#I was trying to get out of there as fast as possible to not be on the way of the new crew and I could barely answer him

[mapiforpresident]

Would love to see a leah x alessia x reader one where they are expecting their first baby but reader goes into labour a couple weeks early while Leah and alessia are away at a match either for arsenal or they are at England camp. Just them all rushing around and then trying to get back for the birth while reader is just hoping she has them their while she gives birth.

Just a cute but emotional one of them becoming a family and the drama leading up to the moment

Labour

Leah x reader x Alessia

You go into labour a few weeks early while your wives are at England camp.

Thanks for the request :)

~~~

The pain started mid-morning, a dull ache low in your abdomen that you tried to ignore. You told yourself they were just Braxton Hicks. You were only 35 weeks along, and first babies were rarely early—or so everyone had told you. But by lunchtime, when the pain started to come in waves, you realized this wasn’t false labor. This was the real thing.

Leah and Alessia were away at England camp, just two hours away, but they weren’t answering their phones. You’d already called Leah who hadn't picked up, then called Alessia twice, your breathing growing more labored as the contractions intensified.

“Come on,” you whispered desperately, clutching your stomach as you sat on the edge of the bed, the hospital bag already packed and ready by your feet. “Pick up, Less. Pick up, Leah.”

Still no answer.

Your hand trembled as you scrolled through your contacts and landed on a name you hadn’t expected to call in such a moment: Sarina.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” Sarina’s calm, no-nonsense voice brought a flicker of relief.

“Sarina,” you said, your voice tight with pain and panic, “I—I think I’m in labor. The baby’s coming early, and I can’t reach Leah or Alessia.”

There was a pause, then, “You’re in labour?” she repeated, her tone instantly urgent. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home on the couch, but I need to go to the hospital,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut against another contraction.

“Okay, listen to me,” Sarina said firmly. “I’ll get them. Do you have someone else who can drive you?”

“I—I’ll figure it out,” you stammered, the pain making it hard to think.

“Good. Get to the hospital safely, and I’ll make sure Leah and Alessia are there as soon as possible,” Sarina promised.

~~~

At camp, the atmosphere on the pitch was intense. The Lionesses were in the middle of a scrimmage, with Leah on the backline and Alessia pressing high in attack. Sarina approached the sideline, waving over one of her assistants before stepping onto the field, her expression unusually serious.

“Stop play!” she called, her voice cutting through the noise.

The players paused, confused, as Sarina walked briskly toward Leah and Alessia.

“Coach?” Leah asked, frowning as Sarina gestured for them to step aside.

“I need to speak with both of you,” Sarina said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“What’s wrong?” Alessia asked immediately, worry flashing across her face.

“Its y/n,” Sarina said, lowering her voice. “She’s in labour. She couldn’t reach you, so she called me.”

Leah’s eyes widened, her face paling. “What? She’s—she’s in labour? Now?”

“Is she okay?” Alessia asked, panic rising in her voice.

“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Sarina said. “You two need to go. Now.”

Leah didn’t need to be told twice. “We’ll take my car,” she said, already jogging toward the locker room to grab her keys. Alessia was hot on her heels, her boots barely hitting the ground as she ran.

~~~

By the time you arrived at the hospital, the contractions were coming hard and fast, and you could barely think through the pain. The nurses helped you into a gown, hooked you up to monitors, and assured you that everything looked good for the baby, even though it was early.

“Have your wives arrived yet?” one nurse asked as she checked on your vitals.

“No,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They’re on their way, but they’re two hours away. I just—I need them here.”

Leah drove like she was in a race, Alessia clutching her phone in the passenger seat, her leg bouncing with nervous energy.

“Why didn’t she call us earlier?” Alessia asked, her voice tight with guilt.

“She tried,” Leah said, her hands gripping the wheel. “We didn’t pick up. God, I can’t believe we didn’t pick up.”

“She must be so scared,” Alessia murmured, tears brimming in her eyes.

Leah reached over, squeezing Alessia’s hand briefly before returning her focus to the road. “We’ll get there. We’ll be there for her. We have to be.”

~~~

Back in the delivery room, the pain was overwhelming, and you struggled to focus on the midwife’s calming instructions. The room felt too bright, too loud, too empty without Leah and Alessia.

“I don’t think I can do this without them,” you choked out between sobs.

“Yes, you can,” the midwife said gently, her voice steady. “You’re already doing it. They’ll be here soon, but right now, your baby needs you to be strong.”

Leah and Alessia burst through the hospital doors, breathless and frantic. After a few wrong turns and a lot of urgent questions at the front desk, they finally found your room.

When they stepped inside, you were in the middle of a contraction, your face contorted in pain, tears streaking your cheeks.

“Oh, love,” Alessia said, rushing to your side and taking your hand. “We’re here. We’re here.”

Leah was right behind her, her hand landing gently on your shoulder as she leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here sooner,” she said.

“You made it,” you gasped out, gripping their hands like lifelines.

“Of course we did,” Alessia said, tears streaming down her face. “We wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Alessia whispered words of encouragement, her voice soft and steady, while Leah rubbed your back and counted through your breaths as you practically broke their hands.

When the baby finally arrived—a healthy, squalling little girl—all three of you were overcome with emotion.

“She’s perfect,” Leah whispered, her voice breaking as she stared at your daughter in awe.

Alessia leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You were incredible,” she said, her tears falling freely.

“You both made it,” you said, your own tears mingling with laughter as you cradled your daughter against your chest.

“We’re never leaving you again,” Leah said firmly, wrapping her arms around you both.

And in that moment, as the three of you stared down at the tiny miracle you’d created, the chaos and panic of the day melted away, leaving only love and the overwhelming joy of becoming a family.

[favefandomimagines]

Daylight (r.c)

Summary: it takes Rafe some time to realize what he has

AN: this is very one tree hill code with JJ being very Lucas Scott esque lol and this was PURELY self indulgent, no one asked for this

Y/N Routledge sat on the edge of her bed, feeling like she could throw up at any second. The little plastic stick in her trembling hand bore the answer she had been dreading and hoping wasn’t true. The bold letters stared back at her like they were mocking her.

Pregnant.

Her mind raced. It felt as though the world had tilted off its axis. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. What now? Who could she possibly confide in about this? How could she even begin to explain? The answer wasn’t simple, not when the father was Rafe Cameron.

For a year, their relationship—or whatever it was—had been a secret. Late-night meetings, whispered words in the dark, stolen moments when no one was looking. There had never been an official label on it. Rafe had made sure of that. “Labels complicate things,” he’d said, and Y/N, hopelessly drawn to him despite every red flag, had agreed.

But now? Things were complicated anyway.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. The door swung open, and there stood her brother, John B, looking confused and concerned.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning against the frame. “You’ve been in here for a while.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. She shoved the pregnancy test behind her back, but she wasn’t fast enough.

“What’s that?” His eyes narrowed, the easy-going brotherly demeanor replaced with something sharper.

“Nothing,” she blurted out, but John B wasn’t buying it.

He took a step closer. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

The lump in her throat grew too large to ignore, and before she knew it, the words came tumbling out. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

For a moment, John B just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a long exhale, he sat down beside her.

“Okay,” he said carefully. “I’m not gonna ask who the father is. That’s your business. But whoever it is, he deserves to know.”

Y/N looked down at the floor, her chest tightening. “I don’t even know how to tell him,” she admitted. “What if he doesn’t want this?”

John B reached over, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Then you don’t need him. You’ve got me. And the rest of the Pogues. We’ll figure it out. This kid's gonna have a pretty cool life, Y/N. I promise.”

Y/N nodded her head. “I’m so scared, JB.” She whispered. John B nodded his own head before he pulled his sister in for a tight hug.

“I know you are. But you’re gonna be okay. I’m here.” He told her gently.

||

Later that evening, Y/N stood nervously outside Tannyhill. Her palms were clammy, her stomach a mess of nerves. She had rehearsed what she wanted to say a thousand times, but now that she was here, the words felt like they dried up in her throat.

When Rafe opened the door, his blue eyes scanned her face, immediately sensing something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “I need to tell you something.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed. “Okay…”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, her voice shaking.

For a moment, he just stared at her, his face unreadable. Then, as the realization sank in, his expression darkened.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Rafe. I’m serious.” Y/N replied.

He ran a hand over his buzzed his hair, pacing the room. “I… I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice rising. “I’m trying to get my dad’s business back on track, and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant?”

Y/N felt the sting of his words like a physical blow. “I didn’t plan for this, Rafe! But it’s happening.”

He turned to face her, his eyes cold. “Maybe you should just do it alone. I’m not raising a kid with a Pogue.”

That cut deeper than anything else he’d said. Tears burned in her eyes as she stared at him, her heart breaking. “Really? That’s how you feel?” She asked, her voice unsteady. “Yeah, that’s how I feel. Did you really expect we were going to play big happy family?” He snapped.

Y/N let out a teary scoff before her impulsive thoughts took over. She stepped closer to Rafe, the palm of her hand connecting with his cheek, the sound of the slap echoing throughout the foyer. Without another word, Y/N turned and walked out the door.

||

One year later, and Y/N had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. It wasn’t an easy feat, but Y/N had John B and Sarah. Taking their roles as aunt and uncle way too seriously.

Now, Y/N cradled her one-year-old daughter, Isla, as the Pogues gathered on the beach. The little girl was the spitting image of her father—Rafe’s blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes. It was a constant reminder of the man who had walked away.

But Y/N wasn’t alone. John B, Sarah, JJ, Kiara, Cleo, and Pope had rallied around her, becoming Isla’s extended family. JJ, in particular, had taken to the role of honorary uncle with enthusiasm, and Isla adored him.

As JJ held Isla over the waves, her tiny giggles filled the air, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

“Look at you, kiddo,” JJ said, spinning her gently. “You’re a natural beach bum.”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed a familiar figure further down the shore. Rafe was there, flanked by Topper and Kelce, his gaze locked on her. Then, his eyes then shifted to JJ and Isla.

He’d have to be an idiot to deny that that one year old was his. Y/N had kept the baby and now he was feeling an influx of emotions. Anger, regret, jealousy. Jealous that another man was raising his child, jealous that another man was in his place.

Y/N froze, unsure of what to do. JJ walked back to Y/N, handing Isla to her with a smile. Y/N couldn’t help but smile down at her daughter. But then she remembered who was watching them. When she whispered something to JJ, he turned and saw Rafe, his expression immediately hardening.

JJ said something else to her and Y/N walked back towards the rest of the Pogues. Rafe and JJ were now walking towards each other, JJ not messing around when it comes to Isla and Y/N.

“You need to leave her alone,” JJ said, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s my daughter,” Rafe snapped. “I have a right to know her.”

JJ scoffed. “You don’t get to decide that. Y/N does and you left her. You told her you weren’t raising a kid with a Pogue. You don’t deserve a second of her time.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Just because you’re playing house with my girl and my kid doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.” JJ laughed bitterly. “I’m not with Y/N. I’m just picking up the slack from the coward who abandoned them.”

Rafe stood there, seething with anger and regret, as JJ's words lingered in the air. But before he could say anything more, Topper yelled his name.

||

Later that night, Rafe pulled up to the old Maybank property that was now the Pogues sanctuary. He hadn’t prepared a single thing to say to Y/N. He knew there was a very high possibility that she would slam the door in his face.

What he said to her that night was harsh. He knew that and he knew he couldn’t take it back. He knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer the door. Rafe could hear the laughter and the music playing from the other side.

John B was the one to pull the door open, Isla in his arms. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat upon the sight of the little girl. “What are you doing here?” John B asked. “I’m uh, c-can I talk to Y/N?” He stammered.

Y/N’s brother looked at the man with furrowed brows, not used to seeing him in such an insecure, uncertain state. John B hated Rafe for what he did to Y/N, but Isla deserves a father. No matter how that happens.

“Y/N!” John B called. He turned away and walked back down the hall and soon Y/N appeared in the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Rafe asked. Y/N was hesitant; their last conversation did not go well obviously. “Um, sure. We can talk down at the store.” She answered.

The two walked silently down the dock to the bait shop where Y/N knew no one would be eavesdropping on them.

“Rafe, before you say anything, I didn’t want this to be how you found out. I didn’t want it to come to this,” she said quietly, her voice trembling but steady. “But you can’t just expect me to pretend like you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t want this baby. You walked away. You made your choice.”

