#[she says something and i just nod and walk away.

[dissapointu]

how about the arcane characters seeing their crush fight someone for the first time (and winning)? and like, they just didn't know how strong reader truly is?

OH SNAP. YOU’RE OUT HERE THROWING HANDS AND TAKING NAMES?? The Arcane crew would LOSE IT seeing you handle business for the first time—especially since they had no idea you were this strong. They’d be standing there like, “Wait… when did you become a total badass??”

Jinx

Jinx would be cheering you on like a maniac.

• The moment she sees you throwing punches, she’s SCREAMING. “GET ‘EM! GET ‘EM! THAT’S MY CRUSH!”

• She’s doing the chaotic Jinx laugh the whole time, completely hyped up by your energy.

• When you win, she’s sprinting up to you, grabbing your face, and grinning like, “That was AMAZING! You’re, like, a total beast! Why didn’t you TELL me??”

• Lowkey? She wants to see it again. “We should start a fight club or something. You’d crush it!”

Vi

Vi is SHOOK but also a little turned on, let’s be real.

• She’s watching you handle the fight, and her jaw just DROPS. “Damn, I didn’t know you had it in you…”

• She’s impressed as hell, crossing her arms and nodding as you take down your opponent like a pro.

• When you win, she saunters up to you all casual but can’t hide the smirk. “Not bad. You’ve been holding out on me, huh?”

• You’d catch her sneaking little proud glances at you for the rest of the day. “That’s my kinda person.”

Sevika

Sevika’s eyebrows are practically in her HAIRLINE watching you fight.

• She didn’t think you had it in you, so she’s just standing there, arms crossed, staring like, “Well, damn. Look at you go.”

• When you win, she’s all smug, leaning back and grinning. “Didn’t know you were such a badass. Guess I’ll have to start watching my back, huh?”

• She wouldn’t admit it, but seeing you fight earns you a TON of respect in her book. She’s definitely bringing it up later. “You know, not many people can throw a punch like that. I’m impressed.”

Silco

Silco is stunned but trying to act like he’s not.

• He’s watching the fight with a raised eyebrow, sipping his drink like, “Interesting.” But internally? He’s like, “Where have they been hiding this?”

• When you win, he calmly walks up to you, gives you an approving nod, and says something cryptic like, “You’re full of surprises. I admire that.”

• He’s definitely making mental notes about how you might be a bigger asset than he realized. But also? He’s secretly impressed by how you can handle yourself.

Vander

Vander is proud AND worried all at once.

• He’s watching you fight, hands on his hips, muttering stuff like, “Didn’t think they had that in ‘em… but damn, they’re good.”

• When you win, he walks up to you with the classic dad voice: “You alright? Didn’t know you could handle yourself like that. You really showed ‘em, though.”

• He’s proud as hell but makes you promise not to take unnecessary risks. “I know you’re strong, but don’t go looking for trouble, yeah?”

Ekko

Ekko is blown away and immediately HYPED.

• He’s watching you fight like, “Ohhh snap! Look at them GO!” He’s bouncing on his heels, ready to jump in if you need backup, but realizing… you don’t.

• When you win, he’s practically tackling you in excitement. “That was AMAZING! Since when were you such a badass??”

• He’s 100% bragging about you to the Firelights later. “My crush? Absolute legend. You should’ve seen them.”

Jayce

Jayce is equal parts surprised and impressed.

• He’s standing there with wide eyes, muttering, “Wait, when did they learn how to do THAT?”

• When you win, he’s immediately running over, grinning like a golden retriever. “That was insane! You’re incredible—how come you never told me you could fight like that?”

• He’s hyping you up for DAYS afterward. “No, seriously, did you see how they took that guy down? Absolute powerhouse.”

Viktor

Viktor is completely blindsided.

• He’s watching the fight like, “Wait… what is happening right now?” He’s genuinely shocked because he didn’t think you were the type to throw hands.

• When you win, he’s just staring at you in awe. “You… you didn’t even break a sweat. That was incredible.”

• He’d definitely be curious about how you learned to fight and want to hear all the details. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is lowkey AMAZED but trying to stay professional about it.

• She’s watching you fight, hands clasped behind her back, muttering under her breath like, “Impressive… very impressive.”

• When you win, she gives you a warm smile and says something like, “I always knew you were capable, but I didn’t realize you were THIS capable. Well done.”

• She’s super proud of you but probably a little worried you’ll get hurt next time. “Just… be careful, alright?”

Mel Medarda

Mel is intrigued and very, VERY impressed.

• She’s watching the fight with a small smile, sipping her wine like, “How fascinating.”

• When you win, she gracefully approaches you and says something smooth like, “You’ve been holding out on me. That was quite the performance.”

• She’s 100% filing this information away for later, already thinking about how your strength could come in handy.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is IMPRESSED beyond belief.

• She’s watching you fight with a smirk, nodding to herself like, “They’ve got potential.”

• When you win, she strides up to you and claps a hand on your shoulder. “You fight with skill—and heart. I respect that.”

• She’d probably want to spar with you later just to test your limits. “Let’s see what else you’re capable of.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is both shocked and fascinated.

• He’s watching the fight with wide eyes, clutching his little staff like, “Oh dear, oh dear… they’re actually quite formidable!”

• When you win, he’s rushing over to check on you. “My word! That was… extraordinary. Are you alright?”

• He’d definitely want to know more about your skills. “Your technique is quite remarkable. Have you considered joining a combat academy?”

Salo

Salo is quietly impressed but not super showy about it.

• He’s watching you fight with a raised eyebrow, muttering under his breath like, “Huh. Didn’t see that coming.”

• When you win, he gives you a subtle nod and says something lowkey like, “Not bad. You’re tougher than you look.”

• He’s definitely rethinking everything he thought he knew about you.

Scar

Scar is losing his mind in the BEST way.

• He’s hyping you up the whole time, yelling stuff like, “GET ‘EM! That’s my crush right there!”

• When you win, he’s immediately running over, laughing and clapping you on the back. “That was EPIC! You’re my hero!”

• He’s bragging about you to literally everyone. “Yeah, my crush just took someone down like a pro. No big deal.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is floored but super proud.

• She’s watching you fight with wide eyes, quietly whispering, “Wow… they’re amazing.”

• When you win, she’s blushing and smiling as she walks over to you. “That was incredible. Are you always this strong?”

• She’d definitely admire you even more after seeing you hold your own like that.

Lest

Lest is completely captivated.

• She’s watching you fight with a mix of awe and concern, muttering to herself like, “They’re… really strong. I had no idea.”

• When you win, she’s rushing over to make sure you’re okay, brushing some imaginary dust off your shoulder. “That was amazing, but are you hurt? You’re incredible.”

• She’d probably be in awe of you for DAYS afterward. *“I can’t believe you did that. You’re amazing”

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?” & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[sturnsrecord]

CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW

PART THREE — [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. alcohol, drugs, blowjob]. somethings changed between you and chris, but you’re a smart girl and you know what it is — telling yourself to ignore how you feel and what’s going on.

ʚ part one ɞ — ʚ part two ɞ

you walk around the house, desperately looking for bella. “oh my god, where have you been?” she looks up at you from her position on a random couch, her words slurring slightly. “i was with chris.” you mumble watching as her expression shifts to a sly grin. 

you roll your eyes at her insinuation. “shut up.” you huff, sitting down next to her.

“have you just been sat here alone?” you ask, subtly changing the subject. she scoffs, taking another swig of her drink which she definitely didn't need. “no- i was making out with some guy, but he left to get himself a drink.” she explains, her words a little jumbled.

you raise your eyebrows. “oooh, who is this guy?” you question, showing more interest in the hopes she doesn’t ask about chris. but she shuts it down, clearly more interested in your life than talking about her own.

“did you finally fuck him?” she asks, blurting out the words. you drop the act, letting out a sigh. “no, i didn't.” you mumble, pausing as you hesitate to continue. “he went down on me.” you add quietly.

she lets out a shriek, before gasping and grabbing your arm. “oh my god, was it good?” she leans in, whispering the last part.

you look over at her before slowly nodding your head, unable to hold back the grin on your face. her hand tightens on your arm. “holy shit! that good?” she questions, knowing that the way you responded meant it must’ve been really fucking good.

“would you calm down?” you usher, looking around to make sure no one was witnessing this interaction. she pulls back, a guilty look on her face as she motions locking her lips. 

“so when are you having sex?” she says quietly, clearly not abiding to shutting up. you roll your eyes at her nagging questions. to be honest, you had no idea, so you hesitate to answer.

“do you think your parents are having any effect on this?” she asks carefully. you frown. “what no?!” you exclaim wanting to deny it to the ends of the earth. but then you think, looking down as you fiddle with the bottom of your skirt. “i know i'm not gonna go to hell for having sex before marriage.” you mumble out.

bella sighs, leaning into your space. “yeah i know you know that- you’re not fuckin stupid.” you let out a little sigh at her reassuring yet slightly inconsiderate words. 

“i'm sayin, maybe you don’t wanna disappoint them.” she elaborates. 

you think for a second, her words taking you back a little. did she just completely hit the nail on the head? no, because you were gonna have sex with chris. right?

“i wouldn't disappoint them.” you mumble out. “cause i wouldn’t tell them.” you explain, trying your hardest to rationalise against bella. 

“so you’re saying you wouldn’t feel even a little guilty?” she pushes, holding her thumb and her index ever so close together.

you turn to her, pushing away her hand. “what do you know, you’re just a drunk girl with too many talking rights.” you mutter playfully.

she scoffs at your words slumping back against the couch as she crosses her arms over her chest. “wow.” she scoffs again, shaking her head. “i can't believe this.” she mumbles dramatically. 

she continues to complain, incoherently mumbling about how she was completely right and you were just stubborn. 

but you weren’t listening.

your attention was fixed on chris who you had spotted across the room. it’s like your mind and body just knew when he appeared, your gaze automatically shifting to him like an alert had gone off in your brain. 

you usually looked a few times, took note of what he was doing and then returned your attention back to whatever you were doing. 

but this time you were unable to look away, your stomach turning at the sight of him talking to another girl. 

it’s not like you’d never seen him do this before, in fact you’d probably be able to completely mimic the way he flirts just by the copious amount of times you've seen him do it.

what made you feel nauseous right now wasn't the thought of him with another girl but rather the fact that your stomach dropped at the sight. 

you’d never cared before, and that was easy. 

but watching him right now, smiling every time that stupid girl put her hands on him, ‘mindlessly’ grabbing his arm- it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

you weren’t naive, it was obviously jealousy, which came from a place that you were willing to ignore. 

“hello- i swear to god you actually just don’t fucking listen to me, like holy hell.” bella complains beside you, which makes you turn back to her.

“sorry, i'm here.” you mumble. she lifts her head back up, looking over to where your gaze was before, taking in the scene of chris flirting with some girl. 

“you told him you didn’t care if he fucked other girls.” she mumbles out unhelpfully.

you playfully smack her arm, although she’s completely right. “yeah because i didn’t.” you huff, still looking his way. 

“past tense… interesting.” she mumbles, pretending to be in deep thought. you turn back to her, your mouth slightly open in shock. “would you stop analysing me, it’s freaking me out.” you tell her, not loving her drunk personality right now. 

she holds her hands up in surrender, letting out a small giggle at your situation. “i hate you right now.” you mumble, letting your head fall to your hands.

“no you don’t.” she mumbles, pulling you into a hug. “you love me.” she mocks, dragging you down so that the both of you are slouched into the sofa, half your body on hers.

at this point you've given up the grumpy facade, giggling with her. but you both quieten down when someone approaches, a drink in their hand.

“uh, bella?”

you turn to see an attractive man with a confused look on his face. “oh my god.” she chuckles beside you as you awkwardly sit up. “this is the guy i was talking about.” she shrieks, one hand gripping his top whilst the other held onto your arm like she was introducing the two of you. 

you smile up at him awkwardly as he gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, although his attention quickly returns to bella as she tugs on his shirt.

you're not sure how it happens, but when you look up from fixing your skirt his drink is on the side and his lips are on hers.

“oh, wow.” you mutter in slight shock, shuffling along the couch as they begin to make out. “jesus.” you sigh under your breath before standing up and leaving.

you never enjoyed walking around a party alone. and sober.

you found it so awkward, especially when you were mindlessly walking with no place to be, just hoping you'd find a situation you could involve yourself in.

what you hated even more was feeling like a complete loser when the guy you'd just gotten with was taking a girl upstairs right before your eyes.

you stood in the other room, looking through the doorway as she led him up the stairs, watching like some creep at their every interaction for all of five seconds.

you told yourself you were fine, that it didn't bother you. you tried your hardest to jump back into your precious carefree mindset, trying to hone in on the old feeling.

but something had changed.

something had switched in you because all you could feel was pure jealousy and most of all dread.

was he gonna fuck her? was he gonna do exactly what he did with you? was he gonna enjoy it more?

the thoughts rattled in your head. you knew you were overthinking, but it was hard to combat the intense feeling in you with rational thoughts.

you decided on a cup of straight vodka and a cig out front, sat alone on the steps to the house.

occasionally people would walk past, either leaving or joining the party. maybe it was the increasing alcohol intake or the lack of acknowledgement from others, but for once you weren’t embarrassed to be seen alone.

“you sat all alone?”

you turn to see chris, hands in his pockets as he looked down at you with a smirk. you give him a weak nod before looking back down at your feet.

“you good?” he asked, concern in his voice as he sat down beside you. “yeah, i'm fine.” you mumble, smiling a little, usually the move that would make chris actually believe you.

“you got an almost empty cup of somethin,” he peers down at it in your hand. “and you're smokin.” he points out, making a point against your pathetic stand.

you shrug like this is your usual state. “what's wrong?” he presses, his voice slightly softer.

you're taken back by his unusual care and attention to your emotions, used to him usually just moving on when you told him you were fine.

but now how could you tell him what was wrong.

you think, swirling around the remaining vodka in the cup. now would've been a great time for him to not care.

“is this neat vodka?” he questions with a frown. you zone back in, looking over at him. “...yeah.” you mumble out. he motions towards it before gently taking it from your grasp.

he takes a swig, wincing at the taste. “you’re fucking insane.” he tells you before handing whatever was left back. 

“you're also upset.” he circles back. “or y’know- not doin too hot.” he says, evidently not very good with comforting words.

“not doing too hot?” you question, subtly trying to avoid answering the question.

he shakes his head, giving you a look. “y;know what i mean.” he huffs, his gaze turning into warmth, like he was trying to coax the information out of you with a look.

you shrug again, rummaging through your mind for an excuse, or another reason why you would feel shit. but as you think, horrendous images of chris and that girl pop up into your brain, stilling your train of thought for a second as well as your heart.

“you don’t have to talk t’me bout’ your issues.” he mumbles, reassuring a little as he pulled out a paper to roll a joint. 

you look over, snapping back into reality and out of your stupid thoughts. “it's not that- i just…” you sigh, unable to explain yourself. 

“m’just not used to you asking me shit like that.” you mumble out meekly.

the corner of his lips turn up, his eyes remaining on the half rolled joint in his hands. you take note of the small, amused reaction. “are you only asking me what's wrong because you're coked?” you blurt out, an almost shot in the dark.

he frowns a little, but the amusement on his face never leaves. “nah.” he shakes his head, denying your accusation. “might be why i'm persistently askin’.” he admits.

“big word for you chris.” you hum, mocking him in retaliation. he rolls his eyes, biting back a smile, but you could see it seeping through. the way he genuinely found you funny, even though he liked to keep you in check by never admitting it. 

“shut the fuck up.” he chuckles, shaking his head as he speaks. 

a peaceful silence settles between you as he delicately licks the paper, smoothing it over into a perfect cone. despite what he was doing, she admired how good he was. 

“i could teach ya y’know.” he says, clearly taking notice of her attention. “i don't wanna learn how to do that.” you tell him.

he shrugs, fiddling with it as he looks over at you. “why not?” he asks, like you were crazy for turning that down. “just don't.” you mumble, looking over at him.

you'd forgotten how close he'd sat, the both of you looking at one another shining a light on the lack of space between your bodies.

close enough to kiss him.

the thought flashes through you before you can even think, and now your lips are on his in a soft delicate kiss. 

you can't tell if he's shocked and frozen or just kissing back so gently it almost felt like nothing. but then his free hand wraps around your waist, caressing the skin through your top.

it's a slow careful kiss, with no intention of anything further.

he pulls away, clearing his throat a little before his hand comes back to the joint. he shifts to find a lighter, almost trying to do something to distract his mind from that kiss. 

you on the other hand stare at his very move, almost infatuated with him. it's like that kiss had put a spell on you, completely consuming your mind.

you craved the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel that soft touch from him again. but you know it won't happen again. like you'd both  been caught in a loophole, into another universe where you weren't you and chris… but you also were.

he brings the zoot to his lips, lighting it before he takes a long toke, exhaling it as his body relaxed.

you want to speak, break the silence before it becomes awkward, but it never does. the two of you sat there not exchanging a single word, which made you think that he felt it too. 

he passes the joint to you, brushing the tobacco crumbs off his lap with his other hand as he holds it out for you.

you raise your eyebrows before taking it from him, taking a small puff as he leans his elbows on his knees. “don't have too much, y’already tipsy.” he suggests.

it's not an order or a demand but rather a playful comment from a place of care. “i'm not tipsy.” you scoff, keeping up the light conversation. 

“ok fine, drunk.” he huffs, correcting himself sarcastically as he rolls his eyes. you smack his arm lightly. “i'm fine, practically sober.” you tell him, lying straight through your teeth. 

he shakes his head a little, clearly debating between staying quiet or continuing the conversation. “you initiated a kiss- you ain't sober.” he says, lightly mocking you for being tipsy.

you roll your eyes at his light insult, looking over at him before talking. “you think i wouldn't kiss you sober?” you question, your voice quiet yet clear.

his eyebrows raise at the change in vibe of the conversation as he motions for you to pass the joint back. “not like that.” he responds before inhaling. 

you squint your eyes, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “like what?” you ask, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear.  

he lets out a small chuckle at your teasing tone, loving the way you were testing him. but he doesn't respond, giving you a small look which said everything and more. 

“you're funny when y’drunk.” he mumbles with a small smile, clearly finding this whole ordeal very funny. “m’not-”

“yeah, yeah- i know.” he interrupts, motioning you to stop, not wanting to hear you defend yourself anymore. 

he focuses in on smoking as you finish the last sip of your vodka, earning a judgemental glare from him. you watch as he hesitates to speak, clearly ready to say something.

“can i take y’home?” he asks, his tone making it obvious that he was trying to keep it casual. “i'm sleeping over at bellas.” you respond in a whisper, feeling bad for indirectly rejecting his offer. 

but he just nods, not showing a single care in the world that you didn't immediately say yes. “you guys gettin’ an uber?” he asks, although it's more of a suggestion. 

you press your lips together, nodding.

“good.” he muttered before taking another toke, watching the smoke as it left his lips. 

you sit in another calm silence, something that had been happening more often. you thought that it was because of all the unspoken words between you that you would be saying in these times. but you didn't talk- at least not in the way you should be. letting every tension-filled moment pass until it faded into the past. 

he takes a final toke, flicking the butt to the floor before he stood. “lemme know if your plans change, yeah?” he mumbles out as he walks back in, leaving you sat alone again.

you go to respond but he's gone, his offer hanging heavy in the air. for once you felt yourself buckling at his words, the sudden urge to put him above all else looming over you, like he was in your head. 

did he know how to get in there? was this all a mind fuck to get you at his demand?

you turn your head to the door, almost as if you were looking at him again. god did you feel stupid for wanting him so badly, a silly little fuck boy who gave you just enough attention to get you hooked.

of course you knew all about his ways before getting yourself here, you just thought you were smart enough to not fall for it. 

but did chris’s mysterious, charming personality really trump your intelligence and self respect? 

“wait, why can't you go home?” he asks as the both of you walk down the road, you explaining that you couldn't just walk into your house this late at night. 

“because i told my parents i was sleeping over at bellas.” you say, watching as he rolls you a cigarette whilst walking. he nods a little, but it's obvious he doesn't completely understand.

“you always smoke this much when you're drunk?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he hands you the cig. you put on a thinking face, slotting the cig between your lips as you search your bag for a lighter. “difficult to answer.” you ponder. “considering i'm not drunk.” you say with certainty, giving him a look.

“sorry, how could i forget.” he mumbles, bringing a lighter to the end of the cigarette. you watch as the flame lights the paper, blowing in and out to get it lit. 

you’d caved.

going back into the party to find chris, subtly hinting that you did want him to take you home. bella was more than ok with it, getting excited for you. (which you shut down quickly).

but here you were, on your way to sleep over at a boys house. chris’s house. you'd never been in his room before, and quite frankly you were shocked he even agreed to take you to his house.

but there was something comforting about how he let you in, not shutting you out, and if anything encouraging to spend more time with you. 

after walking in silence for a while, he motions you to pass the cigarette to him. “you always smoke this much when you're drunk?” you mimic his previous question as he rolls his eyes. 

