kiraav
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A collection of my shorter works from over on tumblr (@kiraavi).
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"You've caught me at a bad time," you say with a watery laugh. That's all it takes for Pope to take another step. His other foot passes the threshold. He approaches you like you're a wounded animal. Slowly, cautiously, and careful not to startle. The mattress dips as he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed next to you.
He doesn't utter a word—doesn't ask if you're okay or what happened or any of the niceties people are supposed to say when they stumble upon someone crying. He relegates himself to a mere presence at your side. A warmth that permeates into the sliver of space between you. An absence of judgment. Somehow, he knows it's exactly what you need, or he's just wholly unequipped to handle his brother's crying wife. The latter, probably, but you appreciate it anyway.
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You turn your head and peer at him from over the back of the couch. There's not an ounce of guilt on your face. He would go as far as to say you look amused—perfectly content and snug in his hoodie. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s offered to buy you one of your own. The same brand, same size, same colour. His efforts, however, have been fruitless, but it doesn’t deter him from posing the question again and again.
"Would you let me buy you your own already?" He asks.
"It wouldn't be the same.” That’s exactly what you say each time he offers, so he can’t say he’s surprised to hear the reasoning again.
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“I’m pregnant, not made of glass, Jack,” you huff. All this worry and insecurity because Jack didn’t think himself capable of being gentle enough with you. It would be endearing if you weren’t terribly sexually frustrated. It feels like a lot of time has been wasted—opportunities let slip away.
“I know. I know…” he says, eyes deliberately raking over you again. “Very pregnant, and so fuckin’ sexy for it.”
“You’re laying it on pretty thick there.” You want to give him a hard time—make him really grovel for it, but you are so pent up that you’re not sure how long you can deny him. He frowns, and his eyes look so sad that you nearly give in at the mere sight.
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Bruised and bloody fists. Soft skin to roughened hands. The kind of hands that have only ever known violence—raised for it, worn and made for it. Fury wrought. Yet they’ve seated themselves underneath your jaw so timidly even as blood flakes his knuckles and smears your tear stained face.
He’s got you. Hook, line, and sinker. Like barbed wire strung through your guts, threatening to pull into knots. You are defenseless. Given no choice but to go along, and even if you were afforded the luxury, you would follow him through rings of fire. To hell and back.
Some might call it stupid, and a couple weeks ago you might have agreed, but Andrew is holding you like you’re the most precious thing in existence—though his claws have already sunk deep into your flesh—looking at you like he's loved no other.
Recent bookmarks
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Public Bookmark 651
Mystery Work
Part of Unlisted
Summary
This is part of an ongoing challenge and will be revealed soon!
Bookmarked by kiraav
14 May 2025
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Mystery Work
Part of private fics
Summary
This is part of an ongoing challenge and will be revealed soon!
Bookmarked by kiraav
11 May 2025
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Summary
Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences.
His best friend, for one.
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Bookmarked by kiraav
10 May 2025