meow

twenty

[buniriski]

Nathan Prescott X Fem!Reader

The Rich Asshole . ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

masterlist

So i have a few conflicting emotions when it comes to this character. from when i found the game I hated this guy. Though like most people there is an ounce of remorse that we feel for this character. However, my love for him is so conflicting because as much as he is a victim, he is the reason for what happened to rachel. Anyways here is my little story with my conflicting feelings. ALSO YOU CAN SAY HE ISN’T AT FAULT BUT HE IS. just because he was lead to these decisions does not mean he still didn’t do them.

“Fuck off, Prescott!” Your voice snapped down the hall, sharp enough to make a freshman nearly drop his textbooks.

Nathan, slouched against the lockers like he owned the goddamn place, gave a slow, mocking clap. “Wow. Real mature, (Y/L/N). You kiss your mommy with that mouth?” His tone was lazy, but his eyes pinned you like a bug to a wall.

You marched toward him, shoving your bag higher onto your shoulder. “I’d rather kiss a loaded shotgun than deal with your shit for the next two weeks.”

Nathan pushed off the locker with a sneer, standing tall. Taller than you, not that you’d ever admit it.

“Newsflash, bitch you think I wanna work with you?” he snapped, crumpling the project assignment sheet in his fist. “I’d rather fucking drown in a Porta Potty.”

You jabbed a finger into his chest a stupid move, because under all that overpriced denim and leather, he was solid muscle but you were way past giving a shit. “Then drop out, Prescott. No one would miss you.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. You couldn’t tell because just as fast, he leaned in closer, face twisted in a sneer. “You’d miss me, sweetheart. You need someone to take your boring ass life up a notch.” His voice was low, practically a growl. “You’re so desperate for excitement you’ll probably fucking love having me around.”

“You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving past him.

But Nathan wasn’t done. He followed, keeping pace easily, his voice dropping into that dangerous, mocking tone he used when he wanted to pick someone apart. “Face it. You’re just pissed because you have to finally realized you’re not better than me.”

You whirled around, nearly slamming into his chest. “I am better than you,” you hissed, close enough to see the fine scars nicking the side of his jaw, the ones most people didn’t notice under the arrogant smirk. “I don’t have to buy my friends, or bribe my teachers ”

Nathan laughed, sharp and ugly. “Yeah? Keep telling yourself that, bitch. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”

The tension between you vibrated like a taut wire, ready to snap. Across the hall, Mr. Jefferson poked his head out of his classroom door. “Everything okay over there?”

You both spoke at the same time:

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Peachy,” Nathan drawled with a fake grin.

Mr. Jefferson raised an eyebrow but disappeared back into the classroom without another word. Nathan turned back to you, the smile dropping immediately. “We’re meeting at the library. Tomorrow. Four o’clock,” he said, his voice all business now, like he could barely stand to look at you.

“Don’t be fucking late, (Y/L/N). I don’t wanna waste more time than I have to babysitting your dumbass.”

You gave a mocking bow. “Oh, your majesty. Should I bring you a goddamn throne too?”

Nathan just rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets as he stalked off down the hall without another glance at you. You stood there, fists clenched, heart pounding. God, you hated Nathan Prescott.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

The library clock ticked past 4:00 PM. You drummed your fingers on the table, glaring at the empty seat across from you. Your notebook lay open, pen uncapped. Still no Nathan.

At 4:17, he finally strolled in with all the grace of someone who gave absolutely zero fucks sunglasses on indoors, slouched walk, earphones dangling. You didn’t disappoint. “You’re fucking late,” you snapped the second he dropped into the chair across from you with a loud, obnoxious scrape. Nathan didn’t even look at you. Just threw his bag on the table, knocking your pen to the floor.

“Cry harder.”

You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah? So’s your face, but here we are.”

You clenched your jaw, grabbing your pen. “You gonna actually contribute or just sit there throwing middle school insults?”

Nathan pulled out a crumpled folder and dropped it onto the table like it weighed ten pounds. “I already did my part. You can finish it. You’re the one who actually gives a shit.”

“You call this your part?” You flipped through the papers of barely legible answers. “This looks like it was written by a brain damaged raccoon.”

He smirked. “Well you and the raccoon have something in common. Both can’t shut the fuck up.”

You leaned in, voice low and furious. “I’m not doing this whole thing alone, Prescott. If I fail because of your lazy, coke snorting ass, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze dark and slow. “Blow me, princess.”

You didn’t flinch. You just smiled. Sweet. Cold. “I don’t do charity work.”

A few heads turned. You didn’t care. Neither did he. Nathan barked out a laugh bitter, humorless and sat forward again, voice tighter. “You think you’re tough?”

“No,” you said, deadly calm. “I know I’m better than you. You just hate that I don’t suck up to your daddy’s money like everyone else in this school.”

His smile dropped like a stone. “You’re right,” he said, quiet and sharp. “You’re not like everyone else. You’re just louder, bitchier, and a hell of a lot more annoying.”

“At least I don’t need pills and daddy’s lawyers to make it through the day.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, but he opened the book anyway. Slouched so low in his chair you wondered how he could even see the words.

You tried to focus on your own work, but the sound of Nathan tapping his pen against the table made your skin itch. Every two minutes he let out a sigh, a groan, or muttered some sarcastic shit under his breath.

Finally, you snapped.

“If you hate this so much, maybe you should’ve told Jefferson to pair you with someone who gives a shit about your trust fund problems.” Nathan slammed the book closed so hard it made a few nearby students jump.

“Yeah, because you’re so fucking perfect, huh? Probably got your whole boring little life planned out already. Graduate, go to some shitty state school, get a lame job, marry some douchebag with a Prius ”

“At least I’m not gonna OD in my daddy’s beach house!” you hissed back, the words out before you could stop them.

The library went deadly quiet. Even the air seemed to freeze. Nathan’s eyes darkened. His whole face twisted, raw and ugly, and for a terrifying second, you thought he might actually throw something at you. Instead, he stood up so fast his chair tipped over behind him.

“Fuck this,” he snarled.

The librarian barked from the desk, “Hey! shut up or get out!”

Nathan didn’t even flinch. He grabbed his bag and stormed out, shoving the door open so hard it banged against the wall. You stayed frozen in your seat, chest heaving, throat tight. Some students stared. Others pretended not to notice. Slowly, you packed up your things, the shame burning hotter than your anger now.

You left the library with your jaw tight and your fists clenched so hard your nails bit into your palms. Screw him. Screw his smug face, his broken homework, and that goddamn mouth that never shut up unless he was about to say something even worse.

The cold air outside was a slap, but it helped. You headed toward the dorms, steps quick and angry. Until you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and sure enough, Nathan Prescott was trailing you, jacket half zipped, jaw set like he’d been chewing on broken glass. You stopped. “Are you seriously following me now? What, storming out wasn’t enough for you?”

Nathan didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. Too close. “Why the fuck are you always such a bitch to me?” he snapped.

You blinked. That… wasn’t what you expected. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he bit, eyes narrowed. “We’ve barely spoken before this week, and you act like you’ve got me all figured out. You’re always ready to throw shit at me like you know me.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came. For once, he wasn’t just being snide he was pissed, yeah, but there was something else under it. Something sharper. Real.

“What the hell did I do to you, huh?” he went on, voice rising. “We’ve never had a conversation before Jefferson paired us up, and you already decided I’m the devil or some shit.”

“You’ve got a reputation, Prescott. Don’t act surprised.”

He laughed. One dry, humorless breath. “Yeah? So that’s it? Some gossip, and suddenly you know who I am?”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t need to know you. I’ve seen enough.”

“No, you’ve seen what you want to see.” He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You think I’m some rich junkie asshole with a fucked up temper and a silver spoon so far up my ass I choke on it, right?” You didn’t answer. The silence said enough. Nathan’s tongue pressed against his cheek. He nodded slowly, like he was trying to swallow something bitter. “Right. Thought so.”

You shifted your weight. “Look, you act like a dick, Nathan. You treat people like they’re beneath you.”

“And you treat me like I’m already guilty of something I didn’t even fucking do.” His tone turned colder. “So what does that make you? If you’re throwing labels at someone without even trying to know them?”

You tried to shove past him, but he stepped in front of you again not touching you, but close enough to make your blood burn. “What? Can’t handle hearing it? You’re so sure you’re better than me?”

“I am better than you.”

“No,” he said, voice like ice, “what kind of self righteous bullshit is that”

You stared at him. His eyes weren’t glazed or cocky like usual, they were clear. You hated how it made your stomach twist. “Just stay the hell away from me,” you muttered.

He didn’t move. “Then stop talking about me like you know me. Because you don’t. And judging by today?” He tilted his head slightly, mouth curled in something bitter. “You’re not half as perfect as you like to pretend.” Then he finally stepped aside, letting you pass. But his words followed you all the way down the sidewalk.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You moved through the halls walking beside Max while she rambled about her latest photo concept. Her words blurred something about natural light, shadows, an abandoned greenhouse. You nodded here and there, but your attention wasn’t really on her. Nathan Prescott stood across the hall, leaned casually against the lockers in that crimson red sweater he always wore like armor. His hands were shoved into his pockets, posture slouched, head tilted toward Victoria, who was perched beside him. She was talking fast probably gossiping and he was barely listening. His expression was eyes distant.

“Hey, you good?” Max asked, her voice soft as she glanced sideways at you.

You blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “Yeah. Just out of it.”

She smiled lightly. “Blackwell’ll do that to you.”

Across the hall, Nathan looked up. His eyes met yours. You expected him to smirk. Or scoff. Or whisper something to Victoria that would piss you off all over again. He didn’t. He just held your gaze. There was no fire in it this time.

Then Max nudged your shoulder. “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

You turned, walking with her toward class, but the moment stuck with you like a thorn beneath skin. He wasn’t just some cautionary tale wearing expensive clothes. you weren’t as far above the mess as you liked to pretend.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it. You’d barely knocked twice before the door to Nathan’s dorm creaked open, not wide, just enough for a glimpse of his sharp glare and the darkened room behind him. His eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to work on the project,” you replied, shifting your weight.“You bailed on the library. I didn’t have your number.”

Nathan blinked once. Then, without warning, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you inside. “Jesus!” The door slammed shut behind you. Before you could blink again, you were standing in the middle of his room dim, cluttered, with a faint smell of smoke and expensive cologne in the air. The only light came from a lamp on his desk, casting long shadows across the mess of camera equipment, crumpled notes, and an open bottle of water. He stood between you and the door, arms crossed, expression sharp.

“You shouldn’t be in the guys’ dorm.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that deep, Prescott.”

“No,” he said, stepping a little closer, “it’s pathetic. You that desperate to see me? You stalking me now? Perv.”

You stared at him. “Are you always this fucking dramatic?” you snapped. “I came to work. On the project. The thing that’s due next week?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t just ask for my number?”

“like your ass would indulge me in any conversation”

Nathan scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “And barging into my dorm was the better option?”

“You ditched me. Again.” You crossed your arms, mirroring him. “I’m not playing chase the rich kid so you can pretend this group project doesn’t exist. I showed up so we can finish the damn thing.”

He stared at you for a long beat.

Then, quietly, “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

“I’m passing this class.”

He turned away, flopping onto the edge of his unmade bed, elbows on his knees. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you’re gonna stand there taking over my space, grab a chair. Let’s get it over with.” You hesitated. Just for a second. Then sat down across from him silently waiting for Nathan to open the shared project file. But your eyes kept drifting. His desk was cluttered High end camera bodies rested in velvet lined foam. Lenses of varying sizes were stacked in an open case like polished glass trophies. Film rolls peeked out of a drawer he hadn’t shut properly. And on the wall above his bed, pinned with silver tacks, were photos.

Black and white. Grainy. Sharp.

Some were of strangers street shots, harsh shadows and sharp angles. Others were more abstract: empty chairs, cracked pavement, tree limbs twisting through fog. You didn’t mean to stare so long. But the compositions were striking. Not what you’d expected from someone who talked like he didn’t care about anything. Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, laptop open in front of him, fingers frozen over the keyboard. he wasn’t looking at the screen. He was watching you. Eyes low beneath his lashes, The tension from earlier had settled into something quieter not calm, exactly, but less volatile. He noticed the way your head tilted slightly as you studied a particular photo on the wall, your brow furrowed in faint curiosity. You looked different when you weren’t trying to bite back. He blinked, shook the thought away like an itch under his skin, and finally tapped the space bar.

“You gonna drool or you wanna help?” he muttered, loud enough to snap your attention back.

You blinked, jerking your head toward him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re staring at my shit”

You scoffed. “I was just surprised you’re actually good at something other than being an asshole.”

A grin flickered across his lips. “Wow. Touching praise from someone who broke into my dorm.”

“I didn’t break in.”

“guys dorm remember? That’s trespassing.”

You opened your mouth to fire back then caught the way his voice softened just slightly on that last word. Not enough to call it kind. You leaned forward, finally dragging the chair toward his desk. “Just show me what you’ve done so far. We’re not gonna finish anything if you keep acting like I poisoned your coffee.” He exhaled slowly, shifting the laptop so you could both see the screen. But his gaze lingered on you a second longer before turning to the document. You didn’t notice. He didn’t say anything.

You didn’t know how it happened but somewhere between reviewing the first slides and editing the captions, the two of you had stopped biting at each other. Nathan wasn’t exactly friendly, but he was… tolerable. He made a sarcastic comment about your font choice, and you rolled your eyes but didn’t snap. You pointed out a typo in his work, and he didn’t bark back, just muttered “Yeah, alright,” under his breath and fixed it.

life is strange isnt it?

The lamp on his desk cast a warm glow across the screen as the two of you leaned closer, arguing mildly about the placement of one of the images. You caught a soft twitch at the corner of his mouth not a smile, not quite but something quieter, like he wasn’t entirely annoyed you were here anymore. You glanced at the photo on the slide. One of his shots: a boy sitting on a curb, face obscured by shadow, light cutting sharp across his shoulder. “This one’s your best,” you said before you could stop yourself. Nathan’s eyes flicked to yours, He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Then, his phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

He glanced down, pulled it from his pocket lazily, still half focused on the screen. But the moment his eyes locked onto the message, something in him changed. Like a switch flipped. His shoulders tensed. Jaw tightened. Whatever softness had started to settle between you evaporated. He shoved the phone back into his pocket hard. You straightened, uncertain. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then voice low, clipped “You should go.”

The air dropped ten degrees.

You blinked. “What?”

“I said, you should leave.” He stood abruptly, already walking past you, pacing like the room had become too small to breathe in.

You stood, confused, watching him retreat toward the window without explanation.

“Nathan ”

“Don’t,” he snapped, not turning around. “It’s fine. Project’s fine. everything is fine. the world is fucking fine. I’ll send you the edits later.”

His voice was cold again. The weight was back in the room, that same heaviness you’d felt the first time he looked at you like you were just another person here to take something from him. You didn’t know who had texted him. Or why he looked like the ground had just shifted beneath him. But you didn’t ask. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder slowly. “Thanks for not being a total dick today,” you said quietly.

No response. You walked to the door, hesitating just a moment before opening it. Nathan still hadn’t turned around. So you left quietly, without another word. The hallway light stung your eyes as the door clicked shut behind you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

Nathan laid on his back, eyes wide open, blinking into the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in hours not really. He’d thrown on a hoodie sometime after you left, curled in on himself, and stared at nothing as the hours bled past midnight. His phone buzzed again. Another message. From the same number. He didn’t read it. His chest felt tight. He could hear his own breathing too fast, too shallow. His hands twitched where they gripped the edge of his mattress, fingers white knuckled and cold. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But it felt worse tonight. Now shame thick in his throat, desperation louder than pride, he opened the school directory, found your name, and typed your number in. He stared at the digits for a long time. Then, he hit Call.

You woke up to the buzz of your phone on your nightstand, groggy and confused.

1:47 AM. Unknown Number.

You almost ignored it. Almost. Though you firmly believed doing stuff for the plot leads to funnier futures.

“Hello?”

For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then a quiet breath. A small, almost inaudible noise. Then, “Don’t hang up.”

Your heart stilled. “Nathan?”

“Um… hi?” you said slowly. “Why are you ”

“I just…” He sounded off. His voice was low, but shaky. Like he was trying to keep it together. “I can’t sleep.”

You were quiet for a second. Not sure what to say. It was weird. You barely knew him. The guy who made it very clear he didn’t want to work with you suddenly calling you in the middle of the night? The hell? “How did you get my number?”

“School directory. Look, I know it’s fucking weird, okay? Just fuck just don’t hang up yet.”

You leaned back in your bed, running a hand down your face. The annoyance faded just a little. There was something raw under his words, something fraying at the edges.

You exhaled. “Alright. I’m not hanging up. What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. You heard him breathing though sharp inhales, shallow. Like he was pacing, or panicking.

“I just needed noise or something. I dunno. It’s like my chest’s full of needles.”

Okay. That was more than you expected. You pushed your blanket off and sat up fully, rubbing your eyes awake.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Sounds like a panic attack.”

He let out a laugh. It was bitter. Dry. “No shit.”

You stayed quiet a second, then started talking. Not about anything important just things to fill the space. You told him about the way your floorboards creaked weirdly when it got cold. The dumb poster your roommate hung crooked. The vending machine that kept eating your dollar bills. You weren’t sure why he stayed on the line. You weren’t sure why you did, either. But the minutes passed, and you could hear his breathing start to even out.

At one point, he said, quieter this time, “I didn’t know who else to call.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything. He stayed on the line until you heard nothing but slow, steady breathing. Then the call ended. You thought that was it. Just a one time weird moment. But the next night, your phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number. 12:18 AM.

You stared at it for a second. Then picked up. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Fuck off,” Nathan muttered, but his voice didn’t sound angry.

just like that, it became a thing. Not every night, but often enough. He’d call, and you’d talk him through it. Or he’d just listen while you rambled about whatever was in your head. Sometimes he didn’t even say much. You’d just hear his breathing. Then, one night, a text.

[1:03 AM] “Dorm’s a pressure cooker tonight. Need to get out. You up?”

You blinked down at it, thumb hovering over the screen. Then replied. “ok fuckboy, Where?”

[1:04 AM] “Back side of the art building. If you’re not scared of the dark or whatever.”

You pulled a hoodie over your head and slipped out the side door, keeping your steps light across the grass. You found him sitting on the low concrete wall, hoodie on, legs stretched out, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He didn’t look at you when you walked up.

“So… you make a habit of calling girls you don’t like at 1 a.m.?” you asked, standing over him.

He smirked, flicking ash. “You’re the only one dumb enough to answer.”

“Lucky me.”

He scooted over slightly. You sat down next to him, knees brushing briefly. He smelled faintly like smoke and laundry detergent. For a minute, neither of you said anything. Then he muttered, “Thanks. For not being a dick about the calls.”

You glanced at him. That was probably the closest thing to a thank you he was capable of. “Yeah, well,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder, “I’m not completely heartless.”

He gave a dry little laugh and took another drag. And for the first time since you’d met him, Nathan didn’t seem like he was pretending to be someone else.You hopped up beside him, the wall cold through your jeans. He handed you the cig wordlessly, and you took a drag, passing it back before pulling your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Three missed texts.

[1:52 AM Warren G.]

Where are you right now?

[1:53 AM Warren G.]

I just saw you from my window. Was that Nathan Prescott? Seriously??

[1:54 AM Warren G.]

[Y/N], what are you doing with him?

You stared at the screen for a long second, then locked it and shoved it deep into your pocket. You weren’t answering that.Warren was probably the reason you hated him so much. Right now Instead, you pulled a small joint from the hem of your hoodie tucked right where your sleeve met the wristband.

Nathan’s eyes tracked the motion, brow raising. “Since when do you carry?”

“Since tonight, apparently.” You lit it with a flick of a borrowed lighter, watching the paper curl into orange.

Nathan smirked faintly, but there was a flash of something in his face, curiosity. Not judgment. Just… surprise. “Rough night?”

You took a long pull, exhaled upward. “You could say that.”

You didn’t mention Warren. Didn’t mention the way your phone buzzed in your pocket like it was desperate to ruin the quiet. Nathan didn’t push. He just leaned back on his elbows, watching the smoke twist into the dark sky. What has been different from when you started interacting with Nathan more was not telling your friends everything. Warren might be the only reason you didnt like the guy that was sitting beside you. Though even hes such a stick in the mid sometimes.

“Not bad form,” he muttered.

“Thanks.”

He gave a soft snort, and for a minute, the tension dropped. You passed the joint over, and he took it without a word. The smoke danced lazily in the air between you, catching in the wind and disappearing into nothing. You leaned back beside him, body loose from the hit, brain a little fogged like your thoughts were wearing fuzzy socks on a hardwood floor. Nathan took another drag, eyes half lidded, and passed it back to you. You didn’t take it this time. Just stared forward, hands braced behind you, legs kicked out.

“You know,” you started, voice a little slower than usual, like you had to fish the words from somewhere murky, “I think I like you more than I realized.” Silence. You looked over, then quickly back at the dark stretch of campus in front of you. “I mean maybe it’s the high talking. Or maybe I’m just sleep deprived and having a brain glitch. Whatever.” You waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal, even though it felt like one. “It’s not like I know you, know you, but…”

You trailed off. The buzz of the joint mixed with the weight of that little truth hanging out in the open air now. Nathan blinked at you and then scoffed. “Wow,” he muttered with a crooked smile. “You catch feelings off one joint and a sad boy routine?.”

You turned to glare at him. “Shut up.”

“No, really. Should I light candles next time? Bring you flowers? Write you some poetry?” His grin stretched You went to snap back but then his hand brushed against yours on the concrete. Not accidental. He didn’t look at you when he did it. He just let his fingers slide over yours, catching them loosely. His palm was warm. Steady. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at him. Just stared at the building lights across the quad and let your hand stay in his.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Instead, you’d just laid there, reliving every second behind the art building Nathan’s hand in yours. he was warm. so warm. his eyes were glossy. the night ended later than any of you two could gather. Blackwell always felt a little gray in the morning, but today it there might have been a little pep in your step. Cold in the air, a small little nathan shaped warmth in your chest. You stepped into the hallway and spotted him before you were even fully through the door.