“shut up.” he scoffs, holding it between his fingers as he exhaled. “m’not drunk.” he mumbles under his breath before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“huh, sure.” you scoff back to annoy him. he rolls his eyes again in response as he passes the cig back. “m’actually not drunk- so zip it.” he snarks.

“yes you are.” you tease, pointing your hand at him, smoke trickling out of the cigarette. “you wouldn't be letting me sleep over if you werent.” you continue, raising an eyebrow as you brought your hand back to your own personal space.

“would’ya stop mimickin’ our entire convo from earlier?” he accuses, his brows scrunching together. “wha- what?” you halt, holding your arms out dramatically. 

“keep walkin.” he huffs, motioning you to get a move on. but you took it as avoidance, to move away from his previous statement. 

“what convo?” you mumble as you catch up to him, a look of confusion on your face. he shakes his head, as if that's a response. then it clicks in your brain. “when you said i wouldn't kiss you like that if i was sober?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips as you look across to him.

he lets out a sigh, like he's given up when it comes to light conversation with you. and like he knew what you were about to say next.

“so what did you mean by that again?” you tease, pushing his buttons a little. he shrugs, playing it off as he casually slips his hands into his jean pockets.

“that it was a random kiss is all.” he responds. “but you said ‘like that’- what does ‘like that’ mean?” you press.

he lets out a small chuckle. “was a good kiss.” he shrugs, looking over at you. you send him a sweet smile, letting the soft compliment seep in. “oh shut up- dont look at me like that.” he huffs, turning to look the other way, but not before you spot the soft blush across his face.

no fucking way. 

“like what?” you question after a beat, just pushing him further. “okay, we're movin’ on.” he tells you warningly.

“ok, ok.” you nod, watching as he relaxes a little. you both walk in silence for a bit, abiding by his wish to stop talking.

“so what did you and that girl do?” you mumble quietly, and oh so stupidly. your words leaving your mouth before you could think, probably because of the alcohol in your system. (not that you'd admit it).

he scoffs, an amused look on his face. you couldn't tell if he was shocked that you'd asked, or somewhat admired it. but he gave the same back, answering your question just as bluntly as you'd asked it.

“she sucked m’dick.” he mumbles, looking over to gauge your reaction. 

it was hard to hide your own shock that he’d actually answered, not beating around the bush. but you nod a little, looking ahead. 

he hesitates for a second before speaking again. “why, you jealous or somethin?” he asks with a sly grin.

“do you want me to be?” you respond, just as cocky. 

he's taken back a little but doesnt let it show, shrugging yet again. he goes to say yes, but stops himself realising how that looks. “nah.” he shakes his head, looking down for a second. 

“then i'm not.” you hum, passing what's left of the cig back to him. he takes a toke, clearly thinking for a second as the both of you walk. “you don't have to be.” he mumbles, peering over at you, clearly not believing you. “could always just, y’know.” he looks down at his crotch, the suggestion clear as day.

you smack his arm, scoffing at his audacity. “you serious? is this how you get girls to do shit, use their jealousy against them?” you question, only partially joking, because of course you wanted to. 

“so you are jealous.” he points out with a cocky smirk, flicking the butt to the road. you roll your eyes, looking away momentarily. 

“fuck off.” you mutter, your cocky facade crumbling as you feel your shyness take over again. he nudges you a little, a grin plastered on his face. “don't get shy on me.” he teases. 

you simply blush at his words, only getting more and more timid. but he smiles, finding it sweet as he hangs his arm over your shoulder.

you get to chris's house, following behind him as he unlocks the front door and walks in. it's a nice house, similar to yours. 

you quietly creep up the stairs behind him, taking in his room as he opens the door. it's a typical teenage boys room, but with more posters and decorations than you thought there’d be.

“will your parents care that i'm here?” you mindlessly ask as your eyes roam over the room. he shakes his head as he empties out his pockets onto his desk that's already piled with junk. “nah, they won't come in.” he responds. 

you nod, walking over to his unmade bed to sit, taking a closer look at his bedside table, noticing a picture stuck to his wall. “you have a sister?” you question.

he whips his head round in confusion before noticing what you were looking at. “yeah, but she's in college.” he says, taking his coat off to throw it onto his chair. 

“huh.” you nod, wondering why he'd never spoken about her. but then again, when did you and chris ever sit down and talk about your family trees?

“you can borrow a t-shirt or somethin’.” he says, motioning towards his draws. your gaze follows, taking in the furniture, some of the bottom drawers not fully closed because of how stuffed they are. 

you stand, opening the top drawers to find his socks and boxers. you shut it before opening the next ones down, pulling out a random t-shirt. 

“pornstar?” you question, reading out the graphic on the shirt. he cocks his head round from where he's sat at his desk, raising an eyebrow as well as the corner of his lip. “what? you dont fuck with it?” he taunts.

you shake your head with a smile, shutting the drawer before taking your current top off to slip into his t-shirt. “got any pyjama bottoms?” you ask.

“uh, nah.” he responds, looking your legs up and down, clearly wanting you to not cover up. “don't own any.” he teases wickedly.

you roll your eyes, slipping your denim skirt off to leave you in just his t-shirt and underwear. he smirks before returning his attention back to his desk. 

“what’re you doing?” you question, walking over as you rest your hand on the back of his chair. the view of him rolling a joint answers your question as you nod, raising your eyebrows. 

you weren't one to comment on someone else's habits, but it was honestly impressive how much he smoked. 

you stand behind him, watching as he does his thing. “wanna sit?” your eyes tune in immediately, your hand dropping from the back of the chair. “oh sorry.” you mumble out, backing away to go sit back on the bed.

he turns, face contorted in confusion. “the fuck you doin’?”

“huh, i was jus-” you go to explain but he cuts you off. “meant on m’lap.” he explains, amused at your misunderstanding. 

your face heats up slightly before you stand up. “gladly.” you mumble, sauntering over to sit sideways across his lap, chris's upper body leaning back slightly to give you space. 

then he leans forward into your space, continuing his previous activity. your arm wraps around his shoulders, the other leaning against his desk that was digging into your side ever so slightly.

“you wanna crumble some in?” he offers, holding out the clay-like chunk of hash. you take it from him, observing it curiously. “you giving me a tutorial?” you tease, removing your arm from around his shoulders, leaning further onto the desk.

“somethin’ like that.” he murmurs, his eyes darting down to your ass, nothing but your black lacy underwear covering it. 

“ok, so what do i do?” you frown, completely oblivious to his ogling. “uh, jus’ use your fingers to pick small pieces off.” he instructs, now looking over your shoulder to watch your movements. “yeah, yeah. jus’ like that.” he praises as you crumble small pieces over the line of tobacco in the paper. 

he watches you closely. “make sure it's even across the tobacco.” he tells you.

“like this?” you question, crumbling more at the front and end. “uh-huh.” he nods, before his gaze lingers back down to your ass, his hand following suit as he gently squeezes the flesh.

you smile as you feel his hand on you, his fingers digging into your ass. “is this why you wanted me on your lap?” you ask, your attention focussed on what you were doing. 

he shrugs, a lazy grin on his face. “jus’ an added bonus.” he mumbles, tilting his head back to get a better look. 

“hmm, sure.” you hum back, knowing that it was all calculated. not that you minded the groping. 

“s’that good?” you ask, handing back the chunk of hash. he turns his attention back, his hands returning to the table. 

“mhm.” he hums, picking up the paper to roll it into a neat cone. you keep your arms on your lap, watching as he licks the paper and does whatever. then he taps your thigh, telling you to get off.

you scooch off his lap, chris standing up with a sigh before he lightly slaps your ass, 

“awfully touchy today.” you taunt, following as he sits on his bed, opening the window. “shut up.” he scoffs in response, clearly not wanting to address it. 

you climb onto the bed, sitting by the window opposite him, legs crossed. he lights the joint, making no effort to keep it out of the window. it was obvious that he did this a lot. 

you smoke in silence for a while, chris passing it to you before leaning against the wall. “you still drunk?” he chimes, an undertone of care and worry in his voice.

you shrug, exhaling out of the window unlike chris had been doing. “i was never drunk.” you mumble, looking over at him with a teasing glare. 

“hmm.” he nods. “so you're still keepin’ that up.” he mocks. you shake your head slightly, rolling your eyes.

“i was tipsy at most.” you huff, ashing the zoot on the window ledge. he raises his eyebrows. “so you admit it.” he retorts. you playfully shove him a little, only spurring on his cocky grin.

“you're so annoying.” you sigh, handing him the joint. “you love it.” he murmurs under his breath, taking a toke. 

you pull a face, furrowing your brows as if to deny his accusation. but you both knew it was true. 

“so how was she?” you ask, pettiness drowning out your words. he scoffs, his tongue darting out in his cheek.

“what? don’t wanna talk about it?” you taunt stupidly. maybe you were lying about not being drunk, or you just liked to prod and push him in ways he didn't like. 

“don't do that shit.” he scoffs, not quite as amused as you. but you don’t let out, just shrugging at him. “god, y’really know what to say.” he mutters sarcastically, shaking his head. 

it was stupid of you to bring it up again, especially like this. you’d told chris from the start you didn't care about other girls, yet here you were. acting like a bratty, petty girl, desperate to be his no.1 in a swarm of girls. 

“m’just curious.” you mumble, lying through your teeth.

he scoffs again, getting slightly annoyed at your attitude you were keeping up. “you're curious?” he echos, raising an eyebrow. “curious about another girl suckin’ my dick?” he snaps, his voice slightly harsher than usual.

“yeah.” you sigh, acting like this was a normal conversation, or that it hadn’t come out of the blue. he takes a toke of the joint before passing it back to you, refusing to answer by staying quiet. 

“we're friends, i don't care.” you shrug, inhaling some of the joint. “just curious.” you repeat.

he lets out a huff, reluctantly answering. “was alright, nothin’ special.” he mumbles, looking over to see your reaction.

“did you come?” you blurt out, choosing to prioritise your curiosity over the logical idea to stay quiet, absentmindedly ignoring what chris does with his dick.

he chuckles under his breath, now finding it funny how serious you were. “no.” he responds, looking over at you. 

“so, can’t have been that good.” you tease. he raises his eyebrows, letting out an amused chuckle. he didn't know if he loved or hated this side of you.

“you're on one right now.” he says, shaking his head as he motions for you to pass the zoot. 

“why?” you chuckle, acting innocent in your intentions of the horrid conversation you had started. he takes it from your hand, taking a toke before speaking. “cause you ain’t even sucked a dick before.” he retorts, knocking you down a peg or two.

you pull a face, shrugging. then something takes over your body, the same thing that has made you act like this in the first place. 

you shift in your spot on the bed, leaning forward to begin unbuckling his belt. he kisses his teeth, rolling his eyes. “the fuck you doin’?” he questions, thinking you were teasing him or pulling his leg.

“what do you think?” you whisper back, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. 

he looks down, watching your hands. almost waiting for you to stop and say that you were messing with him.

but then your hand dips below his boxers as you tug out his soft dick like you'd done it a million times. “seriously, what're you doin’?” he scoffs, thinking you wouldn't go through with it considering you’d made it pretty clear that you weren't exactly up for everything.

you sigh, looking up at him with all seriousness. “sucking your dick.” you say as if he was stupid for even asking.

his throat goes dry realising you're serious, his dick twitching as it immediately begins to grow hard as the words leave your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it a few times, before you scooch back to give yourself more space. you bring your mouth to the tip of his half hard dick, experimentally licking the slit.

he takes a toke of the joint, watching you with dark eyes, watching as he takes in the fact you weren’t bluffing.

he doesn't say anything, letting you do what you want at your own pace, turned on by the fact you'd never done this before. 

you take his dick further, going about half way as you slowly slide it in and out of your mouth. he takes in a sharp breath, his dick stiffening fully now that he was in your mouth. 

he tries not to speak, but his desperation gets the better of him. “go further.” he mumbles, his voice hoarse. 

you look up at him through your lashes before abiding, taking his dick further down your throat until you feel the need to gag, pulling off before you do.

you recover quickly though, collecting the saliva in your mouth as you duck your head back down, sucking this time, your cheeks hollowed. you don't go as deep, instead stopping before you can gag, as you bob your head up and down.

“oh shiit-” he groans, the unexpected change in pace driving him crazy. you wrap your hand around the base, pumping it as you suck him hard. “fuck, you sure you never done this before?” he breathes out, taking another look at you. 

you mumble around his dick, sending shivers down his spine.

you'd never done this before, and you were making it up as you went along. maybe part of the motivation was to prove yourself, a petty part of you wanting to make sure this was ten times better than what any other girl could give him. and maybe that extra motivation is exactly what made this a mind blowing blowjob. 

“holy fuck – you’re good at that.” he breathes out, his free hand threading through your hair, whilst he held the other out of the window with the now forgotten joint.

his praise only spurs you on, bringing out something within you that just made you want to please him, and make him feel good. 

he lets out low groans and breaths as you continue, taking on whatever he told you to do. catering to how he wanted it. 

it had been about ten minutes and you were already doing a lot more, your wrist twisting in rhythm as you harshly sucked him, your tongue occasionally darting out delicately over the tip, the way he told you he liked it.

“mgh, so fuckin’ good.” he groaned,the hand that wasnt in your hair gripping onto his duvet beneath him. the joint now out and resting on the window ledge. 

you shift your position, your ass now up, as you got into a sort of doggy position between his legs. 

“shit, that’s fuckin’ hot.” he breathes out, looking over at your ass in those lacy black panties. the ones that had been consuming his mind the entire night.

you mumble around his dick again which just pushes him further to the edge. his eyes shutting tight as he tries to hold off his orgasm in order to enjoy the feeling of your mouth on him longer. 

“you're gonna make me cum.” he moans, his voice breathy and rough. you feel your stomach bubble at his words, your brain going back to the fact that that other girl hadn't, and here you were, about to push him over the edge despite the fact you'd never given a blowjob before.

you suck harder, if that were possible, motivated to make him come. you wanted to make him feel good, better than any other girl ever had or could.

it consumed your mind like a plague. you hated how much you had begun to care, but right now you were ignoring that. focusing on chris's dick instead.

“oh fuck -” he whines, his hips thrusting up ever so slightly, making you gag. you pull off reluctantly to avoid throwing up as he removes his hand from your hair, your eyes now watering. 

“jesus christ.” he breathes. you finally get a look at him, and he looks hot – completely fucked out. “i'm so close.” he mumbles out shamelessly, his usual casual demeanour completely gone.

“sorry.” you mumble, swiping your thumb across your bottom lip to remove the excess saliva. 

“no no, you're good.” he says, his voice horse and desperate. you take his dick in your hand, jerking him off as you catch your breath for a second. “i can cum like this.” he mumbles, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly as he leans back.

you shake your head. “you can cum in my mouth y’know.” you tell him, not thinking twice about the offer.

his eyes widen a little. it's not like he'd never come down a girl's throat before, but he hadn't expected you to be so willing to do so.

“you sure?” he whispers. you don't respond, simply taking him into your mouth again which causes his mouth to fall open, his head tilting back slightly. 

it only takes a few more minutes before he's rutting his hips upwards ever so slightly, his breaths coming out rugged. 

“gonna cum.” he mumbles, letting you know. you continue the same rhythmic movements, wishing you could see him coming apart right now.

then he lets out a strangled moan as you feel the warm salty liquid spurt into your mouth. you wince your eyes a little at the taste, sucking it out of him until there's no more. then you swallow, pulling off him, immediately looking around the room for some water. 

“holy fuck.” he breathes, falling back on the bed as his limp dick rests on his abdomen. 

you hop off the bed, taking a sip of water from the glass on his bedside table. 

“i don't even know whatta say.” he sighs, brushing his hair off his forehead. you swallow the water as you look over at him laid on the bed. “was it good?” you ask.

he scoffs. “shut the fuck up.” he huffs, eventually tucking his dick back into his boxers before sitting up. he picks the joint off the ledge, lighting it as he takes a toke. 

you crawl back onto the bed, crossing your legs under, holding your fingers out for him to pass the zoot.

“youre somethin’ else - fuckin’ hell.” he says, still in an orgasmic bliss. he hands you the joint before gently grabbing the side of your head to press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

you let out a small chuckle at his touchiness and affection. “i should make you jealous more often.” he murmurs, his cocky attitude returning promptly. 

you roll your eyes before, playfully smacking his arm, giving him a stern look. “why would you do that when you know what i can do?”

he lets out a soft chuckle at your comment, smirking to himself in pride of your skills. “good point.” he agrees, looking you up and down as if he's still trying to process what just happened.

it's like something had switched between the both of you, new territories of vulnerability seeping through. you had done more than you told him you would, and to be truthfully honest, he cared about you more than he'd like to admit. the both of you acting like you were fucking dating.

©sturnsrecord

notes . finally posted the next part, hope everyone from my previous account manages to find this. enjoy xx

tag list . @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss

[arcanewhoosh]

The Bolter

2.2k words

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries

Arcane Series Finale spoilers

If you were to ask the regular citizens of Piltover and Zaun, the regular duration of a search and rescue mission is around seven days. While this was, in a way, correct, but it would only reach that many days if there was enough proof that the missing person was alive.

Standard operating procedure only allows a max of fifty-one hours.

You've been searching for nine days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.

We don't have the resources right now, there's been too many casualties.

Alone.

There’re too many places to look through. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the thought in your head-

Through every single cooling duct leading into the Hex Gate.

-the fuse assembly could've survived by other means.

"I have to try, Cait." You say as you put on your pack, loaded with first aid supplies and recovery equipment. Caitlyn moves to grab your arm. Her grip firm, but she's not holding you in any way that could actually prevent you from leaving. You still stop and wait for her to finish what she wants to say.

"It's been over a week. You've barely slept the entire time, and I can't keep changing the subject when Vi asks me where you've gone." She tugs at your arm lightly, willing you to sit down on a nearby chair.

It had been ten days since the end of the battle. Ten days since Piltover and Zaun almost met their demise. Ten days since so many lives were lost; all for power.

Vi was -is- a mess. She could barely pull herself up from the ledge you fished her out of back at the top of the tower. Dread had already begun to creep its way across your body as you made your way up to where Jinx and Ekko's balloon had crashed. The feeling only got worse as you climbed higher, seeing no signs of its three occupants. You started running faster up steps, climbing ladders with speed you never thought possible for you. For a moment the dread had ceded, your adrenaline taking over. But then there was the explosion. And then... And then eventually you heard Vi's cries.

Your body stiffens as you shut your eyes, willing the memory away. "You're gonna have to cover for me a bit longer, Cait." You say as you softly pry your arm free of her grasp. "With how loud that explosion was, there's no way the assembly could've just survived."

"If it was anyone else, maybe I would've stopped searching already. But you and I both know this isn't just anyone else, no matter which side you're on." Caitlyn looks at you for a few moments, you know we'll enough that she's already wavering in her previous attempt to dissuade you.

"You wouldn't have mentioned it at all if you didn't think-"

"I know, I know." She finally says. "I wouldn't have given you the schematics for the structure either."

She sighs, an all too familiar indicator that you've won. "Just... Don't push yourself too much. I know I'm the one that gave you hope that she survived, but at some point..." She trails off. You know she wants to say that she doesn't want you to have your hopes crushed, or to put yourself in unnecessary danger. Especially since the inner ducts have been unstable since the explosion.

"I promise, I'll be careful, Cait. You know me." You shrug and smile at her, hoping that the nonchalant display is enough to convince her that you aren't fatigued out of your mind.

The look on her face says she doesn't buy it. But she says nothing about her doubts, instead nodding your way. "Be careful, I'm holding you to that."

"I will."

"Fucking air vents." You curse as you drop your pack by the wall of the duct. The thump it makes echoing around the cavernous tunnel. You've been walking uphill to get back up to the entrance, but the strain from working non-stop for over a week, the sleep deprivation, and the mental exhaustion was bound to catch up. Maybe Cait was onto something with the whole resting thing.

You let out a huff at the thought. You didn't have time to rest, what if Jinx was somewhere hurt, with no one around- she'd find a way to pull herself out of here and escape-- or what if she was trapped somewhere -this is my second sweep of the vents and all the obstructed entrances have been cleared- You lean against the tunnel wall before slumping gingerly to the ground. Your ankle hadn't fully healed from the battle, and you still had bandages all over your midsection from injuries you sustained.

You take a few steadying breaths before pulling out a map of the vents, marking the sections you've done your sweep of. Your vision swims for a moment, and it's enough for you to shut the map and lean you head against the wall. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, willing yourself to hold it together.

You're no use to me dead. She would say right about now. I'm still alive and you still say I'm useless. You'd reply.

"Yeah, but I say it lovingly." She harks back from her chair, tinkering away at her robot bug thing that she and Isha were using for their little fight club. You turn from the pin board you were making- places in Zaun where new checkpoints had been placed. You drop the purple pen you were using-Isha had stolen the red marker you usually use-- to write and make your way over to Jinx.