Rafe flinched, her words cutting deep. He opened his mouth to argue, but something stopped him. The way she held Isla, the way Isla smiled at her mother, the warmth between them—it hit him all at once. What he had lost, what he could have had, and how foolish he’d been to let pride and fear dictate his actions.

“I—” He paused, swallowing hard. “I screwed up. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to be the kind of man you needed.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, but she didn’t look away. “You had a choice, Rafe. We both did. You made yours. I made mine.”

He took a step forward, his gaze falling to the water, as if he were gathering the courage to say what needed to be said. “I was wrong. And I know it. I’ve been trying to fix everything else, but I didn’t even try with you… with Isla. I was too damn proud. Too scared. But I don’t want to be that man anymore. I want to be a part of her life. I want to be a part of your life.”

Y/N blinked, the warmth in her chest slowly spreading, though the ache of everything that had happened still lingered. “It’s not going to be easy. We can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“I don’t want to,” he said softly. “I want to start fresh. As a father. As someone you can count on.”

A long silence passed between them, the weight of the past still hanging in the air. Then, slowly, Y/N nodded. “Okay. But you need to prove it. You need to show me you’re in this. All in. For her. For me.”

Rafe’s heart pounded, but he could see the flicker of hope in her eyes. Hope he thought he’d lost. “I will. I swear I will.”

||

The sun was shining brightly over the beach house, casting a golden glow over the yard where Isla’s second birthday party was in full swing.

The Pogues, along with Rafe, were scattered across the yard, setting up and getting ready to celebrate the little girl who had brought so much joy into their lives.

John B and Pope were hanging colorful decorations from the trees and the porch, adding the final touches to a vibrant banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Isla!”

Sarah and Kie were carefully bringing out a pile of birthday gifts, wrapping paper and bows sparkling in the sunlight.

Meanwhile, Isla was darting around the yard, laughing as JJ ran after her, pretending to be a superhero.

JJ scooped her up in his arms, making jet engine noises as he spun her around, keeping her distracted so she wouldn’t see the presents waiting inside.

Rafe stood off to the side, leaning against the window frame of the house, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. His heart swelled as he watched Isla giggle, her little feet kicking in the air as JJ swung her around like a plane.

Her laugh was like music to his ears, a reminder of how much he’d missed and how far he’d come since that day on the beach.

Y/N, who had just finished setting the cake down on the table, noticed Rafe standing there, his eyes soft and full of affection. She smiled to herself and walked over to him, sliding her arm around his bicep as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“What’s got you all smiley?” she asked softly, her voice gentle but teasing.

Rafe looked down at her, a look of gratitude and tenderness crossing his features. “You,” he said simply. “Isla. You letting me back into your life and into hers.”

Y/N’s heart melted, and she lifted her chin to look up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him softly, the kind of kiss that spoke of everything they’d been through and everything they’d built together.

As they pulled apart, John B appeared at the doorway with a grin. “Alright, JJ, it’s time for cake and presents!”

JJ, who had been in the middle of a game of "airplane" with Isla, immediately scooped her up again, making exaggerated flying noises as he carried her inside. Isla squealed with laughter, her little arms flailing in the air as JJ pretended she was a plane about to take off.

As they entered the living room, JJ passed Isla off to Rafe with a grin. “Special delivery!”

Rafe smiled and crouched down to gently set Isla in her chair. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head, a tender moment of fatherly affection. Isla beamed up at him, her tiny hands reaching up to grab his face, a look of adoration in her eyes.

Y/N stood beside them, watching with a heart full of love as Rafe straightened up and looked at her with a smile. This moment was everything they’d fought for—a family, together, stronger than ever.

As Isla sat at the table, her little hands covered in frosting as she tried to grab a slice of cake, Rafe took a seat next to her, helping her scoop up a piece. Y/N joined them, wrapping an arm around Rafe’s shoulder as she placed a kiss on Isla’s cheek.

The room was filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and joy as everyone gathered around, ready to celebrate Isla’s special day. It was simple, but perfect. They were a family now, not just by blood, but by choice. And in this moment, surrounded by love and happiness, they all knew they’d found something rare and precious.

John B raised his glass, a grin on his face as he toasted, “To my niece Isla, the brightest light in all of our lives.”

Everyone joined in, lifting their glasses in unison, as Isla clapped her little hands, excited by the attention.

“Cheers!” Rafe said, glancing over at Y/N with a smile that said it all.

Y/N smiled back, squeezing his hand. “Cheers.”

As the cake was passed around, Isla sat contentedly on Rafe’s lap, covered in frosting and giggling with pure joy. And in that moment, as they all looked on at the little girl they had all come to love, Rafe and Y/N knew this was exactly where they were meant to be—together, as a family.

[deathbxnny]

Haiiii Can we get like a oneshot of Vi x f!drunk reader? Maybe where reader is like rlly flirty and horny when drunk and wants to have fun with Vi but obviously Vi doesn’t do anything and just tries to take care of her?

Vi taking care of drunk fem!Reader.

This was written by someone who has never touched alcohol, so I hope it's not too bad-

Content: alcohol, reader is drunk as hell, established relationship, SFW

Reader is asked to be afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"Damnit... you drank way too much this time around, cupcake..." Vi sighed out with a shake of her head as she hauled you into your shared home after a long night out in Zaun's busy bars. You were just giggling to yourself at her words, finding them silly and untrue, of course. You weren't drunk at all! Far from it, actually. Never mind your inability to see clearly or walk straight for that matter.

"I'm... not drunk! I uh... yeah." Your girlfriend rolled her eyes at your oh-so-convincing argument whilst she made you sit on the couch in your living room. Trying to just get you to bed as fast as possible, she kneeled down infront of you to take your shoes off, eyes focused on her task at hand and yet you were far from interested in resting now. No, you had plans.

Plans that involved her.

"Hey... what are ya' doin'?" You asked, not even trying to pronounce your words properly anymore. Your hands came up to play with her short pink hair before they slid down to cup her face. Glancing up at you, she raised a slight brow. She knew that look in your eyes. But not tonight, she thought. Not when you're literally unable to even sit up right. "Getting you ready for bed." "Oooh... I love the sound of that!" Deadpanning, she fought the urge to sigh in disappointment. Typical. And usually, she'd indulge in your wishes, but again, not like this.

"Nope, not like that. Now come on, let's get ya to bed, pretty." She said, quick to pick you up with scary ease that made your heart flutter and giggle in excitement. Yet that all slipped away when you processed her clear rejection. "Whattttt?? But the bed is right thereee." "Sure is, princess." It was honestly really amusing to see you so needy for her. And whilst she was stressing a bit, it definitely made for good material to tease you with later.

Carefully laying you down onto the bed, she couldn't help but chuckle at the way you began melting into the mattress involuntarily. "Ya look reallyyy good tonight, Vi-" "-Thanks. Drink this water for me, please." She hummed, skillfully distracting you as though she had been through this a million times before. She gave you no chance to argue back either, with the way she simply made you drink a whole glass of water whilst making sure the bed was fluffy and comfortable enough for you to be in.

All you could do was pout and give her a defeated glare that made her smile. "Sorry, but that's just how things are gonna be tonight, alright? Besides, I bet you're really tired." And you absolutely were, much to your dismay. Vi on the other hand, knew that you were going to get a deadly headache once you woke up and went ahead to place some painkillers and a bucket, just in case, at your bedside table. She needed to prepare everything for your approaching doom the best she could, after all.

Her attention was averted back to you when she noticed you having fallen asleep whilst she was taking care of you. A gentle smile rested on her face, your image mirroring in Vi's eyes lovingly as she admired your form. "Well... that was fast. So much for not being drunk, ey?" But she didn't mind it. After getting ready herself, she pulled you into a tight embrace and fell asleep as well, glad to have you safe and sound with her.

And even if you were unfortunately rejected tonight... there is always tomorrow.

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

(to be continued)

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Back To You - Part 3 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“I’ve got a body outside a bar on Main, and then you get attacked here.” Sheriff Hicks almost sounds accusing as she looks at Sam while speaking. “You said the call came from Amber’s number?”

Sam nods faintly, a distant look in her eyes. She’s been like this ever since she and Richie came back into Tara’s room, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m worried.

Not only did she almost get killed, she’s also got something on her mind that’s upsetting her. I know because she’s got that telltale crinkle of hers in her eyebrows.

“So?” Amber pipes up next to me. She came in a couple of minutes ago with Sheriff Hicks. “We know he called on my phone before when he attacked Tara.”

True, but it’s still a little weird. Why wouldn’t he just use a burner phone to make the calls?

I glance at Tara to see what she thinks about all this, but she’s just looking back and forth between Amber and Hicks, fear and uncertainty written all over her face. First she was attacked and now Sam.

Who’s going to be next?

“Or, and I’m just spit-balling here. . . You’re the killer,” Richie says and even though I neither like, nor trust him, I have to admit, he’s got a point.

Offended, Amber crosses her arms and stares at him incredulously. She looks like she’s about to say something to defend herself, but then Sheriff Hicks beats her to it.

She turns to him and narrows her eyes. “And where were you wenn all of this happened?”

Richie falters slightly and I can see him tighten his grip around Sam’s hand which he’s been holding ever since they came in. “I was. . . watching Netflix.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. Of course he was, how convenient. . .

Seemingly reading my mind, Amber scoffs and says, “Ooh, yeah. Super solid alibi, bro.”

“So, where were you?” He fires back. Then, he looks at me with raised eyebrows. “And what about you? Hmm? You just so happened to walk around the corner right after Sam was attacked?”

I stiffen and it takes everything in me not to walk around Tara’s bed and slap him. How dare he? I would never try to hurt Sam, or Tara for that matter. I can barely even kill bugs because I feel sorry for them, so how could I possibly hurt another human being like that?

“Excuse me?” My voice is low and dangerous and the only thing that stops me from snapping is Tara who grabs a hold of my sleeve. “How would I even do that? I’m injured, and I literally just got back to the hospital.”

Richie snorts. “So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first psychotic killer to fake getting hurt to divert suspicion from yourself.”

Fury pulses through my veins, but I don’t move or speak. Tara’s grip on my sleeve tightens and much to my relief, Sheriff Hicks comes to my defense while Sam continues to stare vacantly at a spot on the opposite wall.

“It wasn’t Y/N, or Amber,” she states. “Surveillance footage shows Y/N entering the hospital during the time of the attack, and it was’t Amber because I was questioning her and her friends at the sheriff’s station.”

I give her a thankful nod and place my hand over Tara’s, silently telling her that I’m not going to lash out.

“Yeah,” Amber says, leveling Richie with a glare. “I came as soon as I heard, but, you know, the Netflix alibi is good, too.”

I must admit, Amber and I never really clicked for whatever reason, but right now, she’s my favorite person.

Sheriff Hicks lets out an exasperated sigh and hands Amber her phone back. “Okay, both of you, stop it.”

“You’re going to put more cops on her room, right?”Sam’s voice takes me by surprise.

Tara glances at her sister and then back Hicks while Amber and Richie continue glaring at each other.

“Yes.” The sheriff’s face softens. “And I can move you to a private floor. Deputy Vinson knows what he’s doing, you’ll be safe.”

That last part seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Sam bristles. “Like we’ve been so far?”

Oh dear. . .

The air in the room shifts and I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for Sheriff Hicks’s reaction.

I know Sam can be short tempered and people usually dismiss it, but I fear this time she might have crossed a line. Sheriff Hicks is only trying to help, and Sam questioning said help isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Samantha, let’s step outside.” The tight lipped smile on the sheriff’s face makes me cringe and be thankful I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Sam clenches her jaw and looks at all of us for a moment before getting up and leaving the room with Sheriff Hicks.

Not even a minute later she returns, alone, and stands by the open door with a defeated look on her face. “Well, she remains a delight. . .”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in slight amusement, and when Sam’s eyes meet mine, a bitter sweet smile briefly tugs at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, putting an end to our little . . . moment?

Sam’s eyes dart to Richie, Amber, and then back to me. “Uh, actually. Would you mind giving us a second? I need to talk to Tara.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, squeezing Tara’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

She smiles softly and let’s go of my sleeve, watching Amber, Richie and me file out of the room before Sam closes the door behind us.

“So, you’re a fan of the Hawks?” Deputy Vinson asks when I run into him outside the bathroom.

“What? Oh.” I look down when he points at my hockey sweater. “Yes, kind of. I’m on the team.”

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t play professionally yet because I’m currently working on getting my Masters degree,” I explain.

Vinson lets out an impressed whistle. “Nice. So, you’re planning on playing professionally once you’re done?”

