinter.

You didn’t let up.

Instead, you ducked your head again, taking him deeper this time, your throat relaxing around him as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening almost reflexively, and you could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep his hips still. 

He was a losing battle, and you knew it. 

You could feel the subtle shift in his muscles, the way his control was slipping with every flick of your tongue, every slow, deliberate movement of your lips.

“President,” Crowe said, his voice strained, “I think we might need to—ah—to reschedule this call.”

You smirked around him, your tongue flicking against that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he let out a shaky exhale that he barely managed to stifle. You could feel the way his thighs trembled under your hands, the way his entire body was teetering on the edge.

“Reschedule?” the president snapped, his tone incredulous. “Ichabod, this is important. We don’t have time for—”

But Crowe wasn’t listening anymore.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you could feel the way his body shuddered, the way he lost control for just a second. 

It was all you needed. 

You hummed softly, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth, and you could feel the way his resolve was crumbling. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling just enough to make your scalp tingle, and you could hear the way his breathing grew ragged, uneven.

“I—uh—apologize, sir,” Crowe managed to choke out, his voice tight and unsteady. “Something… urgent has come up.”

You didn’t let him finish. 

Instead, you pulled back slightly, just enough to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking him deep again, your throat working around him. Crowe’s head tipped back, a low groan escaping his lips before he could stop it, and you could feel the way his body was trembling, the way he was barely holding it together.

The student president was still talking, his voice sharp and impatient, but Crowe wasn’t hearing a word of it. His focus was entirely on you, on the way your mouth felt around him, on the way you were driving him absolutely insane. His hips bucked again, this time more deliberately, and you could feel the way his control was slipping, the way he was losing himself in the sensation.

“I’ll—ah—call you back,” Crowe said abruptly, his voice rough and strained. He didn’t even wait for a response before he ended the call, tossing the phone onto his desk with a clatter.

The second the call was over, his hand in your hair tightened, and he pulled you off him just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and blazing with need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice low and rough.

You just smirked up at him, your lips still wrapped around him, and then you took him deep again, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, and his hips jerked forward, his control completely gone now.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his voice rough and strained, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. His movements were desperate, almost frantic, like he was losing control and couldn’t stop himself.

You could feel the way his body trembled, the way his thighs tensed under your hands, and you knew he was teetering on the edge. 

You kept your pace steady, your lips wrapped tight around him, your tongue working against him in ways that made his breath hitch and his grip on your hair tighten almost painfully.

"Here I—"

Crowe didn’t get to finish his words.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came with a low, guttural groan. You swallowed half of it, the taste warm and salty, before pulling back just enough to let the rest spill across your lower face. A few streaks of white painted your chin and the corner of your mouth, and you looked up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m so sorry,” Crowe said, his voice hoarse, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hand loosened in your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp as if to soothe the sting. But you just smirked, your tongue darting out to catch the cum at the edge of your face.

“It’s all good,” you said, your voice low and teasing, as you licked the last traces of him away. The way his eyes darkened at the sight, the way his jaw tightened like he was fighting the urge to pull you back in, only made your smirk widen.

When he finally stilled, his body limp and spent, you pulled back slowly, a satisfied smirk on your lips. Crowe slumped back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He looked completely wrecked—his hair disheveled, his shirt rumpled and half-unbuttoned, his face still flushed with the aftermath of his release. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint tremble in his forearms.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get caught,” Crowe muttered, his voice low and gruff as he leaned back in his chair. He was trying to sound stern, but the way his eyes lingered on you—dark and hungry—gave him away. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if the student president had figured out what you were doing under my desk?”

You just shrugged, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a sly grin spreading across your face. “At least I had your back, so he didn’t really hear anything. Besides, he sounded more pissed that you hung up on him than anything else.”

Crowe groaned, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe away the memory of the entire ordeal. But you could see the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile. “You’re such a menace,” he said, though there was no real heat behind his words. His voice was soft, almost fond, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room that mattered—made your stomach flip.

You stood, leaning against his desk, your grin widening. “You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with playful defiance. 

Crowe let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I really do,” he admitted, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. 