"Lovingly?" You ask as you turn her chair around, a grin plastered on your face. She rolls her eyes, but her own smile betrays her attempt at brushing you off. "Don't think too hard about it, you might hurt yourself."

"Looks like you've been the one thinking about it." She scoffs at you, turning her chair back to face her work station. Though she doesn't turn fast enough for the pink dusting her cheeks to escape your notice. "I said don't think too much about it."

"Hey." You say softly, turning her chair around again and pulling up a chair for yourself so you were eye-level. She's pouting, so you know you're not in trouble. "I'm sorry for teasing." You take her left hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. She makes a face.

"Ew, don't kiss my hands, they're covered in grease."

"When are they not covered in grease?"

"Didn't you just apologize for teasing?"

"I'm sorry for teasing, again."

"You're lucky-" She clamps her mouth shut. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning again. The last thing you want is for her to close herself off. You know she's being careful. For someone known to be completely reckless at spontaneous times, she could be just as calculating and reserved. She's slipped a few times already, not explicitly saying I love you, but accidentally implying it or using some variation of the word during a casual conversation. You're no better, but so far, you've been able to avoid slipping.

Maybe you both thought it was too soon to say. Three or four months of you acknowledging that there was something between the two of you might be too soon, but there was a revolution going on, and revolutions are rarely peaceful and without casualties. Who knows what might happen in a few months, weeks, days, or hours. But you don't know what the next few weeks have in store for you.

"I know I'm lucky." You say. Hoping that the implication of, I know I'm lucky you love me, is enough.

But it wasn't, and now I'm here.

You jolt forward, blinking a few times to clear your blurry vision. Had you dozed off? For how long?

You sigh and rub your face with your hands. You do need rest, just for a little bit, then you'd get back to searching for her. You're no use to her dead, after all.

The walk back to your apartment is agonizing. The second you decided that it was time to take a break, your whole body decided that it was the best time for you to feel your exhaustion in its entirety. Your pack was suddenly heavier, your ankle decided to start swelling, and the wound on your side thought it was the perfect time to start bleeding again. Despite your body's attempt to suddenly render you immobile, you're able to meander back to your door after a horrible confrontation with five flights of stairs. Damn that faulty elevator

You decide that having a view from your balcony isn't really all that worth it as you jam your keys into the lock and make your way inside. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you pass through the door. The lock never clicked open.

You draw your pistol quietly, and scan the open living room and kitchen area of your home. Deeming the areas clear, you start making your way towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, pistol aimed and ready. Who on the Runeterra's green earth would be targeting you? Leftover Noxians? No. Turn coats like Maddie? Unlikely. Someone from the Undercity with a grudge? Unless they figured out who I am, I doubt it.

You hear a creaking sound from a door to your left, and you quickly kick it open and aim your pistol at the intruder.

"Jeez, you'd think a girl would get a warmer welcome after coming back from the dead." The intruder says, leaning back on a chair and idly scanning a vinyl.

You stare, dumbfounded. A part of you fully believing you've started hallucinating from the exhaustion, or the blood loss, you're not sure anymore. Your intruder, however, seemed to find your predicament funny.

"What, got nothing to say to me?" She asks. She finally turns to look at you, but the grin she puts on quickly falters when she notices the blood from your reopened wound seeping through your uniform. And then she's in front of you, one hand cupping the side of your face, the other hovering just above spots of blood on your shirt.

She asks if you're okay, but you're not sure. You still haven't confirmed whether on not you're hallucinating. So you do the only logical thing in the world and wrap your arms around her.

"Jinx?" Your voice cracks as you utter her name, and you wait. Wait for her to disappear, for your tired mind to catch up and be able to distinguish what is real and what isn't, because a part of you was only ever really using the tunnel search as a coping mechanism and that-

"I'm here, it's okay." She says as she wraps her arms around you and returns your embrace. If it were any other day, it would be you comforting her, offering her words of reassurance, support, affirmation. But this isn't any other day. Because you thought for the last ten days, twenty-three hours, and eight minutes, that she had died in an explosion.

But she didn't, and now you're sure that she's alive, that she's here, and alive, and breathing and-

"I love you." The words spill out of your mouth before you can think of anything else. How could you think of anything else? When those words, you realize now, have been long overdue.

She laughs. You realize how much you've missed hearing her laugh once your tears start falling. "I'm sorry." You say. "I thought, you died."

You stop yourself from hissing as her hug tightens and pain shoots up from your side. You could stomach the discomfort for this. You wouldn't let her go for anything, not again. "I'm sorry I took so long, bubs."-Your heart soars at the nickname- "There were a few... loose ends I had to take care of before coming to find you." She wipes away your tears as she says this, her hands carefully brushing your hair out of your face.

"It's okay, nothing else matters no." Just you you wanted to add, but refrain from speaking any further. You pull away just far enough to look at her, still not letting her go. It's her, alright. Her hair is different, and she doesn't have her pants that that one enforcer described as a half-eaten circus tent, but it's her.

"You're not upset?" She has the audacity to ask.

"I spent the last week and a half thinking you were dead, upset is the last thing I'm feeling. Wait no, actually, I spent nine days wandering around the cooling vents to look for greasy ass hand prints on walls."

"Hey."

"And I couldn't find any so you must've washed your hands for once-"

"Okay, smart ass, I get it." She says, rolling her eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Suddenly all the exhaustion and pain you're feeling is gone, and your mind blanks. The only thought running through your head is Jinx and I missed you, and I love you, I love you, I love you as you pull her closer to you.

"Easy, tiger." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from chasing after her when she pulls away. You let out a huff. She laughs. "You're bleeding, I need to take a look at that first."

"Since when has me being injured ever stopped you?"

She grins at you. "Being away from me that long has you down bad, huh?"  You grumble something about her being unappreciative, and she responds by pulling your face down and placing a kiss on your nose.

"You're lucky I love you." 

[hadersversion]

‘tis the damn season.

“so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend.”

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue! reader

warnings: 18+, SMUT, p in v, fingering, begging, overstimulation, use of babe....let me know if i forget anything lol. ALSO in some places in america, thansgiving eve is literally just a holiday to get drunk in your hometown

your home for the holidays for the first time in years. you've been avoiding rafe, the reason you've been away for so long, but after seeing him again all the old feelings come back. when rafe sends a text one night, you end up in the back of his truck like old times.

i parked my car out front of my childhood home, staring at the old exterior.

somethings never change.

being back in the outer banks felt strange. it has been a while since i have been back, avoiding come home for as long as i can. but with a few begging phone calls from my mom and kiara, here i am.

i knock on my front door and am greeted with a bright smile.

"jj?" i ask, confused.

"welcome home, stranger." he says, with a hug and grabbing my bag.

i walk into my living room and see the pogues, sitting with my mom. a homemade 'welcome home' banner hanging above their heads.

my mom comes over and gives me a big hug. "i thought i would never see this face again." she says with a squeeze.

"boston isn't that far, mom." i tell her but i know she would never leave the outer banks. never in a million years. i turn towards the others and smile. "i wonder who could've put this together?" i say, looking at kiara.

"hey it wasn't all me, pope was the one who brought it up." she says, engulfing me in her arms.

"guilty." pope chimes in, joining the hug. i feel jj and john b join in as well. my family.

we break away and hang out in the living room, catching up.

"don't tell me you went all city on us, y/n." john b pokes fun at me.

"not completely. but it is nice having more things to do than hang on the beach and smoke." i wink.

"who could want more than that?" jj asks, making us all laugh.

"speaking of," kiara starts. "there's a little thanksgiving eve celebration happening at the wreck. just some people from high school. nothing big."

"just a chance to get drunk of our asses and go to dinner the next day hungover." jj says, causing kiara to nudge him.

"what do you say? want to join us?" i look around the room at my friends, all eager waiting for my response. with a sigh, i nod and they all cheer. "thank god, i don't think i could've done that alone."

i smile and nod. it should be fun, it will be. but my brain can't help to wonder if the one person who's kept me away from coming home will be there. no, he wouldn't. not with the pogues. but a part of me can't help but hope to see his face.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

i fix my sweater in the mirror in my room, my body fidgeting from anxiety. it's been a few days and i still can't shake that feeling from my body about being home. sure, i'm happy but this place holds so many memories. memories i wish to bury. i stare at the photo booth picture tucked into my mirror of him and i. i guess i forgot to hide this with the rest of the stuff. i take it off the mirror and sigh, examining it.

almost four years since it was taken. almost four years since we called it quits. and yet, he still haunts my memories. his presence making itself known through cheap beer at the bar, expensive men's cologne at the mall, exhaust that leaves motorbikes as they ride down the street. he's always there, whether i like it or not.

the sound of a horn breaks me free of my thoughts.

"y/n, they're here!" my mom calls from downstairs.

"coming!" i open my dresser drawer and slip the photo in before racing downstairs. i kiss my mom on the cheek and slip out the door, rushing into the van.

"ready to get fucked up?" jj asks with his devilish smirk.

i roll my eyes and laugh. "let's go."

we pull up to the wreck, it's already dark outside and a slight breeze fills the air. we all hurry in, greeted by familiar faces. my name is called from every direction, old friends from high school or the beach. all my fellow pogues who i know and love. when i'm done making my rounds, i head over to our table. everyone has some drink in their hand, beer or cocktail, and they all smile up at me.

"who would've though little y/n y/l/n would be a pogue celebrity?" pope jokes.

i flip him off and slide in next to john b. kiara hands me a beer and i take a sip. "i'm not a celebrity, i'm just one of the only people from this island who actually made it off."

they all make jokes at my despair, teasing me in any way they could when sarah walks up. i feel my stomach flip and i smile at her. "y/n!" she embraces me. "i'm so happy to see you!"

i hug her back and smile. "me too, sar. how's everything been?"

"the usual but i can't complain." she sits next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. "it's been forever."

"it has." i sigh. "it really has."

we all share stories and laugh around the table. we take shots, chug beer, and play different drinking games. just like old times sake.

"i need another beer." i say with a slight slur in my voice, standing up. "anyone else?" everyone shakes their head as i excuse myself.

i walk up to the bar and wait my turn, twirling my debit card in my hand. it could be the alcohol but i feel content and happy to be home.

"y/n?"

until that moment.

i don't want to turn around, i don't even want to accept my fate in this situation.

i know that voice, i could recognize it in a crowd of millions of people. it was the voice that lingered in my dreams, my thoughts.

i turn around and look at the man.

"rafe."

he looks older, his hair buzzed and some facial hair covering his face. but those eyes. they are the same eyes of the boy i loved.

we stood there, not saying a word. just taking the sight of one another in.

"i didn't know you were home." he says, not breaking eye contact.

i nod, biting my lip. "i am, i got home monday."

he chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "how long you here for?"

"till saturday. then i'm going back to boston." my throat feels scratchy and my face is on fire. i want to be anywhere but here now.

his eyes continue to study me. "two more budweiser's, please." he says to the bartender. i open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head. "on me, think of it as a welcome home gift."

the bartender hands me the beer and i smile. i turn back to rafe and tip the bottle to him. "thanks."

"no problem." he clinks his bottle to mine. we both take a long sip. my eyes are desperately trying to find a place to land, ending up on the bright sign above the bar. but rafe's are still on me.

"you okay?" kiara asks as she walks behind rafe. she is my gurdian angel.

"yeah, just waiting for my beer. excuse me." i squeeze past rafe and walk back to my table. i look back at him and smiles. i hate him.

a few drinks more and my ears are ringing. it was loud and everyone was far too drunk. i excuse myself for air outside. there are a few people lingering, smoking cigarettes or waiting for ubers. i smile and take in the nostalgia.

"you know, it would've been nice to know you were home." i hear rafe's voice next to me.

i roll my eyes and look up at him. "oh, would it have been? sorry, i didn't think you'd care." i say coldly. that liquid courage is taking control.

he looks down at me. "and why would i have not cared?"

"hmm, let me think." i put my finger to my chin. "oh, right. 'don't ever contact me again. we're so over. i wish i never met you. blah. blah. blah.' do you want me to go on?" i say to him.

i watch as he processes what i said to him, the words of our last fight. he looks guilty, for once in his life. "that was years ago, y/n. w-we were just kids."

"oh, really? then why haven't i heard from you for the past few years? phone works both ways, rafe." i say, shrugging.

he stands there quietly, i got him.

"how's school been?" he asks, nonchalantly.

"are you for real?" i ask.

"what? i'm being nice." he says.

i huff with frustration. "you are such an ass." i push pass him and walk onto the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asks, following after me.

"away from you." i say, not looking back.

i hear him run up behind me and he gently grabs my arm. "y/n. y/n, stop."

i turn to look at him. "what do you want from me, huh? you want to torture me even more?"

he stares at me, hand still on my arm. "what? of course not. y/n, i missed you."

"fuck off." i spit out without thinking.

"you're drunk."

"and you're an asshole." i say, flatly. "you...you fucking broke my heart and you expect me to act like everything is fucking dandy?"

"y/n." he tries to plead his case.

"no, rafe. you don't get to waltz in here and act like everything is okay with us. do you know how much you fucked me over? one day you're telling me you love me and you want to move to boston with me and the next, you're dumping me over the phone." i poke his chest. "i did everything you wanted, i kept what we had between us a secret, i took care of you. and nothing was enough for you."

he looks down at his feet in guilt. "i-i know, i'm sorry. i was...i was fucked up back then. with my dad on my case and the drinking...i wasn't okay. i felt like..." he cut himself off.

"what, rafe? you felt like, what?" i ask.

"like i was going to hold you back, alright?" he raises his voice. "you are too good for this place, for me. i didn't want to hold you back. i loved you too much to do that to you." i stare at him and laugh. "what? what's so fucking funny?"

"you, rafe. you." i sigh. "instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid. we could've worked that out. but you were too scared." i close my eyes and shake my head. "goodbye, rafe."

i walk down the street, hugging my body as the wind blows. a weight has been lifted off my shoulders but there's still that feeling i get whenever i think of him. that feeling that i miss him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

thanksgiving flew by, even though i had a hangover that felt like it would last a lifetime.

i helped my mom clean up the kitchen as the pogues did the dishes and took the trash out. just like old times.

once we were done, we sat outside around the bonfire. you would think after yesterday, drinking would come to a halt but jj found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and mixed it with kiara's apple cider. we all enjoyed each other's company but my mind could not help but wander. my last conversation with rafe ringing through my head.

"instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid."

i shake my head and take a sip of my spiked cider. as much as it rang true, there was still that part of me that wonders 'what if?'. the more i thought about it, the more i wanted to pick up my phone.

no, i need to be the bigger person. i'm stronger than that. i can't text him first.

then i felt my phone buzz in my lap.

rafe: hey

i stare at the text and bite my lip. i know i should ignore it, let it go unread. but my fingers work against my brain and type 'hi' back to him. i sit there, eagerly waiting for a response.

rafe: can we talk?

rafe: i'm sorry about last night, i'm a fucking idiot.

rafe: there's so many things i could say to you rn

rafe: but i miss you.

rafe: i wanna see you.

i look around at my friends and sigh, they would be so mad at me for this.

y/n: sure, give me like an hour.

y/n: park down the street at the usual spot.

my friends leave my house, mainly due to me faking another wave of hungover puking. i run upstairs and check myself out in the mirror, i look damn good. when i get his text, i sneak out the backdoor and hurry down the street. i see his truck parked under the big tree, the spot he always parked in.

i open the truck door and hop into the passenger seat. i look over at him, he's still in his dressy clothes. a blue polo that hugged his arms right and khakis that made his thighs look exceptionally big. he knew what he was doing and i can't tell if i hate him or love him for it.

we drive in silence for a bit, his radio playing music faintly. his hands grip the steering wheel as his mind looks like he's on another planet. i play with the ends of my sweatshirt, anxiously waiting for him to do something. anything.

he pulls up to the beach, the spot where we would always come to. it was dark and the waves crashed against the shore loudly. he turns the car off and looks over at me.

"thanks for meeting me." he says simply.

"sure."

"i'm sorry about last night. you went out to have fun and i ruined it, i know i did."

i just nod at him.

"and...you were right. about it all." he sighs, running his hands over his face. "i should've manned up, talked to you about how i was feeling. but you know how i get. i get too in my head and just jump to conclusions. it wasn't fair to you." he looks into my eyes. "these past few years without you have been a living hell and i have only myself to blame."

"are you drunk? high?" i ask.

"w-what?"

"are you not sober?" i ask again.

"i'm sorry, what? of course i'm fucking sober." he says. "why would i not be?"

"rafe cameron...taking accountability? i'm sorry, it just seems so...foreign?" i laugh.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

i laugh again. "oh, i'm sure. and...the sky is green. we live on the planet pluto. aliens exist and so do unicorns!"

he pinches the bridge of his nose. "y/n, i'm telling the truth! god, you always joke around."

"yeah, because i know you." i say to him. "and you would rather eat concrete than admit you are wrong."

"eat concrete?" he asks, with a smirk.

"you know what i mean!" i huff with frustration.

he grabs my hand and stares in my eyes. "y/n, i am fully sober. we are not in another universe, it is not opposite day. i was wrong and i am sorry."

my brain malfunctions as i look into his eyes. "y-you mean it?"

"every word i said."

my brain not working means i experienced a lack of better judgment. i grab rafe by his collar and connect our lips for the first time in years. this kiss, the one i have longed for since i left this place, was the missing puzzle piece i've been searching for in my life. everything seemed to make sense again.

his hands cupped my cheeks as his tongue slipped into my mouth. he was hungry for me and i wasn't going to stop him because i felt insatiable as well. his hands roamed from my cheeks down to my neck and onto my shoulders.

i needed more.

i climbed onto his lap and straddled him. my arms connected around his neck as he pressed against me. i felt his cock hard against his khakis and i wanted it. i wanted it all. i rubbed myself against him, causing us both to moan.

he continued to kiss me until he broke away and looked at me. his puffy lips formed a cocky smile as he brushed his nose against mine. "you missed me."

"shut up." i was itching for more.

"admit it, you missed me. you missed the way i made you feel." he states.

"rafe, shut up and kiss me, please."

"ah ah ah." he shook his head. "not until you tell me."

"you're such an ass." i roll my eyes, trying to catch my breathe.

"yet, here you are, rubbing yourself against me in my truck." he says, kissing my cheek. his lips then go to my ear and down my neck. "i want it all with you, right now, babe. but i need to hear it."

"fine! fuck, i missed you. are you happy?" i groan, needing him.

"very. get in the backseat." he demands. i quickly follow his order, hopping in the back over the seats. he gets out of the truck and opens up the back door, sliding in next to me. "come here." he pulls me back onto his lap and we pick up where we left off. i continue to rub myself against him as he sloppily kisses me. "just like old times." he jokes and i hit his shoulder. "c'mon, don't act like you don't think about it."

"oh, i do. but i bet you think about it more than i do." i smirk.

"probably." he laughs. his fingers fall to the hem of my sweater and he plays with it. "now are we only here to kiss or?"

"why? you wanna fuck me in your truck? just like old times." i say, making fun of what he just said.

"i do, i wanna fuck you right here, right now. it's all i've been wanting to do." he kisses my jawline. "do you want me to fuck you?"

this is what i missed the most, our back and forth.

"yes, rafe. i want you to fuck me." i moan out.

with that, he practically rips my sweater off my body and starts to kiss down my chest. his large hands palm my clothed breast. i bite my lip and let my head fall back, missing the way he affected my body. i felt his hand snake around to the back and unclip my bra quickly.

"show off." i say, out of breathe.

i smirks and connects his lips to my nipple, sucking and licking it. his hand massaging my other. "don't pretend you don't like it."

i smirk and shake my head.

he continues to focus on my tits, going back and forth between the two.

"more." i whisper, eyes clenched shut.

"what was that?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"i need more, rafe. please." i beg.

"look at you all needy for me. i knew you missed me." his hand slipped under my jeans and panties, stopping right at my core. i felt his fingers curl inside me, going in and out. "all wet for me, huh? what a good girl." he pushed in, fingering my cunt, when his thumb found my sensitive bud. he added pressure, circling it, and i felt as though i was seeing stars.

"s-shit." i cry out, moving my hips to try and gain some friction.

"feel good, baby? let me hear how could i make you feel." he picked up his pace and a pornographic moan escaped my lips. it's been forever since someone has made me feel this good. rafe knew my body like it was his own, he knew how to get me going. "there we go, like how my fingers feel?"

"u-uh huh." i nod, mouth hanging open.

his fingers worked their magic, rubbing my clit at a pace that'll make me come undone in no time. "love the way you look on top of me, baby. so fucking sexy." he attached his lips to my tits again and continued fingering me.

i felt on fire.

i place one hand on the window and the other on his shoulder, holding on for dear life. the more he whispered about me and the faster his fingers were going, i was cumming on his fingers before i knew it. i rode out my high, screaming his name. once i was done, i felt him pull his fingers out of my pants, my juices getting all over myself. i stared down at him, trying to catch my breathe, as he popped his fingers into his mouth and sucked.