I shrug. “That’s the plan, yes, but we’ll see what happens.”

He nods and smiles. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile back and point my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. Tara might need something and I think I forgot my phone in her room.”

He nods again and ushers me to get going. I chuckle and turn to leave, feeling my smile drop a moment later when I round the corner and see Richie standing at the door to Tara’s room, clearly listening to what’s being said inside.

“Hey!”

He flinches and steps away from the door, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What are you doing? Are you eavesdropping?” I know the question is unnecessary, because he clearly is, but I want to make him squirm.

He takes another step back and raises his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not.”

I continue walking toward him, closing the distance between us until we’re almost toe to toe. We’re the same height, so I can’t say I’m looking down when I level him with a challenging stare, yet he seems to be shrinking in on himself the longer I stare at him.

“I was just— I wasn’t,” he stutters, trying to explain himself, but then a shout from inside the room cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out!”

Tara.

A second later the door opens and Sam comes out with tears streaming down her face. She winces when she sees Richie and me and quickly wipes at her eyes while trying to suppress a sob.

What happened in there?

The look on her face and the tears in her eyes remind me of the night eleven years ago when she snuck into my room. I still don’t know why she did it back then, but I have a feeling it’s related to whatever just happened between her and Tara.

Unlike that night eleven years ago though, I don’t make a move to comfort her. Not necessarily because I don’t want to, I do and don’t at the same time, but because Richie beats me to it.

He pulls Sam into a hug and looks at me over her shoulder, daring me to continue my interrogation from before. And even though I would love to do nothing more than just that, I drop it and slip into the room.

If Sam is this upset, there’s a good chance Tara’s not doing any better either, and when I see her, sitting in her bed with her own tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m proven right.

I close the door behind me and quickly make my way to the bed, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper when she moves closer and buries her face in my shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

“No. . .” She whimpers and hugs my waist. “Sam. . . She- She—“

“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” I cut her off, but she shakes her head.

“N-No, I do. You have to know,” she says, her voice muffled by our embrace.

I raise an eyebrow even though she can’t see it and ask, “Know what?”

Tara shudders and tightens her arms around me. “Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad.“

Five years ago

“There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.” I laugh when Liam groans and buries his face in his pillow. He called me half an hour ago to pick him up from a party because Paige is sleeping at her girlfriend’s tonight and he didn’t want to bother her.

“Thank youuu, I love you,” he slurs and I just pat him on the back.

“I love you, too, dude.“ I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water before returning to his room and placing it on his nightstand next to some painkillers. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles again and then he’s out like a light.

I leave the apartment, locking the front door, and get into my car to start the short drive home.

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m exhausted, but I’m glad Liam called me instead of driving home himself.

Yes it’s late, and yes, I’m tired, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to him if he’d gotten into his car, drunk, and gotten into an accident.

My parents woke up when I was on my way out, asking where I was going and when I told them, they simply told me to drive safely before going back to bed.

Now, I’m almost back home, and I can practically already feel the warm embrace of my bed again, but then I spot something that makes my heart stop.

Stumbling along the side walk with a man hot on her heels is Sam. The man keeps grabbing her arm, saying something, and she keeps brushing him off, obviously uncomfortable.

Her movements are uncoordinated and I hate the fact that I know why.

She’s high again.

Without thinking, I drive past them and pull over, stopping the car on the side walk right in front of them.

“Hey! Take a hike, dude,” I say, getting out of the car.

Sam and the man both come to a halt and stare at me. Sam barely even registers what’s going on, her glassy eyes staring right through me while the man scoffs and steps up to me.

“Mind your own business,” he growls. He seems to be in his thirties, has a buzz cut, and has a tattoo of a tiny rose on his temple.

“Sorry— No can do, pal,” I say calmly, trying not to cringe at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “She’s my friend, and you’re bothering her, so leave.”

“Or what?” he asks, smirking and revealing his chipped front tooth.

I sigh. “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Yeah?” He laughs and shoves me slightly. “What are you going to do, kid? Hmm? Call your parents? Or—“

My fist connects with his jaw, and a second later he’s on the ground, unconscious.

Was that a bit of an overreaction? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Definitely.

“Y/N!” Sam gapes at me. “W-What did you do?”

Even though she’s high, she doesn’t seem to have lost all of her ability to think straight. She sways on her feet and goes to crouch down next to the man, but I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and pull her back up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. She smells like alcohol, too, and I don’t even want to imagine the amount of drugs and alcohol she’s consumed tonight.

“No,” she slurs, weakly clawing at my arms. “I don’t— I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go— I wanna go with Josh.”

“Josh?” I ask. “You know that guy?”

“No— I mean, yes a little. He bought me a drink and—”

“He was trying to take advantage of you!” I argue, not letting go of her.

“No, he wasn’t!” she shouts and I cringe, hoping no one wakes up and looks out of their window because of her.

We’re in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m almost certain if someone saw us right now, they’d call the cops because they think I’m trying to kidnap her.

And I wouldn’t even blame them for it, because it definitely looks like it, but I’m really just trying to help.

This isn’t the first time I’ve taken her home after finding her high, and even though I’m used to the protest she puts up, the next thing she says catches me off guard.

“You always ruin everything, Y/N!”

I freeze and try not to let it get to my head, but her words tug at my heart painfully.

She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her a little. “Come on, Sam. I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.”

Much to my surprise, a moment later, the fight leaves her body and she wordlessly let’s me lead her to the car.

I open the passenger door and help her in, making sure to put her seatbelt on before closing the door again and rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

As I open the door, the man, Josh, starts to regain consciousness. He groans and twists on the ground, making me roll my eyes.

Pathetic.

I know he’ll be fine since I didn’t hit him that hard, so I get in the car and pull back onto the road, leaving him behind just as he’s getting back up.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers a minute later. Her voice sounds clearer than before and the venom lacing her words makes me believe she actually means it.

She’s said it before, especially the first few times I picked her up from a party, but she’s never said it like this before.

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s safe.

There’s a big chance she won’t even remember saying it tomorrow morning, but I know I will.

Neither one of us says anything else while I drive until I pull up next to the curb by our houses.

Seeing Christina Carpenter’s car in Sam’s driveway, I figure it’s not the best idea to drag her up to their front door and ring the doorbell, so I take her to my house after helping her out of the car.

She’s back to being completely high, head lolling from side to side and steps totally uncoordinated, so as soon as we get inside, I pick her up and carry her up to my room.

I expected her to protest, to tell me to put her down immediately, but she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck and holds onto me while I carry her.

“Alright, here we go,” I whisper when we make it to my room. I’m not afraid of waking my parents because they’d understand why I brought Sam here instead of taking her home, but I don’t want them to worry, so I try to stay as quiet as possible.

It turns out, opening a door with a whole ass person in my arms is more of a challenge than I thought, but I eventually manage to get it open, stepping inside and closing it behind us again with a soft click.

“‘M tired,” Sam mumbles, her fingers curling around the fabric of my jacket.

“Yeah, I bet,” I say quietly, feeling my own exhaustion wash over me. “Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

I gently place her on the bed and take off her shoes before pulling the comforter out from underneath her.

“Do you need anything else? Something to drink? A sweater,” I ask, but Sam doesn’t answer. She has her eyes closed and it looks like she’s already asleep. When I move to sleep on my couch on the other side of the room though, her hand shoots out and she grabs my wrist.

“Just you.”

I hesitate and try to ignore the way my skin tingles where she’s touching me.

I hate you.

The memory of her words stings and makes my heart ache, but then she opens her eyes and looks at me pleadingly.

It’s the kind of look she always uses when she wants something from me, so a moment later, I cave and slowly slip into bed next to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers and the sincerity with which she says it makes tears well up in my eyes.

First she says she hates me, then she asks me to sleep in the same bed with her.

I’m so confused and exhausted, it hurts, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure this emotional roller coaster.

She changed after that night six years ago when she snuck into my room, and at first I thought it was just a phase, but then her dad left and as time went on, she pulled away more and more, avoiding me until, eventually, she started drinking and doing drugs.

There are moments where her old self shines through, like last week, when we had a movie night with Tara and my parents, but those moments are rare and these days, they’re basically nonexistent.

“Y/N?”

I freeze, her sleepy voice bringing me back to reality.

“Yes?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue, but she never doesn’t. “Sam?”

I turn my head to look at her in the darkness and exhale shakily when I realize she’s asleep. I admire her soft features for a moment, taking note of how grown up she looks now that she’s turned eighteen, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, I drop my hand on the mattress in the space between us and sigh.

“Good night, Sammy.”

The next morning when I wake up, I’m not surprised to find that she’s gone, just like that time when she snuck into my room.

I figure it’s probably best to give her some space, and let her deal with whatever she’s dealing with, but then, two days later, Tara calls me crying, and tells me Sam has left.

_______________________________________________

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec

[aplaceinme]

“I’m just saying… there’s a reason why people say ‘three times it’s a charm’ Evan.”

“And I’m just saying I don’t want to risk it, Tommy,” Evan huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C’mon, what could possibly happen?” Tommy insists. 

“Hmmm…let me think… oh, yeah, I got it! Given our track record, we break up for good,” Evan says exasperated. 

“That won’t happen again, Evan. We’ve talked things out. Everything has been laid out on the table. We are better than ever,” Tommy says softly, walking up to Evan and tenderly cupping his cheeks, “We are good! Nothing bad will happen, I promise.” 

Evan tries to resist, his pout really pronounced but he can’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Fine! Fine! We will go and have dinner at Miceli’s again,” Evan relents, throwing his arms up in the air. “But if things go south again, it will be all your fault, ok?” 

Tommy leans in and kisses him softly, letting the kiss linger a little. “Ok, if something happens, it will be my fault.”

Evan goes to his bedroom to change his clothes, all the while angrily muttering, “Thousand of places in L.A. to go but no! We have to go back to that place… all because the pizza is good… fuck that place.”

“Did you say something?” Tommy asks, trying not to laugh at Evan’s adorableness. 

“Nothing… except… We are not getting spumoni, Tommy!” Evan yells from his bedroom.

Head thrown back in laughter, Tommy sits down in one of the barstools to wait for him to be finished. “Fine but, again, everything will be alright, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that! But you know what else people say? Famous last words! That’s what they say,” Evan says before closing the bathroom room. 

Nodding, Tommy quietly says under his breath as if trying to convince himself, “It will be alright.” 

—

“Will you stop muttering? We are here, and everything has been ok so far, right?” 

“Yeah, so far,” Evan says stubbornly. At Tommy’s raised eyebrow, his shoulders relax. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right! Everything is fine. We are together and everything is fine.”

Tommy holds Evan’s hand across the table and intertwines their fingers. “Exactly.” 

“I’m just glad we aren’t going to the movies after this. I think they also bring bad luck to us,” Evan teases, though he also seems to be serious. 

Wanting to tease him back, Tommy says, “Actually, I saw that they are playing this movie that I wanted to check out…”

“Do not even think about it! Not tonight at least,” Evan points at Tommy seriously. 

“Alright, alright, no movies tonight,” Tommy laughs. “We will just go straight to my place then… find something else to entertain us with.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Evan says with a smirk. 

“Oh my God! I think he’s choking! Somebody help us!” 

Tommy and Evan look over at the table from where the scream came and, after sharing a small glance and a nod, they get up and run over. 

“Move over, make room, make room, we are firefighters,” Evan says loudly, reaching the patient first. 

As Evan starts doing the Heimlich maneuver, Tommy reassures the family and makes sure they give Evan room to work. 

After a couple of agonizing seconds, the man spits out the food and everyone at the restaurant releases a breath of relief and they start to clap.  

Tommy moves over and helps Evan to sit the man down as they start to assess him, asking him if he is feeling alright or if he would rather they call an ambulance. 

Once the man reassures them that he is ok and thanks Evan profusely, they start to walk back to their table. 

“Glad that turned out o-” Evan starts to say but a scream interrupts him. 

“What now?” Tommy asks. 

“Fire in the kitchen!” Someone screams. 

It takes two seconds for chaos to reign. People start to scream and run desperately, pushing tables, chairs, and everything out of their way. 

While Evan calls 911 and starts helping people out of the restaurant, Tommy runs up to the kitchen.

Grabbing a fire extinguisher, Tommy tries to put the fire out, but it’s not enough. The fire is spreading fast, so he just makes sure that no one else is inside the kitchen and then runs outside. 

“Tommy, Tommy,” Evan calls to him and hugs him as soon as he is within reach. 