You couldn’t help but notice how flushed Crowe’s face was, the deep red hue spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Was it from the way you’d just had him unraveling under your touch?

Or maybe it was the spiked cheesecake that you convinced him to indulge in earlier, the alcohol warming his veins and loosening his usual tight control. Honestly, it could’ve been both, and the thought made a smug little smile tug at your lips. 

Either way, you wanted him to relax, to let go of whatever tension was still coiled in his body.

“Do you need the hangover pills from your bathroom?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing as you tilted your head, studying him. You were half-turned toward the door, ready to fetch them if he said yes, but Crowe shook his head almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I don’t need pills. I just need you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, and before you could respond—before you could even process what he’d said—he reached for you. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that sent a shiver up your spine.

In one swift motion, he was on his feet, pulling you toward him with a force that made you stumble. You let out a surprised laugh, but it was cut short as you collided with his chest, his other arm snaking around your waist to steady you.

And then his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, demanding, almost possessive, and you melted into it without hesitation. His tongue slid against yours, and you could still taste him on your lips—a faint, lingering reminder of what you’d just done to him. It seemed to drive him wilder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

His hands roamed over your body like he needed to touch every inch of you, to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled your head, holding you in place like he never wanted to let you go. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

You could feel the heat of him through his clothes, the way his body thrummed with restless energy like he was still riding the high of what had just happened. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rested against him. 

It was intoxicating, the way he wanted you, the way he needed you, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding into his long, soft brown hair. His hair was silky between your fingers, and you tugged gently, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against your lips. 

The sound sent a thrill through you, and you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his as you poured every ounce of your own desire into it. Crowe’s grip on you tightened, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to fuse the two of you together, and you could feel the evidence of his want pressing against your hip, hard and insistent.

The kiss was everything—hot, desperate, and full of unspoken promises. 

It was a collision of need and longing, a silent conversation that neither of you could put into words. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless, his hands gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.

And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath came in short, uneven gasps. You could see it in his eyes—the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time but no less hungry. You let yourself get lost in him, your body leaning back until the edge of his desk stopped you from moving any further. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body pressing you firmly against the desk.

One hand braced on the surface beside you, trapping you in place, while the other stayed on your waist, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally released you, you could see the redness of his face, the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. It was almost enough to make you laugh, and you couldn’t resist tapping your finger lightly on his nose. He blinked, taken aback by the playful gesture, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“It’s time to reward beloved assistant,” he said, his voice low and rough, before kissing you again. This time, it was fiercer, more demanding, and you barely had time to react before he was roughly pushing all the papers off his desk with one sweeping motion.

The sound of them scattering to the floor barely registered as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the now-clear desk. His hands stayed on your thighs, his grip firm as he leaned over you, trapping you once again.

Crowe’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with want. He was about to kiss you again, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Crowe, you’re still drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. You cupped his face in your hands, your fingertips brushing over the soft skin of his cheeks. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now clouded with a mix of desire and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “One slice of spiked cheesecake is all it takes for you to be someone else?” you teased, your fingertips grazing over his soft, parted lips.

As much as you adored Crowe, you didn’t want to take advantage of him in this state. He was always so composed, so in control, and seeing him like this—unraveled and needy—was both intoxicating and a little unsettling. 

Crowe’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “I wonder if you fed me that cake on purpose, you to take a break.” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Did you want to see me like this?”

You almost laughed. 

Yeah, maybe you did. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that to his face.

“Who could’ve guessed a small amount of alcohol would get you this drunk?” you said instead, looking down as his hands traveled up your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch was electric, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

“I never allowed myself touch alcohol,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands stopped at your waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. “But for you, I broke that rule.”

“Crowe…” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to steady yourself. His proximity, his touch, the way he looked at you—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

“You said you wanted a reward,” he said, his eyes pleading as he leaned his head down into the crook of your shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so warm. You smell like you, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than the stars in the sky.”

Confident, may you add, needy drunk definitely.