Nathan. Leaning against a locker laughing at something Victoria said, though it didn’t look real. Nothing about him did anymore. You slowed for just a second. “Shit,” he muttered, loud enough to carry. “Should’ve known the freak parade would show up early.”

Victoria snorted. “God, can she not?” Her eyes flicked over your clothes like she was personally offended by the fabric. “Every day’s a fashion crime with her.”

You froze mid step. Max and Warren were behind you, chatting, not realizing what you were walking into. Your heart stung before your brain could even process what was happening. Nathan pushed off the locker, brushing past you with a smug little smile. “Hope the janitors are getting paid extra,” he sneered, “cleaning up after your desperation.”

“What the hell, Prescott?” Warren stepped in fast, hand fisting at his side.

Nathan turned back, cocky, dangerous. “Relax, boy scout. Didn’t realize you two were still sharing notes. Or maybe it’s more than that, huh?” His eyes swept to you again, slower this time, and colder. “Figures. Nobody else would.”

ok pause. because what the fuck happened. Like yes he was an ass. the whole school knew that. Though considering the amount of time he was crawling into your messages, where the hell did this come from?

“Keep walking,” Max said lowly, stepping up beside you.

Max didn’t press. She never did. That was the nice thing about her. Since starting the school year, you both bonded on being new. well for you, relatively new and her coming back to her hometown.

Warren, though? At lunch, he was full of energy, waving you over like always. You sat down beside him and Max at your usual table under the half broken patio umbrella. He was in the middle of some rant about science fiction film logic when it happened.

“I’m just saying if a robot gains sentience, it doesn’t automatically mean it wants to kill us. That’s lazy writing ”

From across the quad, a loud snort cut him off.

“Wow,” Victoria said, not even bothering to keep her voice down. “Look who’s still wearing last season’s clearance rack.”

You blinked, confused, until you realized she was looking directly at you. Taylor giggled beside her, but it was Nathan who made your stomach drop. He pointed toward once at your table and leaned over to whisper something to Victoria. Then, loud enough for everyone near to hear “She should’ve stayed invisible. Worked better for her.”

Max stiffened beside you. “Jesus. What is their problem today?”

Warren stood up, indignant. “Hey. Why don’t you back off, Prescott?”

Nathan didn’t even look at him. His eyes were on you and they weren’t blank. They were cold. Icy. “Relax,” he said, tone bored. “Just making an observation.”

“You want me to make one too?” Warren snapped. “Like how you’re always hiding behind Victoria’s designer knockoffs?”

Victoria gasped like she’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”

Max grabbed Warren’s arm. “Not worth it,” she said quietly. You sat disguted. Nathan’s stare found you again. And just before he turned away, he said it not loud, but loud enough. “Better keep your pets on a leash.”

Then he walked off. Victoria followed, heels snapping against the pavement. The rest of the Vortex Club trailed behind them like spoiled royalty. You didn’t finish your lunch. You barely tasted anything after that. Max rubbed your shoulder gently, concern in her eyes. “You okay?”

You nodded. You lied. Because all you could hear was his voice, cold and clean and cutting a thousand miles from the one you’d heard whispering into the phone at 1 A.M. Like none of it had happened. Like you hadn’t happened.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

His eyes met yours, and for the first time all day, he was actually looking at you in the eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice soft.

You didn’t say it back.Instead, you stepped past him and into the room like it was a business meeting. Camera bag down. Laptop open. The wall between you and him went up brick by brick with every breath. “Let’s just get this done,” you said.

He didn’t argue. Just shut the door behind you quietly. You sat at his desk, the screen glow lighting your face. He hovered nearby, watching you scroll through edits like he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Or maybe like he didn’t know how to say anything at all. “I fixed the lighting on the last three shots,” you said flatly. “Yours were a little overexposed.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re better at that stuff anyway.”

You didn’t respond. Just kept clicking. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, quiet for a while before asking, “Did you still wanna use that photo by the fountain?”

“I already did.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced at you, then away. “You, uh… didn’t answer my text this morning.”

You didn’t look at him. “Didn’t think it needed a reply.”

Nathan nodded, jaw tight. “Right.”

Back to silence. He didn’t bring up what happened. Didn’t ask how you were. And you didn’t bring it up either not how he’d ignored you all day, not how the only time he seemed to be kind was when it was dark out and nobody else could see. Not how you were starting to wonder if this was all he had to give. Just this. Only at night. Only when no one else was looking. You highlighted a paragraph of text and rewrote it. He leaned closer, trying to peek at the screen.

“You’re really good at this,” he said quietly.

You flinched. Not visibly but inside, your bones rattled. It felt like a visceral reaction. You kept your voice neutral. “We’re almost done.”

He didn’t say anything else. You sat there together for another half hour, finishing edits. His bed creaked once when he shifted. You didn’t look. Eventually, you saved the file and stood up.

“That’s everything,” you said. “I’ll print it in the morning.”

Nathan watched you gather your things. “You don’t have to go yet,” he said, almost hesitant.

But you did. if he had just said something, you might understand. Though there isnt enough time in the world to be chasing after rich boy problems he doesnt want to address.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

She left.

Didn’t even look back. Just walked out of the dorm like she couldn’t get out fast enough. Yeah. That felt about right. Nathan stood there like an idiot, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, listening to the door click shut. it was some kind of final answer he didn’t ask for. You don’t have to go yet. He’d said it like a damn loser. Like he didn’t spend the entire day pretending she didn’t exist. she looked at him like he was a goddamn stranger. He sat down on his bed, rubbed at his face, dragged his hands through his hair like it would help. It didn’t. It never did. Everything just kept buzzing. Loud. In his ears, in his chest, like a swarm of flies under his skin. He should’ve said something. Anything. Should’ve told her why he was being weird. Why he was quiet. Why he didn’t even look at her earlier. But how the hell do you say,

Hey, I’m scared you’ll end up in the basement of an abandoned barn if I like you too much?

He laughed. Or choked. One of the two. God, his hands were shaking again. He stood up fast, paced once, twice, kicked his desk chair just to feel something and regretted it immediately. His toe throbbed. Whatever.

He was sweating. Why was he sweating?

He pulled off the red zip up and threw it at the wall. Didn’t stick. Just slumped down like everything else. Jefferson’s voice. Crawling back in like it always did.

“She’s interesting, isn’t she?”

“Got a real… natural quality. Honest.”

“The kind of face that looks good in contrast. You see it, right?”

“She’s got potential.”

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

It didn’t help. Jefferson’s voice was calm. Already chosen.He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her anywhere near that world.But what the hell was he supposed to do? Jefferson noticed things. once he noticed, it was over. Nathan dropped back onto the floor, breathing fast now. he’d been running. someone was pressing down on his lungs and wouldn’t stop. He clutched his shirt, pulled at the collar, trying to get air. Trying to slow his thoughts. His heart. Anything. But it wouldn’t fucking slow down.

His vision blurred a little. Pressure in his head, behind his eyes. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek just to stop himself from crying or screaming or both.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or explode. or all of the above. it all might actually happen. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he couldn’t be normal with her… or the fact that when he was, it made him want to protect her more than anything. That protection came with a cost. A choice. A name on a folder.

She didn’t know any of it. And she couldn’t.

until there was a knock at the door.

Nathan didn’t hear it the first time. Not really. Not over the ringing in his ears, or the ragged, frantic way he was trying to breathe. His back hit the wall. He didn’t remember moving. His hands were white knuckled fists against his chest like maybe that would keep it from splitting open.

Another knock.

He blinked. Everything was too bright and too dark at the same time. His name was a whisper behind the door “Nathan?”

Her voice. It hit him like ice water. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, digging his nails into his palms. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t let her see him like

The door creaked open.

She stepped in fast, muttering under her breath, “God, of course I forgot my charger, that’s just whatever, not like it even ”

She stopped. Frozen. Nathan was on the floor. Slumped against the side of his bed, drenched in sweat, fists clenched so tight they shook. His chest heaved, erratic. Panicked. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed, wide and glassy. All that anger she’d brought with her white hot and ready to crack across the room halted like someone slammed the brakes. Her words died in her throat.

“…Nathan?”

He still didn’t look at her. Just gasped, breath catching hard in his throat, jaw clenched like he was trying not to cry. Or scream. Or both.

Her fingers curled around the charger in her hand. For a second, she stayed rooted to the floor, her heart pounding in her ears. Part of her screamed to turn around and walk away. He deserved that. After everything. Nathan barely registered when she moved closer. He couldn’t even look at her. Just pressed his fists against his temples like that would keep everything from collapsing.

She hovered there for a second, jaw tight, arms crossed. “You’re an asshole,” she muttered. Quiet. Bitter.

He looked like he couldn’t breathe. Cursing under her breath, she dropped the charger on his desk and stepped closer. Her knees hit the carpet slowly, hesitantly, right in front of him. She crouched down between his legs, biting her lip, watching him like he was whipped animal. She didn’t say anything right away. Just reached out, unsure, and carefully took his shaking hand.

Nathan flinched. Then his eyes finally lifted, just a little. Glassy. Bloodshot. Like he didn’t recognize her at first. But he didn’t pull away.

“Jesus…” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Nathan, you’re what the hell is going on with you?”

Still no answer. His fingers twitched in hers, breath still coming fast and shallow, but her hand grounded him. Little by little. Beat by beat. She wanted to yell. She really did. Wanted to scream at him for ignoring her. For looking through her like she didn’t matter. For pushing her away with no reason, no explanation, no damn warning.

Nathan’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched under hers, unsure, but desperate for the anchor. He gripped her hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.

“Breathe,” she said, voice flat but steady. “In. Out.”

He tried. God, he tried.

“Again.”

His lungs caught on the exhale, but he followed her voice. One breath. Then another. Her thumb moved gently across his knuckles. She didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at her. They just sat there. Angry. Shaking. Breathing.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said quietly. Just the truth.

All she could do was sit there. Mad. Hurt. Holding onto his hand like it was the only way to keep him from falling apart.

“I’m still pissed at you,” she murmured, after a long, long silence. “But I’m not gonna leave you like this.”

Nathan blinked hard. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He looked away.

And still, she didn’t let go.

[buniriski]

reblogging this so i remember to write part 2

[buniriski]

▶︎ Painful Prince (starring. some original characters Various! x Fem!reader)

synopsis. You were thrown into this world, a book that you read from time to time and now this was just a small day of respite with the Knight.

cw: Some obsessive behaviour in this one

This series is mainly one shot based and are all in a cohesive universe.

"Why is it you have no incentive to fight?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned close enough for his breath to brush against your ear.

You instinctively took a step back. "What are you talking about?"

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Oh, come on, gorgeous." His tone was light, teasing. "I know you're all brains."

"Stop it." You raised a hand between you, intending to create some distance, but he didn't seem offended. If anything, he looked amused.

"What?" he asked with a soft chuckle. "I know you understand how things work around here."

Before you could move, he gently reached for your hand. His fingers wrapped around yours with surprising tenderness before he placed your palm against his chest. Beneath it, his heartbeat was steady. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lifted your hand and pressed a lingering kiss against your wrist.

"I also know," he said quietly, "that you're not from here."

Your breath caught.

"So tell me..." His amber eyes searched yours. "Why?"

You carefully pulled your hand back. "I'm sure you're mistaken." You forced a nervous laugh. "I'm just... just someone doing their job."

It was an easy excuse. One that implied nothing more than the obvious difference between a noble like him and someone of your status.

But Theron simply smiled. "Actually," he said, shaking his head, "you're completely wrong about that."

He stepped closer again, close enough that only you could hear his next words. "I think we're from the same place."

His fingers found yours once more, slowly intertwining them as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I just want to know..." His voice softened. "How did you become you?"

Your mind went completely blank. None of this made sense. Theron was supposed to be one of Veria's main love interests the charming prince everyone adored, one of the strongest contenders destined to win her heart. ever since you'd arrived in this world, he'd shown almost no romantic interest in her. Instead… He kept seeking you out.

"You know," he continued, finally taking a step back, "I was a huge fan of these stories when they were still being released." You stared at him.

"I also had a crush."

"...What?"

"There was this girl." His smile turned almost nostalgic. "I'd see her reading the newest chapter during every break at work."

Your stomach dropped. "At... work?"

He laughed softly.

"Don't you remember?" His eyes met yours with unmistakable recognition. "You always looked cute standing behind the café counter, making drinks for people while trying to sneak in a few pages before another customer walked in."

The world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. "...How?"

The word barely escaped your lips.

"I wish I knew." He shrugged, though there was something almost delighted in his expression. "Guess it's just my luck." His grin widened. "I ended up here... and somehow, you did too.”

You stared at him, your thoughts racing. "No..." You shook your head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"If you're from where I'm from..." You searched his face desperately. "Then who are you?"

A beat of silence stretched between you.

"If you're really from my world..." you whispered, "...how are you Theron?"

His smile faltered for the first time.

"Questions, questions." A flicker of frustration crossed his face before it disappeared behind another practiced smile. "Unfortunately..." He let out a quiet laugh. "...those are questions I don't have the answers to either."

You stared at him for another moment before pulling your hand free.

"Either way..." you said firmly, taking another step back, "not to be an ass, but you can't act like this with me."

He blinked. "What?"

"you're grabbing my hands, kissing my wrist, talking about having a crush on me..." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "That's not normal especially in this world, news flash but you're royalty."

His expression tightened. "You don't get it."

"No, I don't."

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Look." His voice became more urgent. "What I'm trying to say is that you know everything this world has to offer. I don't want to hear some bullshit excuse that you 'don't know enough.'"

Your shoulders stiffened. So what if you'd read the novels? So what if you knew every plot twist, every betrayal, every ending? That didn't make you the heroine.

It didn't even make you important.

If anything, it made you painfully aware of how insignificant you were. You'd read enough isekai stories to know what happened to people who interfered too much. Side characters died. Villainesses were hunted down. Innocent people became collateral damage because someone wanted to "fix" the story.

You weren't the protagonist. You never wanted to be.

"Easy for you to say," you muttered, folding your arms across your chest. "You literally became one of the main characters."

He frowned.

"And besides..." you continued, "my life isn't awful. I'm actually content with where I ended up."

A scoff escaped him. "Yeah?"

His eyes narrowed. "With that stupid little male posse following you around?"

You couldn't help rolling your eyes.

"Need I remind you," you shot back, pointing a finger at his chest, "you're supposed to be part of a certain 'male posse.'"

"I already told you." His answer came without hesitation. "I had a crush on you."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"It really shouldn’t." You sighed heavily. "Even if what you're saying is true, there's no way we could just... be together." You waved a hand between you. "We don't know each other."

His jaw clenched. "What, are you scared the story's going to get messed up because you're acting weird?"

His shoulders visibly sagged

. "...That's definitely a factor” you paused "And," you continued before he could interrupt, "I don't even know who you are."

Silence. "You know who I used to be."

"from what im hearing a random guy who apparently watched me from across a café."

His expression froze.

"Which, by the way..." You took another cautious step backward. "...is honestly kind of creepy."

His smile vanished completely.

"Borderline stalker ish, actually."

For the first time since he'd cornered you, the air between you became genuinely uncomfortable.

Your heart pounded. You needed to leave. How long had you been gone? Too long. This was Veria's family's ball. Every noble house was present, including foreign dignitaries.

If anyone happened to glance into this hallway, what would they see? The crown prince of a neighboring kingdom standing far too close to one of Veria's maids.

No one would believe you'd done nothing wrong. At best, it would become gossip. It could be interpreted as espionage. Seduction. Treason.

You'd only been given the evening off because Veria insisted her attendants enjoy the celebration instead of hovering over her.

Now you were trapped in an empty corridor with a man who clearly wasn't thinking rationally.

"...Does that matter?" he asked quietly.

The question was so soft it almost didn't sound like him. You looked back. His posture had changed. Gone was the playful prince. His shoulders were tense, his smile completely absent.

"In our previous life..." His voice had grown frighteningly calm. "You never looked at me."

Your stomach twisted.

"I existed in the same space as you for months."

His eyes never left yours.

"You smiled at customers. You laughed with your coworkers. You recommended books to regulars. But you never looked twice at me."

Something cold settled in your chest. "So what?"

He took one slow step forward. "Now..." A smile slowly returned to his face, though it never reached his eyes. "I can give you everything. Anything you could possibly want."

His hand lifted toward your face. Almost instinctively, you flinched, but his fingertips only brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear with such gentle care.

"And all I'm asking..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "...is that you finally look at me."

A chill crawled down your spine. Whatever the hell was wrong with this guy, you needed to get as far away from him as possible.

"I'm looking at you," you answered, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

For a brief second, satisfaction flickered across his face. That was all the opening you needed. You shoved past him. The sudden movement caught him off guard just enough that his hand slipped from your arm, and you bolted down the corridor.

"Hey! "

You didn't stop. Your skirts tangled around your legs as you sprinted, your formal maid's uniform never intended for running through palace hallways. Every step threatened to send you sprawling onto the polished marble floors.

You didn't dare look back. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You'd built a quiet life for yourself. Stayed out of noble politics. Avoided every major event unless your duties demanded it.

So why… Why was he acting as though the entire world revolved around you?

A male posse? The thought almost made you laugh despite your panic. You hadn't pursued a single one of them. If anything, they kept finding excuses to appear wherever you were. Pure coincidence. It had to be. ...Right?

From across the ballroom entrance, Wyll caught the unmistakable flash of soft pink disappearing down the western corridor. His brows knitted together.

"...Y/N?"

Without thinking, he stepped after you. Something was wrong.

Before he could follow, movement in the same corridor caught his attention. Someone else emerged.

Prince Theron.

The prince strolled back toward the ballroom hands tucked behind his back as though he'd simply taken a leisurely walk through the palace gardens.

He looked… Happy.

As they passed each other, Theron tilted his head ever so slightly. His gaze lingered on Wyll for only a second before drifting to the sword hanging at the knight's hip.

Then he smiled. It was small. Smug.

Disgust curled in Wyll's stomach before he even understood why.

"The loyal knight act," Theron said lazily as he walked past, "is getting a little overdone."

Wyll stopped in his tracks. "...What?"

Theron didn't answer. He simply continued toward the ballroom. Then, just before disappearing through the grand doors, he glanced over one shoulder.

"You should hurry." His smile widened. "She looked terrified."

Wyll didn't hesitate. He turned on his heel and sprinted after you.

[strawberrychansora]

ace gets so lost in the heat of the moment that his narcolepsy kicks in mid-kiss.

the air in ace's cabin on the moby dick is thick and heavy, the wood of the walls still holding onto the midday sun, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off of him. he’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, completely shirtless, and his skin feels like a literal hearth. as you straddle his lap, your hands slide over his shoulders, tracing the hard, defined lines of his deltoids and the way his muscles ripple with even the smallest movement. his body is a map of strength—the firm, washboard texture of his abs pressing against you, and the sharp dip of his hip bones that feel like they were carved out of marble.

you’re deep into it, your lips locked with his in a slow, messy rhythm that makes your head spin. his hands are firm on your waist, his thumbs grazing your skin, and for a second, the world is just the taste of him and the low, steady thrum of the ship’s engines. but then, you feel his movements start to lag. his weight becomes a little heavier against you, his breathing slowing from a heavy pant to a deep, rhythmic puff. his head tips forward, his forehead coming to rest against your collarbone, and the kissing just… stops.

"ace? baby ace?" you whisper, a little breathless, your fingers tangling in his dark, messy hair to tilt his head back.

he jolts, his eyes snapping open with a confused, dazed look before he realizes where he is. a dusty, faint blush creeps up his cheeks, settling right under those familiar freckles. he lets out a sheepish, low-throated chuckle that vibrates through his chest and into yours.

"sorry," he grins, his teeth white against his tanned skin as he rubs the back of his neck. "old habits, i guess. usually happens when i’m eating something good, but i think i just got too comfortable with you."

he doesn't let you pull away, though. his eyes darken, filled with a sudden, intense heat that has nothing to do with his devil fruit. his large, calloused hands slide down from your waist, his palms warm and rough as they firmly cup your ass, pulling you flush against him until there's no space left at all. you can feel the raw power in his frame, the solidness of his chest against yours, and the way his skin seems to hum with a feverish, addictive glow.

"now, where were we?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as he leans back in, his lips catching yours in a kiss that’s much more intentional this time, searing and deep, promising to stay awake for every single second of it.

op.mlist divider by @pixopix

[buniriski]

i wake up, my manager says my close was shit even though i stayed an extra hour cleaning, i say fuck it, put my phone on dnd and shoot myself

[buniriski]

▶︎ A Seldom Season (starring. some original characters Various! x Fem!reader)

synopsis. Another plain ordinary girl thrown into a world unknown. Although what happens when it is a fantasy world that you enjoyed only casually? A world where all the main cast still exists and still never revolved around you.

warning: the entire story is cohesive but only parts that I state will have to be read together.

SEND IN REQUESTS ON THE CHARACTERS= headcannons or whatevah

contents :

⤷ Viktor Carlisle

Meeting the Viscount

Luck on a Whim

⤷ Wyll Baynewell

The Friendly Knight

⤷ Theron Andals

Painful Prince

[buniriski]

▶︎ Meeting The Viscount (starring. some original characters Various! x Fem!reader)

synopsis. Arriving in this unfamiliar world, none other than a viscount should come to your rescue and be the first to understand you

cw: Viktor is a narcissist and an asshat but i swear he gets better. im trying to world building so there will be more juice soon. this is a flashback origin of arriving in the world

This series is mainly one shot based and are all in a cohesive universe. This current one shot will be a two parter

The man was more meticulous than anyone that has met him could ever comprehend. Every task had to become an ordeal, every detail examined from every possible angle. He was notorious for his success a prodigy from a young age whose accomplishments had earned him respect far beyond his years.