“Everyone out?” Tommy asks him, quickly looking Evan over to make sure he isn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I got everyone out and the firefighters should be here any minute now.” 

“Good, good, that’s good!” Tommy says in relief, his adrenaline starting to recede. 

—

Tommy and Evan are standing a few meters away from the restaurant, watching as station 56 put the fire out. The fire spread out so much that the restaurant is absolutely destroyed, Tommy doubts the owners could salvage anything from inside. 

“What is it? I can see you looking at me,” Tommy asks, turning to look at Evan. 

Evan gestures wildly at the restaurant and looks at him incredulously. 

“What?” Tommy plays dumb. 

“What? What?” Evan yelps. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe the fact that the restaurant is literally destroyed. Third’s time a charm, my ass!” 

“Technically, I was right, Evan.” 

“Wha- How?” Evan sputters. 

“Well, nothing bad happened to us. We are ok, there hasn’t been any misunderstanding, no one has confessed anything from their past… we are ok, just like I said we will be,” Tommy reasons.

Evan shakes his head and chuckles, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…” 

“Evan…” Tommy starts but gets interrupted. 

“I love you,” Evan says. 

Tommy does a double take, not expecting that. “What?”

“I love you,” Evan repeats, shrugging his shoulders. 

“This is the first time you’re saying that,” Tommy says, bewildered. 

“I know.” 

“I… I- I…” Tommy looks around them, in disbelief that Evan could love him. 

“You don’t have to say it if you do-”

“I love you too. Of course, I love you,” Tommy tells him quickly, not wanting Evan to doubt it for even one second. 

“Yeah?” Evan beams at him. 

“Yes,” Tommy nods and leans in to kiss him, not caring about the fire, firefighters, bystanders, or anything else. 

Once they part for air, Tommy asks him, “Should we get going? They seem to have everything under control.” 

Evan nods, and they slowly start to walk to where Tommy had parked his truck, with Tommy’s arm around Evan’s waist. 

“Since no one got hurt, I feel ok with admitting that I’m kinda happy that the restaurant went up in flames,” Evan whispers as if it is a secret. 

Tommy chuckles, “Yeah, me too.” 

When they are near the truck, Tommy jokes, “So, what about that movie then?” 

Evan playfully hits him on the shoulder but laughs. “I believe someone said something about finding something to entertained us with at their place?”

“Let’s go then,” Tommy says with a smirk, walking faster towards his truck. 

[leighsartworks216]

Cinderella

Zayne x gn!Reader

Believe it or not, I started this fic before his cat card came out. And then I saw the card and I simply had to finish this

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, married life, established relationship, food/cooking, kissing, implied sexual content

Word Count: 1, 431

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your body is weighed down by morning as you heave yourself to your feet, shivering all the while as the cold air of the room caresses your bare skin. You hurry to throw on the first thing you can find: Zayne’s shirt abandoned on the floor. As you start to button it up, you turn to look at the man himself, still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

His hair is tousled and unkempt, from your fingers and his pillow. His lips slightly parted with slow, even breaths. The blankets are up to his chest. Reddened marks trail from his exposed neck and down his body. You smile just thinking about his usual efforts to try hiding them when he has to go into work. It’s unlikely he’ll wear his turtleneck today, given he doesn’t have to go anywhere. And you’re going to love pulling down his collar to kiss right over them again.

Quietly, you pad your way to your dresser for some fresh underwear, collecting stray clothes as you go to dump them into the hamper. Then, you creep over to his side and carefully pull the blankets back up to his neck. The clock on his bedside table reads 9am. If you’re very lucky, he’ll sleep in until 10. He needs this rest.

You lean down and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. He shifts slightly, his head turning as if he’s trying to chase your touch. Warmth floods your chest as you sneak out of the bedroom and so, so slowly close the door behind you.

The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way through the house. You make a detour to the entryway to steal Zayne’s own house slippers, left forgotten after you got home from dinner last night. It’s truly a miracle he found the patience to leave his shoes at the door. The slippers don’t fit you, but they protect your feet from the cold as you finally head into the kitchen to enact your devious plan to take care of your husband.

You work as quietly as you can to take down a pan and pull out a spatula. You grab a bowl and lay out all the ingredients you need to make pancakes. You also pull out some blueberries to drop into the batter once it’s all mixed together. With a drizzle of oil in the heated pan, you use a spoon to glob the batter into little piles. They spread out into little discs, almost but not quite touching each other.

You hum to yourself as you grab a couple of plates from the cabinet. You also grab his mug and get the coffee pot started on brewing some fresh, hot coffee. As it brews, you flip the pancakes over, exposing their golden brown deliciousness. They’re thick and fluffy, and you pull out some maple syrup from the fridge to set on the table. Once the pot is brewed, you fill the mug with coffee and top it off with some sugar, just how he likes it.

You lay the first few pancakes onto a plate, setting them in a cute little toppled-domino array, before globbing some more batter into the pan. You cover the bowl and set it in the fridge to finish at a later time. You consider the possibility of giving it to Xavier, but he’d need to use a stove to make them… Best not.

Once the next batch is done, you lay them onto your own plate and crack two eggs into the pan. Their liquid insides meet the heated metal with a pleasant sizzle. You turn down the heat a little, and watch as the eggs begin to cook.

“So that’s where my slippers went.”

You whirl around to the kitchen entrance. “Zayne! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!” you chastise.

He grins as he closes the distance between you. His hair is still a mess, but at least he took the time to pull on his robe. You lean up, and he meets you halfway for a soft kiss. It’s quick, just a little peck - but it’s sweet and tender and makes your heart leap with joy, even after you’ve been together for so long.

“You forgot your slippers in the bedroom.” He holds them up with one hand, where they dangle from two of his fingers.

You glance at the eggs quickly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna risk waking up Sleeping Beauty,” you tease. You reach up to grab at his ear, but he easily ducks away. “You’re not even supposed to be up yet.” You then grab for your slippers, but he also pulls those out of your reach.

“I needed to find my Cinderella,” he teases back. “May I?” He gestures down to your feet, adorned in his slippers. You give him a suspicious look - it’s not often he’s so playful - but you nod, nonetheless. Your cheeks instantly grow warm as you watch him slowly kneel down in front of you, hazel green eyes locked to yours. He looks up at you like you are royalty meant to be worshipped.

You shift away from the stove enough to lean back against the marble countertop. It’s cold chill does nothing to tamp down the heated blood coursing through your veins. Zayne’s eyes slip shut as he pushes the dangling hem of his stolen shirt up to expose the skin of your thigh. His mouth immediately seeks it out, pressing featherlight kisses just below the line of your underwear and down your leg.

His fingers follow a similar pattern. They dance along your skin gracefully, almost tickling you as they travel to the back of your thigh, slowly gliding down all the way to your calf. His mouth stops at your knee. His hot breath fans over your bare skin, reverent and appreciative, exhaled from his nose, or from his mouth just as he goes in to leave another kiss.

His hand trails lower to your ankle. His thumb massages around the jutting bone, coaxing you to shift your weight and lift your foot up. With his other hand, he removes his slipper and sets it aside. His eyes open slightly to ensure he picks up the correct replacement; to watch as he slides the slipper tenderly onto your foot. “A perfect match,” he whispers.

You reach down to comb your fingers through his hair, detangling and smoothing it out so it sits normally on his head again. You can feel his grin. You’re tempted to grab his ear again just to mess with him.

He guides your foot back to solid ground. His lips find your other thigh, his hand finds your other ankle, and he helps you back onto one foot as he trades slippers once more. He meets your eyes again as he stands, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Suddenly reminded of what you were doing before this, you hurriedly flip the eggs over. “You almost made me burn breakfast,” you chide, but your face is so flushed, it doesn’t come across as seriously as you wish it did.

He unceremoniously slides his slippers onto his feet with a self-satisfied grin and a soft chuckle. His arms wrap around your waist, his chest to your back as he hugs you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder with his head tilted to lean against yours. Your free hand finds one of his over your stomach. Fingers move in a familiar dance to tangle together. You trace the cool band on his ring finger. He watches the morning light catch on yours.

“Thank you, my love,” he hums, content.

You kiss his head. “Of course. I wanted to do something nice for your day off.” You have to let him go in order to transfer the eggs (slightly overcooked) to your plates. He automatically turns the stove off, watching to make sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself. “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

He steps away, arms slipping from your body, to move about the kitchen. While you grab the plates and carry them over to the table, he grabs his coffee and takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. It’s just as he likes it. He carries it over with a glass of fruit juice that he sets in front of your plate.

“Anything,” he responds at last. “As long as it’s with you.”

You chuckle. “Alright, then we’ll stay in bed all day.”

He smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[moonylvs]

Be Careful!

Summary: You get a new piercing and the guys find out and maybe they worry a little too much!

This was a request!: 'Hello! Could you possible do a romantic Jegulus x reader who's obsessed with getting piercings and maybe the boys are freaked about watching her get one or keep accidentally hitting her new piercing and hurting them?' I think I changed the idea a bit but I hope you like it, anon!

Pairing: Jegulus x Reader

Words: 1.5k

ⓘ Warnings: None I think? mostly fluff! Use of yn once (English is not my first language so I'm sorry for the mistakes, I hope this doesn't stop you from enjoying the story!)

Piercings were nothing new to you, you'd had a few done over the years, mostly in your ears, you thought they were cute and you had a million earrings that you swapped out over the days.

But most of these piercings you had made before you started dating James and Regulus, so they never saw when you made them or the days that followed.

James absolutely adored them, when you cuddled he would watch and play with them, Regulus loved them too, sometimes he had even given you some earrings in the shape of a star or with thin chains as a gift.

That day you decided that you wanted to try another kind of piercing, not one on your ears, you thought about one on your lip or maybe your nose, but you didn't know how much the teachers at school would like it so you preferred not to risk it.

After a while of thinking you finally decided and hours later you had your piercing, it was one in the belly button, it wasn't painful and they told you it would heal fast, which reassured you.

You didn't tell anyone that you were getting it done, not thinking it would be important, besides you thought of giving James and Regulus a little surprise.

But that day you didn't have time to say anything, James was stuck practicing on the Quidditch pitch and Regulus had to tutor a third year boy.

You didn't think much of it, you waited until they were both free to tell them.

That moment came relatively quickly, because the next day after breakfast James invited you to Hogsmaede, he said he had already told Regulus so the three of you would meet there.

It didn't take you long to get ready, putting on a skirt and a not too tight white blouse, you didn't want your clothes to be rubbing against the piercing and cause you pain.

When you arrived at Hogsmaede you could almost instantly spot James and Regulus, who were sitting on a bench in front of a Honeydukes.

Regulus didn't take long to notice you, smiling slightly, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you.

James followed after, smiling broadly and standing up, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Hi love” Jmaes said sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You smiled instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck and sinking into his arms, for a moment you forgot about your piercing, but quickly remembered it, as you felt a twinge of pain the moment your body touched James'.

“Ouch!” you couldn't help but let out a low gasp of pain as you felt the contact, instantly James pulled away, his brow furrowing with concern, in a second Regulus was already at his side, looking at you with the same concern.

“What happened? Did I hurt you?” James asked instantly, looking you over from head to foot for any sign of discomfort or harm, James thought maybe he had hugged you too tightly or had been too rough.

“No, no, I'm fine” You said instantly, giving him a reassuring little smile. “It's just that I accidentally crushed my piercing when we hugged” You said with some amusement, but only earned a confused look from both boys.

“Piercing?” Regulus asked with confusion, looking at your ears in search of a new piercing, but his brow furrowed as he didn't notice any new ones, he knew your piercings by memory so he would have noticed if there was a new one.

You couldn't help the slight chuckle you let out when you saw their confused faces, but you simply nodded.

“Mhm” You mumbled, lifting your white blouse very slightly so they could see your belly button, which had an earring that was silver and had a pretty light blue gem.

Both boys' eyes instantly widened, staring at the piercing in your belly button.

They were both silent for a moment, just watching it, they were totally shocked.

“Why didn't you tell us you were getting a new piercing?” Regulus said abruptly, his brow slightly furrowed and his voice sounding more serious than he intended.

Your brow furrowed instantly, watching him with some annoyance, did you have to tell them when you wanted to do something to your body?

“Why would I have to tell you?” You said with confusion and harshness, though your tone didn't sound entirely annoyed.

Regulus' face changed to one of confusion, he now understood that the question had sounded very bad and his tone of voice hadn't helped.

James noticed the tension instantly and quickly interjected.