"just as good as i remember." he cleaned his fingers off and kissed me again. my hands ran down his buff chest and stopped at the bottom of his polo, lifting it up. his gold chain laid against his chiseled body, he was perfect. i felt as though i was in a trance as i began to kiss down his chest. i could feel his groans vibrating in his chest and i smirked because i was the one making him feel this way. "i need to fuck you."

"you need to?" i laugh, kissing lower and lower.

"yes, y/n. i need to bury myself inside of you, please." he pleaded.

"i like when you're the one begging." i bite him lightly, causing him to hiss.

"i bet."

i unbuttoned his khakis and sat up so he could slip them off. his grey boxers were discolored from the precum leaking off his cock. he took his underwear off and his cock sprung out. "i-i don't have protection." he said, mentally cursing himself out.

"well, are you clean?" i ask.

"yes. i-i haven't been with anyone since." he openly admitted.

i felt the darkness overtake my eyes as i lower myself down onto him. his breath hitched as he slipped all the way in. he was deep inside of me, causing a few tears to leave my eyes. but the pain subsided as he started to rock my hips with his hands, moving me back and forth. i picked up the rhythm he started with me and placed my hands on his shoulder to steady myself. i felt the truck rocking back and forth as i did so.

his hands found my ass and rested there. "fuck, i missed your pussy. so good, takes me so well." he kissed my chest as i grinded back and forth.

i felt my finger nails dig into his shoulder as his cock hit all the right spots. i looked down at him and he stared at me in awe, like i was some work of art. "fuck, rafe. you're so big."

i bite my lip as i let my head fall back in pleasure. i ride him fast as i keep saying his name. "shit, y/n. you're such a good girl, you're so hot. you feel so tight."

i connect our lips, i feel his hands tighten around my ass. this means he was close. "i want you to cum in me, rafe." his eyes widen as he opens his mouth to ask for permission. "p-please fill me up. i miss it so much." i say, trying to catch my breathe.

with that, he lets out a groan and my name falls from his lips like a prayer. "y/n." i feel him coming inside me, painting me. it doesn't take long for his thumb to find my clit again. with the extra pressure applied to my overstimulated cunt, i feel my head reeling. the air in the truck is hot, making it almost hard for me to breath. it all feels too much, my body releasing onto rafe yet again.

we sit there, panting with our eyes closed. i rest my head on his sweaty chest and he kisses me gently. he rubs my back, tracing circles into it.

"felt even better than i imagine." he says, his voice gruff.

"you thought about it a lot, huh?" i smirk.

"all the fucking time."

i take him out of me and sit next to him in the truck. the windows are foggy and our hands find each other, holding them. i get a sense of weird nostalgia, from how things used to be with us.

"well that was a thanksgiving to remember." i joke, trying not to feel overwhelmed by what happened.

"'tis the damn season." he replies.

i slowly slip my sweater back on and try to find my pants.

"w-wait." rafe says. "is this...is this it? just a single fuck and you're gone."

i look at him, his eyes pleading with me.

"i go back to boston on saturday rafe, we only have like a day and a half."

i wish we could keep this going, i wish this was how things always were. but i had to think realistically. i have to go back home, i have to move on with my new life.

he grabs my hand and squeezes it. "boston is only an 11 hour drive. hour or two by plane."

"rafe." i say.

"i can't lose you again. i can't, y/n. these past few years have sucked without you. i can't wait until you come home for christmas again. now that i've got you again, i can't risk it."

i sigh and kiss his hand. "i know. i know." i close my eyes and shake my head. "we'll make it work. we almost did it before."

"we can do it again." he smiles sweetly. i kiss his lips gently, laying my hand against his chest.

"you'd do an 11 hour car ride for me?"

"y/n, i'd fucking walk if i have to." he smiles.

i roll my eyes and kiss his cheek. "you're so cheesy."

he lays me back against the truck seats and kisses me. "don't act like it doesn't work for you."

[eu-nicola]

the ferrari couple

summary: when Charles signs with Ferrari, his life takes an unexpected turn when he falls in love with you "Princess Ferrari". Together both become the perfect couple, but behind public perfection, the pressure of your careers leads both in other ways

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4559

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @pperlaaiy

The sound of engines rumbled across the Monza circuit. It was the 2018 Italian Grand Prix, and Charles Leclerc, still a Sauber driver, walked around the paddock with a mix of pride and nervousness. That year had been crucial for him; rumours of his possible promotion to Ferrari felt increasingly real. However, the pressure of being at home, surrounded by tifosi who idolised the Scuderia, kept him on his toes. 

As he made his way to the Ferrari hospitality area, Charles paused for a moment, awed by the spectacle before him. Surrounded by photographers, journalists and Ferrari employees, there was you. You seemed to shine with a light of your own, dressed in an impeccable white two-piece suit that bore discreet touches of Ferrari red, the colour that so represented your lineage. Perfectly coiffed hair, dark sunglasses and a confident smile that showed no trace of nervousness. In that moment, you were everything Ferrari stood for: tradition, elegance and power. 

“Who is she?” Charles asked his engineer, unable to look away.

“Don’t you know? She’s related to Enzo Ferrari. Her mother, Sofia Ferrari, is practically the queen of the car group. She’s like the princess of the house.”

Charles nodded slowly, impressed, but also intimidated. He had heard about you before, how you were an iconic figure in and out of the world of motorsport. You were known not only for your surname, but for your involvement in Ferrari’s most exclusive events, your innate elegance, and the way you upheld your family’s legacy. The fact that you were unreachable only added to your aura.

However, what happened next took Charles completely by surprise. While he tried to hide his interest and continue on his way, you turned around and your eyes met his. Taking off your sunglasses, you smiled with that mix of kindness and confidence that baffled everyone.

“Charles Leclerc, right?” You asked, stepping closer gracefully.

He blinked, surprised that you knew who he was. "Uh, yeah, I'm Charles," he replied, trying to sound relaxed, though he felt the heat rising to his face.

“I have to say, you’ve impressed many at Ferrari this year,” you said, shaking his hand. Your tone was gentle, but your words carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. “My uncle won’t stop talking about you. I think you’re destined for great things.”

Charles scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture contrasting with your poise. “I hope so. Being part of Ferrari would be… a dream.”

“A dream, but also a responsibility,” you replied, your gaze becoming more intense. “Ferrari isn’t just a team, Charles. It’s a family, a history. The tifosi don’t see you as just a driver; they see you as a symbol. And that’s not something just anyone can carry.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of your words. He’d heard similar speeches before, but coming from you, they held a different meaning. “I know. And I’m willing to give my all to live up to it.”

You stared at him for a moment, assessing him. Finally, you smiled again, this time with a hint of genuine warmth. “I hope so, Charles. I’d love to see you succeed at Ferrari. But for now, enjoy Monza. It’s a magical place, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he replied, relaxing a little. “Even more so now.”

Your laugh was soft, but enough for the few people around to notice the chemistry that seemed to be brewing between the two of you. Before you could respond, a team member called out to you from a distance. With a slight nod to Charles, you walked away, leaving behind a sweet scent and an impression he wouldn’t soon forget.

Charles stood still for a few seconds, taking in what had just happened. He had met the “princess of Ferrari,” but beyond your name and lineage, what had struck him most was your presence. There was something about you that challenged him, that made him want to prove he was worthy of being in your world.

That night, during the official Ferrari dinner, they met again. You were surrounded by important figures in motorsport, but when Charles entered the room, your eyes instinctively sought him out. This time, you didn't need to approach him; he took the initiative.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to yours.

You smiled, amused. "Of course. I hope you're ready, Charles."

"If I can survive Monza, I think I can handle this," he replied, feeling more confident.

And so, over glasses of wine and conversations filled with jokes and witty observations, something began that neither of you could have foreseen. You weren't just Ferrari's princess; you were a challenge, a mystery. And for Charles, the young driver who dreamed of conquering the world, you became the most fascinating target of all.

After that first meeting at Monza, Charles couldn't get you out of his mind. Despite being immersed in the demands of his season with Sauber, he found moments between races and training to remember the conversations he'd had with you. For your part, there was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was his humility, his ambition, or the way he seemed to shine even under the pressure of the spotlight.

The next few times you met were at Ferrari-related events, always in formal settings where professional distance was the norm. However, that barrier slowly began to break down.

It was a cool evening in Maranello. Ferrari had organised a private dinner to celebrate the season's achievements and start looking ahead. Although the evening was for the official drivers, Charles was invited as a gesture of goodwill, as the announcement of his joining Ferrari for the 2019 season was imminent.

You met him in the event's illuminated gardens, while escaping a boring conversation with a group of executives. Charles was alone, a glass of wine in his hand, admiring the statue of Enzo Ferrari that presided over the place. You approached him with a light smile.

"Thinking about how to fill those shoes?" you asked, stopping beside him.

Charles turned his head, surprised but genuinely happy to see you. "More like wondering if I'll ever make it."

“It’s a start,” you said, shrugging. “He always said that the true spirit of Ferrari isn’t in perfection, but in passion. If you have that, you’re already halfway there.”

He looked at you, with a mix of admiration and curiosity. “Do you feel that passion too? For Ferrari, I mean.”

You nodded, crossing your arms to protect yourself from the cold. “Of course. I grew up surrounded by this world, but it’s not just the family name. It’s everything it represents: the history, the tifosi, the constant struggle to be the best. It’s not easy to live with it, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Charles was silent for a moment, processing your words. Then he smiled, a soft but sincere gesture. “It’s funny. All that you describe is what scares me and excites me at the same time. Being at Ferrari means so much more than being a fast driver. It’s… something bigger.”

You turned to him, studying him carefully. There was something about his honesty that disarmed you, a rarity in a world full of appearances. “And you think you’re ready for it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I want to try. And I’ll do my best to prove that I’m worthy of it.”

The determination in his voice made you smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to admit your doubts, but you’re not afraid to face them either.”

He stared at you, as if he was trying to figure something out in you. “And you? Have you always been this sure of yourself?”

The question took you by surprise. You looked down for a moment before answering. “Not always. But when you grow up in this family, you learn to hide your insecurities.”

Before the conversation could go any deeper, one of the attendants called out to you from a distance. “Y/N, you’re needed inside.”

You sighed, but not before giving Charles one last smile. "Don't let them intimidate you in there. And remember: Ferrari is more than a car, it's a family."

The real change in your relationship came weeks later, when Ferrari made the official announcement that Charles would be a driver for the 2019 season. The news flooded the headlines and thrilled the tifosi, who saw him as the future of the team. That evening, you hosted a private dinner at your family villa in Maranello, inviting only a few people close to the team, including Charles.

"Thank you for inviting me," Charles said when he arrived, wearing a simple but elegant suit. There was something different in his gaze that night: a mix of confidence and gratitude.

"Of course," you replied as you greeted him. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate our new star."

The evening passed quietly, with laughter, anecdotes and toasts to the future. However, you both noticed that your eyes met more often than usual. When dinner ended and the other guests began to leave, Charles was one of the last to stay.

"Would you like to see something special?" You asked, taking a glass of wine and leading him towards the villa's garage.

Inside, covered by tarps, were some of Ferrari's most iconic models, from the first cars created by Enzo to the most modern ones. Charles walked among them in wonder, like a child in a candy store.

"It's amazing," he murmured. "It's like being in a private museum."

"It is," you said, leaning against one of the cars. "Every car here has a story. And now you will be a part of that story."

He stopped in front of you, his expression serious but warm. "I hope I can live up to it. Not just for Ferrari, but for you as well."

The intensity of his words took you by surprise, but you didn't back down. There was something about his sincerity that drew you hopelessly.

"Charles..." you began, but he interrupted you.

“I’m not saying this because you’re from the Errari family or because you’re in a position of power. I’m saying this because you, as a person, inspire me. And I want you to know that I will do everything I can to not let you down.”

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. And as the silence stretched between you both, Charles took a step towards you. There was no need to say anything else; the moment said it all.

That night marked the start of something special. What had started as a casual connection became a relationship that you both knew would be intense, complicated, but also unique.

After that, the end of 2018 was a whirlwind of emotions for Charles. He had closed his season with Sauber in an exceptional way, earning the respect of the tifosi and securing his place at Ferrari for the following year. But the most unexpected thing for him had been the relationship that had formed with you. During those months, you went from being two occasional acquaintances at events to becoming confidants and something more.

Your meetings, although few due to his constant travels, were full of complicity. He had invited you to accompany him to a couple of races outside Italy, and although you kept everything under a strict low profile, the members of the paddock were beginning to notice that there was something between you. The candlelit dinners, the walks through Maranello and the deep conversations.

For Charles, you were much more than a "Ferrari". You were someone who understood him, someone who saw beyond the image of a promising driver. For you, Charles was a breath of fresh air in a world full of appearances. In him, you found someone honest, humble and passionate.

However, you both knew that things would change in 2019. With Charles officially becoming a Ferrari driver, the attention on both of you would increase, and you would have to decide how you would face what was to come together.

When the 2019 season began, everything changed. Not only was Charles Ferrari's new rising star, he also unwittingly became the centre of media attention. The relationship between the two, which until then had remained in the shadows, inevitably began to come to light.

The first time photographers caught you together was at the Monaco Grand Prix. You were in the paddock, leaning against a railing as you talked animatedly to Charles. You were wearing a red outfit that paid homage to the Scuderia, and your laughter echoed above the roar of the engines. The media was quick to dub you the “prince and princess of Ferrari.”

“Does all this attention bother you?” Charles asked you that afternoon, as you walked together through the Monte Carlo harbor.

“A little,” you admitted, adjusting your sunglasses. “But I also know it’s inevitable. I guess we’ll just have to learn to handle it together.”

Charles nodded, taking your hand gently. “We will.”

It was an intense year, full of challenges for both of you. Charles had to deal with the pressure of being a Ferrari driver, while you were constantly surrounded by the critical eyes of the press and tifosi, who analyzed your every move. Far from separating them, however, those challenges brought them closer together.

The moments they shared off the track became their refuge. There were days when Charles would arrive exhausted after a difficult race, and you would call him to give him words of encouragement. There were also nights when you, exhausted, would find comfort in his embrace.

By 2020, you were no longer just a couple at Ferrari; you were the couple. Cameras followed you everywhere, and social media couldn't stop talking about you. Photos of you at Formula 1 galas, at private Scuderia events, and even on vacation in Italy went viral instantly.

The tifosi loved how they represented the essence of Ferrari: Charles was the young driver full of talent and promise, and you, the sophisticated and passionate woman who seemed to be the embodiment of the Ferrari legacy. No matter where they were, together they projected an image of perfection that fascinated the world.

However, behind the flashes, things were not always easy. The 2020 season was a complicated year for Ferrari, with performance issues testing Charles as a driver. For him, it was frustrating to go from being a constant contender to fighting to stay in the top 10. There were times when tensions were palpable, but you always found a way to remind him of his worth.

“Charles,” you told him one night after a disappointing race at Spa, as you both sat on the balcony of his hotel room. “You are not just a Ferrari driver. You are the future of Ferrari. Enzo always said that difficult races are the ones that make true champions. And you are one of them.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Luckily, you won’t have to find out,” you replied with a smile.

That mutual strength was what made you two so special. While Charles faced the challenges of the track, you struggled to keep outside pressures at bay, defending your relationship from rumors and criticism.

By the end of 2020, you were more than a couple; you were a symbol. The prince and princess of Ferrari, two figures who represented everything the brand stood for: history, passion, and the promise of a bright future.

What no one imagined was that beneath that image of perfection, the first cracks were beginning to form. Because, although the love you felt for each other was real, the demands of your worlds were not always compatible.

The end of 2020 marked a turbulent time both on and off the track. Ferrari was facing one of its worst seasons in years, and while Charles continued to show his talent, the car simply wasn’t up to par. You, for your part, had been dealing with the mounting pressures of your family name: new projects, the constant expectation that you represent Ferrari at key events, and increasing scrutiny over your relationship with Charles.

Through it all, you never let the internal tensions leak outward. To the world, you were still the couple. You were seen smiling at events, with Charles looking at you as if you were his anchor, and you showing yourself unwavering, like the pillar holding him up. But what no one saw was the distance that was beginning to form between you.

The breaking point began subtly, with small misunderstandings and differences that you had previously managed with grace.

During the final races of the season, you noticed that Charles was more distant. Although he remained affectionate with you in public, in private his attention seemed to be elsewhere. His days were consumed by endless team meetings, interviews, and hours of work trying to squeeze the maximum potential out of an unresponsive car. When he came home, he was exhausted, and conversations between the two of you were reduced to an exchange of short sentences.

“How was it today?” you asked, waiting for an answer that never came with any depth.

“Good, the usual,” he would reply, often without looking at you, lost in thought.

It wasn’t Charles’ fault, you knew. The weight he carried on his shoulders was immense, and you wanted to be understanding. But you couldn’t help but feel displaced, as if your place in his life had taken a backseat.

For your part, you were dealing with your own problems as well. Your family expected you to take a more active role in the company, and every step you took was scrutinized. The endless meetings, strategic decisions, and social expectations were draining you. There were nights when you sat alone in your Maranello apartment, wondering if this was the life you really wanted.

The night of the final race of the season, in Abu Dhabi, you decided you needed to talk. You had prepared dinner in the hotel suite, hoping to reconnect before heading back to Italy. Charles arrived late, tired but trying not to show it.

“This looks amazing,” he commented, cracking a smile as he sat across from you.

“I wanted us to close the year with something special,” you replied, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice.

For a while, the conversation flowed as before. You talked about the race, the tifosi, and even joked about how the media had called you “Ferrari royalty” in a recent article. But then, the tone changed.

“Charles, I’ve been thinking,” you began, hands shaking slightly. “Do you think… we’re okay?”

He looked up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve grown apart,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “We don’t talk like we used to anymore, we don’t spend time together. I feel like all of this—” you gestured vaguely at the world around them, “—is consuming us.”

Charles sighed, setting his fork down on the table. “I know. I’ve felt the same way. But I thought… that it was temporary. That after this season, things would get better.”

“What if they don’t?” you asked, facing the fear you’d been suppressing for months.

For a moment, Charles didn’t say anything. His silence was like a confirmation of what you both feared: that the weight of your individual lives was overshadowing what you had together.

“I love you,” he finally said, with a sincerity that almost brought tears to your eyes. "But I don't know if I'm being fair to you. I don't know if I can be the person you need right now."

The decision wasn't made in one night, but that conversation marked the beginning of the end. Over the following weeks, both tried to hold on to what they had, but silences were more frequent than words, and the emotional distance became increasingly evident.

The news of their separation came in January 2021, shortly after the Christmas holidays. There were no official statements or public explanations; they simply stopped appearing together, and rumours began to circulate.

The paddock was in shock. Neither of them had given any indication of trouble, and for the tifosi, they represented perfection. But those who knew them closely knew the truth: there was no big fight, no betrayal, just the inevitable wear and tear of two people trapped in worlds that demanded too much of them.

The last time you saw him was at a Ferrari event in early 2021. He was beaming, smiling at photographers as he spoke to management. When your eyes met, he gave you a small, almost melancholic smile, which you returned with a similar gesture.

There were no words, but they didn't need to be. You both knew that what you had was unique, special, and that it would always be a part of you. But you also knew that you had made the right decision, even if it hurt.

The prince and princess of Ferrari had split up, leaving the world baffled and the tifosi heartbroken.

The months following the breakup were like a whirlwind, even though neither of you openly acknowledged it. You and Charles had decided to keep the reasons for the end of your relationship private, but that only fueled the speculation. The media kept wondering what had happened between the prince and princess of Ferrari, and the tifosi couldn't accept that something so perfect had fallen apart for no apparent reason.

Despite the noise, you both tried to move on, each in your own way. But as they tried to build new routines, the world kept watching, waiting for some sign, some word that would explain the inexplicable.

The first image of Charles with another woman appeared one day in March. It was a casual photograph, taken by a fan in Monte Carlo. Charles was in a café, smiling as he chatted with a blonde, light-eyed girl. It didn't seem like a romantic encounter, but the closeness between the two and the carefree smile on Charles' face unleashed a wave of comments.

“Who is she?”

“Has she replaced her already?”

“She’s probably her cousin or something, Charles wouldn’t do this.”

For your part, you tried to ignore it. You knew Charles had the right to move on, as did you, but you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach as fans began to theorize about his love life.

It wasn’t long before you were making headlines too. A few weeks later, during a gala event in Milan, you arrived accompanied by an Italian businessman known for his charisma and fortune. He offered you his arm as you walked down the red carpet, and although you maintained a professional smile, the camera flashes captured something that the media interpreted as complicity.

The reaction was not long in coming.

“She already has a boyfriend? This can’t be real.”

“Charles and her were perfect, this doesn’t make sense.”

“The princes of Ferrari are dating commoners now, apparently.”

Social media became a battleground between fans. There were those who supported the idea of ​​the two moving on with their lives, but there were also those who clung to the hope of a reconciliation. Every photo of Charles with his supposed new partner was analyzed in detail, and the same was true for you.

On your Instagram profile, the comments were a reflection of the tifosi's pain:

"Please tell me this isn't true."