At a young age, he presided over one of the most prosperous houses in the realm, rivaling even some ducal families in wealth and influence. He might have held only the title of viscount, but he possessed something far more valuable: the intelligence and determination to grow what he had inherited.

Seven years ago, at the age of seventeen, he had been forced to shoulder responsibilities far greater than any boy should bear. It had not been impossible, but neither had it been easy. Charisma was not among his gifts; he was never the sort of man who could command a room with a smile or a clever remark. that night though had changed everything for him. because had met you.

He whispered an incantation, and glowing text rose from the pages of the book before him. The symbols spiraled through the air, circling him in tightening rings. Had he not become the head of his family, he would have devoted himself entirely to the arcane arts, carving out a life of magical discovery.

Otherworldly powers came naturally to him. In truth, he had little regard for those who lacked such gifts, viewed them as lesser beings whose lives held far less significance. At the moment, however, he was attempting alchemy. He had started with a simple goal: transform an apple into a piece of silver. Theoretically, it was possible. Practically, he had no idea how to achieve it.

Failure irritated him more than he cared to admit.

“Stupid fucking shit.”

The apple collapsed inward like a shriveled husk. Admittedly, it was an impressive result in its own way, but it was far from what he had intended. With a frustrated growl, he hurled the book and slumped into his chair beside the window.

After a moment, he rose and crossed the study to retrieve it. It had only been a month since his parents' deaths, and the grief had not lessened. If anything, the burden felt heavier. He was little more than a boy, yet an entire house depended upon him. Had there been anyone else capable of taking his place, he might have abandoned the responsibility altogether. Unfortunately, there wasn't. As Viktor gazed out the study window, something caught his eye. A streak of light descended from the night sky.

At first glance, it looked like a falling star. Its radiance was nearly blinding, it drifted downward with an almost graceful slowness rather than hurtling toward the earth.

The glowing object passed over the estate walls and settled somewhere beyond the courtyard below. For a moment, the entire manor was bathed in silver light. Viktor wondered if anyone else had seen it if the strange glow had stirred the household from their sleep.

Curiosity seized him. Without another thought, he bolted from the study to investigate. By the time he reached the grounds, however, he realized the light had landed much farther away than he'd first assumed. It illuminated in the distance, drawing him toward the lake nestled near the edge of the forest.

Logic told him to turn back. To fetch guards. To let someone else investigate whatever had fallen from the heavens before it led to an untimely death. As he approached the lake, the source of the light finally revealed itself. A girl, suspended above the water's surface as though gravity had forgotten her existence. Silver light surrounded her, illuminating the darkness around the lake.

She looked peaceful. Beautiful, even. Viktor wondered if she was a siren or perhaps some kind of water spirit. There was something undeniably ethereal about her.

Then, without warning, the light vanished and the girl suddenly dropped. She hit the water with a splash that was anything but graceful. It instantly woke her up, she started flailing and reaching out to grab anything to keep her afloat. Viktor hesitated. This could be a trap. Some strange lure meant to draw him into the lake. Every story he'd ever heard about enchanted creatures ended poorly for the fool who ignored his instincts.

He started to step back. Then guilt crept in. The girl clearly hadn't noticed him standing among the trees. She looked terrified. Before her eyes started to close and she disappeared under the water.

"Well, fuck it," he muttered. Shrugging off his jacket, Viktor dove into the water.

His swimming skills left much to be desired, but he managed to reach her. By the time he did, she was barely conscious, her struggles growing weaker with each passing second. Now, he'd jumped in to save her, but that didn't stop him from cursing as he tried to keep both their heads above water. She was dead weight. Swimming back to shore proved far less enjoyable than swimming out. By the time he dragged her onto the bank, his muscles burned and his clothes were completely soaked. Viktor collapsed onto the grass for a moment, catching his breath before glancing down at the unconscious girl.

"How feeble." The thought crossed Viktor's mind as he looked down at the unconscious girl sprawled among the wet grass. She'd barely survived whatever ordeal had left her there.

Of course she would've needed saving. He considered carrying her back himself. Then he dismissed the idea. There were servants for such things. He did not burden himself with every lost creature that wandered onto his lands.

He rose from his crouch. He saw an attendant running his way.

"Fetch her," he coughed out. "See that she lives."

Viktor turned and walked toward the manor. He was very exasperated but figured that she would be ok. He had a feeling everything would be fine.

You woke with a sharp inhale. The mattress beneath you felt so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Why wasn't your safe fluffy bed all fluffy again? when your eyes finally focused, you realized it wasn't a bed at all. You were lying on an enormous velvet couch.

The room around you looked like something torn from a picture from any of the rpgs you have played. Tall bookshelves lined the walls. Dark wood furniture. A crackling fireplace. Sunlight streamed through towering windows.

"I see you're finally awake." You nearly jumped. A boy sat behind an ornate desk across the room. Or less a man than anything. A guy that looks like he's wearing his mommy's clothes in a lord of the rings cosplay contest.

He hadn't moved. Had he been watching you this whole time? "Who are you?" you demanded, forcing yourself upright. "Where am I?"

The moment you stood, dizziness slammed into you. You staggered. The man barely reacted. "You speak as though I've abducted you." His tone was calm. Amused, even. He removed a pair of glasses and pushed them into his hair. "You collapsed on my land. I simply ensured you didn't die."

His land? You looked around again. Nothing made sense. Just moments ago you'd been falling asleep in your own bed. Now you are here. Apparently irritated by your confusion, the man finally sighed.

"Viktor Carlisle." The introduction sounded less like a greeting and more like a statement of fact. As though his name alone should answer every question. You reluctantly told him yours.

Viktor dipped a quill into ink and began writing something across a stack of papers. What kind of elaborate roleplay convention had you stumbled into?

"You required shelter," Viktor said without looking up. "A lamb abandoned in a storm seldom survives alone."

You blinked. "...Excuse me?"

Clearly this man is way too in character, maybe you've been abducted because this guy is clearly delusional enough. Maybe you need to be gentle so he doesn’t go all psycho on you. if he genuinely believed himself the shepherd. Maybe you should not test your luck.

He returned to writing. "You're injured. Disoriented. Weak." His quill scratched against the parchment. "The description seemed appropriate."

A laugh escaped you. Mostly from disbelief. "Okay, I don't understand whatever freaky roleplay thing you've got going on, but I don't want any part of it."

Ok maybe you should've been more gentle but this guy was pissing you off. You marched toward the desk.

Viktor finally set the quill down. The room seemed smaller the moment his attention settled fully on you. "For someone so fragile," he said quietly, "you possess an extraordinary confidence in your understanding of things."

Your jaw tightened. “And for some kind of savior, you're a complete asshole.”

“Savior?” he repeated, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. A low chuckle escaped him, humorless and dry. His gaze never left yours. “Sure.”

“You look barely older than me. Take that down a notch,” you shot back with a huff.

His expression flattened. “I know absolutely nothing about you except that I just saved your life. So excuse me, girl, if I'm not interested in playing nice while you're acting like this. Get a grip.”

He pushed himself to his feet in one fluid motion and leaned down slightly, enough that his shadow fell over you.

Your pulse spiked.

“I'm sorry, but I'm scared!” The words burst out before you could stop them. “I have no idea who the hell you are, you've been a complete dick since I woke up, and I only woke up a second ago!”

Looking at you reminded him of himself a month ago lost, frightened, and angry at a world that had suddenly become unfamiliar. The memory struck harder than he expected. The empty seats at the dinner table. The silence in the halls that had once echoed with his parents' voices. The realization that no one was coming to tell him what to do next.

He hated thinking about it but he understood the look in your eyes. The same things that had nearly swallowed him whole.

He exhaled slowly. “You're right.” The apology sounded awkward, as if the words rarely left his mouth. “I apologize.”

He stepped around the chair toward you. , you backed away. The reaction made him stop. A flicker of amusement crossed his face. All bite and no bark, apparently. Keeping a respectful distance, he crossed his arms. “You're in the Kingdom of Phaethon,” he explained. “Specifically, the western province of Solcrest and currently, you're in my house.”

The Kingdom of Phaethon? Your mind raced. "No..." The whisper slipped from your lips before you realized you'd spoken. “What prank is this?”

His brow furrowed. “Prank?”

“This isn't funny.” You laughed weakly, but there was no humor in it. “This can't be real.”

He studied you carefully. “You keep saying strange things.”

“Because this is strange!” Your voice cracked. “This place doesn't exist.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. Outside the window, distant bells rang somewhere in the town below.

The walls were built from pale stone rather than drywall. Dark wooden beams crossed the ceiling overhead. Sunlight streamed through a narrow glass window, illuminating shelves filled with books whose titles were written in symbols you somehow recognized despite never seeing them before.

The young man seemed to notice your growing panic. “Come with me.”

Before you could protest, he offered his hand. You hesitated. Then reluctantly took it. His hand was warm. He guided you out of the room. The hallway beyond looked like something pulled straight from a fantasy illustration. Polished oak floors stretched beneath your feet. Brass lanterns hung from the walls despite the daylight. In the distance, beyond the estate grounds, you could see a town nestled against the hillside.

It looked exactly like the illustrations from the books and comics youve read.

Nothing about it felt artificial.You looked down and finally noticed your clothes.Your heart nearly stopped. Gone were your pajamas.

Instead, a floor length white dress draped around your body. Soft fabric pooled around your feet, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered when it caught the light. Your stomach twisted violently. “I don't feel too good.”

The world tilted. You stumbled. Instinctively, you grabbed onto his arm and leaned some of your weight against him. He sighed. “You've barely been conscious for thirty minutes.” He steadied you before you could fall. “Honestly, I should've expected this.”

Without another word, he turned and led you down a different corridor. The manor was far larger than you'd first realized. Perched atop a ridge overlooking the countryside surrounding Solcrest, it was an old noble estate that had clearly seen better days. Even beneath the neglect, its beauty remained undeniable.

He guided you into another room. "You need rest," he said. You sank heavily onto the mattress. The room still swayed around you. "Please relax," he added quietly.

The next few days passed in a blur. Oddly enough, he rarely came to see you. Instead, the servants tended to your needs. Meals arrived on schedule, someone checked on you every few hours, and your recovery steadily improved. By the fourth day, the dizziness had mostly faded, and curiosity finally outweighed caution.

That was how you found yourself standing outside the office where you'd first awakened. There wasn't much else to do. The wardrobe they'd provided consisted almost entirely of long dresses. Every morning felt like being dressed for a royal portrait. If you ignored the whole "being in strangers manic break" situation, it was almost pleasant.

You knocked lightly before easing the door open.

At this point, you were entirely convinced that you were being Truman Showed on a scale that bordered on insanity. Either way, fighting it wasn't getting you anywhere. You figured playing along might eventually get you some answers.

"Hello?" you called. Peering inside, you found the boy slumped over his desk, fast asleep. You paused. He looked considerably nicer when he wasn't awake. his usual expression had softened, leaving him looking far younger than he acted. You'd hoped to finally ask questions but this clearly wasn't the moment.

Awkwardly, you glanced around the room until you spotted a folded blanket draped over a nearby chair. Picking it up, you crossed the office and carefully laid it over his shoulders. He didn't stir. You immediately retreated to the opposite side of the desk not wanting to bother him.

"Well, this is unfortunate timing," you muttered, resting a hand against the polished wood.

Your gaze wandered across the room. You liked The Seldom Season. It had been one of your favorite fantasy romance series growing up. What you'd loved most wasn't romance but the world itself. Now, standing inside a fantasy world that felt just as expansive and real, the experience was considerably less enchanting.

You hadn't been nearly obsessed enough with the series to remember every detail. Sure, you'd read it, You weren't even entirely certain where you were in the timeline or how this estate fit into the broader story. You might as well play along and see where it led.

The room settled into a comfortable silence. The guy had returned to organizing the cluttered desk he'd apparently been sleeping on, while you sat awkwardly nearby, trying not to stare at the expensive furniture.

"So what are you?" His gravelly voice cut through the silence so suddenly that you nearly jumped.

"What do you mean?" you asked, turning toward him.

One of his eyebrows lifted. "Answering a question with a question sounds a lot like deflecting." His voice still carried the rough edge of someone recently dragged from sleep.

You frowned. "Well, I don't understand the question."

"You fell from what looked like a star." He gestured vaguely toward the window. "Other than that, you've been surprisingly normal. But that's a rather strange thing to overlook."

"Fine. Um..." You rubbed the back of your neck. "I'm normal? Honestly, I have no idea what answer you're expecting."

His stare lingered. There was a look on his face that suggested he thought you were either an idiot or a liar. Thankfully, he seemed to decide that voicing that opinion wasn't worth the effort.

"I like your home," you blurted. The words escaped before you could stop them. His expression didn't change, but at least it distracted him from looking at you like a suspect in an investigation. "I really appreciate you taking care of me."

"It's not much." He began clearing books and loose papers from the desk. You deadpanned. Rich people really did have a warped understanding of what counted as "not much." The room alone was larger than the entire apartment your family lived in.

"I'm very curious about you," he admitted.

That made two of you. Truthfully, one of the things you'd secretly hoped for ever since waking up here was that if this really was a weird situation, you'd get something cool out of it.

It was cliché. truly but magic would be cool. But who got transported into another world and didn't hope for that? Maybe he was wondering the same thing.

"I would be too," you admitted. Despite his skepticism, he'd been surprisingly hospitable. Without another word, he crossed the room and retrieved a crystal orb from a nearby shelf.

When he placed it in your hands, you nearly dropped it. It was far heavier than it looked.

"Focus on it, if you would."

You glanced down at the orb. Then back up at him. It honestly resembled a decorative paperweight. Just a stupid glass ball. Such a shame.

The nobleman's shoulders sank ever so slightly. "How disappointing."

You blinked. "Well, that's nice to hear."

His eyes flickered toward you. For a moment, you thought he might actually laugh. Instead, he simply held out a hand. "Don't pay it any mind. I was merely satisfying a curiosity."

You returned the orb. Curiosity wasn't exactly the word you'd use for whatever test that had been.

He took the crystal back and settled into his chair. Then he focused on it. Immediately, pale green mist began swirling inside the orb. The vapor twisted like smoke trapped beneath glass, gathering into luminous spirals that cast faint green reflections across his fingers.

The nobleman released a small breath and smiled to himself, apparently satisfied. Then the light faded. The crystal became ordinary once more. He placed it back on the desk as casually as someone setting down a teacup.

"Nice party trick," you muttered.

Unfortunately, not quite quietly enough. The corner of his mouth twitched. He had definitely heard that.

[buniriski]

▶︎ The Friendly Knight (starring. some original characters Various! x Fem!reader)

synopsis. You were thrown into this world, a book that you read from time to time and now this was just a small day of respite with the Knight.

A series of one shots that I want to put out

The jealousy that often surfaced when you thought about the life you used to have felt almost embarrassing now. It was difficult to dwell on it when you were surrounded by a beautiful village and even more charming people to complement it.

The days spent trying to understand this world beyond what you had once read in the pages of a book were unlike anything you could have imagined. No matter how detailed a page was, it could never truly capture the whole of something. None of it could ever be translated completely into ink.

Being thrown into a world filled with power while possessing none of your own had been a devastating blow to your ego. Especially when all you had ever dreamed of was becoming part of the magical wonders this world had to offer.

A breeze brushed against your face, tickling your nose as you tried to make sense of your thoughts.

"Are you nervous?" A voice emerged from behind you.

Your role in this world was that of the princess's lady's maid. It wasn't particularly glamorous, but it came with one major advantage: you weren't part of the main cast. From your perspective, there was far too much emotional turmoil among them. Each one nagging to be the one that ends up with her. Gladly you didn't have to deal with that. 

The princess's many suitors were all kind people, but following their stories felt strange. In the novel, it was entertaining enough. Living through it, however, felt like aging decades overnight and finding yourself at fifty while watching a group of teenagers stumble through first love.

Today, the princess's knight had been assigned to accompany you. It was odd how much the princess fussed over you, but it afforded you a comfortable life, so you couldn't complain too much. On your rare days off, you liked wandering through the market. You didn't leave the castle often, but whenever you did, it was nice to mingle with ordinary people.

"Ive been around town before," you laughed. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

You often wondered whether the knight's constant concern was the result of the princess's orders or simply his nature.

"Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he continued walking beside you. "What are we looking for today?"

"I'm already spoiled enough back at the palace, but I think it'd be cool to check out some of the trinkets around here."  Admittedly, you had once tried to suppress your old slang. However, after years of living through a second growing up and life you suppose, you had stopped caring. It felt like one of the few pieces of your old life you still possessed.

"Now I'm the one getting nervous," the knight huffed. "For your sanity, because I don't think you're nearly as spoiled as you claim."

"Yeah, right." If the knight wasn't constantly following you around like an exceptionally well trained guard dog, his argument might have been easier to believe. Your wardrobe alone was proof enough.

Every dress you owned was made from luxurious silk in varying shades of baby blue and pink. They were undeniably beautiful, but they were also wildly impractical. Not that it mattered you weren't allowed to wear anything else.

The arrangement had earned more than a little resentment from the other servants. Many of them thought it was ridiculous, and honestly, you couldn't entirely blame them. Still, it wasn't something you had any control over. The princess treated you less like a maid and more like a doll she had stubbornly refused to outgrow.

The walk into town was short.

The palace sat at the heart of the kingdom, elevated just enough to loom over the city below. White stone walls gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, visible from nearly every street like the kingdom's own personal star.

The knight walking beside you had become one of your closest friends over the years.

At least, you assumed that was how he saw you.

Whenever the two of you found yourselves in the servants' quarters, he somehow always ended up sitting in front of you while you fixed whatever part of his appearance he'd neglected. Straightening his collar. Brushing dust from his uniform. Retiring his hair after training.

He always had an excuse. His favorite was particularly absurd. "We both work directly under the princess, so it only makes sense that I come to you."

You still had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

The logic was complete nonsense, but eventually you'd give up trying to understand it. You simply assumed he felt comfortable around you.

The thought made you smile. You remembered your first meeting surprisingly well. Back then, both you and Princess Veria had only been sixteen. The king had summoned her to the Great Hall, and after declaring that she absolutely could not attend alone, she'd dragged you along despite repeated objections from the royal staff.

Standing before the thrones of the King and Queen was a boy.

"This is the one?" Princess Veria asked, sounding genuinely alarmed.

The king sighed. You remembered desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. One thing that set Veria apart from most noble daughters was that she possessed absolutely no sense of restraint. If she disagreed with something, everyone within hearing distance would know.

"Veria," the king said patiently, "I wanted to introduce you to your personal guard."

The princess looked toward the boy.

At the time, his hair had reminded you of ash after a fire of soft silver strands falling across his forehead. His skin was pale from years spent training indoors rather than laboring beneath the sun, and despite the sword at his side, he looked strangely nervous standing before the royal family.

More than anything, he looked out of place.

"Why?" she asked.

You nearly died. How could she possibly speak to her father like that? The king, however, didn't seem remotely surprised.

"Don't be difficult," the queen said, amusement dancing through her voice. "You'll be taking on more responsibilities soon. If you're expected to lead nobles one day, you'll need someone capable of protecting you."

Veria folded her arms and looked the knight over.

She had never been particularly fond of having men around her. Most of the young noble sons she'd met were insufferable, arrogant, or both. Still, this one seemed harmless enough. Not especially charming, not particularly impressive, but at least he looked like he possessed a functioning brain.

Then he glanced away from her. Toward you. The moment Veria noticed the subtle softening in his expression, it was over.

The princess whipped around to face the throne. "I don't want him."

Before anyone could react, she marched across the hall, wrapped both arms around you, and pulled you firmly against her side.

Then she glared at the knight. It was not a good day for your cortisol levels.

"Veria..." the king warned.

"No."

"Veria."

"No."

Her grip tightened. The glare she directed at the poor boy could have frozen an ocean.

The knight looked completely bewildered. You weren't doing much better.

"Rotten luck, daughter," the king said with a weary sigh. "The assignment has already been approved."

It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Even now, five years later, you still had no idea why she'd reacted so strongly. You'd spent weeks apologizing to the knight on her behalf, followed immediately by several lectures directed at Veria herself about respecting her parents and new people around her.

Neither effort had accomplished much. Thankfully, time had softened everything.Still, whenever you thought back to that first meeting, a grimace immediately came to mind. The poor man never stood a chance. 

By the time you reached the market district, however, the memory had faded beneath a far more important distraction.

Your attention darted from stall to stall, immediately captivated by the countless displays lining the streets. You couldn't use magic yourself, but that hardly stopped you from appreciating it. To your left, a weaponsmith had several enchanted swords displayed on a rack outside his shop. Traces of elemental magic shimmered across their blades a glow dancing along one edge, frost clinging to another.

Your eyes practically sparkled. to you that was so fucking cool.

“You know I’m here to protect you. If you’re looking to be on your own, then you should remember that I’ll always be by your side.” The knight's voice carried a hint of disappointment as he watched you drift farther into the weapon shop.

“Wyll, you and I both know that’s not true,” you replied with a small laugh. “Besides, I just think it’s an amazing sight.”

You stepped closer to the display of enchanted swords. One of the fire infused blades seemed to radiate a gentle warmth, its crimson runes glowing faintly beneath the polished steel. Captivated, you immediately began questioning the salesperson about the history of each weapon, the forging process, and the magic woven into their construction.

Beside you, Wyll gave you a quiet once over. Though he served the crown and had been assigned to your side just to watch over you by the princess, he had been hopelessly smitten from the very first day he met you.

He never quite understood your fascination with magic. Coming from a ducal family, he had been surrounded by it his entire life. Enchanted artifacts, powerful mages, elemental weaponry were all ordinary to him. Yet every spell and magical trinket seemed to fill you with wonder.

Perhaps, he thought, it was a testament to your innocence. How cute.

In the original novel, Wyll had been nothing more than the princess's loyal friend. Readers had spent years questioning why he was never considered a love interest. He was gentlemanly, dependable, and kind to a fault. Even if the princess herself never regarded him as particularly handsome, he was undeniably one of the author's most striking character designs.