“He didn't mean it like that!” James said instantly with some concern, making a denial sign with his hands, to which Regulus nodded instantly, his face paling slightly now he realized that you had definitely taken his question the wrong way.

“I meant why didn't you tell us so we could go with you or at least know so we wouldn't hurt you, like now” Regulus explained calmly.

Your face instantly relaxed, now you understood everything better.

“It was something out of the blue, I just wanted to do it and I didn't have time to tell you, I thought it would be a surprise” You said calmly, your face slightly embarrassed by the way you had reacted earlier.

“It suits you” Regulus said, tilting his head sideways and smiling slightly.

You could only smile brightly, feeling your cheeks flush red.

James next to him smiled too, but for a moment his face turned worried, now that he knew you had a piercing he felt bad for hugging you so tightly.

“I didn't hurt you, did I? God, I hugged you so hard didn't I? I'm sorry, if I had known-” James quickly began to say, repeating over and over again how sorry he was that he hurt you.

You couldn't help the giggle that came out of you at seeing him so worried, your hand went to his cheek, instantly silencing him.

“I'm fine, James, it was just a light brush, you didn't hurt me, okay?” you said softly, lightly caressing his cheek and leaving a kiss on his mouth.

“Are you sure?” James asked with a little pout, still worried that he might have caused you some pain.

“Mhm, but maybe a kiss would make me feel better” You said with a small amused smile, looking at his lips for a moment.

You didn't have to tell James twice, in a second his lips were on yours, leaving a soft kiss, his hands were on your waist, making sure to keep distance between both bodies, he didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

Regulus next to you just watched the two of you with affection, a small smile on his face at how careful and sweet James was.

“God forbid yn decides to get a lip piercing because that will be the end of you” Regulus muttered towards James with amusement when you and James finally broke away from the kiss.

James couldn't help but laugh, even though he himself knew that would be the end of him, the boy couldn't go a day without even giving you a kiss.

You instantly laughed, then moved closer to Regulus, cupping his cheek and leaving a kiss on his lips.

“Don't even mention it because I know you would suffer the same” You said with amusement, to which Regulus' cheeks turned pink, although he tried to hide it immediately, rolling his eyes.

The next few days were torture for both of them, James barely hugged you for fear of hurting you, but Regulus had found ways to stay glued to you, he spent most of the time holding your hand, or sitting you on his lap with his hands on your legs and not on your stomach.

James spent most of the time on top of you, watching you not to hurt yourself, you had tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary, that it wasn't even painful and he didn't have to worry so much.

But simply said, James didn't give a shit.

James spent all his time with you, walking in front of you in the corridors so that no one would accidentally hit you, always making sure that the clothes you wore weren't too tight so that you wouldn't hurt your piercing.

Regulus was a bit more reasonable, the boy asked you to let him take care of your piercing, to which you said yes, it was one less load and Regulus was very delicate.

Every day, when you woke up and before you went to sleep Regulus would clean your piercing, using soap and water with a wet washcloth, being careful not to hurt you, the black-haired boy would take his time and James would stand by and watch him the whole time, muttering a “Be careful, Reg” every now and then, to which Regulus would just roll his eyes, saying he was being careful.

The next few weeks it was like this, even though their concern was extreme for something so insignificant, you were grateful to both of them, because you were able to spend more time with them and enjoyed their care.

Although probably after a few weeks, you had started to get sick of the phrase "Be careful!"

This is so cute! I feel like I may have strayed a bit from the original idea of the request but I hope you like it! xoxo

[the-crooked-library]

okay so I gotta say, I don’t believe the whole “vampires cannot make good art” thing. I just don’t buy it. Like, call me biased, but as a writer, I don’t think you could talk the way they do and not be good at least at writing. There’s no way.

(you are a challenge every sunset, Saint Louis)

(I had powers now, and decades of rage to process - and so it was both random and unfortunate the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery) (I mean are you kidding me, that line is MUSIC)

(THE NAME! The name, unuttered in our home for twenty-three years - said over and over, until it was pounding in my head like a hammer!)

As such: what I personally think is actually happening is something far more mundane. Picture this - you've just been turned. Vampirism has enhanced everything about you, so your senses are like 10 times more distracting, you're stronger, faster, you're murdering nightly, you're most likely born out of some sort of trauma, and on top of that you've got years to compound whatever issues you already had - which, surprise surprise, are also somehow more intense now, whodathunk, mainly because your senses/murder/immortality are fucking with them BIG. Seriously, think about it: how much would vampire senses exacerbate symptoms of ADHD or autism? Would the species change, the nocturnal lifestyle, the mind gift contribute to dissociation, psychosis, schizophrenia? Would the killings and the loss of community be a factor in the way your depression might develop - or religious scrupulosity? OCD?

It's not that vampires cannot make good art. It's just that it becomes supremely difficult to do so, especially given that they cannot take human medication/finding a nocturnal therapist would be a bitch even if you're modern/Louiiss mon cher what eez a coping mechanisme y'know. I am convinced with 100000% certainty that, given enough time and dedication a vampire could absolutely make good art again* - though, in all fairness, very few of the ones we know possess the patience. Mind gifts/vampire speed + strength/inherited riches tend to destroy that sort of skill real fast; still, though, it's not a curse. It's symptoms disease.

* It is also possible, just as it is for humans, to develop all sorts of technical skills and still lack the “eye” for art (cough Marius cough) - but in that case, maybe try music?.. start writing? Get into ASMR? you’ve got an eternity to fuck around. Do whatever.

[kind-of-a-writer]

The Backseat (18+)

gator tillman x fem!reader You're running late. Gator doesn't seem to care.

wc: 3k contains: cheating, mild dubcon, car sex, dry humping, etc etc

You knew it was Gator before you even rolled down the window, catching sight of his familiar strut as you glanced in the rearview mirror. His stupid sheriff vest and cargo pants, the trudge of his boots. Bracing yourself, you knew this wasn’t going to be fun. Or easy.

Gripping your driver’s license, you glanced up as he walked over. You had a deadpan expression as he leaned over slightly, a smug smirk on his face. He met your eyes and you couldn’t help but sigh in irritation.

When you and Gator had broken up a few months ago, you had flipped him off and told him you didn’t want to see his face ever again. And for the most part, you’d managed to avoid him, just narrowly. Leaving as soon as possible after church services and anywhere else you could possibly bump into him.

“You were speeding,” he said casually, as if this wasn’t your first time speaking properly in months. You almost wanted to drive off so you wouldn’t have to deal with him. “Where are you headin’ so fast all dolled up? Running late?” 

“I was barely over the speed limit,” you replied with a scoff. You glanced down at your white dress that showed a little too much cleavage for your liking, but he was right. You were running late to your new boyfriend’s family dinner, and you were, in fact, speeding. How were you supposed to know Gator would be driving this road now of all times? 

“You were goin’ 60 in a 35,” Gator said. “That excited to see that boyfriend of yours?”

“What’s it to you?” You asked, starting to get a little annoyed, tugging at the hem of your dress when you noticed him staring at your thighs. “If you’re gonna give me a ticket, just do it, Gator. I’m running late.” 

His smirk faded suddenly. “License and registration.” 

Mouth slightly agape, you recovered quickly, grumbling in annoyance as you handed your license over, folding your arms. You watched him, the way his eyebrows were scrunched in concentration as he scribbled something down in his notepad, hair slicked back like always. It had been a while since you’d seen him up so close. You hated how good he looked.

“So what is it? You’re on your way to see that tool?” he asked, not looking up from his notepad. “That why you’re wearing such a slutty dress?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. You didn’t want to give into him and his antics. You knew him too well, he was trying to rile you up like he always did. 

“Is he gonna fuck you tonight, hm? Does your poor daddy know?” Gator taunted, his smirk growing.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Well, he fucks me better than you ever did.” 

He glanced up at you briefly, then shut the notepad. “Get out of the car.” 

“What?” You asked incredulously. “No.”

“Step out of the car, or I’ll arrest you,” Gator said, a smirk on his face again. “D’you want your little boyfriend to come and bail you out of jail tonight?”

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I can.”

“Asshole,” you murmured under your breath as you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of your car. 

He only laughed in response as you shut the car door, glancing down at your white dress. You had worn it in hopes it would impress your boyfriend’s parents. While it wasn’t your first time meeting them and they were nice to you, you still felt a need to be on your best behavior. You never had to worry about that with Gator - mainly because you two had kept your relationship a secret from both of your families. 

Gator reached out, his long fingers ghosting over the hem of your skirt, his gaze fixated on your thighs. “It’s hotter up close,” he said. “Is it date night?” 

You swallowed thickly as his cold, soft fingers slipped under the hem, caressing your thigh slightly. You shook your head. “No,” you breathed, surprised by his sudden change in tone. “I’m going to have dinner with his family.” 

You had forgotten how good Gator was at calming you down, turning you on. Making your panties wet just by a simple touch. You squeezed your thighs together as his hand moved out from under your dress, tugging at the hem again. He seemed to be fascinated by it.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes fixed on yours. “Bet they love you, huh? So innocent and pure. They don’t know how much of a whore you can be, do they?”

Before you could respond, the sound of fabric tearing snapped you out of your daze. You glanced down, mouth open in horror. Your dress was torn in half at the skirt, split wide open, revealing your panties. The cold air traveled up your thighs.

“Gator!” You gasped, trying to push his hand away, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Oh,” he clicked his tongue, unable to hide his amusement. “My hand slipped. It’s so delicate.”

“I can’t fucking believe-” 

“You’re wearing my favorite, huh?” Gator said with a hum, his index finger tracing over the lace of your pink panties, a nonchalance in his tone that made you want to slap him. 

You wanted to yell at him, tell him how much of a dick he was for ripping your dress, that he hadn’t changed a single bit in all these months. That you fucking hated him. But all that slipped out of your mouth was a soft whimper as his index finger rubbed over you slowly through the cloth of your panties. Your eyes met his, heat rushing to your cheeks at how humiliating this was. How good it felt.

You couldn’t help but glance around in embarrassment, down the long, empty road. It was starting to get dark. You were only getting later. You found yourself praying to God that a car wouldn’t pass by, wouldn't see Gator pressing you up against your car with his hand up your dress. 

“Darlin’, no one’s around,” he tilted his head. “You worried someone will see how much of a slut you still are for me? Haven’t even touched you properly yet, sweetheart.” 

Trembling slightly, you shook your head, glancing away. “You’re a dick.”

“Does he touch you like this, though?” Gator asked, pressing his index finger a little harder against you, finding your clothed clit. You couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, only making him smirk wider. “He gets you wet like this?”

“Fuck off,” you said, breaths a little heavier. “Gator-”

“I’m gonna give you two options, yeah?” he said, tucking some hair behind your ear, removing his hand from between your legs. “I give you this ticket and you can go to that idiot’s house, in this poor little ripped dress, or… you stop being a stubborn little baby and admit you’ve missed me.” 

There was a beat as you breathed heavily, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. Then another.

Then, for some stupid reason, you were opening the door to the backseat of your car and Gator was sliding in with a victorious look on his face. 

Wordlessly, you crawled inside the car after him, cheeks flushed, the arousal growing between your thighs. You couldn’t even hide it anymore. You let Gator slide you onto his lap, your thighs on either side of his lap as you glanced down at him.

His breath was hot on your exposed neck, his fingers running up your thighs. You could feel his growing bulge underneath you, the way his hips bucked up to press against you, making your pussy throb and ache.

“Gator,” you whispered shakily. You lifted your arms as he pulled your dress off, throwing it to the side. He wrapped one hand around you and unclasped your bra in one swift movement. Gator watched in awe as it fell onto the seat beside the two of you.

You shifted slightly to help him unzip his sheriff vest which he dumped to the side rather hastily. You glanced down, cheeks still flushed, rocking your hips to meet against his, a moan leaving your lips at the right amount of friction. His large hand made its way to squeeze your breast as you continued grinding against him, breaths getting shorter. 

“So pretty,” he said, half-lidded gaze as he looked down at your bare torso. He rolled his thumbs over your hardened nipples, earning another moan from you. “Damn, you’re loud tonight, huh? Missed me that bad?”

You were too busy pressing yourself against his clothed bulge to reply, rocking your hips forward a little sloppily. Your eyes met his, and you couldn’t even think about how wrong this was anymore. All you wanted was Gator. 

He blinked up at you, then latched his mouth over your right breast, tongue swirling around your nipple, sucking briefly before moving his head back. He pinched your left nipple hard, making you moan again. “Come on, tell me you missed me or I’ll stop.”