"Why did you break up? I never understood it."

"Get back together, there's still time."

Charles faced the same thing. Even in the simplest photos — an afternoon training or a day on the simulator — the responses were full of mentions of you.

"Everything is more boring without Princess Ferrari."

"I hope you're happy, but I'll never forget what you had."

Neither you nor Charles made any comments on the matter. You both knew that any statement would only fuel further speculation, and the last thing you wanted was to turn your past relationship into a public spectacle.

At Ferrari events, it was inevitable that your paths would cross, although you always kept your distance. During a presentation of the Scuderia for the 2021 season, you sat in the front row next to the management, while Charles took his place on the stage, talking about his expectations for the year.

Your eyes met for a brief second. It was enough for the photographers to capture the moment, but not enough for either of you to show any obvious emotion. You held his gaze calmly, while he quickly turned his gaze towards the audience.

After the event, you avoided the cocktail party that followed. You knew the media would be waiting for any interaction between you, and you weren't about to fuel any more rumors. However, as you were leaving, you received a text on your phone.

"I saw you left early. I hope you're okay."

It was from Charles.

You read it a few times before pocketing your phone without responding. Although the message seemed innocent, it only made the emptiness in your chest feel heavier.

Despite appearances, moving on wasn't easy for either of you. Charles could put on a smile next to his new companion, but in moments of solitude, he found his mind drifting back to the days he shared with you. The walks through Maranello, the conversations in the early morning, even the small arguments over insignificant things: it was all still there, like an echo that refused to go away.

You weren't immune either. Although you were dating someone new, you hadn't felt that connection you once had with Charles. Every time you saw their name in the headlines, your heart beat a little faster, and images of what was and what could have been filled your mind.

Still, you both kept going, at least in the eyes of the world. The smiles at events, the carefully curated posts on social media, everything seemed to indicate that you had put the past behind you. But the others seemed unwilling to let it go.

The tifosi kept waiting. In every Ferrari post, in every interview, in every public appearance, someone always asked about you.

"Will you come back one day?"

"You were the heart of Ferrari."

"Without you, this is not the same anymore."

And although neither you nor Charles answered, that question kept hanging in the air, like a wound that time did not quite heal. Because although you had gone your separate ways, the world was not ready to forget you.

And, perhaps, deep down, neither were you.

[caitified]

cait getting slightly injured (maybe a sprain or something) and physio reader being worried and protective 😍

injured

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:slight injury, part 2 of physio!

it’s a tight game against the aces, the kind where every possession feels like life or death. you’re standing near the sideline, heart racing as caitlin drives to the hoop. she gets fouled hard, tumbling to the floor with a loud thud.

your stomach drops. she gets up—of course she does, it’s caitlin—but she’s favoring her left leg, wincing just enough to make your chest tighten.

you don’t wait for anyone to call you over. by the time the refs signal for a time-out, you’re already halfway to her.

“cait, you okay?” you ask, keeping your voice steady even though your pulse is pounding.

“i’m fine,” she says, brushing it off, though her grimace says otherwise.

you cross your arms, giving her that look. “caitlin.”

she rolls her eyes, but you catch the slight wobble in her stance. “it’s just a bruise. i’m not coming off.”

“you’re limping,” you counter, stepping closer, lowering your voice so only she can hear. “please, just let me check you out. you know i’ll make it quick.”

she hesitates, glancing at the scoreboard. the game’s close, but you can see the conflict in her eyes—the way she doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to let the team down.

“two minutes,” she finally mutters, and you nod, relieved.

you follow her to the therapy room, her hand brushing yours briefly as you walk. the moment you’re inside, away from the noise of the arena, you guide her onto the table.

“you’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?” you say softly, crouching to inspect her leg.

“and you’re too worried,” she teases, but her voice is softer now, too, the bravado from the court fading.

“yeah, well, you don’t make it easy,” you shoot back, running your fingers gently over her knee. she winces slightly, and you look up, catching her gaze. “see? you need to sit out the rest of the game.”

“you’re overreacting,” she argues, but there’s no heat behind it.

“cait,” you say quietly, standing so your faces are level. “i care more about you than this game. please don’t make me fight you on this.”

her expression softens, and she sighs, resting her hand on your hip. “you know you’re too good at this guilt-tripping thing, right?”

“just using my powers for good,” you reply, your lips twitching into a small smile.

she leans forward, resting her forehead against yours for a moment. “i hate sitting out,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your side.

“i know,” you whisper, tilting your head to kiss her temple. “but i’d rather have you healthy tomorrow than risking it today.”

she pulls back just enough to kiss you softly, her lips lingering against yours. “fine,” she says when she pulls away. “but only because you asked.”

“because i asked?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“and because i love you,” she adds with a small smirk, making your heart skip.

you laugh, shaking your head as you grab an ice pack. “yeah, yeah. you’re lucky i love you back.”

“so lucky,” she murmurs, her gaze warm as she watches you fuss over her.

short one.. sorry for the lack of fics lately! finals are almost over and i have quite a few fics that just need to be edited. requests are open.

[p0orbaby]

Leah and reader first kiss with leah being really nervous. Like they went on their first date & leah walks her home… really cliche I know

-

The air smells faintly of rain, even though it hasn’t rained all day. The pavement is dry, the streetlights casting golden reflections onto the asphalt, and Leah is walking beside you, just close enough that your arms brush every few steps. She’s been fiddling with the hem of her jacket for the past five minutes. Tugging, twisting, untwisting. You pretend not to notice, mostly because it’s adorable.

The date was perfect, or at least as close to perfect as a first date can be. Dinner at that Italian place she swore was “authentic” (it was), followed by a walk through the park where she tried to act cool but absolutely jumped when a bird startled her. You didn’t laugh—out loud, at least.

Now, you’re here, just a few metres from your flat, and Leah is… acting weird. Not bad weird, just fidgety, overthinking-every-breath weird.

“So, uh,” she says, and it’s the fifth time she’s started a sentence with so since you left the restaurant.

You glance at her, waiting. She’s looking straight ahead, but the way her jaw is set and her shoulders are tensed makes her look like she’s bracing for impact.

“Had fun tonight?” she finally asks, like she hasn’t already asked you three times.

You bite back a smile. “Still fun the fourth time you ask”

Her head snaps to you, her expression caught between horrified and amused. “I haven’t asked that many times”

“You definitely have”

“I haven’t,” she insists, and she’s so defensive about it that you can’t help but laugh.

“Relax, Leah,” you tease, bumping her arm. “I had fun. Real fun. No sarcasm”

Her shoulders drop a little, but she still looks like she’s holding her breath. It’s endearing, really—watching Leah Williamson, usually so calm and composed, turn into a bundle of nerves just because you’re standing next to her.

You reach your building, and she stops walking, standing just a half-step back, like she’s unsure if she should follow you or not. You turn to face her, raising an eyebrow.

“Walk me to the door?”

Leah blinks, then nods so quickly it’s like you’ve flipped a switch. “Yeah, sure. Of course”

The building is quiet as you approach the entrance, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone steps. Leah shoves her hands into her jacket pockets, her fingers curling and uncurling like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

You turn to her, leaning back slightly against the door. “Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time”

“Me too,” she says, and her voice cracks just slightly on the too. She clears her throat immediately after, like she hopes you didn’t notice.

You did.

She’s staring at you now, her eyes darting from your face to the ground and back again, like she’s calculating something. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and you can see her mentally psyching herself up.

“Leah,” you say, and her name comes out softer than you mean it to.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re overthinking again”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t deny it. “I’m not—”

“You are”

“I just—” She stops, exhales sharply, and then blurts, “Can I kiss you?”

You blink, surprised by her directness despite the stuttering lead-up. “Took you long enough to ask”

Her eyes widen slightly, and for a second, you think she might combust on the spot. Then she takes a step closer, her hands still firmly in her pockets, and you can feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

You lean up slightly, closing the gap between you. “Leah, I’m not going to bite”

Her breath hitches, and then she moves, dipping her head down until her lips brush yours in the lightest, softest kiss. It’s tentative at first, like she’s waiting for you to pull away, but when you don’t, she relaxes, her hand finally coming up to cup your jaw.

When you pull back, her cheeks are bright red, but she’s grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “Was that—was that okay?” she asks, her voice breathy.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Okay? Leah, that was better than the tiramisu”

“Wow,” she says, her grin widening. “High praise”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease, tugging her down for another kiss.

This time, she doesn’t hesitate.

[thethingsnerd]

This one. I like this one. Fic under the cut

“Your input is not necessary.”

It’s not the first time Bruce had said that to Dick tonight. It would be less frustrating if B was making better calls- he’s not really listening to anyone else tonight, not just Dick, and his decision making is suffering for it.

Everyone's tempers are suffering for it, too.

It starts with Oracle, who hates when Batman falls back into bad habits like this as much as Dick does, and has twice as less patience for it. She's curtly professional from the word "go" and when Dick offers to bring her a pint of cherry garcia later, Barbara tells him to shove it up his ass instead. Dick doesn't take it personally.

Next is Cass, who's always extra stressed when Barbara's upset. Even so, it blindsides Dick. They'd ended up at the same shootout, they'd efficiently gotten the surrounding civilians to safety, they'd worked together beautifully. They de-escalate the gun fight next, and Dick knocks a gun out of a gangster's hand before he can shoot Blackbat in the back. He doesn't think twice about it until Cass starts castigating him on the roof.

"I didn't need help."

"He was behind you. That's the whole point of a patrol partner, Blackbat, so someone can cover your six."

"No."

"No?"

"You were out of rhythm."

"I was not-"

"You're throwing me off."

She's running before Dick can say anything else. He could catch up with her, if he really tried, but he's still not sure what that was about. Maybe Dick is as out-of-sync as Cass insisted, or maybe Cass is feeling off-kilter herself. Either way, he doesn't go after her.

The rest of the night shift is uneventful, aside from the snipe over comms. Back at the Cave is a different story. Steph and Tim are arguing when Dick rolls in, and Dick gets all of three steps toward the computer before they round on him instead.

"Dick! Tell Tim that-"

"No, Dick, inform Stephanie-"

"Oooh full name, I'm so chastened, Timothy-"

"You should be embarrassed-"

"Okay!" Dick interjects. "What is the problem?"

Steph glances between Dick and Tim, glances at her feet, then sighs aggressively. "Nothing," she grits out. "Absolutely nothing, so for once in your life leave it alone, you busybody."

Dick watches as she stomps away. Just a bad night, he has to remind himself that it's just a bad night. Tim shakes his head when Dick glances at him, so Dick heads straight to the showers.

Clean, warm, and dressed down in comfy sweats, Dick feels much better than has all day. He'd passed Damian on the stairs, but something was clearly eating at the kid- he'd taken one look at Dick and turned sharply in the other direction. Hiding. Dick's been there, and valiantly tries not to take it personally.

He decides to make himself some chamomile (he'll never take sleeping pills again after don't think about it) and takes a moment to check in with himself. His therapist would be proud. Alfred would be proud of how nicely his chamomile turns out; Dick almost always understeeps herbal tea but tonight he's gotten it just right.

Dick sips his tea. He takes inventory of his injuries; minimal bruising, achy lower back, tender left wrist. Pretty good. Then takes stock of the rest of him; tired but not yet sleepy, agitated but not too badly. All in all, considering all the tension, tonight definitely could have been worse.

Famous last words.

Tim walks into the kitchen just as Dick gets to the dregs of his chamomile. Dick nods at him in greeting, and Tim does not take it well.

"Oh, now you acknowledge me?"

Dick does not sigh. He doesn't but it is such a near thing. "Did I not acknowledge you some other time tonight?"

"I asked you to back me up downstairs and you totally ignored me!"

"I did no such thing. You were in the middle of an argument I didn't catch the start of, so I asked what the problem was. How is that ignoring you?"

"I asked you for backup and you didn't come through," Tim hisses.

"Backup in the field and backup in a lovers' quarrel are not the same-"

"It wasn't a- a lovers' quarrel, asshat!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you don't say what's really going on?"

"You shouldn't need to know! I asked for backup-the only thing you're good for is backup and you couldn't even do that right!"

......yeah, alright, there's no getting around it. Dick is going to have to take that personally.

Dick deliberately turns away from Tim. He rinses out his teacup so the porcelain won't stain. Then, he takes a long, centering breath, and decides to do something he hasn't done in a long time.

"That how you really feel, Tim?" One more out.

"Yes."

Dick decides to cut his losses.

"Okay then."

"Okay?" Tim asks. Clearly still angry but now confused as well. It's a bad look for him. "This is not an 'okay' kind of situation."

"Not from your angle," Dick says. It's the only reply Tim gets before Dick makes his way upstairs.

Last time he left Gotham at dawn, Dick had nothing but a backpack and stolen emergency cash. This time, Dick is a grown man and a lot less desperate, not to mention a lot less injured, so he digs out his civilian suitcase and actually plans out what he wants to take.

He packs jackets, pajamas, shaving razors, plenty of socks- the kinds of things that are only expensive when purchased by the Wayne Estate, and that he won't buy for himself. All shoes go in a beach bag he has stashed in his closet, except for his loafers which go in the bottom of the dress bag with his most tolerable black tie suit. That had annoyed him last time, he remembers- Alfred had always been so militantly insistent on perfect tailoring that the baggy fit of Dick's off-the-rack replacement had been an unbearable insult to injury.

Other personal affects get tucked in the suitcase with care, bits and bobs, odds and ends, and he zips up everything just as the clock hits 4:00. Even the most workaholic bats should be in bed by now, or at least upstairs, so he should be good for a pop down.

Dick has a Nightwing stash on the edge of the city, and he'll get most of his kit from there, but his costume and his current favorite pair of escrima sticks are going with him now, neatly folded into a briefcase. Dick also nabs a keyring on his way out of Bruce's office.

The car keys used to stay in the garage with their respective vehicles, but one too many joyrides had prompted Bruce to hoard all the keys in a desk drawer instead. The first time Dick had seen them under the monogrammed stationary Bruce never uses, he'd laughed out loud.

It pains Dick to leave his bike behind, but even though Dick doesn't have a lot of luggage, it's still too much for a motorcycle. He'd considered which car to take carefully; no flashy sports car, obviously, but also not one that Bruce is particularly fond of. He needs a car for practical reasons, not spite, so Dick settles on the least ostentatious Audi and tries to think of anything else he might want in the next five-to-ten years.

Dick takes the box of chamomile tea bags.

__________

Donna opens her apartment door on the fourth knock. The look on her face is superficially friendly that Dick's proud of her- of course, she smiles for real when she registers just who it is at her door. Dick finds himself smiling back before he decides to.

"Hey, Donna. Mind if I crash here for a minute?"

Donna raises a curious eyebrow, and Dick bites his lips to keep from grinning. Donna ushers him inside without a word, locks her door, and all but pushes Dick into a bar stool. Donna sits herself up on her counter in front of him and demands eye contact.

"When you say a minute, do you mean a New York minute?"

Dick slides his eyes away and toward her couch. "I mean a lot of minutes. I'm cutting Gotham off."

"AAAA!" Donna picks him up and spins him in the air for several more turns than he thinks this really warrants. Then Donna sets them on the floor just to twirl Dick around even more, and he giggles. Part amusement, mostly relief; Donna wouldn't be so excited if he'd come at a bad time.

"Was the scream of delight necessary?" He asks, still laughing.

"Entirely," she says, mock serious. "This is a delightful day."

Donna sobers a bit at her own words. She eyes him more thoroughly, "It is a delightful day, yes?"

He knows that Donna knows he wouldn't decide to cut contact for no reason, that's not the real question. The answer to her question, which is 'are you reeling from what it was', is thankfully 'no'. Not today.

"Yeah," Dick says honestly. "Peachy, even."

Donna smiles at him.

She deposits him back at her kitchen counter, declares she's going to make real breakfast- apparently she's been breaking her fast with fruit jerky all week- and starts grilling Dick the same time she starts frying up sfakianopita.

"So which straw broke the camel's back?"

"My brother implied I'm mildly useless and I took offense."

"Only 'mildly' useless convinced you to get out of hell? I'm not complaining, but that doesn't sound like you."

Dick bites down the instinctive urge to deflect, to push her away. Donna wouldn't care even if Tim insulting him had been his only grievance. Donna is happy to have him here.

"Nah, it was more of a... death of a thousand cuts kind of thing. Yesterday was a bad night, and I thought about it some- which, you know how that usually goes- I thought about it, and I'm tired of not taking any of it personally. Even if they don't mean it, I don't want to put up with it. Then Tim comes in with an unmistakably personal attack and...."

"And you made the best decision."

Dick's mouth twitches up. "They wouldn't call it that."

"They have terrible decision making skills."

Donna starts stacking the sfakianopita on two plates.

"That's not true, they just don't always pay attention."

"Who does these days?" Donna gripes.

"You," Dick says.

Donna turns toward him, one hand on her hip, one hand pointing her spatula at Dick's face. "You don't make it easy, Dick."

Dick shrugs emphatically. "What can I say? I was born difficult."

"Not difficult," Donna shakes her head. "Just challenging."

"And you like a challenge?" Dick grins.

Donna bops him on the shoulder with the spatula. "Get it right, Dick. I love a challenge."

Well, doesn't that make Dick feel warm and cozy? Donna smirks at him like she's won something (she has and they both know it) and turns to root through her fridge for cheese. Dick gets out of his seat to find the honey while she does.

__________

Dick crashes on Donna's couch for exactly nine days before she tells him they're getting a new place together. Dick tells Donna that he always intended on getting his own space- a misstep, since Donna argues that's exactly why they should get a new apartment. A two bedroom, where Dick can have more privacy.

"I don't want to impose, Donna."

"Have you ever considered what I want?"

Dick sighs. "What do you want, Don?"

"I want company. It's been a lonely year, D. I enjoy when my friends impose."

There's not much he can say to argue that. Isolating himself never leads Dick anywhere good, anyway.

Between apartment hunting and catching up, Donna and Dick fight supervillains. New York City never lacks for things to do- smugglers to send packing, wannabe world conqueror to thwart, assholes to kick in the face. Dick had honestly forgotten how fun it is to patrol during the day.

He adds some some gold back into his costume. Dick's surprised by how much he likes it- it was his idea, yet when he catches glimpses of blue and gold and black all blurring together in high rise windows, beside Donna's sea of stars, Dick feels more like himself than he has in long, long time.

He starts picking up a lot of dropped habits. He makes dinner; real dinner, like Madam Vasilyev used to make on the train's little stove, and like he would sometimes make for the Titans for family team dinners. It's so much easier to make things when it isn't for him alone. Donna is happy to let him, having no great love of cooking herself, and always supportive of non-cape hobbies.

She's full of surprises, though. Dick had tried to teach all of his friends at least one or two meals they could make from scratch themselves, just in case. He hadn't thought about whether any of it had been retained, though, not now, so many years removed. Not until Donna one day bestows upon him a pot of chicken paprikash and he almost cries.

It's delicious. Just like his parents used to make, whenever they could find a grocer who sold paprika. Just like he taught Donna to make it in the Tower an entire lifetime ago.

"Did I get it right?"

"Did you make it with love?"

"Of course."

"Then you got it perfectly right."

Other than dinner, he starts gardening. Nothing serious, but the new apartment has a couple of windows, so Dick plants a window box full of herbs.

He plants cilantro first. The seeds were on sale at the hardware store, so the whole box was just cilantro, for a while. Donna buys live basil from a grocer she likes, so one of the cilantros gets pawned off to a neighbor, and their pasta sauces taste awesome.

It's not the most exciting hobby, but it gets him out of bed on Bad Days.

Those days, it's hard to do anything at all. It hits him, when the clouds are just the wrong color, that he and Bruce are on the outs again. He hates being on the outs with Bruce, hates that it means another bond between them has snapped. Makes him catastrophize about whether or not this is finally the fence that can't be mended.

At least it's not nearly as bad as it was Before. Dick hadn't understood, back then, what Bruce's problem was. Now that he's older he knows Bruce had never had to let someone walk away before- even with Talia, B had been the one to walk away first- and took Dick's bid for independence badly as a result.

He'd swung by Gotham exactly once for Jason, and stole the kid away to Tower at every opportunity. He'd made sure Jase was present in Dick's space the way Dick was no longer welcome in Bruce's.

He'd gone back to Gotham exactly one other time, after Bruce held Jason's funeral without so much a ping on Dick's pager. All that accomplished was losing Dick his house key. Until Tim barged in.

Donna and Dick were winding down for the night, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and a shared bowl of plantain chips, when Dick makes another decision.

"Donna."

"Dick." She tosses a chip in the air so she can catch it in her mouth.

"I've had an epiphany." He swirls the wine in his glass playfully. Donna leans forward in her chair.

"Do tell."

"Every time I don't want to talk to Bruce, he finds a new stray child to bring home. And I always go, because what I am supposed to do? Not keep an eye on them? But Bruce has a billion orphans-"

Donna snorts. "A billion?"

"Okay, fine, half a dozen orphan children roosting in his house full of ghosts, and it's probably inevitable that there will be another and you know what, sister?" He drains the rest of his wine glass while she stares at him.