Wyll himself never received much attention in the story. Most of his scenes involved accompanying the princess or standing guard beside her. 

The two of you often spent your time mocking the ridiculous suitors who came seeking her hand whenever formal introductions were arranged.

Still, he couldn't deny that he disliked how excited you became whenever those suitors appeared. To him, it looked like you were simply fawning over handsome men. Perhaps there was a touch of jealousy involved. Not that he would ever admit it.

True, he was the son of a duke, but with an older brother set to inherit everything, his own prospects were considerably less impressive.

Little did he know, your excitement had nothing to do with the men themselves. You were excited about the routes. Every new suitor meant another potential storyline for Veria.

Unfortunately, you had never finished the novel series in your previous life, leaving you completely unaware of who she ultimately ended up with. While you liked to think you had matured beyond your former fangirl tendencies, that part of you never truly disappeared.

“What beautiful craftsmanship,” you said after finishing your conversation with the salesperson. “The weapon work here is really admirable.”

You turned back toward Wyll.

Want to know what else is beautiful? The thought appeared uninvited. He shoved it away immediately.

“They are impressive,” he said instead. “Though I’ve only worked with ice and quantum swords myself.”

He lifted an arm casually.

“Quantum?” Your eyes widened. “That’s surprising.”

You instinctively grabbed his arm.

A grin tugged at his lips. “Surprising? You think I can’t handle it?”

“I’m sure you can. I’m just shocked because don’t knights usually master the elemental disciplines before moving on to quantum?”

“Well,” he said, trying and failing to sound modest, “those with exceptional talent tend to advance a little faster.”

“Oh, how humble of you.”

You brushed a strand of hair from your face as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m allowed to be proud of my accomplishments.”

Eventually, the two of you moved into the bookstore next door. The moment you stepped inside, you immediately wandered away from Wyll, drawn toward rows upon rows of books stacked from floor to ceiling. The familiar scent of old parchment and ink wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

There was little point in studying magic. Without any mana of your own and no way to control it, such books would only serve as a reminder of what you lacked. Instead, you gravitated toward history, folklore, and fiction. If this was truly your life now, then you needed an escape somewhere. As your fingers skimmed over the spine of a weathered novel, a familiar voice suddenly cut through the atmosphere.

"I cannot believe my eyes." You froze. That voice. Turning around, your eyes widened. Standing several feet away was a young man with dark hair and an amused smile spread across his face.

"Viktor!" The book nearly slipped from your hands.

Without a second thought, you rushed toward him. The viscount barely had time to brace himself before you collided with him in a hug. A laugh escaped him as he caught you effortlessly.

"There she is."

You grinned so hard your cheeks hurt. Of all the people to run into today, Viktor was the last person you expected. He wasn't even supposed to be here. he was little more than a background character mentioned in passing. Someone that was in flashback that helped Veria with some tutoring when they were simply small children. 

Yet to you, he meant much more than that. When you had first arrived in this world terrified, confused, and nearly drowned in a river. Viktor had been the one to find you. The one to pull you from the water. The one who made sure you survived those first frightening days. You'd never forgotten it.

He spun you once before setting you back on your feet. "I've missed you, man," you blurted out. "Seriously. Things have been so different without you around."

Your hands rested on his forearms as you looked up at him. The years had changed him. He'd grown taller. Not to drool but also looked very good. 

"Well, I would hope so," Viktor chuckled. "It's been what? Six years?"

"Something like that."

"Hm." His gaze softened looking at the dress you had been draped in. "Looks like my little sheep has been doing well for herself."

You rolled your eyes immediately. "Oh no. Not that nickname."

"Oh yes. Were you not a lost lamb in need of shelter." he gloats

"You sound crazy."

"And?" You groaned while he laughed.

"Yes, she has done good for herself."

The sudden voice made both of you turn. Wyll had appeared beside you. Several books were stacked neatly in his arms, the ones he'd gathered while looking around the store. Books he thought you might enjoy. Unfortunately, the pleasant feeling he'd had while picking them out had vanished the second he walked back and found another man holding you.

A nobleman, no less. His expression remained polite.

"Ah," Viktor said, eyes lighting with amusement. "And you've got yourself a knight. I always knew you were special."

"Why is everyone boosting my ego today?"

Viktor laughed; he always enjoyed your less than nuanced way of speaking.

"No, seriously," you continued. "After you sent me to the castle all those years ago, I ended up meeting Wyll while working under the princess."

Wyll gave Viktor a polite nod. The viscount returned it. Neither man looked particularly impressed by the other. You, however, remained blissfully unaware. Wyll stepped forward and, with almost suspiciously casual movements, inserted himself between you and Viktor. The books shifted into one arm as he did so.

You blinked. Viktor's smile widened. ‘Oh,’ he thought. "This is entertaining."

"On that topic," Wyll said smoothly, "don't you think the princess may want us back soon? We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."

The words were perfectly reasonable. 

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think we've been gone that long."

Wyll gestured toward the bookstore windows. The sun had shifted noticeably lower. "You know how she is."

He had a point. The princess had a talent for becoming drastic whenever she couldn't find you for too long. She gets quite fussy when it's your day off because she always wanted to be near you.

"I suppose." A little disappointment slipped into your voice.

You'd only just found Viktor again.

 "I like this one." the viscount said.

You blinked. "What?"

"The knight." he continued

Wyll frowned.

"Very loyal."

The frown deepened.

"Nice pet."

For a brief moment, you genuinely wondered if a murder might occur inside the bookstore. To his credit, Wyll's expression barely changed. To his discredit, the grip tightening around his books suggested he was imagining several ways to dispose of a viscount's body. The audacity of this pompous asshole. He honestly wanted to sock the guy for calling him a pet but he couldn’t deny that he is loyal to you through and through. If you asked him to walk into a burning building, he'd probably ask how many floors.

"Ignore him," you sighed.

"I intend to."

Viktor laughed loudly.

"I'd still like to see you again," he said, directing his attention back to you. "Could I call on you sometime?"

Your face immediately brightened. "Of course! You know I'd see you in a heartbeat."

The answer came so quickly that Wyll visibly frowned. You failed to notice. Again.

"I'll have to check with the princess first, though," you added. "I'm surprisingly busy these days."

"As I would expect." Viktor reached for your hand. "I would never dream of intruding." he lifted your hand and pressed a light kiss against your knuckles.

Wyll looked seconds away from developing a migraine.

You simply smiled. "It was good seeing you again, Viktor."

"And you as well, little sheep."

"There it is again." you laughed out at the stupid name.

"There it is." With a final laugh, the viscount stepped away and headed toward the exit. The bell above the bookstore door chimed softly as he disappeared outside.

For a moment, you watched him go. When you first met him you had no idea what and where you were, in fact he had just been seventeen when finding a girl in all white struggling to get out of a lake. He felt normal before finding out you were in some nonsensical situation.

"Ready to go?" You turned toward Wyll. His expression had settled back into its usual calm neutrality. 

"What pissed in your food?" Without waiting for an answer, you relieved him of several books and began inspecting the titles.

"I don't think you should have strange men calling on you."

"First of all, he's not strange. I feel like that interaction made that pretty obvious."

You flipped through one of the books.

"Secondly, I know what you're thinking, but calling on someone doesn't automatically mean romance. If I said I was calling on you, would that mean I'm asking you out?"

You turned to another page. To Wyll, it felt like being transformed into a wilted leaf moments before fifty goats were released to shit on him so he became one with the manure.

"Fine," he muttered. "But you haven't seen him in years. People change. You don't know if he's become weird."

"Wyll, be serious."

Your irritation was beginning to show.

"I'm just trying to do my job."

You responded by ignoring him completely. Ironically, after all that effort, the three books you ended up choosing were the exact three he'd picked out for you. The knight noticed immediately. That fact cheered him up far more than it should have.

[confirmed-and-contorted]

slamming your knights visor down when you’re finished talking to them, like slamming the phone back on the receiver.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re...You’re Bruce’s father !” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : Batmom is thrown into an alternate timeline where Bruce died, years ago, in Crime Alley, and his father, Thomas Wayne, became the Batman. 

Just an idea that popped in my mind at work. Hope you’ll like it :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

You wake up in a dark alley and your thoughts are a mess. 

Everything is blurry and confusing. 

You were at the League’s Watchtower, talking about…something. And then you heard Bruce screaming your name and…Here you were. Laying on the cold floor in an alleyway that you were pretty sure was in Gotham (you’d recognize your hometown amongst anything).  

What the hell happened ? Was that all a dream or…were you sleep walking ? 

Bruce said you were talking in your sleep and sometimes kicked or punched him but…to your knowledge, you never actually walked out of your bed. 

And definitely not into the night all the way to some place in the city ! 

Besides, Bruce and your boys always had their eyes on the tracker they put on you (they thought they were being so damn sneaky about this while you knew all along…and never minded. It was pretty cute.) But the fact that they had that tracker on you meant that they’d see you go to Gotham and one of their overly protective ass would be around and…

Suffocating. 

You’re suffocating. 

And because your mind is still in some sort of unnatural haze, you don’t register right away that what makes you suffocate are a pair of hands around your neck. Squeezing. More and more every seconds.

You already starts to see black spots form in front of you when…The sound of a gun. Three shot. Followed by bodies hitting the ground. 

And here he is. Your Bruce. Did he get hurt when whoever was attacking you shot him ? It’s the first thought that comes to your mind, as you drift slowly in unconsciousness. 

But…why is the Batman logo on his suit red ? He never had a red suit before… 

He approaches you and…the way he walks is so unfamiliar. What is going on ? And…is that a gun in his hand ? 

He catches you as you finally faint, and the last thing you see is how his eyes widen as you murmur : “Bruce ?”…Everything goes black. 

Keep reading

[buniriski]

☆ SALLY FACE : one shot : Girls Talk Boys

☆ summary : A small bout of insecurity flashes through Larry. Though sweetness ensues

☆ pairing : Larry x Fem!Reader

☆ word count : 1k ish

☆ author note : I was watching a tiktok of someone saying that nobody whines like 5sos does. Who am I to not make Larry whine a bit?

What could a pretty princess do but stand at the edge of her tower and look down at the world below? what could a lowly peasant boy do but imagine a life where she might one day look back? He would've stayed there, stuck in that daydream, if reality hadn’t turned out so much stranger. Because there was no tower. No village. No fairy tale bullshit.

Larry Johnson had his princess right on top of him. Metaphorically, that’s where you’d always been. Untouchable in the way people talked about you. You were new this year, it was like crack, you were like crack, your essence got people hooked. everyone he meant everyone was infatuated.

Even Travis. And Travis didn’t like anything.

So yeah, maybe “princess” wasn’t that far off. But still… would a princess really be here right now, in his space, in his arms marking up his neck?

His thoughts kept slipping as your lips brushed along his skin. It wasn’t even just the feeling; it was you. He swore that he was on the brink of cuming all over himself in his pants.

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

Larry blinked up at you, dazed, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “So nice seeing you here,” he murmured, voice a little rough. “You come here often?”

Your eyes were still a little hazy, but your grin came easy. “Sometimes,” you said lightly. “I drop by to stalk my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” he shot back, brows lifting. “Well… can’t go stealing someone else’s girl.”

You hit him for that then leaned in to kiss him properly, shutting him up before he could say anything else stupid. That was how most nights ended. On school nights, it wasn’t much different just traded for late calls, the sound of each other’s breathing through the line when one of you drifted off first.

Your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret. But it was private. You’d think Larry would be shouting it from the rooftops, bragging to anyone who’d listen but he didn’t. Not really. There was something about this about you that he kept close, like if he made too much noise about it, it might slip through his fingers.

One afternoon, he and Sal were cutting past the gym when the sound of laughter caught his attention. Cheer practice.

You were standing in a circle with the other girls, head tipped slightly as you laughed at something one of them said. The light caught you just right, and for a second, everything else blurred out. God, you’re beautiful.

What are you laughing about? He lingered a second too long, eyes narrowing just slightly. Were you talking about him?

somewhere along the way, you’d stopped being just a girl he liked. becoming his world, whether he meant for it to happen or not.

you… you shined. In a way that didn’t need him. That was the part that got under his skin. Standing there, watching you laugh so easily, he couldn’t help the thought that slipped in. He knew you were everything to him. He just didn’t know if he was everything to you.

So this is what led you to being under him on his bed. Enclosing you with his body, letting out sounds akin to a kicked puppy. A month wasn’t a long time. But it was long enough for you to notice when something was off. Larry had been clinging to you more than usual. The second his hands found you, it was like he forgot how to let go. You pressed your palm to his chest and pushed him back.

Once Larry started kissing you, he became impossible like some kind of determined leech. “You know,” you said, squinting up at him with a smirk, “I haven’t gone to war.”

He blinked, before a grin broke through. “Sheesh. Respect the hustle of loving a woman,” he shot back, leaning in just enough to press one last kiss to your forehead.

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I appreciate it, alright.” Your hands slid up to his shoulders, steadying him, keeping him right where he was. “But what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “I’m not letting you have any more kisses if you don’t tell me.”

His head snapped back like you’d just insulted his entire existence. “What the heck? Don’t strip my rights away like that.”

He tried to dip down anyway boldly, as if you wouldn’t stop him.

You caught his face with both hands and pushed him back, arms fully extended now, holding him at a very necessary distance. He huffed, clearly offended… and then, because he was him, leaned forward just enough to lick your hands.

You froze. “ Thanks,” you deadpanned, immediately wiping your hands off on his shirt. “I’ll clone you later. Already got a special jar ready.”

“I hope a pony isn’t too traumatized in there,” he shot back without missing a beat.

You snorted, but your grip didn’t loosen. “Larry.” Your thumbs brushed lightly against his cheeks, keeping his attention on you not letting him dodge it again.

“I mean it,” you said, quieter now. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked away from yours for a second, he was debating whether to say it at all. Though he would be damned if he was called a bottom bitch for not communicating.

“When you’re with your friends…” he started, voice a little rougher than usual. “Do you talk about me?”

You blinked, caught slightly off guard but then your expression softened, a smile pulling at your lips. “You’re my boyfriend,” you said easily. “Of course I do.”

That didn’t seem to settle him. His jaw tightened just a little. “Do you say I’m a sweetheart?” he pressed. “Or do you say I’m a freak?”

“Larry ”

You shifted, pushing him back gently until you were both sitting up properly on his bed, facing each other now.

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I’m just… curious if they know you like me the same way I’ve been liking you.”

The words came out faster than he meant them to. How much he liked you.

How easy it was to get lost in it every night blurring into the next, the way being around you felt bigger than anything he could really explain. He'd stepped into something he didn’t fully understand, but didn’t want to leave either.

You leaned in slightly, your voice steady when you spoke. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I’m not proud of you,” you said, eyes locked on his. “Because I am. There’s nobody else I could imagine being with.”

Something in his shoulders eased but only a little.

“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk about it,” he muttered, glancing down before looking back at you. “I’ve talked to Sal about you and stuff and ” he let out a short breath, almost laughing at himself. “The way you mess me up? It’s… a lot. In a good way, I think. I just ” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.”

then your face broke into the biggest, most ridiculous smile. “Stop,” you said, already moving, already closing the distance.

You practically launched yourself at him, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as you knocked him back slightly, sprawled over him now.

“Stop being the cutest person ever,” you mumbled into him. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

He let out a surprised laugh, hands coming up automatically to hold onto you.

“…So that’s a yes?” he teased, softer now.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, still close, still holding on.

“That’s a very obvious yes,” you said. “I know you don’t really hang around my crowd of people but they’re all probably done with me not shutting up about you”

[honeybunnyale]

Breeding Program: Ultraman/Lex Luthor l C.K. & L.L.

w.c.: 9.6k

T.w.: Dark-ish fic, Smut, PinV, dub/non-con, Sex drug/a/b/o like arousal, Voyeurism, Threesome (Lex, Ultraman, Reader), Breeding Kink, slight Lactation kink/Pregnancy kink, LuthorCorp Secretary!Reader, Lex Luthor x Superman/Ultraman (one-sided and psychotic), Cum play/eating, Sex pollen, Reader has glasses, Reader loses her autonomy, Possessive Ultraman, Possessive Lex, Possessive Clark, Reader is pregnant throughout this part and next

a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with my works. 18+ Only! Oof… long awaited part two, will I make part three, I sure hope so. Thank you all who have waited for this and have given me motivation to continue this plot. Kiss kiss 

Summary: There are some lasting effects from Lex’s aphrodisiac fumes. Even after all these months, your body and Superman’s have become attuned to each other. Coincidentally, your body attuned for another Kryptonian with his DNA. 

Breeding Program Masterlist

“Good morning,” you greet curtly, your words clipped from carrying in several bags of groceries though the front door. 

Lex had Ultraman stay in the LuthorCorp building. He had his own apartment right at the very top of the skyscraper. He even gave the man a semblance of privacy. He wasn’t watched in his room like a lab rat in a cage. Not like he was everywhere else. 

You were one of the many caretakers that would visit the clone, take him for training, to medical exams, testing. The important stuff Lex couldn’t trust many others to see. Most of his employees knew the clone as Ultraman.

Lex thinks it would be too shocking for them to understand. Some part of him wants to keep Ultraman's true origins a secret. To see the face of his enemy all for himself. For now, they all think he was a mutilated, scarred soul. Perhaps from the advancements Luthor had tested on him just like he did with the Engineer. 

He was ranked amongst some of the most powerful metahumans in the world. Right next to, what was predicted by his team, Superman. The strongest based on observations alone. 

Luthor's scientists and technicians would never see how inquisitive Ultraman’s eyes really were. How opinionated he could be. Lex saw him as nothing less than a mindless henchman. 

You didn’t. 

Ultraman lifts the spoon from the bowl you placed in front of him. He eats the porridge slowly as you restock his cabinets. 

He had a kitchen in his suite, he doesn’t use the high end oven or stoves. He doesn’t cook by himself. He did enjoy a home cooked meal, but he only waited for you to visit to pull out ingredients. You had the cupboards stocked with microwavable food and gallons of water for the times you couldn’t be there to cook for him. 

“How is it?” 

His eyes were bright. Alert. Especially when you were in the room with him. He nods. You nod back with a pursed smile. 

He was kind of weird. Lex didn’t teach him how to take care of himself, claiming he was too dull to remember anything anyway.

You pick up his bowl when he’s done. Washing it as he lounges in nothing but sweatpants and watches the television on his bed. He sits by the edge, waiting for you, not bothering to dry his wet hair from the shower he took before you had come in. 

He liked the news. He liked National Geographic. He liked documentaries. He was a thoughtful guy. At least that’s what you liked to think. 

Lex thought he was too dumb to even earn a name. 

He would hand you the remote and let you put on the shows you liked. He was very polite. 

You were currently binge watching a telenovela on ViX. It was about a farm girl falling in love with two men. 

The protagonist had to choose between the rich man who shows her clear devotion or the poor man she falls in and out of love with since they were in high school.  

The sound of violins and other strings filled the room as the protagonist on the screen inched her lips closer to her lover’s. The farm boy, Ulises, pulls her in close by the waist, she looks pained. Sure, she knew he loved her, but he made horrible choices, he was unstable, he got into too much trouble. 

He was the bad boy. 

The rich man, Sebastian, provides for her. He was good and kind. Stable and loved by everyone at the hacienda. His love never wavered for her because of other’s opinions, or commands. 

Ultraman sighs as the kiss was cut short, one of the farm boys' exes storms in and demands he take care of her and their baby. You gasp at the revelation, he grumbles. 

It breaks the protagonist's heart, not knowing that the other woman was lying and manipulating Ulises into a loveless marriage.  

Your hand had paused on his head at the dramatic scene. 

He tilts his head back to press against your hand to urge you to continue braiding his hair. The weight of his back presses against you as you sit behind him on his bed. 

Your fingers brush against his face as you take strands to intertwine together. His hair was lighter than Superman’s, almost as if it were bleached or toned. 

It was also incredibly soft because of the lack of sun exposure and frequent hair conditioning products you sneaked in from a shopping spree on Lex’s card. 

He was warm and smelled good. Clean. You fight the urge to ogle further. His chest was bare. His sculpted, almost soft looking mounds of muscle were out on display after his shower. You let out a breath, your hand sweeping past his toned shoulders briefly to feel his soft skin. 

The heat pooling in your lower belly from his proximity and weight as he leans against you, his bare body almost on display, was hard to ignore. But you do it. You ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, making your cheekbones ache in prickles. 

He glances at you, as you use a hair tie to keep his two braids in place. You were smaller than him, soft. He wanted to put his mouth on you constantly.  

He didn’t know how, or in what way. He sees it on the tv. Telenovelas you put on when you were supposed to watch him for the night after he had to heal after a battle. 

They kissed passionately, dramatically. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you like that. Would you respond back the same? He would like that. 

You pat his shoulders when you’re done and he moves to the side to let you scoot off the bed. He almost wishes you could stay. You did that sometimes. When he was in bad shape after a quarrel with Superman. 

It made you feel bad. Almost to the point of wanting to find Superman and scold him for being too rough.  

You’d sometimes sleep in the bed with him, it was spacious enough and he made sure you had a lot of room as you dozed off from exhaustion, the tv still playing softly in the background. 

He grabs your bag from the edge of the bed and hands it to you as you stand. You smile down at him from where he’s sat on the bed. 

It makes his chest warm. He likes what he feels when you smile at him. 

You walk out the door with a quiet goodbye. 

…

Three months later:

You’ve been ignoring Lex as best you could for the past two months, after the reveal of his latest scheme and after you had found out you were pregnant with Superman’s baby. 

Despite this, you were still working with him, still his personal assistant. The threat of a legal battle looming over your head like a grey sky. 

He looks down from his computer monitor, standing in a room full of screens with his team and watching as Ultraman once again attempts to defeat Superman. 