You felt your breath catch as his lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft and lingering. His hands moved back to your thighs, sliding up to your waist, and then under your shirt again, his fingers exploring the plush curve of your hips. Everywhere he touched, it felt like he was leaving a mark, branding you as his.

“You’ve been such a wonderful assistant,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “As your so-called boss, let me reward you, starlight.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the windchime laugh that escaped you, muffled against his chest. It made his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern of his ribs. 

“Crowe, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“If you want me, you can have me,” he said, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “In whichever way you want.”

In whichever way you want?

That was a dangerous offer, especially from someone like him. And you knew you’d take him up on it, again and again and again. But not like this. Not when he was drunk, his inhibitions lowered, his control slipping. 

You sighed, gently pushing against his chest to create some distance.“Jericho, you’re really drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll get the hangover pills.”

But before you could slide off the desk, Crowe grabbed your arms, pulling you back onto the surface with a force that surprised you. “Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You keep saying I’m drunk. So, must I always stay sober?” He rested his head on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. “Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control. How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

Your eyes flickered away for a moment, your hand resting on his chest as you thought about his words. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he looked at you like that, when his touch set your skin on fire. But you didn’t want to push him into something he might regret later.

“Jericho…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. You were torn, your resolve wavering under the weight of his need and your own desire. 

Fuck it. 

You were a little tipsy too.

Just a bit better at hiding it than him.

You kiss him with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, a tenderness that makes his chest ache in the best way. Crowe adores it, even as he feels a twinge of guilt for the way he wants to devour it, to take that softness and turn it into something wild and untamed. 

But for now, he lets himself sink into it, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly deepens. Lips give way to tongue, and then to teeth, his mouth nipping at your lower lip in a way that makes you gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His hands know your skin like they’ve mapped it a thousand times before, and yet every touch feels new, electric. They’re everywhere at once, hot and aching as they slide under your clothes, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

One hand slips up to your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top. The sensation is enough to make you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips that he swallows down with another kiss.

Crowe takes his time with your layered tops—first the crop top, then the tank top—peeling them off you carefully, like he’s unveiling something sacred. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes dark and hungry as he drinks in the sight of you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then he’s leaning in, his mouth finding the spot right above your sternum, where he can feel the rapid flutter of your heartbeat beneath his lip as he removes your bra.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles.

“The brightest star in my life,” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s confessing something he’s held onto for too long. He tilts his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as his hand slides under your back, fingers pressing into the dip of your spine. 

You arch into him instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as he takes his time, lavishing attention on your body despite the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers—once again a bulge as pants were still unbutton. “Such a pretty star,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “So hot to the touch.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifts you by your ass, pulling your flared yoga pants down and off in one smooth motion. His eyes follow every movement, every inch of exposed skin, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting of the standing lamp near his desk.

It casts a warm glow over you, highlighting the curves of your body as you sit on top of his desk, completely at his mercy. His gaze is intense, almost reverent, as he takes you in, his hands sliding up your thighs with a touch that’s both possessive and tender. 

“Stay still, dearest,” he murmurs, his voice a low command that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands continue their exploration, fingers lacing through yours as they move over your hips, down to the waistband of your panties. He hooks his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his breath coming a little faster now.

But of course, you can’t let him have all the fun.

“No,” you say suddenly, your voice firm but playful, pushing Crowe away with your foot on his lower chest, slowly rubbing.

Crowe freezes, his head snapping up to look at you, his cheeks still flushed with desire. “No?” he asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of amusement.

“Isn’t this my reward for being your assistant?” you ask, tilting your head as you give him a sly smile. “Shouldn’t I have a say in how this goes?”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then a smirk plays on his lips, his expression shifting from surprise to ‘of course, whatever you say.’

“My apologies, dearest,” he says, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “How selfish of me. Of course, it’s only fair that you have a say in this.” He steps closer, his hands resting on either side of you on the desk as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what is it that you desire, my sweet star? You have my full attention. Just tell me what you want.”

There was one or maybe two things.

You were sprawled back on Crowe’s desk, the cool surface pressing into your skin as your legs fell open for him. 