Donna seems to consider him, or maybe she zones out, but after a moment she similarly liberates her glass of its wine.

"Lay it on me, Robin."

"I'm not going back this time. Not until someone actually apologizes, not if there's a new bat, not if there's another secret baby, not for any of that bullshit. Tim's as old as I was when Tim first came around, so he can deal with it. Or Cass. Or Babs. Or Bruce can keep his act together for longer than two weeks at a time I don't care. I won't be lured back for family drama. Not this time."

Dick stops to breathe. A mistake, really, as it's the perfect opportunity for stinging anxiety to start buzzing under every inch of his skin. He's an idiot. What a stupid thing to say, what a stupid idea to even have-

Donna is in front of Dick. When did she get out of her chair?

"Richard John Grayson."

"Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy."

I've come to a decision, too. Tell me if it's a good one."

Then she pulls him into a hug. Dick swallows heavily and lets himself be held, for a while.

"Good decision?" Donna asks.

"I think so," he says. He wraps his arms around Donna, reciprocating- God, how long has it been since he's had a reciprocal relationship? Donna squeezes and he throws the thought out of his mind. The awful pull against his insides has subsided, so now he's just warm and loose.

"Donna, do you like my decision?"

"I really really do."

__________

When they were still in Donna's old apartment, various Gothamites tried to contact him. A lot of voicemails are angry and accusing. He listens to them once just in case and deletes them right after. He gets texts from Tim that he knows are meant as olive branches, but they're all offers of joint patrols, or going over case files together, or similar Mission oriented activities.

It's hard to turn him down, especially since he knows Tim won't understand. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages, sparse as they are, demanding explanations.

Cass had broken into Donna's apartment. Donna had been out with a friend she met in her photography club, doing yoga maybe? Dick had been making egg fried rice for lunch when a wild Bat appeared.

Dick had smiled politely, which seemed to confuse her. Dick had offered to share his lunch, which seemed to make her feel better.

They’d eaten in silence for a while, Cass occasionally staring hard at him while Dick waited for her to make the first move; exactly how Dick would treat a hungry kid he didn’t know. You never know what will spook a stranger, after all.

Bowls empty, Dick had gone to pick hers up to wash when she caught his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to wash up after our lunch.”

Cass squints at him, exaggerating her expression to make sure he gets her memo.

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”

“I’m not pretending to do the dishes,” he answers calmly, blandly.

“Stop pretending you don’t know me!”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“Go home.”

“No.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she’d expected him to say. She’d expected pushback, for certain, but flat refusal, nothing else? An unwelcome miscalculation.

“Why not?”

“At the moment, I won’t feel at home in Gotham. As far as I’m concerned I’m at home right now.”

“Liar,” she’d hissed. Dick was watching, tho, and saw the confusion in her stance. Her eyes told her he wasn’t lying at all. Deliberately on Dick’s part, not entirely truthful, yet not entirely manufactured- the apartment may not be special to him, but Donna always will be.

“I have no reason to go to Gotham right now.”

“Your team is there.”

“I’m not on Team Bat at the moment.”

“You can’t quit-“

“Cassandra. My roommate will be home soon. I suggest you leave now, if you have nothing to say on your own behalf.”

It’s a low blow to call her a messenger, to write her off as nothing but a mouthpiece for Bruce or Tim or maybe even Damian. Dick wouldn’t feel bad about it if they weren’t close, so he won’t feel bad about it now; she’s the one who didn’t want partner, Dick’s just respecting her wishes.

Cass stares and keeps staring so long he’s worried she’ll refuse to leave, but then they both heard footsteps in the hall, and by the time Dick turns back toward her she’d already gone.

The next morning, Dick had a new message from Bruce. It was an email, that time, instead of a text, which more than anything actually written lets Dick know Bruce has caught on to what’s happened. What is still happening. The email begins ‘Mr. Grayson-Wayne’ and Dick doesn’t read a single word further.

__________

Wally visits the new apartment shortly after they move in. Apparently, Nightwing being in town again has caught the interest of an opinion columnist or two, and Wally had wanted to see him with his own eyes.

“You’re hanging out with people again!”

“I never stopped,” Dick protests. “We see each other once a month, Wally.”

“Scheduled visits- ugh, it’s like you were in prison, and I only got to see you during your time in the yard.” All of this is dramatically declared as Wally flops on their couch, taking up space and definitely bothering the neighbors.

It should annoy Dick. It should at least hurt his ego. Instead, it makes him bloom into a smile, and throw himself onto the couch next to his friend.

“Donna and I have been having a great time without you,” he teases. “We could have an even better time with you, if you’re up for it.”

“Dickie, I thought you’d never ask.”

The Flash joins Dick and Donna for a fight every now and then, patrolling as often as work and Central City will allow. It’s good- it’s really, really good.

“Why did we disband?”

“Because we grew up?”

“Terrible decision.”

“Adulthood is overrated.”

“I don’t know, I certainly wouldn’t want to be a teenager again, would you?”

“Nah.” “NO!”

Wally looks away from the conversation he started, and his eyes find the window box. “Hey Ds, is that a garden?”

“It’s mine,” Dick says. “Right now it’s just cilantro and basil. I’m open to suggestions.”

Wally gives him a once over, looks again at the plants, then changes the subject. The next time Wally comes over he’s holding a pot of chives.

A couple of months later, there’s a siren hiding out in the Harbor. It kicks Dick’s ass and Donna almost drowns. It occurs to them that they are idiots, and that they should’ve called Garth. Garth, thankfully, both answers his communicator and has time for them, so they get to watch Tempest absolutely destroy the siren.

Afterward, they go for pizza. They ask Garth if he would want to come around more often maybe, just because?

Garth smiles brighter than the moon.

The first time they stop a supervillain downtown together, it’s all the papers will talk about the next day. Someone got an excellent picture of all four of them in action. Flash is about to pounce, so he’s still enough to see. He’s tagged in with Donna, distracting the giant rat monster from the air so Flash can trip it into the river. On the bank, left of center in the photo, Tempest and Nightwing and are on standby. Garth will drench the awful thing, all fifteen stories of it, once it’s close enough to the water, and Nightwing will fry the thing with all the electricity his sticks have got.

They work together smoothly, and they cheer when they win, and the papers all ask, ‘Titans Back Together?’

After a while of mulling it over, they unanimously decide to answer ‘yes’.

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is fine so by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand that’s currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[dissapointu]

Okay, First of all I love your work!! Second of all could you write arcane characters where the reader has Ears and a tail? (similair to Lest)

Thats it thank you for all the drabbels🩷

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭💖 I LIVE FOR THESE KIND OF ASKS. You want Arcane characters reacting to an S/O with ears and a tail?? I got you babes!!

————————————————————————

Jinx

You’re sitting at her workbench, tail swishing back and forth while you read. Jinx is hanging upside down from the rafters (don’t ask), and her eyes zero in on your tail like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she says, dropping down so fast you almost jump. “Does it move when you’re happy? Ooooh, can I touch it? Pleaaaase?”

Before you can answer, she’s already running her fingers through it, cooing like she’s petting a cat.

“Aw, it’s so soft! You’re like my little fox!” She grabs her paint. “Stay still. I’m gonna make a matching tail for me—wait, does this mean we’re like a pack or something?”

Vi

The first time Vi notices your ears and tail, she just blinks and smirks. “Nice ears. They real?” She tugs lightly on one, and you swat her hand away with a huff.

“Okay, okay, chill,” she laughs, throwing her hands up. But you catch her watching your tail out of the corner of her eye, like she’s just waiting for it to wag.

Later, you’re lying in her lap, and she’s idly scratching behind your ears. You start purring (accidentally, okay??), and she grins down at you.

“Yeah, I’m never letting you live this down. My badass S/O’s a total softie.”

Sevika

Sevika pretends not to care. She just raises an eyebrow and goes, “Huh. That’s new.”

But then your tail brushes against her arm while you’re sitting together, and she flinches like it shocked her. “Damn thing’s alive?”

You roll your eyes, but when you try to move it away, she grabs it gently. “Relax. It’s… cute, I guess.” She won’t admit it, but she LOVES how soft it is. If you’re cuddling, she’ll run her fingers through your tail absentmindedly.

And if anyone says something about it? She’s cracking her knuckles, ready to throw hands.

Silco

Silco notices your ears and tail the second you walk into his office. He tilts his head, intrigued but not surprised. “Fascinating. Do they serve a purpose, or are they merely aesthetic?”

You sigh. “They’re part of me, Silco.”

He nods, like he just solved a puzzle, and his curiosity is OFF THE CHARTS. He’ll casually brush his hand against your tail when you’re sitting next to him, testing your reaction.

If he sees your ears twitch when you’re upset, his voice softens. “Your emotions betray you, my dear.” He uses your tail as a barometer for your mood and adjusts his approach accordingly.

Vander

Vander is SO GENTLE about it. When he first notices, he smiles and says, “Didn’t know I had a fox for a partner.”

He’s super respectful, though. He won’t touch your tail or ears unless you’re okay with it. But once you give him the green light? Oh, he’s ALL IN.

You’re curled up on the couch, and he’s got one hand buried in your tail while the other scratches behind your ears. “Y’know, these suit you,” he murmurs. “Beautiful, just like the rest of you.” (Cue blushing.)

Ekko

Ekko spots your tail swishing behind you, and his jaw DROPS. “Yo! How did I not notice this before?!”

He’s so hyped. He’ll jokingly mimic your tail with his scarf, wagging it like he’s part of your crew. “We’re matchin’ now, babe!”

If you’re sparring and your tail flicks, he’ll tease you about it. “What’s wrong, tail got nervous?” But if someone else makes a comment, he’s immediately defensive. “Back off. That tail’s cooler than you’ll ever be.”

Jayce

Jayce is trying SO HARD to be cool about it. He notices your ears twitch and goes, “Huh, that’s… interesting.” But he’s dying inside because he thinks you’re adorable.

The first time your tail brushes against him, he freezes. “Uh… do you, like, feel that? Is it… alive?” You laugh at his awkwardness, but he’s genuinely fascinated.

Later, he’s holding you in his arms, and your tail wraps around his waist. He melts. “Okay, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Viktor

Viktor is surprisingly composed when he notices your ears and tail. He leans forward, studying you like you’re a fascinating experiment. “Are these natural, or… enhanced?”

When he realizes they’re real, he’s super curious about how they work. “Do your ears have heightened sensitivity? Does your tail serve a practical function?”

If you’re working together and your tail accidentally brushes his hand, he’ll go quiet for a moment before saying, “It’s… quite soft.” And if you catch him smiling to himself later, you KNOW he secretly loves it.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn notices your ears twitch when she calls your name, and her first thought is, adorable.

She’s super polite about it, though. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… your ears and tail—are they natural?” When you nod, she smiles. “They’re lovely.”

She’s the type to gently stroke your tail when you’re cuddling, finding it soothing. And if anyone makes you feel self-conscious about them? She’ll shut them down with a cold, “I think they’re perfect. Don’t you?”

Mel Medarda

Mel’s first reaction is pure fascination. She runs her fingers along your ears and murmurs, “Exquisite. You’re truly one of a kind.”

She treats your tail like a luxury, stroking it gently when you’re lounging together. “I could get used to this,” she says with a sly smile.

Mel makes you feel like your ears and tail are the most beautiful things in the world. If anyone dares to insult them, she’ll give them a look so icy they’ll regret their existence.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s reaction is blunt but genuine. “That’s… different.”

She’s not the type to gush, but you’ll catch her glancing at your tail when she thinks you’re not looking. If it brushes against her, she’ll chuckle. “Careful, love. You’ll start a fight with that thing.”

Over time, she grows fond of it. When you’re resting your head on her shoulder, she’ll absentmindedly run her hand through your tail, a rare moment of softness from her.

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is FASCINATED. “My word! These ears and tail—how did they come to be?”

He’s asking a million questions, taking notes, and theorizing about the evolutionary advantages they provide. But he’s also super respectful and genuinely finds them beautiful.

If your ears twitch while he’s talking, he’ll pause and go, “Did I say something alarming?” When you explain it’s just a reflex, he chuckles. “Fascinating!”

Salo

Salo notices your tail and raises an eyebrow. “Interesting. I assume it’s functional?”

He doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s intrigued. If your tail brushes against him, he’ll glance at it and go, “Careful where you’re aiming that.”

Over time, he becomes protective of it. If anyone tries to touch it without your permission, he’ll step in with a quiet but firm, “Don’t.”

Scar

Scar’s first reaction is to smirk and say, “That’s new. You hiding more surprises, or is this it?”

He's lowkey obsessed, though. If your tail’s swishing, he will try to grab it just to tease you. “Gotcha!”

But if someone else tries to mess with it, his playful side vanishes. “Touch them again, and you’ll regret it.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie notices your tail wagging when you’re happy and GASPS. “Oh my gosh, that’s the CUTEST thing ever!”

She’ll gently ask if she can touch it, and when you let her, she’s all giggles and coos. “It’s so soft! You’re like a real-life plushie!”

She makes sure you never feel self-conscious about it and loves showing you off to her friends. “Isn’t S/O the most adorable thing ever? Look at their tail!”

Lest

Lest notices your ears and tail and immediately feels a sense of kinship. “So, we’re not so different after all,” she says with a smile.

She’s super gentle with your tail and ear like they are her own, since she has them she knows all the best spots to scratch and pet!

intertwines your tails together <3 like vines.

[kbbueckers]

anniversary

overview: you and paige celebrate your anniversary 

characters: paigexreader

warnings: not enough foreplay, lowk gets right to the point, not proofread, smut (r receiving)

author notes: i wanted to do a paige receiving part at the end too, but i got lazy. i probably will next time tho. sorry this took soooooo long.

you were sitting on the couch waiting for paige to get home from her practice, tonight was your anniversary and you had something big planned. you had decorated the bed with rose petals, playing her favorite music, and had her favorite scent of candle ready, but that wasn't even the biggest part. you and paige took a trip to dubai back in september because you always wanted to go. while there, paige bought you a pink lace lingerie set with tiny bows around the edges. you hadn't got a chance to wear it, until tonight.

you waited in bordem until you heard the door knob. you got up off the couch and ran over to the door, before you could get to the front door paige turned the corner with a smile. "hey." she handed you a bouquet of roses, "missed me?." you took the bouquet and sat them down before giving her a hug, "of course i did."

"what's that in your hand?" you pointed to a small black box paige was holding behind her back. she quickly shoved it in the pocket of her sweatpants before shaking her head. "nothing. okay well, not nothing. but it's a surprise." she smiled before giving you a kiss on your forehead. "whatever, i have a surprise for you too." you smiled and tugged her arm a few times, dragging her upstairs to your shared bedroom. as you opened the door, revealing the surprise you had set up, paige gave a big smile before giving you another kiss. "you did this all for me?" she says with a shocked face. 

"sit here for me, mk? i'll be right back" you sat her down on the bed before rushing into the bathroom. paige already had an idea of what was going on, but as soon as you came out of the bathroom in the brand new set, her face got red. she stood up from the bed and looked you up and down. "wow, you look amazing baby." as she walks up to you, you grab the zipper of her sweatsuit jacket. "can i?" you ask with eagerness as she nods. 

before you knew it, paige was hovering on top of you making kisses along your jawline. you muttered a bunch of different things as she made marks on your jaw, but she really wasn't listening to a single thing you were saying. "shush baby." she kisses down your body, moving past your chest and to your stomach. she kisses your stomach, leaving marks similar to the ones already on your neck. once she got to the waist of your underwear, she traced her finger around the small bows designing the edges. "can i take this off?" she whispered in your ear, once she got your approval she slowly pulled down your underwear. once paige created a pool around your feet with your underwear, she began kissing your neck. as paige kissed from your neck to your stomach, all you could do was whine in response. "feel good baby?" she muttered against your stomach. 

as paige continued to move down your body, she kissed up and down the inside of your thighs, getting just close enough to the place you really wanted her. "paige." you took a deep breath, slightly annoyed by her teasing. paige ignored you and slowly kissed on the inside of your thighs before taking you into her mouth, you let out a loud gasp as you felt her lips latch on to you. paige gave a small laugh, sending vibrations up your body. "feels good p.", you moaned as she flicks her tounge over you. 

she swirls her tounge around you before thrusting it inside, earning a loud gasp from

you. "oh my god." you say breathlessly. as she continues thrusting inside of you, you can feel paige letting out small hums against your clit, getting you closer to your edge. she keeps going before you finally let out a loud moan, filling the room with sound. once you calm down through your orgasm, she pulls away and gives you a kiss on your forehead. you lay there mumbling about something paige doesn't really here as she walks into the bathroom, getting a warm washcloth to clean you up. 

after she's finished getting the both of you cleaned up, she cuddles beside you under the blankets before jumping up. "oh, i almost forgot.". paige grabs the small black box she sat on the nightstand earlier and hands it to you as you sit up. you excitedly open the black box, a ring was staring back at you. but not just any ring, this was a ring you have been raving about for months now, but it had always been too way expensive. "i saved some money up, and i know you've wanted it for a while now so i-." you cut her off, wrapping her into a tight hug. "i love you so much, baby. thank you for everything, really." she hugged you back before giving you a kiss on the cheek, "i love you more." 

-kbbueckers💋

[cherriesformatt]

eyes || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: matt is making a tiktok with reader when she is with the animals from the petting zoo video

warnings: fluff

word count: 692

a/n: I know its been months but I thought about it and I mix some new content with the request. Hope thats okay. have a good week besties 🍒

based on this request

I was so excited that Matt let me hang out with the animals after they finished filming the video. Chris and Matt surprised Nick with petting zoo in the living room and I was on another planet when I found out. The lady brought the animals as we helped her and I was so happy that I didn't even care if I was on the video or not. For the main part of it I went and hang out upstairs because I still rather not want to be the main attraction of it. When I was reading my book I was just waiting for the text from Matt that I could come back down because they finished filming. And when I got it I almost jumped out of bed. I was mostly excited to hang out with the goat and the little hedgehog.

"What did you think?" I asked Nick with a big grin as I kneeled to pet the goat.

"I am never leaving the house again" Nick answered me and I laughed.

"They all are the cutest" I said in the baby voice as I walk to Chris.

"May I hold him now?" I asked him for a turn with the hedgehog.

"Of course" Chris nodded and carefully handed me the animal.

I held him and talked to him as my eyed were focused on the animal all the time. I was tickling his belly as I was smiling and talking to it as I would talk to the baby. I wasn't aware of Matt filming me.

After we said goodbye to all the animals and cleans the house as we could I helped Matt cleaning his room a bit.

"We need to hire people to professionally clean the hose because I swear I still smell the barn" He said as he came back to his room in only a towel. We took turns in taking a shower after we were done with the animals.

"Yes, I usually would say you're being dramatic but now I actually smell it too" I said putting clothes back to his closet.

"Thank you, you shouldn't do that I would clean it myself" Matt said while putting clean underwear on.

"Well I didn't have space on the bed so I had to do something" I laughed and handed him pair of pajama pants.

He laughed while he took them from me. After he put them on he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple.

"You're the best...Sorry it was such a mess here buy I just had to throw everything from the living room" He said as he tugged string of my hair behind my ear.

"It's fine I do not care" I said looking up at him.

"Oh I know you do" He smirked.

"You right...."I said and he leaned down and gave me a sweet kiss.

He knew I had a bit of a thing if it comes to having a clean space.

"Wanna watch something?" He asked as he moved away and he went to put a shirt on.

I nodded and climbed in bed. I found the remote and put on the tv.

"I will grab some snacks and water" He said and left the room.

As I was waiting for him to come back I checked my phone. I had so many TikTok notifications. I was bit surprised when I checked and saw that Matt tagged me in a video.

It was him looking at something with a big smile and then camera switched and there was I with the animals. It was a very cute video I smiled and licked it and commended with a heart. People were being very nice in the comments so I did answered some comments and when he came back I smiled at him.

"You posted me on TikTok" I said.

"I did...Sorry I did not asked you, is that okay?" He climbed next to me.

"It's fine I like it... love you Matt" I said and kissed his cheek.

"Love you too y/n" he smiled putting a blanked on us.

Could not imagine this day to be more perfect.

[m4rv3l-girl]

The Encounter

Bucky x Y/N

Set during civil war, Bucky goes to a bar in Romania…perhaps his love for plums might find him a lady….

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected P in v sex. Fingering. Daddy kink. Plums. 😉

The bar wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the less-trafficked alleys of Bucharest, a place where anonymity was as much a selling point as the cheap drinks.

The neon lights inside hummed faintly, illuminating the faded wooden bar and mismatched stools. The air carried the faint tang of spilled beer and cigarette smoke—a combination that could almost be called charming if you squinted hard enough.

Bucky liked this place. It was quiet, overlooked, and far removed from the chaos he’d left behind in Washington, D.C. He kept his cap low as he slipped onto a stool in the corner, his metal arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket. Nobody here paid him much attention, and that was exactly the way he wanted it.