He’s already thinking of what the news would say about this one. Superman was getting hit more and more frequently, people have started to notice that the hero of three years has been faltering. 

He eyes the way you were standing. You were starting to wear looser clothes, shorter heels. You take frequent breaks to go to the bathroom. Most likely to puke your guts out. Or maybe you just didn’t want to be around him much. 

He couldn’t help but feel something stirring in him whenever he saw you. 

You refused to speak with him privately, you didn’t even bother to take your stuff out of his penthouse. Instead, wordlessly moving back to your apartment. But you did everything he demanded of you. 

Keep the pregnancy. Go to the appointments. Change your diet. Take your supplements. 

It was all for the child. Never for your wellbeing. Through heavy introspection, he felt what could be described as bad for his moral discrepancy. He was using your body like a vessel. As if he didn’t miss having someone to hold at night. He refuses to believe any negative emotion came from missing your company, your laugh, or your wit. 

He felt bad that he cared more for the offspring, and Superman in turn, than he did you. He felt bad for the discomfort that was pushed onto him whenever you were near. Your disdain was palpating, making his ears ring and his spine crawl. 

He stands up straight and glances in your direction. You were wearing a sweater, one of his favorites. A long skirt and those mary janes he’d gotten you when you were briefly together for a couple of weeks. It was one of your usual outfits, always looking for comfort, damn the professional uniform he mandated the rest to follow. You glance at him from your peripheral, knowing he was going to command something of you. 

“Call-“ 

You were out of the office before he could finish, his phone rings on his desk from a transferred call in less than a minute and he sighs as he picks it up. You did what was asked, you did it well. So well he barely saw you anymore. 

It was late in the afternoon when Superman had defeated the ‘villain’ and Ultraman had retreated from the hero. 

You were in his apartment, having cooked him chicken cutlets and pasta as doctors patched him up and he bathed. You let out a shaky breath as his pained face flashes in your mind. He had clung onto you after he shed himself from his costume, his face melding into the side of your neck as he groaned. 

The sudden contact had shocked you, enough to knock you over to the floor. He quickly gathered you up on his lap, hands fisting your sweater. You reciprocated instinctively, the feel of his body engulfing over yours sending your heart racing. 

Lex had pulled him away from you. As you separated, it felt like you had gotten shot with adrenaline. Lex noticed. He noticed how you took a step toward Ultraman as he was pulled to his feet by medical, as if you were aching to be near him again.

He had left a faint trail of sweat on your neck, a hint of blood from a split lip on your cheek. Bodily fluids clearly have lasting effects on you. 

You swallowed thickly as you attempted to regain your composure, Lex having put a hand on your stomach protectively as Ultraman was led away. 

“Are you alright?” 

You nodded slowly, pushing his roaming hand away, adjusting your sweater over your belly. You kept staring at the door from which his tall form left. With narrowed eyes, Lex nudged you forward, mumbling under his breath about licking wounds and babysitting overtime. 

The lighting in the apartment was warm. You hoped the soft hues of orange and yellow soothed him, anything other than hospital bright white at least. You feel your body cringe and tense as Ultraman walks out of his bedroom. The battle was all over the news, every social media feed discussing it as if there wasn’t a new one every other week. Your focus was clouded ever since you were toppled over by the quiet giant. You think your brain went southbound, right between your legs. 

You avoided logging onto instagram or twitter. Any semblance of Superman made you nauseous. It made your stomach curl. 

You felt a mix of shame and anxiety fester in your chest whenever you thought about him and his perfect dimples and the way Lex antagonizes him every chance he has. 

Lex made a call with a news channel earlier in the day. He wanted to put his two cents in on the latest battle, which he procured. He stated that Superman was not as efficient as he used to be. The news was running the interview call he had given them now. 

You tune out the words and cringe when they display images of Superman to go with the audio of Lex’s lecture increasing in ferocity.

You turn away from the small screen set up in the kitchen with your plates only to find Ultraman bare, boxers and sweatpants in hand. There was a brief moment where your eyes connected, your breath catching in your throat. He had a slight bruised swell around his cheek. 

You feel your heart thrum quickly. His dick was soft. And yet it reminded you of Superman’s. But unlike him, Ultraman didn’t trim, he didn’t know how to, nobody did it for him. It wasn’t necessary. 

Superman was well groomed, trimmed. Dark hairs that curled ever so slightly when you had made a mess of his pelvis with your arousal.

You look away with a shaky sigh. You had excused yourself from every opportunity to tend to Ultraman after your coupling with Superman for this very reason. You knew you'd be comparing. You’d look at the similarities and be reminded of how good Superman made you feel. 

You wonder if the superhero thought of you too. 

You stare holes into the floor as he approaches. He needed help putting his clothes on, his body too sore to bend down and do it himself. His hair was wet, slicked back and darkened by the moisture. 

He looked so much like Superman. Your brain tells you for a brief second that you saw him in the room with you. It made goosebumps crawl all over your skin. The hairs on your arms lifted. 

You kneeled down to lift his boxers up his thighs, then his sweats, avoiding looking at his crotch. He sits down on the kitchen island’s stool as you stand and he starts to eat from his plate. He noticed the way you reacted to him nowadays. Your body would flush with heat, your breath would stutter. He liked it. 

He briefly recalls what he has seen on television. The tv shows where the girls have a crush on someone and start acting how you were now, shy and bashful.

He decides to let you have your time to process your new feelings for him. He watches as you struggle to maintain your composure as you eat your meal. You ate slowly, as if you were seconds away from puking. He thought it was because of the baby you were carrying. He could see it, he thought you had a tumor when your belly had started to become rounder, so he checked only to find a fetus floating inside your womb. 

He knew more than he let on. No one ever asks him so why would he tell them he was starting to read books on medicine, culture, and so much more. At first jealousy rose within him, but he quickly found out the baby was Superman’s. Lex’s team liked to gossip, most of them already knowing your situation because their boss had tasked them with watching you.

The revelation, in a strange way, calmed him. 

He knew they were practically the same. So his children were his. The baby was his. 

You look bothered most of the time, full of discomfort that would make you squirm. The more you spent in his room, the more uncomfortable you seemed. 

You swipe your forehead lightly and feel droplets of sweat wet the back of your sleeve. It was so hot in the room. You glance at the thermometer near his open bedroom door. It was set at 70 degrees. 

He eats quickly, as if he needs to be ready at a moment's notice. You don’t even think he savors the food. The water he drinks spills over the corners of his lips. Almost sensual in the way they drip down his neck and drag against the lines of his collarbones. 

He stands suddenly.

He makes his way over to his bed, opening the bedside drawer to reveal the hair ties you kept there. He sits at the edge expectantly, his hand already holding the tv remote in hand. 

With a sigh you make your way over. 

Your stomach clenches as you braid his hair, his weight was heavy on you, eyes closed as your fingers lightly massaged his scalp. It must be a hot flash or whatever pregnant people deal with. 

Your eyes wander. You didn’t see him like this when he had the full suit on. He was pure muscle, some softness to him but otherwise built like a machine. His biceps were the size of your head, his thighs equalling yours and maybe being even thicker. 

You lean closer to the side of his head. He leans into you, you feel yourself shiver against his back as his head rests against your shoulder and his nose nudges your jaw.

You imagine Superman's shoulders, how broad they were when he pounded into you. The way you grasped them and held on for dear life. You let out a breathy low moan. The sound catches in your throat the second you let out the soft hum. 

You pull away quickly. 

He notices, you knew he noticed by the rising hard on he sported, bulging through his sweatpants obscenely. He could smell your arousal. 

You wanted it bad. Your hand presses to your mouth to stop yourself from moaning at the mere sight of his arousal. What was wrong with you? You had more control than this?

You tie his hair in a misshapen braid and push away from him quickly. You felt like your body was on fire. Just from being near Ultraman. He doesn’t stop you, he just stares hungrily, eyes narrowed as if urging you to come closer. 

You make your way out of his apartment, not saying goodbye and shifting in your seat on the way home by how wet your panties had gotten. 

…

You make your way out and into the balcony. You sigh out as the breeze passes through your body. Like a refreshing rush of water cleansing you. Lex’s been clinging to you like an octopus. His arm wound tight around your waist, long fingers caressing the slight swell of your belly teasingly. 

You felt like a trophy wife. Paraded around the charity event, one you’re sure he didn’t even care about. That was your task for the evening, a work event. Like those times he’s attempted to convince you that going to dinner with him after your ‘breakup’ was work-related and not because he wanted you close. 

You’d excused yourself to the bathroom and he had pressed a tight lipped kiss to the crown of your head, prompting those around him to look between themselves. He wanted them to assume a connection between you both, with the baby and bump that was barely showing. 

All speculation for the moment. 

Lex didn't like leaving you alone, you briefly wondered if he thought you would escape. If you were planning on leaving with the very thing he wanted growing in your womb. 

He knew better than to underestimate you. Sometimes he hated the anxious feeling you gave him. He didn’t like not knowing. 

You would be upset at work, you walked the halls of his office building with your head held high. Like you had something over him. And you did. He hated it. 

You hadn’t come back from the ‘bathroom’, instead opting to find a way to get some fresh air. Ultraman walks out behind you and he could see the way the swoosh of the door made your shoulders tense. 

He closes the door softly, the sounds of chatter inside mute and dissolve into unintelligible murmurs. The soft lighting of the lamps on either end of the handrails illuminated your cheeks as you turned from where you were sitting on a marble bench. 

He almost wishes he could caress your soft skin. He bet it would feel like a peach. Would your mouth taste just as sweet?

He doesn’t really like peaches, he thinks as he inches closer. He thinks he’d just like the taste of you. Your mouth. The tears gathering and dripping down your cheeks, that musky place between your legs. 

You turn and eye him suspiciously. You scoff. You hated Lex and everything that represented him. The man standing in front of you was covered head to toe in black. Lex’s branding and logo showcased on his shoulder pads as if he were an F1 racer. You wonder when Lex would take the initiative to charge companies for ads. 

Your eyes trail over his form. Still and silent. You remember when you first met, without the suit or mask. It was jarring. Lex was beaming, hands wandering over his defined pectorals and shoulders as if he were a cherished lover. 

He had stared at you, brows furrowed as if he thought you were just like his creator. 

Lex indulges himself in the clone. It was his first seemingly successful creation. You thought he was mentally deranged. Vulgar with the way he treated him. Unfortunately, Ultraman was close to perfect. He was born with a fully formed brain. Blank. He needed to have developed as an infant, a child, a teenager. He skipped steps to be fully functioning. 

But you knew he could learn, and he did. It just takes longer. It doesn’t stick as well. He can barely speak. Or maybe he chooses not to. Your hands were cradling your belly on your lap. You quickly move them away. Lex would get what he wanted. A perfect copy of Superman, able to be manipulated, learn, and grow. It made your blood boil. 

Your dark blue chiffon scarf slides down your shoulders. He tips his head ever so slightly as your collarbone becomes exposed. His hands twitch, fingers flexing as if he wanted to reach out and adjust your gown for you. Your lips purse. He had big hands, you’re sure he could cover your face with his palm. Maybe even cup your breasts completely and squeeze- You shiver and you look away quickly. 

He wasn’t Superman. You felt pity for him. For yourself. 

He reminded you of Tarzan. You didn’t think you would like to be his Jane. You’ve known about his crush. Lex noticed it first. Ultraman seemed intrigued, no- enamored. You treated him like a person, and not like an ignorant child or machine. It clicked in your head after a while. When Lex had been testing that damn drug on him.  

Your eyes make a path from one thick shoulder to the other. You take a shaky breath in. Superman's shoulders were so broad. He was so large. You think you’ve started to develop a crush on him. In turn, Ultraman as well. You were getting turned on by him, inadvertently so. He reminded you of Superman's dimples and thick voice and the way he held you close to him and asked politely if you wanted to ‘escape’, wrapped up in his cloak and taken to who knew where. 

You stand and face him. Your eyes carry forced aggression against him. The memory of that night passing through you in embarrassment.You felt like a child that needed to be escorted back to their father. 

He follows close behind as you walk past him and back into the event. You think Lex had you come for publicity. 

Girlfriend? Friend? Who is this woman by his side? You knew it was because he wanted Superman to see you too. It made you anxious, as if you had been keeping a secret. You looked bloated at certain angles, Lex’s hand firmly on your hip, as if to highlight the slight swell of your stomach. 

E! News had commented on how his new girl should hit the gym more often. It was all over the tabloids, the Daily Planet gossip column, TMZ, and even some news station who had nothing better to report on. Lex wanted to stir conversation. He wanted Superman’s attention, badly. You almost felt like a third wheel at this point. 

You feel Lex’s gaze from the corner of the room. Your eyes connect with his and without breaking it he excuses himself and makes his way over to you, surely to remind you about your contract and how you were meant to follow his orders. Stay by my side tonight.

You scoot past guests as he inches closer, losing him quickly as you make your way to a crowd looking over a priceless vase from ancient Rome. Ultraman was hard to ditch due to his advanced senses but you found that he was easily overwhelmed by crowds. 

You take a deep breath in and adjust your scarf over yourself, hiding your stomach. You hear your name being spoken throughout the crowd, guests gladly giving directions to your location or where they had last seen you walk past. You curse under your breath and make an attempt to hide behind tall figures. 

You press a hand to your chest as your heart starts to pump so fast you fear it’s going to jump out of your throat. It was making your body heat in subtle thrums as you entered an empty hallway. Your breath comes out unsteadily. The feeling only gets stronger. You place a hand over your chest, panic rising at the thought of a sudden heart attack. 

A trail of warmth leads from your mouth and slides down your throat to your lower stomach like thick honey. As if you had just drank in sweet rum. Your muscles were buzzing underneath your skin. 

Someone grips your wrist, dropping it quickly as a shock runs through your spine and you turn sharply with a yelp. The man was clearly out of place, an old, too big tweed suit sitting upon his shoulders haphazardly. He was slightly hunched over and his cheeks were glowing pink. He adjusts his glasses and lifts his press badge. 

You should have turned away, ignored him to oblivion but something told you to stay still. His touch sated your heart slightly, but your stomach curls in beats. Your eyes lock with his, you take a step forward, you swear you've seen him before. His face was so familiar. Your lips part and you felt an urge to reach up and touch his face-

A thick body slides itself in front of you. Ultraman's foot in front of you as the reporter attempted a step closer. He takes a sheepish step back, glancing at Ultraman's goggled mask. Your curiosity doesn’t waver. You place your hand on Ultraman’s forearm and his shoulders soften at the touch. He keeps himself between you both. His breathing came in and out in deep breaths, making his chest rise and fall deeply.

Your eyes lock with the reporter’s.

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” 

He swallows thickly and his throat bobs. Your eyes narrow. You recognize the name. The Superman guy. Writes about him so much and so eloquently that his writing could be reenacted by him gargling on Superman’s balls. 

His eyes narrow back at you, almost judgementally. You’ve been ignoring the hell out of him. His emails, pleading you to at least give him a comment back. You feel a tinge of shame. You didn’t think he would be so cute.

You take a step closer, Ultraman shifts. Clark says your last name curtly after a stiff miss. 

“I’ve been attempting to contact you in regards to the kidnapping that occurred three months prior.”

Your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. His voice was so deep. So hot. He was attempting to be professional but his words came out unnatural in verbiage. 

His eyes dart to your cleavage from your sudden heady breaths, his jaw ticking before looking away quickly. He takes a deep breath in and he clears his throat. You felt your mouth water. Your eyes were darting all over his frame. He had nice shoulders, even if he slumped them. His jaw was strong, his hands large. 

You swallow thickly and shift. His eyes follow the line of your throat as it bobs. He remembers kissing a path down to your breasts. The way you arched your back as he held you up against him. The broken sounds you made when he curled his fingers in your cunt and suckled at your nipples. He remembers the taste of your milk, sweet, slightly musky. He salivates at the memory. 

“I was-” he starts after your silence. 

Admittedly he was so upset at you. He was ready to rip you a new one. You ignored him. While he was just trying to ensure you were safe. Given, you didn’t know [email protected] was Superman himself. 

His eyes roamed over your figure. 

Gosh, you were so beautiful. The fabric of your dress laid over your body perfectly, accentuating your best features in a way only he could compare with your bare skin. But he was upset!

He couldn’t stop thinking about you for the past three months. The taste of your cunt, your breasts. It would be too much sometimes whenever he saw you with him on the television or in a tabloid. It made him want to tear his hair out. Sometimes he almost did when he would see a picture of Lex giving you a kiss on the cheek. He remembers kissing you in much more intimate places. 

He’d taken care of himself in the Daily Planet’s bathroom stalls far too many times because of that very train of thought. You watch as he adjusts the collar of his suit, his face flushes. He looks as if he had just gotten out of a sauna. Your eyes zone in on his adam's apple. Your tongue peeks between your lips and your fingers twitch. 

“I just wanted to write about how these attacks have…” he swallows thickly. You repress the urge to bite your lip. You almost lean into Ultraman, your head inching closer to his bicep to rest there. Your body rises in goosebumps, Clark’s voice was deep. He was so tall. As tall as Ultraman, no Superman. 

You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples hardened and pointed out to him, teasing him. Your scarf couldn’t hide that. 

“Affected victims,” he finishes. He could smell your arousal. Ultraman could too. 

“If you’re available, that is.” 

Your head straightens and tips. 

“If I’m available?” you ask. You weren’t paying attention to a word he said since you’ve noticed his bright eyes. You’ve never felt such need for a stranger before. 

He steps closer, his voice lowers. “Are you available?” he asks with a hint of confidence. His voice only slightly unsure. Was he flirting with you? Even he couldn’t believe it. Your lips part into a lazy smile, you start to nod. 

Ultraman grips your waist and lifts you enough to have you floating off the ground by a centimeter, placing you directly behind him. His chest puffs as he faces Clark Kent. You press against his back as you attempt to get a glimpse of the reporter again.  

You're forced to turn the other direction. 

You’re led away with a strong arm on your bicep. Ultraman drags you away, towards a shiny bald head all the way on the other side of the venue. You turn your head and watch as the reporter stands alone flustered. 

“I am- available!” you choke out.

…

Ultraman wraps a hand around your bicep with a fierce grip as he drags you across the hallways and to his living quarters. He had taken off his mask in the elevator, right after Lex had placed a wet kiss on your cheek and patted your ass to send you off and tuck Ultraman in for the night.

You think it was a punishment of some kind. Forced to work late hours with what Lex thought was an airheaded nuisance. 

Ultraman’s jaw was flexing, his brows furrowed in frustration. You think it was because of the reporter. He can be so rough, he wasn't good at controlling his emotions. His jealousy especially. 

He got jealous when Lex spoke about Superman’s stats, how much stronger he seemed to be than Ultraman at times. He gets jealous whenever a seasonal intern speaks to you and follows you around for a couple of days. 

He hates knowing other people have your attention. He hates the way that reporter was looking down at you, and the way you were looking up at him. As if you wanted to rip his clothes off. 

He gruffs past you to his bathroom, coming out after a couple of minutes as you wait on his bed. You had placed your scarf on the back of the lounging chair in his bedroom. You were looking intently at your phone, eyes flickering all over the screen in great interest. 

He thought you looked so pretty, head pressed against his pillows as if you were made to sleep next to him. Your dress flowed around your body, curling near your hip and accentuating the shape of your belly and waist. 

He dreams of things like this. 

He dreams of living in an hacienda, tending to horses, picking up haybells and coming home to you. You’d be head down and overwhelmed with paperwork. Like he sees you in his living room coffee table sometimes when you have to stay and watch over him during weekdays. 

Then there’d be pitter patters of little sock clad feet. Running up to him as he came in through the door. You’d give him a look, soft and sweet. Like you had missed him. 

Then he would wake up and realize that he wasn’t living the life of the man in the tv drama. 

You stare at the man on your phone screen. You mimicked the same dopey smile from his dream. Clark Kent’s profile at the Daily Planet website looked like it was taken last minute. His tie was wrinkled and awkwardly bent to the left as if he had just put it on in a rush. 

Ultraman makes a sound from the back of his throat. You slam the phone face down on the bedside table as if to hide the autobiography you were reading. He bet you didn’t even hear the bathroom door open. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him. He thinks it was instinct. It just felt right to him. 

His hair was slicked back, you noticed right before he dived in to kiss you on the lips. His hand maneuvers itself to the back of your head, the other makes the mattress dip as he crawls on top of you. A sound of surprise escapes you, lips parting slightly and allowing his tongue to peek between them to roam over your teeth. 

His lips were soft and gradually as he continued, you melted into it, your hands running up his forearm and to his shoulders. He flexes them under your touch. You feel him harden into the crease of your thigh and a chill goes down your spine. 

His hand meets the small of your back and presses you up against his chest. Your breath stutters as he pulls away to lead kisses down your jaw. He grips you tightly, lifting you up so that you would wrap your legs around him. 

You were moving too fast, his hands were precise as they lifted the soft fabric of your dress up your waist, the strap falling down your shoulder and revealing your breasts. Your body pulses as his hand caresses your bare flesh, a sharp ache imbedding itself down your spine and to your cunt. 

One hand cups your breast, calloused palm rubbing against your sensitive nipple. The other guides your hip over his lap, clothed cunt plopping right over his bare cock.

You grind against his hard on, mouth falling open as you move your hips against him. His precum moistens your underwear as you shift your hips erratically. His fingers trail along the waistband of your panties, sliding them down. 

He’s watched porn. Lex had shown him some films for the sake of research. Could the clone feel arousal? How big did Superman’s dick get when he was hard? All questions Lex may or may not have been upfront with his colleagues about. He thought of you in place of those men and women, sinking his cock into your tight wet hole, pressing you into his bed as he split you open. 

He wanted to feel pleasure, he wanted to pleasure. He bites down onto your neck softly, feeling your heart pulse quicken. He’s never touched anyone other than himself before, his hand shakes as his fingers part your lower lips. He sinks his fingers into you, making your back arch at the unexpected intrusion. You whine, face creasing as if you were mid-cry. 