“Missed you, yeah, of course I did,” you were mumbling, the zipper of his pants rubbing right against your clothed clit, granting you the pleasure you were so desperate for. You gripped his shoulder. “Missed you so much, Gator.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he replied smugly, lifting his hips to meet you halfway. 

You were cupping his cheek and about to lean in for a kiss when your phone buzzed in the cupholder. You glanced over your shoulder, noticing your boyfriend’s name, Jake, light up on the screen. Shaking your head, you turned back, guilt clawing its way up your throat. You had completely forgotten about him. 

“Answer it,” Gator said, smacking your thigh with enough force to make you yelp. 

“What?” you asked, placing a kiss on his neck, trying to distract him. He groaned slightly in response, but it wasn’t enough.

He pulled you back by tugging on your hair a little harshly. “Answer it, darlin’,” he ordered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’m sure he’s worried sick. Poor bastard.” 

The hard look on Gator’s face made it known he wasn’t fucking with you. So with a shaky intake of breath, you reached back and picked up your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you put the phone to your ear, clearing your throat when Gator immediately lifted his hips to grind against you. 

“Hey,” you managed to croak out as Gator pinched your nipple again, watching as he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt. The smirk on his face as he watched you was stupidly hot. 

You almost didn’t hear the sound of Jake’s voice through the phone, your eyes fixated on watching Gator as he hastily unzipped his pants, the speed at which he worked making it clear he was just as desperate for you as you were for him. It made you smile a little.

“Where are you, babe?” Jake asked, his voice slightly concerned. You were too busy trying not to make noise, watching Gator pull his hard, dripping cock out of his boxers, licking your lips. “You said you’d be here by six. Everything okay?”

You cleared your throat again, eyes fluttering as Gator’s mouth moved back onto your breast, pressing his tongue against your nipple as he pumped his cock with his hand. 

“Y-yeah,” you managed to answer. “Actually, no… I… I’m gonna be late-”

Gator bit down on your nipple suddenly, making your words die in your throat. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the whine that was going to leave your mouth. 

“No,” Gator mumbled against your breast.

“Sorry, I- I mean,” you gripped the back of his head, trying to push his mouth off you, to which he complied, leaning his head back against the headrest of the seat, smirking at you lazily. “I can’t make it. S-something came up.” 

“Did something happen?” Jake asked.

“No, I’m fine, just-” you tried to make your voice sound as even as possible as Gator gripped your hip, stuffing his free hand down your panties. You shook your head, wide eyed, as his index finger traced your slick, wet folds. He tapped your thigh, and you lifted your hips at once, watching as he tugged your panties down.

“Just what?”

With some careful maneuvering and trying your best to suppress a laugh, both you and Gator had managed to get you out of your panties. You shifted back onto Gator’s lap, your skin prickling at the touch of his cold fingers as he helped you get comfortable again.

“Babe, are you still there?” Jake’s voice came through, making you sigh. 

“Y-yeah, I’m here,” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t leave Jake super upset with you. But it was hard to think of something with the way Gator was rubbing the head of his cock over your lips. His breathing was heavy and his previously slicked back hair was now falling onto his eyes as he watched you.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Why can’t you come?”

“Yeah, everything okay?” Gator mocked in a whisper, guiding the head of his cock up to your entrance. He rubbed his tip against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body that made you force out a cough to cover your whimper. He glanced up at you, reveling in the sight of you struggling to keep quiet, a wide smile on his face. 

“I… got my period,” you blurted suddenly, making Gator snort in response. You put your hand over his mouth and he made a soft noise in protest, but allowed it. “My cramps are really bad, so I can’t make it.” 

“Oh,” Jake responded, sounding disappointed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with the way Gator was pressing his cock against your clit, making your head spin. “Do you want me to come over? Do you need anything? Chocolate? Medicine? My cuddles?”

A soft sigh left your lips, mouth agape as Gator pushed the head of his cock into you a little. Your hand that was over Gator’s mouth immediately transferred to clamp over your own, trying to suppress your moan as he lifted his hips, sliding his cock slightly further into your pussy, trying to take it slow. 

“Fuck, he’s annoying,” Gator mumbled, his voice a little strained. “Need me to hang up for you?”

Squeezing your eyes shut again, you swallowed hard. “No, I’m fine.” You weren’t sure who you were saying that to. “Please, just- please tell your parents I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to them.” 

“Sure-”

You ended the call and dropped your phone before he could finish his sentence, making Gator chuckle softly.

“That desperate, huh?” he whispered. “I thought he fucks you better than I do?”

“We haven’t had sex yet,” you admitted, too far gone to care about your dignity anymore. To which in response, Gator groaned lowly, bucking his hips up to push his fat cock in all the way into your throbbing hole. The moan that escaped your mouth was pornographic, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Gator.” 

“Yeah? Dumbass hasn’t fucked you yet?” he moaned as you started bouncing on his cock, the feeling of his balls hitting against your skin making you squeeze around him. “What- fuck, what a stupid guy.”

You cried out as he fucked up into you deep. Both his hands were gripping your hips tightly to keep you in place, guiding you on the length of his cock, and you didn’t mind that he had basically taken over, setting his own pace. 

“M-missed you,” you mumbled again, voice cracking. You leaned your head forward, kissing his neck a few times. You found it a little embarrassing, how he was still clothed and you were completely naked on top of him. But it was also a little hard to care with the way he was fucking into you, his length hitting your sweet spot in a way that made your eyes water. You were whimpering and whining, body burning with pleasure. 

“I know,” he replied, “I missed this too, fuck. My poor baby, haven’t been fucked in months, huh?”

“I- I haven’t,” you mumbled. 

“Poor thing,” he cooed, pushing some hair out of your eyes. “My poor, sweet, pretty thing.”

You whined and whimpered, clawing at his shirt to hold onto something, the pleasure overtaking you in a way you couldn’t handle anymore. You could barely speak, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth, and Gator knew you were close. 

“Are you gonna come, sweetheart?” Gator purred softly in your ear. 

You nodded, whining softly, feeling his thumb rub against your clit, the pleasure swirling inside you starting to build up further. Gator’s breaths became rapid as he thrusted his cock up with more force.

It was difficult to tell who came first. The way you were burying your face in the crook of his neck, pleasure hazing over your mind as you clenched around his cock, the way he was moaning beneath you. His thrusts slowed as he came inside you. You couldn’t help but sigh contentedly, you’d missed the way he filled you up. 

Cheeks flushed, you glanced down at him, the way his hair was now messed up, the cloudy look in his eyes as he tried to level his breathing. He was avoiding your gaze, much like he usually did after he came.

After a few more moments, you tried to get off his lap, but he gripped your hips suddenly to keep you in place. 

“Not yet,” Gator mumbled, squeezing your hip. He placed a few kisses across your neck, then leaned back in the seat, glancing up at you. His hand was caressing your ass. “You’re coming back to mine, yeah?”

You gulped. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, his cock still buried deep inside. The shame of what had just happened was hitting you, making your stomach turn with guilt. You had no idea what this meant for your relationship with Gator. Or your boyfriend. But still, you nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[emjayewrites]

all mine (in between the lines epilogue) • jules kounde

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This story is finito! Thanks again for all of the love/support for my football baes series! Gif by @doinggreat

one month later.....

Senait watched the French countryside blur past their van window, still jet-lagged from her NYC trip. The visit home had been productive – boxing up most of her Bushwick apartment, moving things to her parents' house. The decision to leave New York hadn't been as hard as she'd expected. Barcelona had become her new home, complete with friends, a thriving business, and Jules.

The meeting at the Spanish embassy had been encouraging. The visa process would be complex but doable – she'd need to prove financial stability (her business was helping there), show ties to the community, and complete the necessary paperwork. Spring 2025 felt like a reasonable timeline, especially with her subletter already lined up through April.

"I still can't believe you're really moving to Spain," Zuri said, squeezing her hand. The three girls had claimed the back row of the luxury van, leaving their men to occupy the middle seats.

"Neither can I," Senait admitted. "But it feels right."

"Speaking of right," Lila wiggled her eyebrows, "let's talk about how Jules calls you chérie."

"Oh my God, stop—"

"No, no," Zuri jumped in, grinning. "We need to discuss this. The way you melt every time he speaks French."

"Like you're any better with Aurélien," Senait shot back. "Miss 'oh daddy' in two languages."

"At least the French make it extra sexy," Zuri defended.

"Excuse me," Lila protested, "try teaching an Englishman to sound sexy. Though trust me, Daddy works just fine."

"Unless you want to get fucked in this van, Li," Jude turned around, smirking, "I think you should cut it out."

Lila's face flushed as red as possible, while the others erupted in laughter.

"Look who's quiet now," Senait teased.

"Leave her alone," Zuri said, though she was still laughing. "Not her fault Jude's got her trained."

"Big Daddy Bellingham," joked Senait in a low voice that was somehow still heard by the guys.

"And you better not forget it," Jude chimed in with a wink and it made the whole van erupt into another fit of guffaws.

"I hate all of you," Lila muttered, but she was smiling.

The lodge appeared through the snow – a massive wooden structure with huge windows and multiple balconies.

"Proper winter wonderland," Jules commented as they unloaded their bags.

Even knowing Jude and Lila could only stay until Christmas Eve – family obligations in Bergen calling – the mood was festive. The couples claimed their rooms, unpacked, then reconvened in the main living area where a fire already blazed.

"To friends," Aurélien raised his glass of wine. "And to being together."

"To being together," they echoed.

______________________________________________

Senait stood on the lodge‘s porch, wrapped in one of Jules' sweaters (stolen, of course), watching snowflakes dust the fairy-light draped chalets of Megève as she thought about last therapy session before the trip, which had been particularly enlightening.

"You're not running anymore," Dr. Obazi had observed. "You're moving forward. There's a difference."

The difference was currently in the kitchen with Jude, both of them playfully judging Lila's hot chocolate methodology. Jules caught Senait's eye through the window, throwing her a wink that still made her stomach flip, even after all these months.

"Senait," Zuri's voice broke through her thoughts, appearing beside her with two steaming mugs. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That soft smile you get when you look at Jules." Zuri handed her a mug. "You know, the one you swore you'd never have?"

Senait accepted the cocoa, breathing in the sweet aroma. "Therapy's helping," she admitted. "Making me see things differently."

"Like?"

"Like maybe being scared of something good is worse than risking getting hurt." She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest. "And maybe Jules is worth the risk."

Zuri's smile was knowing. "Finally figured that out, huh?"

Inside, laughter erupted from the kitchen. Jude had lifted Lila away from the stove, declaring her marshmallow-to-cocoa ratio "criminally sweet." Jules was recording the whole thing, Lila protesting in between giggles, and Aurélien continuing to instigate the entire ordeal.

"They're good people," Senait said softly. "Your friends."

"Our friends now," Zuri corrected. "That's what happens when you stop fighting the good things, Sen."

Later, on the slopes, Senait felt that truth in her bones. She and Jules moved in sync on their snowboards, their bodies finding that natural rhythm they'd always had. But now it felt different – less like running away from intimacy and more like running toward it.

"Show off," she called as Jules executed a perfect jump.

His grin was wicked. "Want me to teach you?"

"Want me to end up in the emergency room?"

"I'd catch you."

The simple certainty in his voice made her heart stutter. Because he would – had been catching her, in fact, since that first night at Zuri's engagement party. She'd just been too scared to let herself fall.

_______________________________________________

The next evening, after saying their goodbyes to Jude and Lila, Senait curled up by the lodge's fireplace and watched her friends. Zuri and Aurélien shared a blanket and whispered jokes as they played a card game. Jules sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not so close as to pressure. Always giving her space to choose.

"I have another therapy session scheduled for when we get back," she said quietly.

"Good." His hand found hers under the blanket they shared. "Proud of you."

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think I'm ready. To make this official."

He turned to look at her fully, his expression serious. "You sure?"

Senait thought about Dr. Obazi's words about moving forward versus running. About how Jules had become home without her even noticing. About how being scared of happiness was worse than being scared of pain.

"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure."

His smile was slow, beautiful. "About time, chérie."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So she did, kissing him right there in front of their friends. Zuri's whoop of celebration made her laugh against Jules' lips.

"Finally!" Aurélien called out, abandoning their card game. "Does this mean we can stop pretending like we don't know you practically live together?"

Senait felt her cheeks heat, but Jules just pulled her closer. "Means whatever she wants it to mean," he said simply.