That was, until she walked in.

She didn’t so much enter as command the room, boots clicking against the sticky floor as she made her way to the bar. Her grungy yet effortlessly cool aesthetic set her apart: ripped jeans, a vintage band tee, and a leather jacket that had clearly seen better days. Her hair fell in soft waves, and when she slid onto the stool a few spaces down from him, her lips curled into a smirk as she flagged down the bartender.

“Plum martini, please” she said, her voice low and honeyed with an edge of sarcasm. “And make it strong.”

Bucky froze mid-sip of his beer.

Plums.

The request yanked him from his own thoughts, stirring something almost primal in him. He hadn’t tasted a plum in decades, but the memory of their sweetness, their simplicity, still lingered. He glanced her way, his curiosity piqued.

The bartender nodded, and within minutes, a martini glass was set before her. She wrapped her fingers around the stem, her rings clinking softly against the glass.

“Not the usual choice,” he found himself saying before he could stop himself.

She turned her head, her brows arching in surprise. Her gaze landed on him—blue eyes meeting hers—and her smirk widened.

“And beer is?” she shot back, taking a deliberate sip of her drink.

Bucky chuckled, a sound he hadn’t made in longer than he cared to admit. “Fair point, doll.”

Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before she set her glass down. “Doll, huh? Bold of you to assume I’d let you get away with that.”

“It suits you,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder.

She studied him for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if trying to puzzle him out. There was something about him—his quiet demeanor, the way his shoulders hunched just enough to seem unapproachable, but not enough to feel entirely cold. The dark baseball cap didn’t do much to hide his sharp jawline or those piercing eyes that looked like they’d seen too much.

“Well,” she said finally, lifting her glass toward him. “If I’m ‘doll,’ what does that make you?”

He leaned back slightly, his lips twitching in a barely-there smile. “Depends. What do I look like?”

Her eyes flickered over him, sharp and assessing. “Like trouble,” she said, her tone playful but her gaze unwavering.

“Not wrong,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

“What’s your name?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the bar as she turned to face him fully.

He hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t used his name in a long time—hadn’t really needed to. But something about her made him want to offer something, even if it was just a piece of himself.

“James,” he said after a beat.

Her lips curled again. “James, huh? Classic. I like it. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, testing the sound. It rolled off his tongue easily, naturally. He liked it, too.

She smiled and took another sip of her martini, and for a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable silence, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

“What brings you here, James?” she asked eventually, her tone casual but curious.

“Needed a drink,” he replied, deflecting. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she could tell he was holding back, but she didn’t press. Instead, she nodded toward his nearly empty beer. “Well, clearly, you need another. You stick to beer, or are you brave enough to try something new?”

He raised a brow, intrigued by the challenge in her voice. “What do you have in mind, Kitten?”

Her laugh was soft but genuine, and he swore he saw her cheeks flush slightly at the nickname. “You’re really doubling down on the pet names, huh?”

“They fit,” he said simply, his tone low and steady.

“Sure they do.” She waved the bartender over and ordered two shots of plum brandy. “You like plums, James?”

His eyes flicked to her, sharp and almost suspicious. “What makes you ask?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know. You just give me... vintage vibes. And plums feel vintage, don’t they? Old-fashioned. Classic.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen so far. “Yeah. I like plums.”

She grinned, triumphant, and slid one of the shots toward him. “Then this one’s on me.”

He studied her for a moment, the shot glass sitting untouched between them. She was bold, confident, and had an edge to her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But there was something else—something beneath the surface that reminded him of home, of the way things used to be.

With a slight nod, he picked up the glass. “To... plums,” he said, his voice tinged with dry amusement.

She clinked her glass against his. “To plums.”

They drank, and the burn of the brandy was immediate, warming him from the inside out. It wasn’t just the alcohol, though. It was her—the way she laughed softly as she set her glass down, the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“So, Y/N,” he said, leaning closer, his tone teasing but her gaze steady. “What’s your deal? You just passing through, or are you sticking around for a while?”

“Depends,” she said, mirroring her earlier words. “What’s here to stick around for?”

He smirked, his gloved fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

She raised an eyebrow at his response, smirking as she leaned forward. “Oh, I see how it is. The mysterious type. Let me guess, James—you’re one of those guys who likes to stay quiet, brood in the corner, and make everyone wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Bucky tilted his head, her words hitting closer to home than she likely intended. “You saying that like it’s a bad thing?” he asked, his tone light but with a teasing edge.

“It’s not,” she admitted, swirling the remnants of her drink in her glass. “It’s intriguing. Gets people to ask questions. But it’s also a little predictable, don’t you think? Quiet guy, dark past, hiding out in a bar? Feels like I’ve read that novel before.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost sheepish. “Maybe. But not every story’s the same, Kitten.”

She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she considered him. “Alright, then. Prove it. Tell me something that makes your story different.”

Bucky paused, caught off guard by the challenge. He wasn’t used to opening up, especially not to strangers. But there was something about her—something in the way she met his gaze without flinching, as if she wasn’t afraid of what she might find there.

“I don’t talk much about myself,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “Not to most people.”

“Why not?��� she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s... complicated.”

She rolled her eyes, though there was no real malice in it. “Everything’s complicated. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Bucky studied her for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Let’s just say I’ve made some mistakes,” he said eventually. “Big ones.”

Her expression softened slightly, though she didn’t let up. “Who hasn’t? The question is, are you trying to fix them?”

He blinked, her words striking a chord he hadn’t expected. It was such a simple question, but it carried a weight he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “Honest. I like that.”

He frowned slightly, confused by her response. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “Most people try to hide the messy parts of themselves. Pretend they’ve got it all figured out. It’s refreshing to hear someone admit they don’t have all the answers.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his empty beer bottle.

“Alright, James,” she said after a moment, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Your turn. Ask me something.”

He raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her sudden shift in focus. “What makes you think I’ve got questions?”

“Because everyone does,” she said simply. “And I’m an open book. Mostly.”

He considered her for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. “Why the plum martini?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t strike me as the fruity drink type,” he said, his tone even but his eyes sharp. “Figured you’d go for whiskey or something stronger.”

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough. But the plum martini’s got a little history for me. My grandma used to have this plum tree in her backyard, and every summer, we’d make jam together. She’d let me sneak a few plums while we worked, even though she pretended to scold me for it. Drinking this kind of reminds me of her.”

Bucky’s expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sounds like she was a good woman.”

“She was,” Y/N said with a small nod. “Tough as nails, but with a soft spot for me. Guess I get my attitude from her.”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone teasing.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or an insult, James?”

“A compliment,” he assured her, the smile on his face growing just a fraction.

“Good,” she said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “Because I was about to ask if you wanted to step outside and say that again.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’d win, Kitten. No question.”

“Damn right, I would,” she said with a wink.

The playful banter continued, the walls Bucky had built around himself slowly starting to crumble. She was disarming in a way he hadn’t expected—sharp and witty, but also warm and understanding.

As the minutes stretched into hours, they moved from teasing quips to deeper conversations. She told him about her job at a local record store, how she spent her days surrounded by vinyl and vintage posters. He listened intently, asking questions and even surprising her with his knowledge of jazz and swing music from the ’40s.

“You really are an old soul, huh?” she teased, nudging his arm lightly.

“Something like that,” he said, his tone laced with something she couldn’t quite place—nostalgia, maybe, or regret.

She didn’t push, sensing that there were things he wasn’t ready to share. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. “Well, I think it’s charming.”

“Charming?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “You don’t see that kind of old-school vibe much these days. It’s refreshing.”

He didn’t respond right away, but the way his gaze softened told her he appreciated the sentiment.

Eventually, the bartender called last call, and the reality of the night coming to an end settled over them.

“Guess it’s time to head out,” she said, standing and grabbing her jacket.

Bucky stood as well, his movements slow and deliberate. “You walking home?”

“Unless you’re offering to walk me,” she said, her tone teasing but hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Come on, Doll. Let’s get you home.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked beside her, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The streets were quiet, the hum of distant traffic the only sound besides their footsteps on the pavement. Y/N glanced up at him occasionally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You didn’t have to walk me home, you know," she said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes ahead. "Didn’t feel right letting you walk alone. City can get rough at night."

She smirked, tilting her head toward him. "Are you saying you’re my knight in shining armor, James?"

"Not exactly," he said with a faint chuckle, "but I’ll take the compliment."

The banter came easy now, the tension from earlier melting away with every step. When they reached her apartment building, she paused at the stoop, turning to face him.

"This is me," she said, gesturing to the old brick building behind her.

He nodded, rocking back on his heels. "Looks like a nice place."

"It’s got charm," she said with a grin. "Wanna come in for a drink? Least I can do for my, uh, unofficial bodyguard."

Bucky hesitated, the offer catching him off guard. But there was no hesitation in her gaze, only warmth and genuine curiosity.

"Sure," he said finally.

Her apartment was small but cozy, with mismatched furniture and walls lined with shelves full of books and records. A soft lamp in the corner bathed the room in a warm golden glow, and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air.

"Make yourself at home," she said, tossing her keys onto a side table and slipping off her jacket. She disappeared into the kitchen, calling out, "What’s your poison? I’ve got beer, wine, whiskey...water, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous."

Bucky chuckled, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Whiskey’s good."

A moment later, she returned with two glasses, handing one to him before plopping down on the couch beside him. She tucked her legs under her, her knee brushing against his as she turned to face him.

"Cheers," she said, raising her glass.

He clinked his glass against hers, the sound soft and almost intimate in the quiet room.

They sipped in silence for a moment before she leaned back against the cushions, studying him.

"So, James," she began, a playful lilt in her voice. "What’s your story? And don’t give me that ‘it’s complicated’ nonsense again."

He smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "It really is complicated."

"Try me," she said, her gaze steady and unflinching.

He exhaled, his fingers tapping against the glass. He wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to share, but something about her made him feel...safe.

"I’ve been through some things," he said carefully. "Seen and done things I’m not proud of. Spent a long time trying to figure out who I am, where I fit in the world."

Her expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt. She just waited, giving him the space to continue.

"It’s like...coming back to a world that’s moved on without you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you’re not sure if you even belong in it anymore."

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. "That sounds...lonely."

"It is," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You’re not alone now," she said gently. "You’ve got people who care about you, right? Friends? Family?"

He hesitated, the weight of her question settling over him. "Some," he said eventually. "But it’s not always easy to let them in."

"Why not?" she asked, her tone curious rather than judgmental.

He looked down at his glass, his thumb tracing the rim. "Because once people see the real you—the parts you try to hide—they might not stick around."

She frowned, her grip on his arm tightening slightly. "That’s bullshit, James. The people who matter won’t run. And anyone who does? They’re not worth your time."

Her words were blunt, but they carried a conviction that he couldn’t ignore.

"You really believe that?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I do," she said firmly. "Life’s too short to waste on people who don’t see your worth."

He studied her for a long moment, the warmth in her eyes stirring something deep inside him.

"Thanks," he said softly.

She smiled, her thumb brushing against his arm before she pulled her hand away. "Anytime."

They fell into an easy conversation after that, the topics shifting from heavy to light. She told him about her favorite records and her dream of opening her own little shop one day. He shared bits and pieces about his love for old books and the time he spent tinkering with motorcycles.

The hours slipped by, the world outside fading away as they sat there, two strangers slowly becoming something more.

Eventually, her head tipped back against the couch, her eyes growing heavy. She stifled a yawn, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Guess I kept you longer than I planned," she said with a sheepish smile.

"I don’t mind," he said, his voice low and steady.

She looked at him for a moment, her smile softening. "Well, if you ever feel like talking again, you know where to find me."

Bucky nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind, Kitten."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Good. Now, let me grab you a blanket for the couch. It’s too late for you to be wandering the streets."

Y/N stood up and stretched, the hem of her shirt rising slightly as she reached her arms overhead. Bucky’s eyes flicked to the motion before he quickly looked away, focusing instead on his half-empty glass of whiskey.

"You don’t have to do that," he said, standing and setting his glass down on the coffee table. "I can head out—it’s no problem."

She turned, hands on her hips, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "What kind of host would I be if I let you walk home at this hour? Besides, You weren’t kidding about the city being rough at night. And I doubt you want to deal with random drunks yelling at you from across the street."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You think I can’t handle myself?"

"Oh, I’m sure you can," she said with a chuckle, walking past him to grab a blanket from a basket near the armchair. "But why bother when you can have a perfectly good couch right here?"

Bucky hesitated, the warmth of her offer sinking in. It had been a long time since someone had cared about his well-being like this.

"Alright," he said finally, his voice soft. "If you’re sure."

"I’m sure," she said, tossing the blanket onto the couch. "Pillow’s over there if you need it."

As she stepped closer, her expression softened, the teasing replaced by something quieter, more sincere. "You’ve had enough lonely nights, haven’t you?"

Her words hit him like a gentle blow, not painful but heavy with understanding. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, not tonight," she said firmly, her hand brushing his arm as she stepped back. "Now, do you want another drink, or are you good?"

"I’m good," he said, his voice a little rough.

"Alright, then." She gave him one last smile before heading toward her bedroom. "Goodnight, Bucky." -

"Y/N."

It wasn’t loud—barely above a murmur—but there was a weight to it that made her pause. She glanced back over her shoulder, finding him still standing near the couch, one hand brushing through his hair like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

"Yeah?" she prompted, tilting her head slightly, her expression curious.

His lips parted, then closed, like the words were stuck somewhere deep. For a second, she thought he might brush it off entirely. But then his blue eyes found hers, and there was something unguarded in his gaze, something raw.

"I..." he started, his voice quiet. "I don’t want to be alone tonight."

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability laced in his tone. It wasn’t desperation—Bucky Barnes didn’t seem like the kind of man who begged for anything. It was more like an admission, one that cost him something to say out loud.

"Okay," she said simply, her voice soft but steady.

She turned fully toward him, walking back into the living room. Her bare feet padded lightly on the floor as she stopped just a few feet from him, close enough to see the flicker of relief in his expression.

"I’ll stay for a while," she added after a beat. "Come sit with me?"

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was trying to figure out if she really meant it. Then, with a small nod, he moved toward the couch.

She settled into the cushions, patting the spot beside her. He hesitated only briefly before sitting down, the proximity bringing a faint warmth to the air between them.

"Do you do this for all the random guys you meet in bars?" he asked, the faintest hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"Only the ones who don’t bolt when I ask for their names," she shot back, her tone light but her eyes steady on him.

A low chuckle escaped him, and she felt the tension in the room ease slightly.

"Guess I made the cut, then," he said, leaning back slightly, his metal arm resting along the back of the couch.

"Guess so," she replied, leaning back as well, her legs tucked under her.

For a moment, they sat in silence. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it felt... comfortable. Like they didn’t need to fill the space with words.

"Thanks," he said suddenly, his voice soft.

"For what?" she asked, glancing at him.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely to the room. "For not asking too many questions. For not running the other way when you saw—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening for just a second.

"Hey," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You don’t owe me an explanation. Whatever it is, whoever you are—it doesn’t scare me, okay?"

His eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, she thought he might say something else. But then he just nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a quiet smile.

She reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing lightly against his metal hand where it rested on the back of the couch.

"It’s not the first time I’ve met someone carrying a heavy load," she said softly. "And it probably won’t be the last. But you don’t have to carry it alone tonight."

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly at her words. He looked down at her hand, the way it lingered against his, warm and steady.

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

"Maybe I just have a soft spot for mysterious guys with good taste in whiskey," she teased lightly, though her tone held an undercurrent of sincerity.

His lips twitched into a real smile this time, one that reached his eyes. "Lucky me, then."

They sat there for a while longer, the only sound the steady tick of the antique clock on the mantle.

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, and Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against his was a stark contrast to the cold metal of his prosthetic, a reminder of the vast differences between them. Yet, in that moment, all he could feel was the connection that had grown stronger with each shared secret, each stolen glance.

The couch was not built for two, but somehow, they made it work. Her legs curled underneath her, and she fit perfectly into the space beside him. He could feel her breathing, slow and steady, as she dozed off, the events of the evening catching up to her.

Bucky watched her, his heart beating a rhythm that was both familiar and new at the same time.

He knew he should be on guard, his instincts honed for danger, but all he wanted was to hold her, to keep her safe, to let the peace of this moment seep into the cracks of his damaged soul.

With a gentle sigh, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a brief second.

The room grew quiet, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between them all evening. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and she searched his gaze for any hint of what was to come. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a silver glow across her features, making her look ethereal, like a creature not of this world.

Bucky’s thumb traced the line of her jaw, the pad of his finger brushing over her cheekbone before his hand found its way into the softness of her hair.

He felt the warmth of her breath against his neck as she exhaled a contented sigh.

Slowly, as if afraid she might break, he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. The space between them narrowed, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony. Their lips met, tentative at first, as if testing the waters of a newfound intimacy. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as the walls they’d built around themselves crumbled to dust. It was a kiss filled with the promise of something more, a silent declaration of the feelings they’d both been too afraid to voice.

Her arms slid around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair as she pulled him closer. His hand found the small of her back, the touch sending shivers down her spine. The kiss grew hotter, more insistent, as the passion between them ignited like a wildfire. They broke apart for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, their eyes searching the other’s for any sign of doubt or regret. Finding none, Bucky leaned back in, capturing her mouth once more in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

Their bodies aligned, and she could feel the steady thump of his heart against her chest.

——-smut——-smut———smut——-smut——-smut——-smut——-

It was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that he was real, that this moment was not just a figment of her imagination. His hands moved to the zipper of her jacket, pulling it down with a whisper of sound. She shrugged it off, her eyes never leaving his as she revealed the soft fabric of her blouse beneath. The air grew charged as he placed his hand on her bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending waves of desire through her.

Their kisses grew more frantic as they moved closer, the fabric of their clothes seeming to melt away as their hands explored each other. The couch creaked under their weight as they shifted, the springs protesting against the passion that had taken them over. They were a tangle of limbs and emotions, a dance of need and want that neither could resist.

Bucky’s hand found the zipper of her skirt, his movements deliberate and sure. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide it down her legs. The cool air kissed her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He pulled her closer, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt, lifting it to expose her stomach. His thumb traced the delicate line of her belly button, sending a thrill through her.

He paused, his hand hovering just above the fabric, waiting for her permission. She nodded, her breath hitching in her throat. He pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she trusted him, knew that he would never hurt her. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he placed a gentle kiss just above the lace.

Their hearts pounded in sync as they continued to explore, each touch a new discovery, each kiss a silent confession of their feelings.

The night was theirs, a stolen moment in time where they could be free of their pasts and the weight of their futures. For now, there was only the here and now, and the unspoken promise of what was to come.

The couch was not a bed, but it was where they found themselves, tangled in the fabric of their desires. He took his time, his hands worshiping her body as if it were the first time he’d ever felt skin so soft, so alive. She responded with equal fervor, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer.

Their movements grew more urgent, the tension coiling tight within them, demanding release. With a groan, Bucky lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms tight around his neck. He carried her down the hallway, her heart racing as she felt the cold floorboards under her bare feet. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single candle, casting flickering shadows across the walls. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their kisses grew deeper as Bucky unhooked her bra, his gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts.

He kissed the delicate skin, tracing the lines of her collarbone with his tongue before taking a nipple into his mouth. She arched her back, a gasp escaping her as he teased her with his teeth. His hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every inch of her softness. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that resonated through her very core.

Her own hands were not idle, her fingertips exploring the planes of his chest, the ripples of his abs, and the firm muscle beneath. She felt the metal of his prosthetic against her skin and paused for a moment, her eyes searching his for explanation, soon after she realized she didn’t care right now. He took her hand, kissing her palm, before placing it back, his gaze never leaving hers. He was hers, all of him, the good and the broken.

With trembling fingers, she unbuckled his belt, the clank of the metal echoing through the room. He helped her, his eyes filled with a fierce longing that matched her own. They shed their remaining clothes, the fabric pooling around them on the floor. His skin was hot against hers, the scars a map of battles fought and lives saved. She kissed each one, her lips a silent promise to cherish every part of him.

Their bodies aligned once more, and she could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, against her thigh. He hovered above her, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. She offered none, her eyes filled with a fierce love that was as unyielding as he was. With a whispered, “Darling,” he circled his thumb over her clit.

Her hips bucked at the contact, her body begging for more. He complied, his touch growing firmer, more insistent. She was so wet, so ready, and he reveled in the sweet sounds of pleasure she made, the way her breath hitched and her body quivered under his touch. He slid two fingers inside her, the warmth of her welcoming him home. She was tight, a perfect fit for him, and he knew he was lost, irrevocably, to the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she made him feel alive again.

Her hands roamed his body, tracing the scars that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen. They were a testament to his past, but she didn’t see them as marks of weakness; she saw them as badges of honor, proof of his strength and resilience. Her fingertips danced over the smooth metal of his arm, and she marveled at the way it felt under her touch. He was a man of contrasts, of steel and velvet, and she wanted all of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Kitten,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and ragged. “I want to taste every inch of you, make you scream my name until you lose your voice.”