The feeling of his thick finger stretching you open made your stomach tense. His face was tight, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he tested out your give. He pushes in deep, your hand grips his shoulder tightly as he presses experimentally against your cervix. He squeezes your chest, pressing his head against your collarbone. You were so wet, dripping down his fingers. 

He pumps you too fast, so fast that your pleasure starts to dissipate. He didn’t know how to finger, apparent by the stiff pointed fingers moving frantically against your inner walls which felt numb after thirty seconds. 

He takes directions so well. Your grip on his shoulders tightens. You curl your fingers and his curl with yours. Your head falls to his neck, you mewl as he rubs against the spongy part inside you. His cock twitches on the swell of your belly as he imagines what the squeeze of your cunt on his fingers would feel on his cock. 

He continues, your fingers finding their way to your clit, rubbing as you ground your lips against the ridges of his cock. You shriek as his mouth finds your nipple, sucking at it harshly, the sudden action making you rut against him as you reach your peak. 

Your body shakes, legs flexing on their own as he presses you as close as possible. He doesn’t let you go and even as his cock throbs he refuses to move an inch to not risk you moving away. Your body is crushed against his body as he moves to lay on top of you, his head curling against your chest, hands gripping your dress hard enough to make the seams pop. 

Any attempt of moving away is met with a deep groan, his lips finding their way to your breast and sucking harsh enough to paralyze you. You stay there, body shaking, his hand coming up to caress the curve of your belly in worship, until you feel yourself drift from exertion. 

You wake up on your side, pillows and blankets shifted to cocoon you. You were in a pillow fort. 

For a moment you forget where you were but as you shift you feel the unpleasant wetness of your arousal and someone else's on your thigh, leaking down to the sheets in its thickened state. 

You sit up groggily. Someone will come in soon. To change the sheets. Ultraman goes to train in the morning- Your heart stops for a moment as you realize he wasn’t there. Someone had come in to retrieve him. 

The phone clatters against the bedside table as you fumble for it, your fingers shaking as you check for any messages or calls from Lex as you’re sure his employees would snitch about the state you were in if they saw you. 

You find nothing. You take a deep breath. You’re sure Ultraman got dressed on his own and left you to sleep. You’re sure whoever retrieved him this morning didn’t come into the apartment and just waited for him at the door. 

Judging by the way you were covered when you had woken up, he hid you as best he could. You bite your lip as you resist a smile. It was sweet… 

…

You wear one of his spare shirts and sweatpants as you make your way out of the building. It would have made you feel less like a walk of shame. But judging by the heels you still wore, it might have made things look worse. You swipe through your emails again as you take a cab home. 

Hello, 

It was a pleasure meeting you at the event. I didn’t catch what you said before you had left. Do you have availability in your schedule to meet and talk? Just wanted to ask a few questions…

You skip the paragraph, instead your eyes bulge at the final question. Your heart hammers and your lips quirk into a smile. Oh.

Do you want to discuss it over dinner?

Best Regards,

Clark Kent

Despite yourself, you still feel that ache in your lower belly. Slowly building up again. You bite your cheek, exhaling slowly as you shift in the backseat of the taxi. Clark Kent seemed like he would be into pregnant women… at least you hope he will be. 

Your fingers type faster than your brain could process. 

…

Lex watches you smile at your phone, your shoulders hunched over as you type quickly and place the screen down onto your desk with a slam of giddiness. Discomfort develops in his chest. He feels awkward amidst your happiness. What was causing it? Clearly not him. Why were you giggling to yourself? You never did that with him. Maybe when you were dating… for a month. 

His foot taps the floor impatiently as he hears your sharp snort. So much so that it starts to cramp. He hates not knowing. He stands from his desk and makes his way out the door to his office. It was kept open for a while, he always had an eye out for you. 

Your head was barely visible from your desk, he leaned against the counter. Your smile falls, you slide your phone away into your pant pocket and look up with dead eyes. It almost made his eyes twitch. 

“We’re going to dinner tonight.” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Can’t,” you respond dully. 

His head tips to the side. Wondering where you got the confidence to be dismissive of him. 

“I’m meeting with a reporter.”

He stands up straighter. His brows furrow intensely, so much so they almost connect in the center of his face. 

“You’re not allowed to speak to the media as a LuthorCorp employee, you know this.” 

You shrug.

“It has nothing to do with my employment. It’s about my kidnapping, which I recall being after work hours. 5 pm sharp.”

Your eyes resisted rolling and trails to your monitor screen. You close up, picking up your coat and shrugging it on. It was starting to get cold, you twist your scarf over your neck and tuck it. 

You start to walk away from him, having clocked out of work on your phone. He follows close behind, long legs catching up to your pace. 

“With who?”

You barely turn your head to respond, you purse your lips anxiously. You’re sure his office will be trashed when you come in tomorrow morning. Your steps quicken to the elevator. You press the first floor button as he stands in anger and frustration, his hands at his hips. 

“Clark Kent.” 

You barely see the hints of splotchy red adorning his face as the doors close shut. 

…

It was cold out, but you could feel the warmth building from your lower belly spread to the rest of your body. Clark had offered to walk you back home but there was a magnetic pull you felt towards him, making you want to rip him out of his clothes, to stay in his presence longer than you would with someone you barely met. 

You think he felt the same. In fact, you knew he did by the way he gripped your upper arm to drag you to an empty dark alley. His hands were resting on your hips, yours on his suit jacket as both of your breaths quickened to pants. 

Clark leans down, his exhale stuttering as you take a step between his feet, your chest meeting his. You were so wet, your cunt throbbing as slick runs down your inner thighs. You could see his massive boner poke through his trousers, pressing into your lower belly. 

You whine at the sight of his frames almost falling from the bridge of his nose, yours fogging up from his warm puffs. You think Clark Kent was sick. He found out you were pregnant during dinner, with his friend's child no less and yet he's still here, the bridge of his nose nudging against your jaw. 

His lips trace over your neck, he feels your pulse, the shake of your knees. He presses you against the side of the building, hand lifting your skirt to grab at your thighs.

Your fingers tighten over the lapels of his jacket as his fingers gather your slick, pressing it to his lips in a starved groan. He’s dreamt of your taste. To the point where he would catch a hint of it in the air sometimes, tasting it on his tongue and yearning for more. 

It was like you were his favorite candy. A rich musky honey that he could never find anywhere else but in his own perverted mind. He gathers more of it, quickly flicking his tongue out to catch your arousal on his fingertips before dipping back in. 

He would get down on his knees but he wants to taste your mouth, lick the sweat off your skin from attempting to take both of his thick fingers. Your noses smoosh together as his tongue explores your mouth, his scent surrounds you, he smothers you as he lifts you against the wall and steps between your thighs. 

You pull away to take a breath and his mouth follows, only allowing you a heartbeat to inhale before he pulls you back into him. 

Your phone vibrates as he starts to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal clacking making your spine straighten in arousal. He moans when he feels more of your slick drop down his fingers and collect over his knuckles. 

“Clark..” 

You attempt to shift away, your phone starts to vibrate again. The bag on your shoulder pressing the phone inside against your ribs. You push against his chest. It could be important. Given by the amount of call backs, it must be. 

Even despite the heat and how good he makes you feel, your mind was clearer than his. He starts to tug your panties down, pressing the bulge of his boxers against the seam of your cunt. 

“Clark-” 

You push his shoulder hard, he instinctively grips your hand. The strength of it makes your breath hitch. He pulls away from your neck slowly, the cool air sending a chilling breeze as it meets your saliva slickened skin. 

You stare at each other, he leans back to get a better look at you. Your eyes were hooded over and glossy. Lips swollen from his kisses. He hears the vibration, cutting through the tension. As he lets you down, his grip loosens, so much more delicate than before as his knuckles pass over your cheek. 

The intimacy widens your eyes, but you let him continue, ignoring the urgency in your purse. He lifts your frames up to the crown of your head and your vision blurs slightly. His figure morphs into fuzz, and for a second your heart stops. 

He looks down at you with tenderness, a serious look of determination you couldn’t understand yet. You resist the urge to pet his head. The dark hair, tall and broad frame. It reminded you of him. 

You clear your throat as you bend to pull your underwear up from where they fell to your parted knees. He adjusts himself quickly as you make yourself presentable again. 

“I have to go.” 

He nods. “I’ll find you.” 

His words make you shiver. His confidence almost sounded like a threat. 

You fish your phone out of your purse as it rings again, turning away and shakily walking into the street. You curse under your breath and hail a taxi when you glance at the contact. 

…

You quicken your steps when you hear more of his sounds of pain. Lex had alerted you of Ultraman’s injuries, claiming he was requesting you by name. It rang alarm bells in your head, he didn't speak, not unless he was mimicking what someone had told him to say. 

But as you approach the medical lab, you hear it clear as day. Ultraman says it whispily, voice hoarse either from disuse or fatigue. 

He was strapped to the table, no other person around him except for Lex. He was writhing, kryptonite crystals lined along the straps. The room was hot, musky. It smelled like sex and sweat. He was shirtless, only in his boxers.

What really made your stomach curl was his dick print, it was visibly pulsing, most of the front of his underwear darkened by pre and cum. You swallow a moan as Ultraman's stomach clenches, more cum staining his boxers, some escaping past the fabric to make a mess on the medical chair. Lex stands over him, now facing you with narrowed eyes, as if waiting for you to react. 

He almost looks smug at how your chest starts to rise and fall quickly because of your surroundings. His bulge was obscene, Ultraman's body pulled like a corded wire. His neck was strained towards you. Your mouth parts and you swallow thickly. 

Lex and his stupid experiments. 

You feel anger rise within you, a hint of confusion in your voice as you step closer, dropping your bag and going to him as he calls your name weakly.

“Why aren’t you helping him?”

Lex watches closely, jaw ticked in irritation as you instinctively place a hand over Ultraman’s cheek, caressing lightly with your thumb. Your hands quickly move to take away the restraints as he moans weakly. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says boredly. You ignore him. Ultraman whines as your fingers graze over his skin. As the restraints fall to the side of the table he grips your wrists tightly, sitting up with minimal effort and pulling you up against him. You’re concerned by the way he shudders, panting into your ear as he tries to peel off your sweater. 

You don’t really fight it. His wandering lips and hands over your bare skin make you shake. As if a deep part of you was satisfied. You already knew what Lex did to him. He was always cruel. You fight through the need to submit to the rough pull of clothing. Your glare is directed at Lex as Ultraman starts to rut against your side. 

Your stomach clenches as his tongue slides over your throat. Your knees start to shake. 

“You’re a sick fuck, Lex,” you say breathily. He rolls his eyes. He’d thought you would be more grateful, honestly. He’s sure you didn’t know that he had cameras installed inside Ultraman’s room. To better monitor you of course. 

He felt a sense of envy and malice seeing you cuddle up with his creation, his brute. Then coincidentally, you had dinner with Clark Kent. Superman’s favorite reporter, most likely confidant and friend. 

“I haven’t yet been able to see the side effects. Which- I’m sure- you’ve felt already.” 

You frown. Lex always likes it when you pout. Your eyes flutter as your skirt is pulled down, panties along with it. Luthor walks around you both, shifting his belt to adjust himself. 

“You want Superman so bad, take him,” he says hatefully, his words sounding more like a hiss. 

Your eyes widen. Lex presses against your back, your back arches as his fingers reach the apex of your thighs. His fingers plunge into you, finding no resistance. Your knees give out but he holds you up against Ultraman’s chest, sandwiching you between them. 

“Want someone to take the edge off, whore?”

His words were whispered in your ear, your body unable to move between the two broad walls of chests. Lex pulls away, leaving you to grip onto Ultraman to still yourself. You watch as Ultraman’s lips open obediently, Lex pushing past his tongue to gag him with arousal coated fingers. 

His fingers pinch Ultraman’s chin harshly.

“Play with your toy.” 

…

“Oh c’mon-”

Lex stands from his chair suddenly. He’s been watching him pound into you for an hour. Your body was draped over the bed, shaking with your knees pushed all the way to your shoulders. You were boneless, Ultraman kissing you sloppily on your parted lips. 

Your glasses have fallen off, the sight of him on top of you bringing you pangs of arousal with every glance. It felt like you were on a perpetual high, brain turning to mush with his every grunt, every load. 

You were covered in it, your thighs slippery and lower belly filthy in translucent white. You were on the edge of ecstasy, unlike your experience with Superman who had shown that he was as compassionate as everyone he had encountered made him seem.

Your face was hot, skin itchy from the lack of proper release.

Lex snaps you out of your haze for a moment, pulling Ultraman back by the root of his hair and pulling his hands away from the backs of your thighs. He stops mid thrust, your legs shaking as they fall on either side of his hips. 

You feel Lex start to rub your cunt, thumb tracing over your lower lips as he whispers in Ultraman’s ears. You were too numb to fully understand his murmurs, but you catch Ultraman nodding. Your hips jump as he pinches your clit, showing where the clone should touch. He lets go of his hair and allows his fingers to replace his own. 

“Don’t be greedy, understand?” 

Ultraman nods stiffly, still in a daze of pleasure as his own fingers start to explore, circling over the hood slowly before pushing it away to place the lightest pressure on your exposed clit. Lex stays put, eyes roaming over your figure, covered in the clones cum. He couldn’t help himself, he bends down to lick at your neck, slowly making a path downward to where all of Ultraman’s spend had stained your skin.

Your breath hitches at the attention, his lips close around your nipple, now even more sensitive than before, and sucks harshly. You feel a letdown, a combination of milk and other discharge surging out of your nipple and to his mouth. It leaks as he lets go with a pop, the stimulation he began making you leak further. Your back arches almost painfully, the throbbing of your breast dying down but still present as he cups your belly. 

He eyes you from where he leans his head against the swell, eyes sharp and focused on your reaction. You have the urge to slap him but your body was too weak to move on your own, Ultraman having changed his rhythm of thrusts from shallow to deep. Lex knew exactly what you liked, he just never did it for you. The prick. 

He tongues at your lower belly, right where the baby bump starts, he kisses it lightly, almost hesitantly. His saliva acted as a balm, although Ultraman’s cum had a better effect on your body.

His head meets the edges of your cunt, he watches as Ultraman’s dick stretches you open obscenely, the delicate skin of your hole pulsing and sticking to his shaft like latex. Ultraman continues to pump himself into you, one hand moving to your breast, the other nudging at your clit. 

Luthor kisses where you both connect, your sensitive hole and his throbbing member. The sensation of his tongue makes your eyes roll back, back arching impossibly to grind against his face. Ultraman throbs against his lips from the feeling of his tongue cleaning the combination of your arousals off his cock.   

You feel yourself release, stomach cramping, head aching and cunt pulsing pleasure enough to make you scream. 

And inevitably black out. 

…

You haven’t been outside in a couple of weeks. All of your apartment’s belongings have been moved to the top floor of the LuthoCorp building. The walls were lined in lead and sound proofed. Clark had mentioned how Superman could hear almost anything at all times spanning the entire world. Clearly, Lex knew that too, as the second you were left alone you screamed Superman at the top of your lungs and no one appeared to save you.

You place a hand on your back, another cupping your belly, now bigger and heavier. Your feet slide into the slippers Lex had gotten you. You pull your shirt down, sighing as the fabric slid up again. 

Lex refused to give you larger sizes. Judging by the bulges in his pants whenever he came “home”, you think he enjoyed seeing the progress of his “child”.

Your face morphs into silent contemplation, lips thinning out into a mute frown as you step out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. You stare at the black velvet box on the kitchen counter. Several vases full of flowers adorning the living room and kitchen. 

The note next to it wasn’t worth reading. Opening the box, you felt nothing, even if the ring was as beautiful as those you had pinned in your Pinterest boards. You put it down, placing your hands on the table and taking deep breaths in. 

You shift the vases away as you prepare yourself breakfast, your chest festers with anxiety. 

You think you’ll just say the ring didn’t fit. Your fingers were swelling. 

He’d believe it.

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

Part three is mostly from Clark’s perspective, which will fill in some of the scenes… Lowk I don't know about this lol.

Breeding Program Masterlist

@fallout-girl219 @nomorespahgetti @uselesstutor09 @sawendel

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

[buniriski]

☆ ATLA : one shot : Future keeps

☆ summary : A small visit of Iroh II was a little bit if a blessing in disguise.

☆ pairing : Zuko x Fem!Reader

☆ word count : 4k (i woke up at 6am , and kept on writing and coming back to it and its now 10pm, the atla brainrot goes crazy until I’m done)

☆ author note : Like all of the internet, you’ve probably seen the leaks for the movie. I think its very important that when and if at this point if comes out, you go support it in any way possible. I myself dont want to just see slop forever and that means we must support the artists that put in the work.

Crashes echoed from somewhere beyond the mountains bordering Republic City. You barely had time to register it before the windows gave a rattle. Still, neither of you moved.

You and Zuko stood over a wide table scattered with blueprints. The city was finally taking shape in a real, tangible way.

You leaned forward slightly, tapping the edge of one page. “You know… it’s kind of amazing how well everything’s actually going to plan.”

Zuko let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s… remarkable, yeah.” His gaze stayed fixed on the plans, but his hand resting near the corner shaked, just barely unsteady. “For something this big, I was expecting at least three disasters by now.”

You glanced up at him, catching the unease he clearly thought he was hiding.

“Zuko,” you said, softer now, nudging the paper toward him, “you should know by now you were a big part of making this work.”

He stiffened just a fraction, like the words caught him off guard. “I ” He stopped, jaw tightening briefly before he shook his head. “I just helped where I could.”

You raised a brow. “You helped build an entire city. That’s not exactly ‘where I could.’”

There was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

BOOM.

The explosion hit harder this time louder, closer. The building shuddered, a deep, violent tremor that sent a ripple through the table. Papers lifted, some sliding clean off the edges.

Then Zuko moved first. “Outside. Now.”

You didn’t argue. By the time you burst through the doors, the air outside had already shifted. A distant plume of dark smoke curled upward from behind the mountains, thick and wrong against the sky.

“That wasn’t just a landslide,” you muttered.

“No,” Zuko replied, eyes narrowing as heat flickered faintly along his hands, instinct already kicking in. “It wasn’t.”

Another distant rumble followed, quieter this time. You were already moving.

“Race you?” you shot over your shoulder, grinning despite the situation.

Zuko huffed, stepping forward as flames burst from his feet in a controlled jet, lifting him smoothly into the air. “This isn’t a game.”

“Everything’s a game if you’re fast enough.”

“You’re being brash.”

“And you’re slow keep up!”

You sprinted ahead, boots pounding against the ground as the terrain shifted from clean stone to rough earth. Behind you, there was a sharp rush of heat as Zuko surged forward through the air, fire propelling him in quick bursts.

“Don’t get too far ahead!” he called.

“What, worried you’ll lose me?” you shot back.

“I’m serious!”

You glanced back just long enough to see the concern in his expression. That… made you slow just a fraction.

“Yeah,” you said, quieter this time. “Me too.”

Another tremor rolled through the ground beneath your feet. Closer now. By the time you and Zuko reached the source of the explosion, the world… didn’t make sense. The ground looked wrong like the earth itself had been torn up, churned, then dropped back down in the wrong order. Jagged ridges cut through what should’ve been smooth terrain, and the soil had that dry, brittle look of something ancient rather than freshly disturbed. Thin streams of smoke curled up from the center, drifting lazily like the aftermath of something far more violent than it should’ve been.

You slowed to a stop.

“…Okay,” you muttered, scanning the area. “That’s not normal.”

Zuko landed beside you. His stance was already defensive, eyes sharp as they swept the destruction. “Stay alert.”

You both exchanged a look before stepping forward. That’s when you heard it.

“ I am going to maim Korra…”

The voice dragged itself out of the smoke, rough and annoyed more than anything else.

You blinked. A figure shifted at the center of the wreckage. A man. He was pushing himself upright, clearly shaken, brushing dust from clothing that immediately caught your attention. Sleek, structured, layered in a way that felt unfamiliar advanced, almost. There was something elegant about it, even with dirt smeared across it.

He straightened fully, rolling his shoulder with a wince then noticed you and started walking closer.

Zuko stepped in front of you instantly, one arm out slightly as heat flickered to life in his palm. “Stay back!” His voice cut clean through the air. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

The man paused, lifting his hands in a show of surrender though his expression stayed oddly relaxed for someone standing in a crater. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, letting out a short, breathy laugh. “No harm intended. My friend and I were just training and uh ” he gestured vaguely behind him, “ I might’ve gotten hit a little harder than expected.”

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “That’s a ‘little’ hard”

Zuko didn’t lower his guard. “If this is your idea of training, where’s your friend?”

“Good question,” the man said, turning to look around.

then… he frowned. “…Huh.”

You followed his gaze. There was nothing there. No second person. No signs of a second impact. Just broken earth stretching out in every direction.

“Um,” he said again, slower this time, scanning the horizon. “They should be… around here somewhere.”

His confusion didn’t look fake. “…What the heck?” he muttered under his breath.

Zuko’s stance tightened. You, on the other hand, stepped forward slipping just ahead of him.

“Hey ” Zuko started, annoyed.

You waved him off slightly without looking back. “Relax.”

He did not relax. You tilted your head at the stranger. “What’s your name?”

Zuko made a quiet, irritated sound behind you at your very bold decision making. The man straightened a bit, regaining some composure. “My name is General Iroh. And again deepest apologies for… all of this.”

The moment the name left his mouth Zuko moved. Fast. His hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back behind him so quickly you nearly stumbled.

“Hey !” you snapped, yanking slightly against his grip.

Zuko didn’t let go. His eyes were locked on the man now sharp, disbelieving, and just a little furious.

“No,” he said flatly. “You are not.”

The man blinked, genuinely taken aback. “I… think I would know who I am.”

Zuko took a step forward. “That name belongs to someone else.”

You huffed, trying to pry your arm free. “Okay wow territorial much ”

“Stay behind me.”

“I’m not a houseplant, Zuko.”