The edge of the desk dug into your lower back, but the discomfort was a distant thought—completely overshadowed by the way Crowe was looking at you. His deep blue eyes were dark with hunger, his gaze raking over your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His long brown hair was undone,messy, falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you couldn’t help but reach up to brush a strand away. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go, his lips curving into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

His hands slid up your thighs, his grip firm but not rough, like he was savoring the feel of you. He pushed your legs wider, settling himself between them, and you shivered as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, teasing and deliberate. His touch was electric, sending little shocks of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to keep from begging him to hurry up.

But Crowe wasn’t one to rush. He took his time, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips soft and warm against your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as he kissed his way up, his breath hot and uneven. Each kiss was slow, and deliberate, like he was mapping out every inch of you, and by the time he reached where you needed him most, you were already trembling.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill through you. And then his tongue flicked against clit, and you let out a strangled cry, your fingers tightening in his hair. He didn’t hold back, his mouth working you over with a skill that had you seeing stars, your hips lifting off the desk as you tried to get closer, to feel more.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled back, leaving you gasping and desperate. You whined, your hands tugging at his hair, but he only chuckled, the sound dark and full of promise. “Not yet,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. “You missed the best part.”

You groaned, your head falling back against the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Crowe straightened, you can heard him unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled down his boxers along with his pants.

Soon you felt his hands sliding up to grip your hips, and you could feel the heat of him as he positioned his cock at your entrance—which he slap his cock against your pussy, enough to make you jump little bit as you tried to mentally prepare yourself.

Crowe laugh softly, holding you, "Don’t worry," He started before opening your pussy with two fingers, "Just relax, right?"

That little cheeky asshole

Suddenly, he pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He felt so good, stretching you, filling you completely, and when he finally bottomed out, you both let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his head dropping forward as he tried to steady himself. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that was almost soothing. “You feel so fucking incredible.”

You could only nod, your hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders as he started to move. His pace was slow at first, almost torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. But then he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Just you.”

Crowe groaned, his pace quickening as he gave you exactly what you asked for—a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he kissed you, deep and hungry.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs higher as he thrust into you, each movement deep and deliberate. You could feel the tension building in your body, your nails digging into his back—enough to almost leave marks as you tried to hold on.

And then, just as you were about to lose yourself completely, his phone rang.

The sound was jarring, pulling you both out of the moment, and Crowe let out a frustrated groan, stop completely. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at the phone where it sat on the desk beside your head. He reached for it, his movements jerky and impatient, but when he saw the name on the screen—Student Council President—he hesitated.

“Answer it,” you moaned, your voice breathless and teasing. Your eyes met his, and you could see the conflict in his gaze—the way he wanted to ignore the call but knew he probably shouldn’t. “You know I can’t,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure. 

But you didn’t care. 

You reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you answered the call and handed it to him. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it’s something important?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful innocence.

Crowe shot you a look that was equal parts ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me’ and ‘I’m so into you it’s ridiculous.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reluctantly bringing the phone to his ear, standing up straight. “What?” he snapped, his voice sharp and impatient, like he was already done with this conversation before it even started.

The student council president’s voice crackled through the phone, loud and unmistakably pissed. “Ichabod! What the hell was that earlier? You can’t just hang up on me like that! Do you have any idea how unprofessional—” 

Then, out of nowhere. With a playful annoyed sigh, your body to move, slamming yourself hard against Crowe.

He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning into the phone, however, your warm pussy clenching around cock—deep inside you, so warm, so fucking wet and bare— he wonders if he stretching you out in all of the right places.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he was trying to keep his voice steady while you were doing your absolute best to ruin him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Unprofessional. Got it. Can we move on?”

“Move on?!” the student president screeched, his voice so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear it. “You hung up on me in the middle of a very important discussion! Do you know how much paperwork I have to deal with because of you?!”

You couldn’t help it—you smirked, your fingers digging into Crowe’s arms as you rocked against him. He shot you a glare, but it was half-hearted at best, and you could see the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Look,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, “I’ll… uh… I’ll get you the forms tomorrow, okay? Can we just—ah—drop this for now?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the president’s brain short-circuiting. “Are you… are you breathing weirdly? What’s wrong with you?”