And that was it, really. The beauty of them – how Jules let her set the pace while making sure she knew he wasn't going anywhere. How he'd waited while she worked through her fears in therapy, supported her growing business, given her space to choose him properly.

The Alpine night wrapped around them like a blanket, fairy lights twinkling against fresh snow. Senait curled into Jules' side, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, and was finally at peace with everything in her life.

This was what choosing happiness felt like. What moving forward felt like.

THE END......

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY FOOTBALL BAES SERIES AND HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR SENAIT & JULES......

June 2030

Senait couldn’t help but marvel at how far life had taken her, from bustling streets of New York to the enchanting city of Barcelona. When she left New York officially in 2025 to be with Jules, she had no idea how seamlessly her life would transform alongside his. Those first three beautiful years together were filled with long, sun-kissed vacations to bucket list destinations, late-night drives along the Mediterranean coast, and spontaneous adventures as a couple. Jules had showered her with love in every corner of the world, and she’d fallen for him over and over again. Then, one balmy summer evening, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, making the life they’d built together official.

In those years, Senait’s career blossomed into something she was truly proud of. Her lifestyle brand had taken off, focusing on manifestation journals, productivity planners, and sleek, minimalistic calendars designed to keep life inspiring and organized. It wasn’t a multimillion-dollar empire—at least, not yet—but her profits had been steadily growing, and her work was loved by an ever-expanding community of motivated women. Venturing further into her passion for design, she had opened a small floral shop in Barcelona. Designing arrangements brought her a unique kind of peace, a creative outlet that felt like love in bloom.

Jules had been thriving, too. His football career soared to new heights: winning two Champions League with FC Barcelona and even lifting both a Euros win and World Cup with the French national team. The two of them had created a life bursting with love and dreams realized, and now they were eagerly awaiting the newest chapter—becoming parents.

Today, though, they were in Tuscany, celebrating Jude and Lila's wedding. But first, they had a mission in Florence.

"Chérie, we've been to six different shops," Jules said patiently, watching his pregnant wife peer into yet another chocolate boutique window.

"It has to be the right one," Senait insisted. "The one with the gold wrapper and the hazelnut filling. Remember? We found it that time we came for your Champions League match."

Jules wrapped an arm around her expanding waist. "That was two years ago, love."

"But it was perfect." Her voice wavered dangerously. "And the baby wants it."

"The baby, huh?"

"Don't tease me when I'm emotional."

Three more shops yielded nothing but frustration. By the time they reached the wedding venue, Senait was fighting back tears.

"Hey, Jules and Senait are here," she heard Aurélien call out.

Zuri appeared immediately, taking in Senait's flushed face and teary eyes. "What happened?"

Senait sniffled, one hand resting on her five-month bump. "I wanted a chocolate bar from that shop we loved in Florence, but they're out. And it's not available anywhere else in Italy!"

"Oh honey," Zuri pulled her into a hug, careful of her bump. "Pregnancy cravings are the worst."

"It's not just cravings," Senait hiccupped. "I wanted to share it with the baby. Tell them about our first trip to Florence, how their papa scored the winning goal that night."

Zuri bit back a laugh, exchanging a knowing look with Aurélien. Pregnancy hormones were no joke. "Hey, they've got some amazing snacks in Lila's room," she said, wrapping her arm around Senait. "Go on, I promise it'll make you feel better."

Senait nodded, allowing herself to be comforted, and made her way to Lila's room, leaving Jules and Aurélien to talk. The men shared a chuckle, with Jules shaking his head in disbelief. "Pregnancy, man. Never a dull moment."

As Senait walked down the hallways, she couldn't help but remember her own wedding. Now here she was, five months pregnant, crying over chocolate.

"There's my favorite pregnant lady!" Lila appeared in a silk robe, her hair in rollers.

Senait laughed. "You're beautiful!"

"So are you. Even with those tears. What happened?"

"I don't want to go there," Senait sighed dramatically, but she was smiling now. The baby fluttered – their newest trick. She placed a hand on her bump, still amazed by how natural this felt. How right.

"Come here, you emotional mess," Lila pulled Senait onto the sofa, where an impressive spread of snacks covered the coffee table. "I had them bring up everything – sweet, salty, spicy."

"You're an angel," Senait grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry. Not the same as her Florence chocolate, but it would do. "This baby needed some chocolate."

"Speaking of babies," Lila said as she was helped into her gown, "have you two started thinking about names yet?"

Senait smiled, remembering Jules' late-night conversations with her bump. "Jules likes Feven for a girl. It means 'bright' in Tigrinya."

"And for a boy?"

"Théo. After his grandfather."

Lila nodded approvingly while the bridal stylist buttoned the back of the dress. "That's great. Some men have awful taste in names."

Just then, Zuri made her way into the room and smiled brightly at both of her friends. The baby moved again, more pronounced this time. Senait had noticed they were most active during these moments of laughter and joy, as if already wanting to be part of the fun.

"Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life," she admitted softly from the couch. "Barcelona, Jules, the baby... if you'd told me six years ago this is where I'd end up..."

"You'd have run screaming in the opposite direction?" Lila supplied.

"Probably."

"And now look at you," Zuri squeezed her hand. "Living your dream life with your dream man, growing your dream baby."

The tears threatened again. "Stop, I just fixed my makeup."

"Blame the hormones," Lila suggested cheerfully.

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Jules poked his head in, his expression softening when he saw Senait surrounded by snacks and friends.

"Better?" he asked.

Senait nodded, holding out her hand. He crossed the room to take it, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Guess what?" he murmured against her hair. "Aurélien made some calls. That chocolate shop? They're sending a box directly to Barcelona. Should be there when we get home."

Fresh tears spilled. "I love you."

"Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur." His hand found her bump. "Both of you."

"And on that disgustingly sweet note," Lila announced, "I need to finish getting ready. I have a wedding to star in."

The bridal stylist jumped in at that moment and helped Lila with her veil.

When she was done, Senait watched as Zuri placed a gentle hand on Lila's shoulder. "You look so perfect," she whispered.

Lila smiled, her eyes glistening. "Thanks, Zu. I just can't believe this is finally happening."

Zuri smiled, her hand resting protectively over her own bump. "Believe it, girl. This is your moment."

_______________________________________________

The reception was nothing short of magical: fairy lights draped over ancient olive trees, long tables adorned with white roses and silk drapery, and soft music that danced on the breeze. Senait felt warm and content, holding little Eti, who had been passed to her while Zuri and Aurélien took on their wedding party duties.

Later, Senait swayed gently with Jules as they danced under the canopy of stars, surrounded by laughter and clinking glasses. The DJ shifted the song, and suddenly Hey There Delilah started playing. Jules grinned, his eyes bright with mischief, and the two of them began singing along jokingly with the rest of the guests, trying to outdo each other with exaggerated gestures.

After dancing until her feet hurt, Senait noticed a young man she recognized as Jude’s brother, Jobe, standing off to the side, deep in conversation with a stunning young woman somewhat familiar. She nudged Zuri, who had just returned from mingling. "Who’s that?" she asked, nodding toward the pair.

Zuri followed her gaze and let out a little laugh. "That’s Justine, you remember, Jobe’s ex from Birmingham. Lila invited her, of course."

"That's her?" Senait said, eyes alight with curiosity. "Spill the tea."

Zuri smirked. "Well, you know they broke up a few years ago, and Justine moved to the States to go to grad school and teach for a while?" Senait nodded her head vehemently and her friend continued. "So now she’s back in the UK, and Lila is playing matchmaker, hoping they rekindle things."

Senait's smile grew. "I kind of like that idea."

Before she could comment further, Jules came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his lips brushing against her ear. He whispered something filthy, making her cheeks flush furiously. Senait swatted his arm, laughing. "You have to wait. We’re not doing that here."

Jules sucked his teeth in mock disappointment, then turned to Zuri with a grin. "Sorry, I’m stealing my wife now."

Zuri rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "Go on, then. Just don’t keep her too long."

Jules didn’t hesitate, pulling Senait away from the lively crowd to a quieter corner of the reception. He pressed her gently against the wall, cupping her face and kissing her deeply, passion igniting between them once again. When they finally broke apart, Senait laughed, breathless.

"Ugh, I hate you," she said jokingly, her voice husky.

Jules brushed a lock of hair from her face, his gaze softening. "I love you too," he replied simply, and then he kissed her again, both of them lost in the moment, savoring every heartbeat and memory shared between them.

____________________________________________

four months later…

The Barcelona hospital room was filled with anticipation and the soft beeping of monitors. After twelve hours of labor, Senait was finally ready to push. Jules hadn't left her side once, letting her squeeze his hand through each contraction, whispering encouragement in French and English.

"You're doing amazing, chérie," he murmured, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Her mother, Askalu, stood on her other side, while her father, John, paced the waiting room. Sophie, Jules' mother, had been in and out, her limited English made up for by her expressive face and comforting presence.

When Feven Sidonie Koundé finally entered the world at 3:47 AM, her powerful cry filled the room. Jules' eyes welled up as the doctors placed their daughter on Senait's chest.

"Elle est parfaite," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Perfect like her mama."

The next few hours passed in a blur of skin-to-skin contact, first measurements, and proud grandparents meeting their granddaughter. Askalu and John couldn't stop crying as they held Feven, marveling at her tiny features.

"She looks just like you did," Askalu told Senait, gently touching Feven's full head of curly hair.

Sophie was equally emotional, her broken English mixed with rapid French as she cooed over her granddaughter. "Ma belle petite-fille," she kept saying, tears streaming down her face.

The nurse brought in Senait's first 'push present' – a large tray of sushi she'd been craving throughout her pregnancy. Her mother shook her head as Senait did an excited wiggle in the hospital bed.

"You have more presents at home," Jules said, amused by her reaction to raw fish.

"Nothing better than this," Senait declared, already reaching for a piece of salmon nigiri.

Her phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Zuri. On screen, her friend appeared with baby Zulaika in her arms, two-month-old and perfect, while little Eti peeked into frame.

"She's here!" Zuri squealed. "Show me my niece!"

Jules carefully tilted the phone so Zuri could see Feven, now sleeping peacefully in her bassinet.

"Oh my god, she's gorgeous," Zuri gushed. "Our girls are going to be best friends."

"Unless it's El Clásico time," Aurélien's voice came from off-screen. "Then they're enemies."

Jules chuckled, but the sound was cut short by Feven's hungry cry. "Speaking of enemies, time for another feeding."

"Go be a mommy and daddy," Zuri smiled. "Love you all!"

Jules carefully lifted Feven, still amazed by how tiny she was, and brought her to Senait. He helped position the baby, remembering all the steps from their parenting classes.

"Support her head like that," Senait murmured. "There we go."

Watching his wife feed their daughter, Jules felt his heart might burst. He couldn't stop staring at them – his whole world in one hospital bed.

"Can we have another?" he asked suddenly, eyes locked on Senait's.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "Give me six months and I'll think about it."

His grin widened as he leaned in to kiss her. "Je t'aime, chérie."

"I love you too," she whispered back. "All of this. Even if your daughter already has your appetite."

Jules laughed softly, careful not to disturb Feven's feeding. Their families would be staying to help – Sophie for two whole months – but right now, in this moment, it was just them. Their little family of three.

Complete. Perfect. Everything they never knew they needed until they found each other.

[wolfsclothing6]

The Garage Change

Eric groaned as he pulled into the small, grimy auto shop on the outskirts of town. His car had been making an awful grinding noise for days, and now it had finally given up. The sign above the shop read "Teddy’s Auto Repairs" in faded red letters, and the whole place smelled of motor oil, sweat, and old rubber.

Inside, a burly, bearded mechanic in grease-streaked overalls greeted him with a lazy wave. "What can I do for ya?" the man asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

“My car’s dead,” Eric muttered. “I just need it fixed as fast as possible.”

“Sure thing. Give me an hour or two.” The mechanic, whose name tag read Teddy, chuckled. “Might as well hang out. You look like you’ve never stepped foot in a place like this before.”

Eric rolled his eyes but stayed. The shop was cluttered with tools, rags, and parts, and the air felt thick. To pass the time, Eric wandered over to a rack of spare overalls and jackets hanging in the corner. On impulse, he grabbed a worn, oversized jumpsuit—it smelled of sweat and grease but had a strange warmth to it, almost like it was alive.

For some reason, Eric felt compelled to try it on. “Might as well look the part,” he joked to himself. Slipping into the jumpsuit, he immediately felt the rough fabric hug his body. It was a snug fit at first, but as he zipped it up, it started to stretch and shift around him.