“Now is not the time ”

“Actually,” you cut in, finally slipping out of his grip and stepping up beside him again, “now is exactly the time for everyone to take a breath before this turns into something stupid.”

You glanced between the two of them. Yeah. This was going great. You lifted your hands slightly. “Okay. Let’s all collectively take a chill pill for one second.”

Zuko didn’t move. The man didn’t move.

You exhaled slowly. “Cool. Love that no one is listening.”

You pointed at the stranger. “You mystery explosion guy are claiming you’re General Iroh.”

Then you jabbed a thumb toward Zuko. “And he knows a General Iroh, so obviously that’s setting off about twelve alarms.”

“I figured,” the man admitted.

“Great. So here’s what we’re gonna do ” you stepped slightly between them now, firmly claiming mediator status whether they liked it or not, “ nobody attacks anybody for at least… five minutes.”

Zuko scoffed quietly. “I wasn’t going to ”

“You were absolutely about to,” you shot back without missing a beat.

“…Stop being rash,” he returned, shooting you a look.

You turned right back to the stranger, unimpressed. “And you I don’t know who you are, but that’s a really stupid claim.”

He winced, just a little. “In my defense… it is my name.”

Zuko’s eye twitched.

You clapped your hands once, sharp and loud in the smoky air. “Okay! Great. Love the energy. Hate the progress.”

Neither of them laughed. You exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down your face before gesturing broadly at the wreckage around you. “New question where do you think you are right now?”

The man opened his mouth. “…Not where I was supposed to be,” he admitted.

You nodded once. “Yeah. Same page.”

Zuko didn’t relax an inch. “…Explain.”

The man Iroh, allegedly ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to piece something together. “Well… that’s the problem.” He glanced between the two of you. “I’m not entirely sure I can.”

“That’s not a start,” you said flatly.

“Okay okay, wait.” He lifted his hands again, thinking fast now. “Um… I’m friends with the Avatar.”

You stared at him.

Then immediately started walking toward him like you were about to escort him out yourself. “Sure you are, buddy. Come on,” you said, completely dismissing him as you closed the distance. “Let’s get you somewhere that can get you the support you need.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, though, something nagged at you. The voice. The attitude. The way he held himself. Why does he sound like?

“Oh my god, you must be ” You blinked as he suddenly froze, eyes going wide as he looked straight at you like you’d just solved a puzzle you didn’t know you were part of.

“…What?” you said, immediately suspicious.

But he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was looking past you. “Grandpa.”

Looked at Zuko. Then back at him. Then back at Zuko. then you absolutely lost it. A loud, unrestrained cackle burst out of you as you pointed straight at Zuko. “GRANDPA?!”

Zuko’s face went from confusion to horror to pure offense in under a second. “What no ”

You doubled over slightly, still pointing. “Oh that’s no, that’s perfect. Fire Lord Zuko ruler of a nation reduced to ” you gasped for air, “ grandpa.”

“I am not ” Zuko snapped, flustered now, color rising to his face. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

Behind you, the man looked just as confused. “Wait no, hold on why is he so young?”

You wheezed. “Oh my god, it gets better ”

Zuko dragged a hand down his face, already done with this entire situation. “Okay. That’s enough.”

“Aw, come on, grandpa, don’t be like that ”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.”

“Please stop encouraging this,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly aiming that last part at the universe more than you.

You straightened up slightly, still grinning like you’d just been handed the best joke of your life. Zuko turned back to the stranger, voice sharp again though now carrying a very clear thread of personal irritation.“Alright. That’s it. You’re coming with us.”

“Wait, I ” the man started.

“No arguments,” Zuko cut in, already stepping forward.

You snorted. “Yeah, okay, psycho let’s get you out of here.”

“Hey,” the man protested weakly, “I’m not a psycho ”

“Debatable,” you and Zuko said at the exact same time.

You glanced at him, then at Zuko.

“…Okay that was a little cool,” you admitted.

Zuko huffed. “Don’t.”

Behind you, the man rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at Zuko like he was trying to solve a very personal mystery.

“…Are you not together?” he asked carefully.

Zuko confused just said. “No.”

You tilted your head, studying the stranger again, that earlier thought creeping back in. “…I don’t know,” you muttered. “He does kinda sound like you.”

Zuko shot you a look. “Don’t.”

You grinned. “What? I’m just saying if you had a future kid or something ”

“I’m going to start ignoring you.”

“You already try.” A beat. “…It doesn’t work.”

You smiled sweetly. Zuko sighed. behind both of you, the so called General Iroh just stood there, watching the two of you with disbelief.

“…Yeah,” he murmured under his breath. “That tracks.”

Bringing him into the city only made things… stranger. You’d expected resistance. maybe. At the very least, a little attitude. The guy looked like you’d just dropped him into the most impressive place he’d ever seen. His head kept turning as you walked taking in the buildings, the streets, the movement of people, the bending, the life of it all. His eyes lingered on everything just a second too long, like he was trying to memorize it.

You couldn’t help the small flicker of pride that settled in your chest.

“Yeah,” you said casually as you led him along, “not bad for something that ‘wasn’t supposed to work,’ right?”

“It’s…” he trailed off, almost smiling to himself. “It’s incredible.”

You smirked a little. “I’ll take that.”

Now he sat across from you securely locked in a holding room, because you weren’t completely reckless though the way he carried himself made it feel more like he was visiting than detained. Zuko had already stormed off to find Aang, leaving you behind with a firm don’t do anything stupid.

Naturally, you stayed. Because you absolutely wanted to hear more from the “possibly insane stranger.”

You leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “So… Iroh.”

He looked up at you, calm as ever. “You know that’s a very special name to my friend,” you added, watching him carefully.

“I know,” he said easily. “And I’m very grateful for my name.”

That answer… didn’t feel rehearsed. You tilted your head, studying him. “You don’t seem like a bad person. Of course,” you added lightly, “that could be famous last words.”

He let out a small breath of a laugh, quieter than before. “I suppose that’s fair.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. he looked at you again “I never really got to know you,” he said softly.

You blinked. “That’s because we just met.”

He shook his head faintly, like that wasn’t quite what he meant. “You’re… very kind.”

You stared at him for a second. Then narrowed your eyes slightly. “You say crazier things the longer you’re here.”

That earned a small smile. “Yeah,” he admitted under his breath. “I’m starting to notice that.”

You shifted your weight, leaning one shoulder against the wall now. “So… um…” he hesitated, “How are you and Zuko?”

You blinked at the sudden shift. “What? Him and I? well hes one of my best friends,” you answered, like it was obvious.

“Friends?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes again. “What about it?”

“Nothing nothing,” he said quickly, but there was something off about the way he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is just… weird.”

You pushed off the wall slightly, stepping closer to the bars.

“Weird how?”

He exhaled, glancing back at you hesitating like he was deciding how much to say.

“Because where I’m from,” he said carefully, “that’s… not exactly how I would’ve described it.”

You stared at him. “…Okay,” you said slowly. He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

His smile softened again but there was something behind it now. Something heavier. “…You matter to him,” he said. You didn’t answer right away. He continued, quieter this time. “A lot more than just ‘friend.’”

You held his gaze, trying to decide if he was messing with you, guessing, or… something else entirely.

“…You’re very bizarre,” you said finally,

That was the last you saw of him. Aang showed up not long after with Katara close behind and between the two of them, things moved quickly. You’d tried to linger. Zuko had given you a look.

Not harsh but firm enough that you knew when you were being gently pushed out of the room. So you left it. The next morning, when curiosity inevitably dragged you back, he was gone. You stood there for a moment longer than you needed to, staring at the empty space like it might give you something if you looked hard enough.

“…Huh,” you muttered to yourself. that was that. Just another strange, unexplainable thing to add to the growing list.

it didn’t stay that simple. Because as the day went on. you kept catching yourself drifting back to it. You leaned against a railing overlooking one of the busier streets, arms folded loosely as your gaze tracked the movement below without really seeing it.

“…Weird,” you murmured again, softer this time.

Your fingers tapped absently against your arm as your thoughts shifted unavoidably to Zuko.

To the way you’d answered without thinking: He’s one of my best friends. You exhaled slowly through your nose. “Yeah,” you muttered under your breath. “That’s normal.”

It was normal. You and Zuko fought. Constantly, sometimes. You pushed, he snapped back, you ignored him, he got annoyed it was just how things worked. There was nothing strange about it.

Your jaw tightened just slightly. Then why did that answer feel… incomplete?

You shifted your weight, straightening a little as your gaze drifted upward toward the skyline toward the palace where he was probably still dealing with whatever Aang had uncovered.

The memory slipped back in whether you wanted it to or not “Friends?”

You huffed quietly. “Well, what was I supposed to say?”

You weren’t wrong. Zuko was your best friend. One of the most important people in your life. The one you ended up next to in every situation without really thinking about it.

Your fingers curled slightly against your sleeve. “…Okay,” you said under your breath, “We’re not doing that.”

Doing what, exactly, you didn’t clarify. You pushed off the railing, starting to walk again just to have something else to focus on.

“You matter to him.”

You frowned slightly, your steps slowing despite yourself. “…People matter to people,” you muttered, like that settled it.

Right? Zuko cared about a lot of people. His uncle. His friends. The city. His responsibility. You weren’t… special in that way. Were you?

Your stomach did something uncomfortable at the thought, and you immediately scowled like you could bully the feeling into going away.

“Nope,” you said quietly. “Absolutely not.”

You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling. This was ridiculous. You’d faced worse than confusing strangers and their cryptic comments. Way worse. This shouldn’t be the thing that stuck.

“Hey.” Your shoulders tensed just slightly at the sound of his voice behind you.

“I brought you some ginseng tea.”

You turned and immediately broke into a laugh. “You did not.” There he was Zuko, standing there, holding what was very clearly a vase.

He frowned slightly, glancing down at it like he was only now reconsidering his choices. “It holds liquid.”

“That’s not the point,” you laughed, stepping closer anyway. “Where did you even get that?”

“…It was there,” he said, like it explained anything.

“Of course it was.”

He held it out toward you, just a little more insistently now. “Careful. It’s hot.”

Your laughter softened into something quieter as you reached out, taking it from him carefully despite yourself. The ceramic was warm against your hands too warm, really and you adjusted your grip quickly.

“Yeah, no kidding, did you boil the ocean?”

He huffed. “You complain a lot for someone who hasn’t burned themselves yet.”

“I’m working on it.”

You looked down at the tea, watching the faint curl of steam rise from the surface.

“…I appreciate it,” you said, more sincerely this time.

Zuko didn’t answer right away. He was already watching you. Your grip tightened slightly around the vase.

“…What?” you asked, a little too quickly.

“Nothing,” he said, just as fast.

You narrowed your eyes. “youre so weird.”

He exhaled sharply, looking away for a second like he was deciding whether this was worth it.

“…You’ve been quiet,” he said finally.

You blinked.

“That’s your big observation?”

“You’re usually louder.”

“Wow. Deep.”

“I’m serious.”

You glanced back down at the tea, buying yourself a second. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About him.” You tilted your head slightly. “Among other things.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “Aang and Katara thought he might be telling the truth.”

You snorted softly. “Of course they do.”

“They also thought he might not be from here.”

That made you look up again.

“…Define ‘not from here.’”

Zuko hesitated. “As in not just another place. Another… time.”

You looked down at the tea. Then back at him. “…You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

A small silence settled between you. “…Huh,” you said. You shifted your weight, leaning back slightly against the railing again.

“…He said some weird things,” you admitted.

Zuko’s eyes flicked back to you. “Like what?”

You hesitated. Then shrugged, aiming for casualness and missing it slightly. “Nothing important.”

Zuko didn’t buy it. You could tell. “Nothing?” he pressed.

“Nothing,” you repeated. “…He asked about us.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Zuko stilled. “Us?” he echoed.

You immediately regretted everything.

“Not us, us,” you said quickly, gesturing vaguely with the vase and nearly sloshing tea over the edge. “Just you and me. As people. Existing. Near each other.”

“What did you say?”

“That you’re my best friend,” you said, a little more defensive than you meant to.

Zuko blinked. That answer caught him off guard. “…Oh,” he said.

You frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, a little too quickly again.

You narrowed your eyes. He looked away, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s just”

He stopped. “…What?” you pushed.

Zuko exhaled slowly, the words were heavier than they should’ve been. “…Is that all it is?” he asked.

Your heart did something very unhelpful in your chest. You stared at him. “…What?”

He didn’t look back at you this time. “Nothing,” he said again, quieter now.

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, now you don’t get to do that. You asked the question.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

Silence stretched between you again but this time it felt different. You shifted your grip on the vase, the warmth of it suddenly a lot more noticeable.

“…Why does it matter?” you asked, softer now.

Zuko didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. “I don’t know.”

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “Me neither.”

“I, um… I think that you’re very kind.” You blinked, looking up at Zuko like he’d just spoken a different language.

“…Gee. Thanks.”

He frowned immediately, like that wasn’t what he meant. “No, I”

“I think you’re a very tolerable person,” he added awkwardly.

“Zuko, I’m going to hit you.”

“Stop,” he said quickly, holding up a hand like you might actually follow through. “I’m trying to say something.”

He exhaled slowly, he was bracing himself.

“I also think… that that person means what he says.”

Zuko swallowed, jaw tensing before he forced himself to keep going.

“He made me think of a future with you.” His voice dipped lower, “And then I thought about a future without you and it” He stopped, shaking his head once like he didn’t even want to finish the thought. “It made me sick.”

Something in your chest twisted hard enough that it almost knocked the breath out of you.

“Zuko” you started, but he didn’t let you stop him this time.

“I don’t know when it changed,” he said, more firmly now, like he’d finally found the thing he was trying to say. “Or if it always felt like this and I just didn’t realize it… I want to create that future with you.”

You stared at him, your mind trying and failing to catch up with everything that was said.

“…You’re really bad at this,” you said quietly.

His expression faltered. “I”

“But,” you added just as quickly, stepping a little closer, “thank you.”

“That guy whoever he is” you continued softly, “he didn’t just see something that wasn’t there.”

Zuko’s breath hitched just slightly.

You tilted your head, a faint smile pulling at your lipsnot teasing this time, but something softer. “He might've just helped us change everything”

Your gaze dropped briefly to the vase still in your hands before you carefully set it down on the railing beside you, freeing your hands.

“…So,” you said, a little lighter, even if your heart was still racing, “this future you’re planning”

Zuko stiffened slightly. “I didn’t say I planned it”

“am I still allowed to call you grandpa in it?”

He stared at you. “…Absolutely not.”

You grinned.

“Then I’ll think about it.”

He groaned quietly, dragging a hand over his face but there was a smile there now, breaking through despite himself.

[buniriski]

BACK

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ATLA *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Sokka

In charge

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Toph

you’ve got to be good in bed

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Zuko

Future Keeps

[buniriski]

☆ ATLA : one shot : you've got to be good in bed

☆ summary : Beach day! (set around the time period of the leaked movie 😭)

☆ pairing : Toph Beifong x Any!Reader

☆ word count : anotha short one

☆ author note : Like all of the internet, you’ve probably seen the leaks for the movie. I think its very important that when and if at this point if comes out, you go support it in any way possible. I myself dont want to just see slop forever and that means we must support the artists that put in the work.

—————-

“You know, Toph because you’re like… super in tune with vibrations and feelings or whatever ”

Toph was digging her toes into the sand. “youre speaking weird”

“What? I’m just saying ” you leaned in a little, lowering your voice like you were about to reveal a deep philosophical thought. “ Does that mean you’re like… really good at sex?”

Toph’s head snapped up so fast it was honestly impressive for someone who “couldn’t see.” Her face went red before her expression hardened into something feral.

“…you wanna repeat that, loud enough for the entire beach to hear?”

You opened your mouth. The sand beneath your feet shifted.

“WAIT ”

Too late. The ground launched you straight into the air like a catapult.

“IM JUST CURIOUS !”

You flailed above the sand mountain while somewhere below, Toph dusted her hands off like she’d just taken out the trash.

“You’re curious? Great. Be curious from up there!”

You hit the sand with a very undignified whump, coughing as grains got everywhere they absolutely should not be.

From a short distance away, you turned back toward Toph, pouting despite the sand stuck to your cheek. “I was just curious…”

Toph tilted her head slightly, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Oh, I know you were,” she said sweetly. “Your heartbeat spiked, your breathing got weird.”

You froze.

“…you can tell all that?”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Please. I can feel everything”

You stare at her in a bit of shock and suddenly flushing. “That explains so much, actually.”

Toph took a step closer, the sand crunching under her heel as she leaned in just enough to be intimidating.

“And for the record,” she added, voice low and smug, “if I was good at anything, you’d never be brave enough to ask me about it.”

A small rock smacked into your shin.

“OW HEY ”

“Next question like that,” Toph said, already turning away, “you wont like the outcome”

You huffed, brushing yourself off. “…still didn’t answer the question.”

The ground rumbled again.

“OKAY NEVER MIND

[buniriski]

☆ ATLA : one shot IN CHARGE - fluff

☆ summary : Spending time in the water tribe has been more relaxing than expected, especially after the war

☆ pairing : Sokka x Fem!Reader

☆ word count : idk short, i dont want to check

☆ author note : Like all of the internet, you’ve probably seen the leaks for the movie. I think its very important that when and if at this point it comes out, you go support it in any way possible. I myself dont want to just see slop forever and that means we must support the artists that put in the work.

For all that your partner was worth, at least he was…. an amazing story teller. Albeit an egotistical one.

“And that’s when I said,” Sokka continued, pacing with his boomerang slung over his shoulder, “‘You can take our sky bison, but you’ll never take our ’”

“Our what?” one of the kids interrupted.

Sokka paused. “…Our… dignity.”

The kids gasped anyway. Perfect. Sokka smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and kept going. “So there I was, outnumbered, outmatched, and let’s be honest better looking than everyone else involved ”

Two of the kids nodded seriously. You snickered to yourself knowing damn well about any of the adventures from what katara has told you and for a fact that their earlier adventures were always a little rocky.

The third squinted. “Weren’t you the guy who got stuck in a hole that one time?”

Sokka froze. “…What?”

“The hole,” the kid repeated. “My cousin said you fell in one”

The other two kids turned to Sokka, waiting. Sokka blinked. Once. Twice. His confidence visibly deflated.

“first of all dont start believing just what people tell you” he said, pointing defensively. “And second of all, I climbed out myself. Mostly.”

The kid tilted their head. “So you did fall in a hole.”

Sokka opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. From a short distance away, you couldn’t hold it in anymore you laughed.

Not loud enough to completely ruin him, but definitely loud enough for him to hear. Sokka’s head snapped toward you. “Hey! You! no commentary from the peanut gallery!”

You raised your hands innocently, still grinning. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Youre supposed to be my number one supporter.”

The kids turned to you now, curious, as if you might confirm the story. You just shrugged. “He also once thought a cactus was a good source of energy.”

Sokka groaned. “Okay, that was one time and I was dehydrated!”

The kids burst into giggles. Sokka sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “…I had them. I had them.”

You stepped a little closer, still smiling. “You still do. They’re just getting the full version now.”

He shot you a look. “You are not invited to my storytelling sessions anymore.”

“Too late,” you said, settling nearby. “like you said, im your number one fan.”

“I said supporter but i suppose you can have a promotion” Clearly giddy that you're here.

One of the kids piped up again, eyes shining. “Tell us about the cactus!”

Sokka groaned louder this time, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“…Fine. if anything this can be a cautionary tale about how strong my body is.”

“Of course” you muttered.

he was back in it while the kids leaned in, completely hooked all over again. You stayed off to the side, arms loosely crossed, watching the performance with a kind of fondness you hadn’t expected to feel when all of this started.

It still felt strange sometimes how quickly things had changed over the course of a few years. Not long ago, you’d stood on the opposite side of the war. Loyal to the Fire Nation, to the Fire Lord, to everything you’d been raised to believe was right. And then Zuko had shown up, insistent, asking no, pushing you to see things differently. To trust him.

You hadn’t switched sides “in an instant.” That was the version people liked to tell.

The truth was that you thought Zuko was full of shit. Unfortunately he was someone that you trusted so you went along with it somehow, against your better judgment, you trusted him anyway.

That trust had pulled you straight into the orbit of Aang and the rest of them. At first, it was because of Zuko. The two of you had fallen into step easily, like nothing had really changed between you. Late night conversations, understanding, standing side by side in battles that actually meant something now.

Call it teenage romance or whatever you want to call it but you and Zuko really did care for each other but it mightve been the height of everything and having a person to rely on. You moving away from your family to help him was less moving away and you getting kicked out

Meanwhile, Sokka had been… well, Sokka. You’d liked Suki almost immediately anyone with that much confidence and skill was impossible not to admire and the gaang had very easily (sorta) won during the final stretch of the war.

But things changed after. Suki went back to Kyoshi Island. Zuko… became Fire Lord.

And Sokka You glanced over at him now as he crouched in front of the kids, lowering his voice whispering the story. (clearly embarrassed even though you know the real story)

Sokka stayed… Sokka.

The Water Tribe wasn’t what you were used to. It was colder, quieter in some ways, people didn’t look at you like they trusted you right away not after where you came from but they didn’t shut you out either. It helped that Sokka never treated you like you didn’t belong. Even when neither of you could really define why you were both still here.

“…and that’s when I single handedly made sure no one was poisoned,” Sokka was saying now, puffing up slightly.

“You mean you drank a random plant” one of the kids asked.

Sokka pointed at them. “We are talking about looking out for your teammates."

You laughed again, softer this time. He glanced over at you, catching it, and rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued quickly, trying to recover his momentum, “the point is I am a highly trained warrior.”

“Then why do you live here?” another kid asked innocently. “Shouldn’t you be… somewhere important?”

His eyes flicked toward you without thinking. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over, stepping into the edge of the little circle. “He is somewhere important, protecting you all”

Sokka blinked. The kids looked between you both. To answer their confusion. You shrugged lightly. “Someone has to keep an eye on him.”.