Crowe’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked genuinely panicked—like a deer caught in headlights. His grip on your hips tightened, his body freezing as the president’s voice blared through the phone, sharp and accusatory.

But then, just as quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. His expression shifted, an unfamiliar mask of cool composure sliding back into place. 

His voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone he used when he was about to shut someone down, the one that sent shivers down your spine even when it wasn’t directed at you.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you. “I’m just… busy. Very busy. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Busy doing what?!” the president yelled, their voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. “You’re supposed to be working, not—what are you even doing right now?!”

Crowe’s lips twitched, and you could see the exact moment the mischief sparked in his eyes. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and heated, and then he smirked. 

Uh oh. 

“Jericho—” you started, your voice a warning, but he cut you off with a deep, hungry kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin. The kiss was demanding, almost possessive, and you couldn’t help but melt into it, your hands tangling in his hair as he muffled your sounds. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged, and he gave you a wicked grin that made your stomach flip.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I need you to be loud for this.”

Before you could respond, he turned his attention back to the phone, his smirk widening as he brought it to his ear. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, you know. Just… multitasking.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then the president’s voice came through, louder and more incredulous than before. “Multitasking?! What does that even mean?!”

Crowe’s grin turned downright devilish, and you could feel the way his body vibrated with suppressed laughter. “This,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, and then he thrust deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur and your breath catch. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure shot through you like a lightning bolt.

“Jericho!” you cried out, your voice breaking on his name, and he smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he turned his attention back to the phone.

“You hear that?” he said, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “I’m busy fucking at the moment. Raw and deep. Something you’ll never get with those ugly-ass clothes of yours.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth falling open as you stared at him. 

Did he really just say that? 

To the student council president? 

Your Crowe??

But before you could say anything, Crowe hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, the device skidding across the surface before coming to a stop near the edge. “Jericho!” you hissed, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You did not just say that!” 

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. “What?” he said, pulling back just enough to grin at you. 

“It’s true, plus you wanted this,” Crowe murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down to capture your nipple between his teeth. He bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue, sucking and teasing until you were squirming beneath him.

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, “There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line,” he admitted, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Maybe getting drunk was worth it. Especially fucking you at the end.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as he thrust into you again, his cock hitting that deep, sensitive spot that made your toes curl. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with a relentless intensity that left you breathless. 

Every movement was deliberate, every stroke designed to drive you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, desperate for more. “Crowe,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on. “I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, and it was all you needed to tip over the edge. Your body trembled as pleasure washed over you in waves, your walls clenching around his cock as you fell apart. Crowe didn’t let up, continuing ramming his hips into yours as he chased his own release, his breath hot against your neck as he let out a low, guttural groan.

When he finally came, it was with a force that left you both shaking. His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep, his body collapsing against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His breath was ragged, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, and you could feel the way his heart raced against your chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The room was quiet, save for the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing, the sound of your hearts still racing in sync. Crowe’s body was warm and heavy against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You could feel the way his fingers absently traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and lingering like he was memorizing every inch of you.

And then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the look he gave you—God, it made your chest ache. His gaze was dark, full of something raw and unguarded, a mix of affection and possessiveness that made your stomach flip. It was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough but tender, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“But what a way to go, right?” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your touch.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his lips soft and lingering. It wasn’t the hungry, desperate kiss from before—this was something slower, sweeter, like he was savoring the taste of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, my assistant wanted attention, and as the boss, I’m happy to provide.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice fond.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your breath hitch. “But I’m your idiot.”

And then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he traced every curve, every dip like he was trying to commit you to memory. “Forever yours,” he murmured against your lips, the words so soft they were almost lost in the space between you.

You laughed as you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. “So, what are you going to do now that you’ve probably been fired from the student council?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Crowe shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face. 

“Whatever my new boss tells me to do,” he said, his lips brushing against your palm as he kissed it. His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was pure mischief. “And right now, you’re telling me to stay right here.” You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

Good answer, assistant.