Her cheeks flushed at his dirty talk, but it only served to stoke the fire burning within her. He knew exactly what to say to make her blush, to make her feel wanted. His words painted a picture of carnality that had her heart racing and her body aching for more. She felt his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she knew she wanted the same.

“Bucky, please,” she whimpered, her voice thick with need.

With a smirk that was both predatory and tender, he whispered, “You’re dripping for me, doll. Does the thought of my cock filling you up turn you on?” His words were like a dark promise, a seductive taunt that had her biting her bottom lip. She nodded, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she felt a gush between her legs.

“Good girl,” he praised, his thumb flicking over her clit in response to her desperate plea. His cock was heavy and thick, a testament to his desire for her. He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss that made her toes curl. He could feel her hips rocking against his hand, her body begging for release.

As their kisses grew more fevered, Bucky slid his fingers from her pussy, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, tasting her sweetness, watching the way her eyes widened at the erotic act. A soft moan escaped her lips, and he knew she was on the edge. He lowered his head, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, while his hand continued to work her clit. The sight of her, writhing beneath him, was almost too much to bear.

With a groan, he positioned himself between her legs, his cock poised at her entrance. He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice gruff with need. She nodded, her eyes dark with desire.

Slowly, he pushed into her, inch by inch, watching her face for any sign of pain. She was tight, a taut heat, like a fist gripping him, but she was slick and welcoming, her body yielding to his. He felt her walls stretch around him, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. He’d been with other women before, but none had ever felt like this, like he was coming home after a long and brutal war.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, darling,” he muttered, his jaw clenched with the effort to go slow. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in short gasps as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. She nodded, her nails digging into his back. “Good, good girl, let me in,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl of pleasure.

The moment he was fully seated within her, he stilled, savoring the feeling of being connected to her in this most intimate way. He knew he could lose himself in her, drown in the warmth of her body, the sweetness of her kisses, and he never wanted it to end. He watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth parted in a silent plea for more. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin as he began to move.

Her legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, her hips rising to meet every thrust. The bed protested, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of their hearts. Bucky’s hand moved from her hair to her throat, his thumb tracing the pulse that hammered there. He could feel her tension building, her body coiling tight as a spring.

“Look at me, Kitten,” he ordered, his voice a rough whisper. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his. He could see the passion, the love, the trust in their depths, and it was more beautiful than any starlit sky he’d ever seen. The intensity of their connection was almost too much to bear as he began to move in earnest, his strokes deep and powerful. “Such a good girl for me, so good..”

Her eyes never left his as she whispered “Daddy…”, her voice a soft prayer that seemed to echo through the room. Her legs tightened around him, urging him closer, deeper, as if she could somehow pull him into her very soul. The feeling of her surrounding him was more intoxicating than any serum, more potent than any battle high.

He groaned at the sound of that word on her lips, his hips driving into her with renewed vigor. It was a name he’d never been called, but it fit him like a glove, a role he’d never known he’d crave. She was his kitten, his doll, his darling, and he was her protector, her daddy.

Their rhythm grew more erratic, their kisses messy and desperate as they chased their release. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, her body tightening like a vice. He knew she was close, could hear the whimpers that fell from her lips as he picked up his pace. His own orgasm was building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

“Come for me, doll,” he whispered, his voice a mix of grit and desire.

“I want to feel you come around my cock. Let me feel it.”

Her eyes widened, and she threw her head back, her back arching as the orgasm crashed over her like a wave. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the force of it. He watched her, his own pleasure building, his strokes becoming more erratic as he felt her walls convulsing around him.

The sight of her, writhing in ecstasy, was almost too much to handle.

Bucky’s grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, the pressure in his balls becoming unbearable. He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep as he felt her muscles tighten around him. His hand moved from her throat to her cheek, holding her face as if he was afraid she’d slip away.

With a final, desperate groan, he pulled out, the head of his cock glistening with her release.

He hovered over her, his eyes never leaving hers as he painted her pussy with streams of cum.

The sight of him, lost in his own release, was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. She felt a tingle race through her, a sense of belonging and satisfaction that she hadn’t known was possible.

They lay there for a moment, their breaths mingling, their bodies slick with sweat. He leaned down, kissing her softly, the taste of herself on his lips. It was an intimate moment, one that she knew she’d never forget. He rolled off her, pulling her close, their limbs still entwined. The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and discarded clothes, a testament to the passion they’d just shared.

Her cheeks burned with the memory of her slip, the word “Daddy” still hanging in the air between them. She felt vulnerable, exposed, but also a thrill that she’d never experienced before. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Daddy, huh? That was unexpected, Kitten,” he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I like it,” he admitted, his thumb caressing her cheek. “You make me feel like I can be more than just the Winter Soldier. Like maybe, just maybe, I can be something to someone outside of battle too.”

Her heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his affection wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know how to respond, so instead, she curled closer to him, her head nestling into the crook of his neck. His arms tightened around her, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths.

“I’m sorry, James,” she whispered after a moment, her voice small and uncertain. She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even realized it until the words had left her lips. The term had just slipped out, a product of the intense intimacy of the moment, a word that had once brought her comfort in a different context.

He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a soft smile that made her heart flutter, he said, “Don’t be sorry, doll. It’s just us here. No judgment. If it’s what you need, I’ll be your daddy.” He said lightheartedly, His thumb traced lazy circles on her cheek, the tender gesture at odds with the possessive growl in his voice.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was a comfort she hadn’t realized she craved, and the way he said it, so raw and unfiltered, made her feel cherished. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Thanks.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

——————————————————————————————————

Hey, guys. Hope you liked this, needed to write some Civil war Bucky!!! 😩

Requests Open!

[gpcwsl]

Katie McCabe x Reader:

Cuddly Sleepers.

Warnings: suggestive, not read through. any I missed let me know.

( Alessia and Kyra are for the story, I am not shipping them in real life. They are good friends, this is a fan fiction! )

•••••••••••

•••••••••••

This is based of an episode of F•R•I•E•N•D•S - (S3, E3).

Katie and Y/n walked up the driveway after parking the car. They went on a small date together as they had no training plans whatsoever today. Y/n unlocks the door, walking inside not finding her roommate, Leah anywhere.

Leah was the person who Y/n befriend when she moved to arsenal in 2022. Becoming really good friends, Leah lived in with Y/n and now been living together for two, almost three years.

“Lee?” Y/n shouts, looking around the living room and kitchen. Getting nothing back she tried again, nothing.

Katie smiles after hearing no answer back. Gasping “wait a minute, look.” Katie pulls Y/n into the living room, standing near the coffee table which was slightly infront of the couch.

“What?” Y/n replied with looking around for something. “Look, look, look.” “What, what, what?”

“It’s an empty house.” Katie says, smiling at Y/n, her hand reaching up to brush some hair out of her face. “We are all alone in an empty house.”

“Oh, come on, Honey. I have to meet my sister in ten minutes and I-“ Katie interrupts her comment by moving her head down to kiss her neck. “Ohhh… alright. It’s not like my sister cares she’s always minutes late.”

Katie immediately spun the two around, still kissing her neck as they both fall onto the sofa, Y/n falling into of Katie, laughing together before connecting their lips together. Y/n softly humming into the kiss, cupping Katie’s cheeks, while Katie’s hands fall onto her girlfriend’s waist.

Before anything gets further the two hear a door slam. Sitting up, pretending to be finding something underneath the sofa cushions. “There it is!” “Oh, right there.”

Then they both look up to see Alessia standing there. Looking irritated. She looks at the two. “Do I look fat?”

Katie and Y/n both shake their heads looking at each other confused before back to Alessia. “No.”

“Okay, I accept that!” Alessia says, pointing to myself before continuing. “When Kyra asked me and I said no, she took that to mean, that I was calling her a cow!”

Y/n borrow her eyebrows before shaking her head. “Walk us through it, Honey. Walk up through it.”

Alessia nods, clearing her throat. “Okay, well Kyra said umm ‘hi, do I look fat today?’ and I- I looked at her and-“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Katie says, stopping her, her hand out looking at Y/n who laughs. “You- you looked at her?”

Katie and Y/n share a look while laughing. “You never look” “mhmmm.”

“You just answer, it’s like a reflex.” Katie says, pointing at her. “Okay? ‘Do I look fat-?’ no!” Alessia looks at her, taking in this information even though she’s a little confused. “‘Is she prettier than I am-?’ no!” “‘Does size matter-?’” “No!” Y/n hops in.

“And it works both ways.” Katie says, pointing between the two of them.

Alessia grabs a chair that was sitting still in her kitchen which was only a few meters away, pulling it along near the two sitting down on it. “Okay, so you both just, know this stuff?”

Y/n scoff-laughs as she looks at Katie. “You know, after about 30 or 40 fights, you kinda catch on.” Katie nodding.

Katie sits up more. “Okay, for instance. Let’s say, Kyra is coming home from a trip. And she gives you two options. Option number one, she takes a taxi home from the airport. Option two, you meet her at baggage claim. What do you do?”

“Easy, baggage claim-“

“Bzzz, wrong. Now you’re single.” Katie says, Alessia looks at Katie in disbelief. Y/n laughing looking at her.

“It’s actually, secret option number three. You meet her at the gate. That way she knows you love her.” Katie says, looking at her girlfriend smiling at her which she smiles back.

Alessia’s smiles nodding her head, thankful for the two. “Okay, this is good. This is good.” She says nodding before moving closer. “Alright listen, I have one.” Y/n nods her head, listening to her friend.

“Kyra, likes to cuddle, at night. Which you know I’m all for.” Alessia says, looking at the two who nods their head, humming. “But, when you want to go to sleep, you want some space. So, how do I tell her that without, you know accidentally calling her fat.”

Y/n and Katie laughs before turning to each other. Bringing eachother into a small kiss. “Oh, Honey I’m sorry. We can’t help you with that one. Cause we’re cuddly sleepers.” Y/n says, grabbing her girlfriend’s jaw, kissing her. Katie hums slightly. Alessia scrunches yo her face in disgust.

Pulling out of the kiss. Y/n checks her watch. “Okay, my sister texted me I really need to get going.” “Okay.”

“Am I gonna see you later?” Y/n asks Katie. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you later!”

“Okay, good luck Alessia.” Y/n says, grabbing her purse from the side. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Bye, love you!” Katie says, waiting until Y/n leaves and the door is shut.

Turning around to Alessia. “Okay, the sleeping thing. Very tricky business, but they are a way to do it.”

“Oh, I thought you guys were cuddly sleepers.” Alessia teases.

“No! No! Not cuddly, not me just her. I’m like you- I need the room.” Katie clears her throat before going in front of the couch again. “Okay, come here.” Alessia follows sitting on the couch. Next to Katie.

“Okay, you’re in bed.” Katie’s hands goes on Alessia thigh which makes the two pull away. “I will use a cushion instead.” “Good idea.”

Katie grabs the cushion from behind Alessia. “Okay, your in bed. She’s over on your side, cuddling.” She cuddles the pillow as she demonstrates. “Now, you wait for her drift off, and then you hug her.” Katie pulls the cushion into her as she’s hugging her girlfriend. “And roll her, over to her side of the bed.”

Alessia nods slightly. “And then you… roll away.” Alessia smiles while nodding brightly.

“Okay, the old hug and roll.” Alessia says, smiling as she fist bumps Katie. “Yep.” Katie replied.

“Okay, one question.” Alessia asks.

“Shoot-“

“You’re pretending the pillow is your girlfriend, right?”

The next day, Y/n is at Local coffee shop. Before seeing Kyra walk in. Gasping, “oh my god, what happened.” Y/n exclaimed, pointing at the cast on Kyra’s arm.

“Oh, clumsy Alessia. She’s spun me off the bed.” Kyra says, rolling her eyes.

“Oh… spinning. That sounds like fun.” Y/n says, nodding her head but a frown on her face as disgusted chills grows on her arms.

Kyra laughs, shaking her head. “No, no not that like. She was trying Katie’s hug and roll thing.” Kyra says, readjusting her cast.

Y/n turns around, looking at her confused.

“Katie’s what?”

“You know when she hugs you and then rolls you away so she can have some space and-“ Kyra stops midway seeing the look of disbelief and confusion in Y/n’s face. “Oh, my, god. You didn’t know?”

“No, of course I did. This is a face when someone is in the known!”

“Katie, I’m here!” Y/n yells, slamming the door shut. Before hearing the TV turn off or on mute. Then hearing quick footsteps.

“You’re mad. You never call me Katie, unless you’re mad.” Katie says, keeping distance.

“So, have you heard of this thing someone taught me today. I think it’s called and ‘hug and roll’” Y/n says, walking past her to the kitchen. Katie winces before mumbling “dammit Alessia.” “Its was Kyra who told. She got a sprain arm, Alessia tried it on her and spun her off the bed.”

“Are you mad?” Katie says, walking after her. “No, I’m not mad. Just sad, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been fine with it.”

Katie hesitates before committing. “Baby, no offence but you would probably break up with me if I told you that I needed some space while sleeping.” Y/n gasps. “Wha- no I wouldn’t!”

“Yes, you would. Last time when I didn’t give you a kiss while you were sick, you ignored me for a day.” Katie complained.

“Fine, okay. Fine, but still didn’t like that you kept it from me.” Y/n says, pouting at her girlfriend. Her arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, baby. Won’t happens again, I promise.” Katie says, speed-walking over to Y/n. Her hands on her waist, kissing her softly. “How about we finish what we started yesterday? Before we got interrupted by Alessia.”

“Take me upstairs, baby.” Y/n say, wrapping her arms around Katie’s neck. Katie smirks before picking Y/n up bride style before sprinting upstairs.

[crookedteethed]

18+ - mdni

ᥫ᭡. kook! jj, who can't keep his dick to himself.

warning: toxic!jj, cheating, public sex (fingering), language

You sighed, watching JJ flirt shamelessly with yet another woman at the Country Club bar. His pearly whites flashed as he leaned in close, whispering something that made her giggle. You rolled your eyes, sipping your martini.

A familiar pang of jealousy twisted in your gut, but you pushed it aside. This was nothing new. JJ had always been a player, even back when you first met him. You'd known exactly what you were getting into.

Still, you couldn't help but wonder why you stayed.

Maybe it was the way his khakis and Polo hugged his athletic frame, or how his cologne lingered tantalizingly whenever he brushed past. Or perhaps it was the thrill of being with someone so desired, knowing you were the one he came home to at the end of the night.

As if sensing your gaze, JJ glanced over and winked. Damn him and that roguish grin. Your anger melted away as he excused himself and sauntered back, sliding onto the barstool beside you.

With a sinister smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "Did you miss me, gorgeous?" His hand slid up your thigh with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Despite your anger, JJ's touch ignited a fire within you that you couldn't resist.

Your mind raced as he brushed the hem of your skirt, reminding you of all the times he had bought you gifts to win you over. But this time, his touch felt like a threat, like a possessive mark left on your body.

"This a cute piece," he taunted, pulling at the fabric possessively,

"Did I buy you this cute little number?"You could feel yourself weakening under his manipulative hold and hated yourself for still wanting him despite everything he had done.

You tried to push away the memories, but they flooded back as his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

"I can tell your side piece over there can't get enough of you," you growled, nodding towards the girl JJ had been cozying up to, who was now frantically scanning the room for him.

"She ain't missing me, she's just craving my dick. I've already had her once--" he says casually, as if it means nothing.

"When?" you interrupt, your jealousy fueling your words. But deep down, you already know the answer and it makes your stomach churn with disgust.

"I don't know." Jay shrugs. " A week or so ago? Two weeks ago, maybe." He casually said, as if it means nothing.

Your blood boils and you feel sick to your stomach.

"You're such a pig," you spit out, unable to contain your disgust any longer. With a heavy heart, you stand up and walk away, unable to bear being near JJ any longer. But of course, he follows behind you, trying to make excuses or apologies that fall on deaf ears.

"Hey, come on, don't be like that," Jay's voice echoes after you, his footsteps pounding against the linoleum floors as he rushes to catch up. "I was just being honest."

You spin around, seething with rage as you lock eyes with him. "Honest? You're supposed to be loyal to me, Jackson, but instead you're out here screwing other women behind my back?" Every word drips with venom as you advance towards him, ready to unleash your pent-up fury.

"Sweetheart, come on." JJ tries to smooth things over in his suave manner, glancing around the deserted hallway before pulling you closer by your hips. "You know I love you, right? You're my everything."

JJ's face may have been a replica of his mother's flawless beauty, but his father's manipulative nature runs through his veins like a toxic poison.

The mere thought of Groff's influence on him ignites a fierce rage within you, intensifying as you feel JJ's hand creeping up your skirt once again--this time his fingers exploring the delicate lace of your panties. You can sense his intent, and it sends shivers down your spine as you struggle to contain the boiling fury inside you.

"You know I wouldn't intentionally hurt you, baby." His words do little to calm the storm brewing inside you as he looks at you with those soft, doe-like eyes--damn him--just as his palm cups your throbbing sex.

A moan escapes your lips as his cool Signant Ring presses against your engorged clit.

"Jay, we can't do this here," you hiss, turning your head to scan for any onlookers.

"Who says we can't?" He counters, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Your senses are heightened as your eyes dart around, searching for prying eyes or gossiping villagers. The thought of being caught only intensifies the thrill coursing through your veins.

"Jay, please," you mewl, feigning resistance, though your hips betray you by arching closer to his touch. His lips curve into a smirk, knowing how deeply his ministrations affect you. He uses this knowledge ruthlessly as he presses down on your sweet spot with just enough pressure to have your toes curling in your heels.

"No one's looking," he whispers in your ear, his voice low and velvety, just as his fingers slipped beneath the silk of your panties. A shiver ran down your spine at the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your bare skin.

As JayJay's skilled fingers continued their exploration, your mind clouded over with desire. The combination the warmth of the room, and the knowledge that you could be discovered at any moment only served to heighten your arousal. You gripped the wall, desperate for support as sensation after sensation washed over you.

Suddenly, he slipped a single finger inside of you, and you couldn't help but moan louder this time, Smitten by lust, you didn't care. All that mattered was the delicious friction between your legs, the expert way his fingers moved in and out of you, plundering your depths with practiced ease.

As JayJay added a second finger, stretching you open even further, every ounce of resentment and jealousy you harbored vanished into thin air.

The smooth, probing digits hitting all the right spots within you, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your entire body. All that mattered in that moment was the exquisite sensations building up inside of you, demanding release.

That bitch at the bar, JJ's insufferable bragging about their sexual conquests—none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was the overwhelming need to come on JayJay's fingers, right there in the dimly lit corridors, far away from prying eyes but close enough to tease with the risk of getting caught.

The silence around you was deafening, broken only by the wet sounds of arousal escaping as Jay fingers pumped faster into your cunt, his blue eyes never leaving your face.

JJ could feel the tight grip of your pulsing pussy around his fingers, a clear indication that you were on the brink of ecstasy. He knows that if he can make you gush and lose control, you will forget about everything else - him, the girl at the bar, and any other thoughts that may have been occupying your mind.

JayJay added a third finger, stretching you deliciously, his thumb circling your clit as he began a relentless assault on your most sensitive spots. The wall behind you felt like the only thing keeping you grounded as your senses swam with lust and need. His gaze bored into yours, his smirk widening as he witnessed the effect he had on you. You were open and vulnerable in more ways than one.

The corridor spun dizzyingly around you, but all you could focus on was the pleasure building up inside you, coiled tighter and tighter as JayJay continued his expert ministrations. Your moans became louder, more desperate, and you didn't care who heard or saw anymore. All that mattered was reaching the peak that was so close yet so far away.

"That's it, baby," he cooed. "Let it all out f'me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. JayJay's fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out as the pressure built to an almost unbearable level.

"J-JayJay," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so close…"

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "Then come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart."

That was all it took. With a cry that echoed through the corridor, you came undone around his fingers. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body shaking as JayJay worked you through your orgasm. He held you steady, his free arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright as you rode out the high.

Jay’s lips curled into that devilish smirk—a signature of his, one that both thrilled and infuriated you. His fingers, slick with evidence of your surrender, brushed against your thigh as he slowly retreated, deliberately leaving a trail of heat in their absence. His blue eyes bored into yours, darkened with triumph and something more primal, something that left your knees trembling.

And just like that, JJ had you again in his magnet tar pit trap.

As JJ removed his fingers from your panties and brought them to your lips, coating your mouth in your own juices, savoring the sweet, musky taste of arousal. His eyes locked with yours, a challenge dancing in their depths.

"Taste yourself," he said, his voice low and commanding. Your cheeks flushed red, but the arousal coursing through your veins overpowered any last shreds of modesty.

Slowly, you parted your lips and closed them around his fingers, lapping up every drop of your essence. Your heart pounded in your chest as your tongue swirled around his digits, a sultry dance of your submission and desire.

JJ had treated you like shit, you knew, your friends knew, even JJ himself knew, yet you couldn't help the craving that swelled within you for him—a craving to be claimed, to be marked, to be his in every way that mattered.

as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. 🫶🏾