Then one of the kids grinned. “Ohhh, so you’re in charge.”

Sokka scoffed immediately. “I am absolutely in charge.”

“Sure you are,” you said under your breath.

He shot you a look. “give me some grace lady”

You met his gaze for a moment, oh how you love how freaking weird he is. “…Yeah,” you said, smiling.

Maybe he had rubbed off on you more than you liked to admit. You clapped your hands once, turning to the kids. “Alright, show’s over. Get out before I start kicking you all out myself.”

They stared at you. “Wow,” one of them said, unimpressed. “What’s your problem, lady?”

“Your face,” you shot back immediately, pointing toward the door. “Now go. Before I tell Sokka to put cactus juice in your food.”

They scattered, laughing and shouting protests as they pushed out the door, one of them yelling, “He would do it!” over their shoulder.

The door shut behind them, and just like that, the room went quiet. You exhaled softly, a small smile still on your face as you turned back. Sokka was already looking at you. “What?” you asked, raising a brow, though your voice came out lighter than you expected. “…your confidence repels me,” you said lying through your teeth as you stepped closer anyway, like something unseen kept pulling you in.

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away for half a second before looking back at you again. “You didn’t have to follow me out here. Missed home, I just… didn’t think you’d stay this long.”

You tilted your head. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“Hey no,” he said quickly. “No, I just ” He exhaled, trying again. “I’m glad you did.”

“Wow,” you said dryly. “Don’t get all soft on me, tough guy.”

He groaned. “I was being sincere.”

“I can be sincere and a little bossy.” you state switching the topic to yourself

“Uh huh,” he said, folding his arms again. “Sure. What do you got?”

You stepped into him before he could overthink it, grabbing his shirt and tugging him down just enough to meet you. “kissing me.”

He didn’t get the chance to respond properly“oh ” before your lips met his.

his hands found your waist faster than anyone could blink, pulling you closer. When you pulled back, it wasn’t far. Close enough that you could still feel his breath hitch a little, like he was catching up.

“…Okay,” he said finally, blinking once. “That was ”

“Don’t ruin it,” you cut in, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He shut his mouth immediately to frown.

“…I was going to say ‘super amazing awesome,’” he tried.

You stared at him with a smirk displayed on your face.

He winced. “Right. Still ruining it.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered but you didn’t move away.

If anything, your hands stayed exactly where they were. “So,” he said, quieter now, “wanna head home?”

You smile in return. “Let's go home.” you say while grabbing his hand.

Sokka smiling like an idiot while you both leave.

you turn to him once more. “oh by the way, im so the one in charge”

[chibi-tokki]

Spitting your gum into katsuki’s hand right before an interview.

Your schedule had been packed. Back-to-back segments and interviews all in preparation for the holiday special that had been promoted to raise money over the winter break. The exact charity has long since evaded you, but it's coming up on your tenth hour since your first meal, and between your growling stomach and growing headache, the only thing you can think of is being able to sink your teeth into whatever bland-ass meal catering was offering. 

You chew on your gum as you slouch into the couch, the stage lights heat you to the point of overstimulation. With a deep breath, you let your head loll back, feeling the ache in your shoulders loosen as you relax further, eyes slipping closed for a moment of reprieve. 

“Have you eaten?” The familiar voice of your partner fills your head, then two fingers tap against your temple to catch your attention.

The couch dips as Katsuki sits next to you, the smell of caramel and vanilla engulfing you, sending your mouth watering. Fuck, why did he have to smell so sweet!

You answer with a hum, shaking your head no before opening your mouth, the long chewed up gum on show on your tongue. Sure the display is unladylike and kinda gross but you’ve been together for far too long for it to be an issue.

“Is this you asking me to feed you like a baby bird?” Bakugou chuckles, his calloused fingers running over your cheek.

“Have you eaten?” You parrot his question, finally opening your eyes to catch a glimpse of your fiancée. Dressed in his press suit, the ache in your head eases at his comforting presence. All you want to do is go home, order food and watch tv in bed till you both pass out.

Katsuki grunts. “I had a protein bar but that’s it.”

You groan, flinging your head back dramatically. Fuck you are so hungry!

“Was it good?” You peek an eye open, lips pulled down in a frown.

“No.” Katsuki lies for your own sake. “It was the gross ones you hate, the cookies and cream one” another lie but he doesn’t want to rub it in.

The frown on your face deepens. “I’d fuck up a cookies and cream protein bar right now. I’d eat the wrapper and everything.” Your sigh is wistful, too focused on imagining the taste and feeling of a fully belly.

“Can you order something so it’s ready when we get home, please.”

“Already done, pretty girl.” Katsuki cups your cheek, loving the way you hum and lean into his hand. “Got dessert too.”

“You treat me so well.” You mummer, kissing his palm.

It’s Katsuki’s turn to hum. “It’s the bare minimum, baby. Gotta make sure you’re healthy and fed.”

You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by production announcing you have a minute before cameras start rolling at you go live.

“Dynamight, could you leave the stage please.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, jaw clenching in irritation but he stands nonetheless, too tired to cause a scene.

Your hair and make up team rush in to prep you, fixing smudge liner and fly aways in a frenzied rush.

“Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart. Love you.” He leans in once more, ducking around your team to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your make up artist huffs as she swipes more powder over the kiss.

“Live in, 10, 9, 8..”

The girls leave you as quick as they came, Bakugou backing away with them.

“6, 5, 4..”

“The gum!!” Your manager’s voice cuts through the count down. Fuck. Eyes widening, you turn to scan for a bin, the piece of confectionary already between your teeth.

“3,2..”

You are met with Katsuki’s hand under your chin and a simple “Spit”

As if on autopilot you open your lips and spit the gum into his waiting palm, quickly wiping at your bottom lip. With a quick burst of flames, the gum is incinerated into dust as Katsuki takes a step back out of frame.

You turn to the interviewer, a long time friend from back in UA, ready to smile and laugh but they are staring back with wide eyes. Their eyes dart from you to the camera, then back to a cackling Katsuki standing in the wings, your manager the complete opposite next to him, already furiously typing on their phone.

The red light of the LIVE sign casting a glow around the room. Shit. Yes, the world knew you and Dynamight were close but the exact nature of your relationship had been kept out of the tabloids by request of both you and Bakugou, and now well, there is no denying the rumours constantly circling you.

The phone in your pocket buzzes with a text from the prohero as he is ushered to his last segment.

Imagine if you had spat it into my mouth instead

a/n: reupload from ages ago

[buniriski]

if you still write for Sally Face, can I request a Larry x reader fic where it's like that one Regular Show fic you made and Larry is venting again about being lonely and Sal brings up reader since he's mentioned liking them and then that gives Larry the idea to pursue them? Sorry if this is confusing, you can change up the end a bit because I'm not too sure about that part, but thank you! If you don't write for SF anymore you can just ignore this 🩷

☆ Sally Face :  one shot : SOUNDING STUPID ☆ summary : Larry Johsnon is a loser and doesnt know hot to talk to a pretty girl even if it is best friend  ☆ pairing : Larry Johnson x Fem!Reader ☆ author note : OKOKOK, so like I started writing this, and it definitely wasn't exactly what you were looking for. I think I got lost in the end, but something short and sweet, so I can get myself back into writing again!

Larry leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Urethral”

“I don’t like that start,” Sal grimaced immediately, sitting up straighter on the couch.

Larry didn’t even blink. “ sounding.”

Sal whipped his head toward him. “And I was right. What the fuck are you talking about?”

Larry shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just thinking of ways I can out freak the one.”

Sal stared at him for a long moment, then dragged a hand down his face. “Why can’t you be into normal weird things, like hitting each other?”

Larry broke into a grin. “Sal, be so for real. Of course I’m into that.”

Sal flattened his lips, unimpressed. He turned away with a deep breath, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the scuffed floor. The joke had landed the way Larry probably intended.

After a second, Sal glanced back. Larry wasn’t grinning anymore. He was staring off again, fingers fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sleeve. He looked like he was searching for the next outrageous thing to say, like if he could just stay one step ahead of everyone’s discomfort, he wouldn’t have to sit in his own.

Everyone knew Larry didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to… well, anything involving consistency. It was kind of funny until you sat with it a little too long and realized there was something a bit sad tucked underneath the jokes.

Sal let out a quiet sigh, softer this time, like he didn’t want it to sound as heavy as it felt. “Someone’ll find you, bro.”

Larry huffed out a laugh, glancing over at him. “Says you.”

Sal nudged his shoe against Larry’s, a small, grounding gesture. “Yeah. Says me.” He paused, then added with a slight smirk, “Didn’t you say our dear old friend is coming?”

Larry groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ew, don’t talk like you’re fifty. But yeah our dear old friend is coming.”

“Sick,” Sal said, leaning back a bit. “Feels like I haven’t seen her in forever.”

“Damn, bro. Maybe you need to get good. I see her almost every day.”

Right on cue, footsteps echoed up the stairs light, quick, familiar. Then you appeared in the doorway, holding up a bag. “Hello, my favorite little emos. I come bearing gifts.”

Larry practically lit up, sitting up straighter. “Thank God. I was starting to think Sal wasn’t going to feed me.” His eyes zeroed in on the bag.

“Oh, you poor baby,” you said, stepping closer, your tone dripping with mock sympathy.

Larry leaned in, already reaching but just before his fingers could brush the bag, you lifted a hand and pressed a finger lightly against his forehead, stopping him in his tracks.

“Get on your knees and beg for it.”

“Boooo,” Larry shot back immediately, leaning away with a scoff. “You loser. Not happening.”

Sal watched the exchange like he always did. You and Larry had the strangest dynamic for two people who insisted, constantly, that there was nothing going on between you.

“Well,” you said with a casual shrug, pulling the bag back toward your chest, “guess these are just for Sal and me, then.”

Larry’s head snapped toward you. “Why does Sal get it for free?”

You clicked your tongue, stepping closer again, tilting your head up just enough to meet his eyes. you pointed toward the floor. “Because,” you said sweetly, “he doesn’t make me work for it.”

Larry stared at you for a second, jaw tightening like he was debating whether to play along or just tackle you for the bag. He would never say it out loud but fuck were you so hot when you acted like this. 

Then, in the most exaggerated voice he could manage, he bent his knees just a little barely committing. “Oh great one, please, oh please, grace me with your sweetness.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Weak. Whimper for me.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered instantly before dipping down just enough to snatch the bag straight out of your hands from below.

“Hey !”

Larry was already backing up, a victorious grin spreading across his face as he held the bag up like a trophy. “Survival of the fittest.”

You just laughed, shaking your head as you turned to Sal. “So what were you two weirdos doing before I got here? You both look slumped.”

Sal glanced over at Larry, then back at you. “Nothing much. Just Larry complaining about his love life.”

“Hey ” Larry started, muffled slightly as he dug through the bag.

“Well,” you cut in, crossing your arms with a teasing tilt of your head, “I think he’s a lost cause and should probably just give up. Might have to settle for me at this point.”

Sal’s eyes flicked toward Larry, something clicking into place behind his mask. Larry, meanwhile, was already looking at you. “You couldn’t handle all this,” Larry shot back, pointing down at himself.

You choked out a laugh. “You wish.” The moment hung for just a beat longer than usual before you clapped your hands together lightly. “Okay, well I know I just got here, but my mom called me on the way over. I’ve gotta head out.”

Sal immediately sat up straighter. “Oh shit. Yeah, we should actually plan something properly soon.”

He stood and pulled you into a quick hug.

“Of course,” you said warmly, squeezing him back. “I miss you, Sal, so much.”

“You got here like a minute ago?!” Larry huffed from across the room, a lollipop now tucked between his lips as he sank deeper into the bean bag.

You pulled away from Sal, already turning toward Larry. “I’m literally seeing you later today, my guy.”

You walked over to him without hesitation. He didn’t even move just watched you, slightly slouched, eyes following every step like he forgot how to function for a second. Then, you reached down, plucked the lollipop straight out of his mouth and popped it into yours.

From behind you, Sal’s jaw practically hit the floor. Larry blinked once. Twice. Did that just?

“Mmm,” you hummed, completely unfazed, smiling around the candy. “This one’s good.” just like that, you turned and headed out, tossing a quick wave over your shoulder like you hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the room.

The door clicked shut. Silence. Sal slowly turned his head toward Larry, eyes narrowed behind his prosthetic, absolute disbelief radiating off of him. Larry, meanwhile, was still staring at the door then down at the candy bag then back at the door again, like his brain was lagging.

Sal didn’t say anything at first. He just stared. Hard.

“Dude,” Larry said finally, glancing over and immediately recoiling a bit, “you’re scaring me. You look like you’re about to kill me.”

Sal didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.

Larry shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under the intensity, and grabbed a handful of candy, chucking a few pieces at him. “Stop it. You’re being weird.”

A gummy bounced off Sal’s shoulder. Another hit his chest. Still nothing.Then, finally 

“You stupid fuck,” Sal said flatly.

Larry blinked again. “What did I do?!”

Sal just kept staring at him, like he was watching the slowest, most painful train wreck in real time. “Not to use your words,” he said flatly, “but you vanilla ass bitch.”

“Excuse you, mister BDSM,” Larry shot back, sitting up a little straighter. “What are you even talking about?”

“I think you need to stop smoking weed,” Sal muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s actually bad for my mental health at this point.”

“Well, that’s not happening anytime soon,” Larry shrugged, already reaching back into the candy like nothing was wrong.

Sal leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “Larry. You have a really pretty girl who is very obviously into you and you just gave her nothing back.”

Larry frowned, the words hitting somewhere he didn’t want to acknowledge. “That’s different. She’s our friend.”

Sal tilted his head. “Is Ash and I different?”

“Yes,” Larry said immediately. “You two have been hard for each other since day one. It was obvious.”

Sal gave a small, humorless huff. “Exactly. And this?” He gestured vaguely toward the door you’d just walked out of. “This is obvious too. You’re just choosing to be stupid about it.”

Larry leaned back again, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“It is like that,” Sal pressed. “She flirts with you constantly. you're being a pathetic little bitch boy”

“I am not ”

“You are,” Sal cut in. “everything she did you almost looked like a kicked puppy looking for guidance.”

Larry opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw tightening. “Plus,” Sal added, leaning back now, voice quieter but sharper, “if I remember correctly, you were just complaining earlier about how you wish someone would out freak you.”

Larry shot him a look.

Sal raised an eyebrow behind his mask. “Seems like someone can’t handle her.”

Larry scoffed, but it came out weaker than he meant it to. “I can handle her.”

“Yeah?” Sal said, unimpressed. “Then why aren't you doing something about it”

Larry didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened slightly around the crinkled candy bag, eyes dropping to it like it suddenly required all his attention.

“…It’s different,” he muttered again, but there was less conviction in it this time.

Sal watched him for a second, then shook his head. “You’re gonna fumble this so hard, man.”

Larry huffed out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite land. “I’m not fumbling anything.”

Sal leaned back, crossing his arms. “Sure buddy.”

It was later, you were now in his room just lounging about. You were sprawled on Larry’s bed, your shoulder tucked into his side, your laptop balanced on your thighs as it wheezed through whatever sketchy site you were using. The screen flickered every now and then like it was in its last life. Larry was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm resting behind his head. To you, the silence didnt feel any out of the ordinary. You figured he was off in his own little world, probably dancing with the devils lettuce, probably thinking about something random.

he wasn’t. He was thinking about you. He caught himself wondering what it would be like to call you his girlfriend. Thinking back to what Sal had said, like it wouldn’t sound insane, right? What it would feel like to walk around with his arm around your waist instead of just brushing past you or bumping shoulders like it was all accidental.

What it would be like to kiss you. Not the joking, almost kind you threw around but real.

His jaw shifted slightly as he stared at the ceiling. He thought about how you looked when you got bossy with him, telling him what to do like you owned him. How you’d grab his wrist and drag him somewhere without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like when you’d sit behind him and start braiding his hair out of nowhere because you were bored, fingers working through it without even asking. He never told you how much he liked that. Never told you he’d sit there longer than he needed to just so you wouldn’t stop.

It hit him slowly, but when it did it felt like the world was spinning. Maybe this wasn’t just a joke. Maybe it hadn’t been for a while. Before he could spiral too far into that realization, your laptop crackled and suddenly music started playing through the tinny speakers.

“I know you’re more into metal,” you said casually, not even looking up, “but hypothetically, boyband music might be my new everything.”

Larry blinked, pulled out of his head. “Just because I listen to metal doesn’t mean I won’t delve into other music.”

That got your attention. You glanced over at him, one eyebrow raised. “You wanna bet on that?”

“Bet.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “New Kids on the Block.”

Larry scoffed. “You think I’m not fucking with Step by Step?”

You turned toward him fully now, squinting. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, you’re right,” he admitted immediately, lips twitching, “but I could be a boyband guy and you’ll never know.”

“Mm hmm. Sure,” you hummed, unconvinced.

You went back to your laptop, scrolling aimlessly as another song queued up, your voice soft as you hummed along without really thinking about it.

“Hey,” Larry said, still staring at the ceiling. “Do you think I’d be boyband material?”

“What do you mean?” you replied, barely glancing up from your screen.

He hesitated. “Like… am I pretty boy enough for all those losers?”

That made you pause. Slowly, you turned your head to look at him, really look at him this time. “Are you asking me if I think you’re pretty?”

He immediately recoiled. “The fuck no. I would never.”

You didn’t even flinch. “Larry Johnson, I genuinely think you are the prettiest ever.”

It came out so easily. Larry scoffed on instinct, turning his head away from you like the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating again. “Ew. Gross.”

But the tips of his ears were already red.

“Want me to prove it?” you said, a small grin tugging at your lips as you shifted a little closer.

“Stop being weird,” he muttered quickly, shoulders tensing just enough to give him away. “Jesus.”

You snorted softly. “Fine, fine. Just bothering you.”

Larry stayed still for a second, then another. His jaw tightened slightly,  he didn’t know where to put the feeling that just landed in his chest. Prettiest. He huffed quietly under his breath, trying to brush it off, but it didn’t really work. His eyes flicked toward you for a split second just enough to catch the way you were still humming, completely unbothered, like you hadn’t just said something that stuck to him harder than it should’ve.

“…You’re so fucking weird,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. His arm shifted just slightly. This time, it didn’t stop. Slowly, almost like he could still pretend it wasn’t intentional, he let it rest around your shoulders. He didn’t look at you when he did it. Just stared at the ceiling again, heart beating a little faster than it should for something so small.

“…Don’t make it a thing,” he added under his breath.

Now it was your turn to flush. Flirting had always been easy. Safe, even. It was your thing between you two. If it ever got too real, you could laugh it off, call it a joke, hide behind the rhythm you’d built together. His arm around you. The way he said that like it could be something. It made your chest feel tight.

“A thing,” you echoed, a little quieter than you meant to. The words sat wrong in your mouth, suddenly heavy. You thought about all the times you’d hinted maybe you weren’t as untouchable as you liked to pretend. Maybe you couldn’t handle it when it came back.

Larry felt it immediately. He flinched slightly, brows pulling together. That… wasn’t how that was supposed to land.

“Woah hold on,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Major random shift here.”

“It’s fine, dude. It’s chill,” you said quickly, already moving away, sitting up, putting space between you.

“Clearly not.”

You snapped your laptop shut a little too fast. “I should go. Wouldn’t want to make it a thing.”

Larry blinked, completely thrown. “Are you serious? What is happening right now?”

You didn’t answer. You just stood, grabbing your jacket, heading for the door. He shot up trying to get a hold of you “Hey ” He got there before you could reach the handle, stepping in front of the door. “What did I say? You just sprung up and got all weird.”

“Larry, it’s fine. Really. I just wanna go home,” you said, exhaling like if you kept your tone even, it wouldn’t crack.

“I thought you were spending the night.”

You let out a short huff, shaking your head. Then it slipped out before you could stop it: “Would making us a thing be so bad?”

“No,” he said. That made your chest twist worse.

“It’s just not fair,” you went on, voice tighter now, “even if I care about you, to just… wait around for it to not be a thing.”

Larry stared at you, something finally clicking into place too fast, all at once. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Haha whatever. Move,” you said, trying to brush it off, pushing lightly at his shoulder to get past him.

“I love you.”

You froze. For a second, it didn’t even register properly. It just hung there, wrong and right at the same time. You scoffed, defensive, shaking your head. “Don’t spit in coffee and give it to me.”

Larry let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I think you got it wrong. I think I love you.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

That only made him laugh again, softer this time. “You think I’d want just any girl in my bed?”

You raised a brow. “I’m sure you would.”

“Hey,” he grinned, a little crooked, a little nervous under it, “I may be a pervert, but I’m respectful.”

You didn’t answer that. Instead, you stepped closer. Close enough that he instinctively leaned back until his shoulders hit the door behind him. Trapped, not that he was trying to get away. Your hands pressed lightly against him as you leaned in, your voice dropping, suddenly unsure.

“Are you?” you whispered.

Too quiet. Too real. Larry’s breath caught. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Your heart was pounding so hard it felt ridiculous. This wasn’t how it usually went. You were supposed to be the one in control.

“Kiss me then.” The second it left your mouth, your brain screamed at you. What are you doing? What are you saying?

Larry looked at you like you’d just flipped his entire world on its head. His face was red he knew it, could feel the heat crawling up his neck. Slowly, like he was giving himself time to back out if he needed to, his hands came to your waist.

“Jesus Christ…” he whispered.

But he didn’t stop. He leaned in. His brain was so scared he was making this all up. Fortunately for him he was not. then his lips met yours.

This was not like anything that he had done before, not like the teasing almost kisses you’d joked around with before. One hand tightening slightly at your waist, grounding himself in it. Deepening the kiss while holding you closer. For everything that he did for being a coward he tried his best to make it up between your lips. When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to look at you, eyes a little unfocused, like he was still catching up to what just happened.

“…Still don’t believe me?” he murmured.

Maybe Sal was right for how stupid he was but it got him where he needed to be.