A sudden heat flushed through Eric’s body. He stumbled, grabbing onto a nearby counter as a strange sensation coursed through him. His lean frame began to fill out, his muscles softening and thickening with layers of fat. His stomach pushed against the jumpsuit, forming a round belly that strained the zipper. His chest grew heavier, and his arms thickened, their once-smooth skin becoming rough and hairy.

“What the hell is happening to me?” Eric gasped, his voice deepening. He looked down at his hands, now calloused and smeared with grease as if he’d been working in the shop for years.

His face tingled as stubble sprouted into a full, grizzled beard. His jawline softened, his cheeks filling out with a rugged, weathered look. Even his hair changed, shortening and receding slightly beneath an old trucker cap that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Eric’s thoughts began to cloud. The polished, white-collar world he knew faded as memories of tuning engines, changing oil, and sharing beers with the boys in the shop took its place. The pride he once had in his spotless clothes and clean hands vanished, replaced by a strange satisfaction in being sweaty, dirty, and strong.

By the time the transformation stopped, Eric—or rather, Teddy—stood there, scratching his beard and looking around like nothing was out of the ordinary. He didn’t even notice his reflection in the grease-streaked mirror, where a bulky, burly mechanic stared back at him.

The original Teddy came out of the back room, wiping his hands on a rag. “Lookin’ good,” he said with a smirk, giving the new Teddy a slap on the back.

Eric opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a low chuckle. “Guess I’m ready to get to work,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

By the end of the day, he was under the hood of a car, cracking jokes with the other mechanics and feeling like he’d been there his whole life. The old Eric was gone, replaced by a grease-streaked, happy, hard-working man who lived for the smell of oil and the roar of engines.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt 2. Of my one shot (will be posted as one big post on ao3)

Thank you for all the support! It's getting me through a tough time I'm going through rn in my travels. I had a short oneshot in mind like 1000 words but I think I'm gonna fluff it out.

-----

So it keeps...happening.

Eddie gets up, walks to the door, Steve's on the other side.

He pushes past Eddie and heads to his room.

Falls fast asleep.

He hasn't even been drunk the past two times.

This time is a little different.

Eddie's been sleeping next to him of course. How could he pass up the opportunity for something he's been dreaming about for years months weeks.

He can tell Steve's faking being asleep. He's breathing lighter, not the chainsaw snoring Eddie's grown used to. He's spread out like a starfish and Eddie is stiff on the edge of the bed. His face turned towards Steve, he can't resist staring at him.

Steve's eyelids flutter and Eddie's mind races with possibilities. Is he dreaming? Still awake? What's going on?

"Will you shut up and get over here," Steve mutters.

Is he talking in his sleep?

"Eddie." He opens one eye. "Get over here."

What the fuck.

He doesn't even have a second to panic before Steve reaches over and grabs him, successfully rolling him over into his arms.

"Finally." He nestles his face into Eddie's hair. "Give me a copy of your key I'm tired of waiting for you."

Eddie chokes.

"Steve." He strains. "What're you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? Sleeping."

----

Steve's a sweaty sleeper.

Eddie only knows because he wakes with his face in his BARE chest.

Yes he's been sleeping better since this started but at some point Steve's gonna have to give him an actual explanation.

How does he get out of this one? It's his trailer he can't exactly walk of shame it.

Steve's starting to wake up. He sniffles a bit and squeezes Eddie before letting go.

"Mornin." He rolls Eddie off and gets up.

"I'm going to work. Give me the key later."

....ok?!?!?! Eddie's sure he looks completely flabbergasted.

"Bye."

Eddie's watches him as he walks out.

Well...he's just gonna follow him. He needs answers. It's not like he hasn't been trying!

-----

"Ok!" He screams as he throws open the doors to family video. "I want answers!"

Robin looks at him in shock while Steve looks bored.

"What's this about?" Robin asks.

"Probably about us sleeping together." Steve says, bored.

"I'm...sorry...what's this?" Robin looks shocked.

"You know, that I've been sleeping with Eddie."

Robin whips to look at Eddie who doesn't look much better. They both are speechless, eyes wide, mouths open.

"No I do not know!"

"I'm restocking!" Steve yells as he walks past them into the back.

As soon as he's gone Robin stomps over to Eddie and punches him in the arm.

"OW!"

"What the hell doofus! You're sleeping with him? Why wouldn't you guys tell me! When was Steve even gay? I mean I know that- nevermind that's not important. You're dating!?!"

"No! I don't know!"

"How do you not know?!"

"We're not sleeping together! We're literally just sleeping in the same bed. We're...sleeping...together?"

Robin squints at him.

"You." She pushes a finger into his chest. "You better figure this out."

"Talk. To. Him." She jabs her finger into his chest between words.

----

Comment your thoughts! Comment your feelings! Comment!

I know it seems basic but I kinda had the thought of "what is Steve just took over the trailer because he needed to sleep without nightmares and then just never left"

More of this and my other oneshots coming soon!

I'll also be working on uploading everything I've ever written to my ao3 which is pinned on my profile

[bublesred782]

My dad just congratulated me on loosing so much weight and that he saw the progress of my weight loss I got so happy but then sad because I still feel like on the same number and that I'm just the same as before which means I will have to try even harder this time and fast for more hours and even get back on track on burning those calories and to end it off my cal limit is 200 to 300 that's all! , I have only got 10 days to loose so much weight and idk if I will be able to make it kind of stressing out if I will, this weeks goal is to deny food as much as possible, my only food will be liquid

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 17

Masterlist

Incoming video call from The-Next-Bruce-Wayne…

Incoming video call from The-Next-Bruce-Wayne…

“Hello?”

“Tucker! Just the man I needed to talk to!”

Tucker sighed. He could tell just by the way Danny said his name- they way he said ‘just the man I needed to talk to’ that he was up to something. “What’s up man?”

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh, first of all did you get the job?” He squinted and looked behind Tucker, probably noting the stacks of moving boxes lined up against the wall. 

Scoffing, Tucker gave him a Look. “Dude, it’s me- of course I got the job. Sam and I have been packing as fast as possible so we can get out there within the month, sooner if she has her way.” He loved his girlfriend but when she wanted something done she was on a warpath until it got done and Tucker… he just wasn’t built like that.

Smiling, Danny glanced off screen for a moment before returning his attention to the screen.

“How are the boys?” Tucker asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Danny could argue that he wasn’t their dad all he wanted, and he’d respect that and not call them his kids, but it didn’t make it true.

The sheepish smile returned. “Uh well, that’s one part of what I was calling to talk to you about. I don’t want to overload you while you’re moving, but uh- well… how long would it take for you to make them like, legally mine?”

Tucker’s eyes blew wide. Holy shit- “For real?”

“Miguel and Santi said I was dad-shaped.” He confirmed like it explained anything. 

“You cried didn’t you?”

His best friend crossed his arms. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. We talked about it last night and they’d like to-” Danny choked, looking away from the camera but he couldn’t fool Tucker. He was clearly getting emotional. “They’d like to get their name changed to Nightingale as soon as possible.”

“Holy shit man- that’s amazing!” He hadn’t believed Dani when she’d called the group to inform them that Danny’s recent deistractions had been because he’d taken two boys in and was acting as their guardian. They were twenty-two! No way Danny had decided to just take in a couple of teens and be their dad. But then he’d met them at the birthday party and he could tell they were everything to Danny.

From the way he talked about them to the way he looked at them when he thought they wouldn’t notice, Danny loved those kids with his whole heart. It had been interesting to witness in person and despite Danny’s argument that he wasn’t their dad, Tucker knew he’d be getting this call in the near future. Which is why he already had the paperwork drawn up and faked with everything in place, he essentially just had to click a button to make it happen.

Danny was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah it’s… I’m… happy they trust me.”

“All right, two more Nightingales coming right up. Now, you wanna tell me why you said we were taking down the GIW then turned off your phone?” 

Yesterday had been a normal day for Tucker and Sam, each working on packing one room while blaring music through the partially empty apartment. The night before they’d all been panicking about Danny’s daycare getting attacked and all the news that came with it, but knowing Danny, he’d gotten into more trouble after the fact and forgot to check his phone before passing out for the night. So they didn’t worry too much.

Just when Sam was saying them should try calling him again they’d gotten the text.

Crime-Fighting, Night-Stalking Vigilantes

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne: Get in losers we’re going to take down the GIW

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne changed the group chat name from ‘Crime-Fighting, Night-stalking Vigilantes’ to ‘Operation Take Down the Plastics’

“What the fuck.” Sam breathed.

Tucker started typing immediately. “You’re seeing this, right?”

Cassandra is typing…

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue is typing…

The Midwest Princess is typing…

Chaos: Fucking finally

TooFine: What brought this on?

Cassandra: Hell yeah, I’ve been waiting to be a part of a GIW mess around for years!

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue: Danny answer your phone

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue: Daniel J Nightingale answer. Your. phone.

The Midwest Princess: Oooh someone’s in trouble~

After two more calls went to voicemail, Sam and Tucker had given up on both reaching Danny and packing and had opted for cuddling on the couch with wine and theorizing about what could have caused Danny’s 180.

“After the scarecrow attack… everyone reached out.” Danny twisted his fingers. “I mean- everyone. People from Amity, numbers I didn’t recognize… one from Wisconsin…” Danny didn’t elaborate on that, Tucker knew that was Vlad and that Danny hadn’t read the messages. “Everyone knows where I am. That puts the boys in danger. So. We’re taking down the GIW. I’ve already asked Red Hood to get Batman and the Justice League to look into them and the Anti-Ecto-Acts and he seemed pretty sure that they had no idea any of this was going on.”

“Wait wait wait- go back- the Red Hood? Danny? How did you manage to get into contact with a crime lord and why haven’t I been informed?” Tucker couldn’t believe this- Danny had been so insistent that he wanted nothing to do with the Gotham vigilantes and here he was name dropping one of them like they were casual besties.

Shrugging, Danny glanced off camera again and frowned. “Uh- I met him a while back and now he drops by once in a while to check in.”

“Danny.”

“I accidentally killed the Joker and Red Hood caught me but he wanted the fucker dead too so he’s been dropping off food and shit at my place as a thank you and he also knows I’ve died and he’s met Phantom.”

“Danny- wha- what the fuck man! Holy fucking Christ!” Tucker keeled over, laughing. “You- you’re telling me that you… KILLED someone, and Red Hood is now feeding you as compensation? And you told him you’re dead?” 

The man on the other end of the line sighed heavily, his eye bags speaking volumes through his silence. “I was trying to help- sometimes I just say things and then I can’t take them back, I don’t know.”

“How- HOW does telling the Red Fucking Hood that you’re dead, help?”

Danny looked off camera again, clearly distracted. “I accidentally mentioned being a teenage vigilante and he had questions. I was all ‘if you take off your helmet’ AKA ‘reveal your identity’ I’ll tell you what happened. But the fucker wheres a domino mask UNDER the helmet! So he took it off and I’m not a liar so I had to tell him. I didn’t tell him everything though. He doesn’t know I’m Phantom. Or that I’m the ghost king. Or anything about the Fentons.”

Tucker could feel his usual laid back demeanor cracking under the weight of Danny’s big mouth. “Oh my fucking god. Okay, putting that aside. You need me to make the boys legally yours and what else?”

“If it’s cool, I’ll portal over later today to get a copy of your files on the GIW. Whenever Hood gets the chance to speak with Batman and hopefully the JL, he’s gonna summon Phantom again and I’d like to have all the information ready for them. Now I’ve actually gotta get going- I think the boys friend wants to hang out? I’m not sure. I’ll talk to you soon, Tuck. Love ya.”

Right, of course, why not. Tucker collapsed back onto the couch and groaned loudly. 

“What’re you grumbling about?” Sam asked, walking through the front door with groceries on either arm.

“Danny.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Help me put this stuff away and you can tell me all about what the fuck Danny did this time.”

~~~~~

“Wait wait wait hold on! I can’t understand you when you’re both talking at the same time.” Danny waved his hands around to silence the boys. “Miguel,” He turned to the older boy. “What’s going on?” 

Miguel shrugged. “Damian asked us over for dinner but he said you should come to ‘cause ‘is dad wanted ta meet you or somethin’.”

“And he said he has a dog and a cat and a cow! I want to see their cow, Danny can we go! Please?” Santi begged, reminding Danny that he was just a thirteen year old kid. “An’ he said he had a buncha brothers and sisters and we could all hang out- can we go?”

Danny thought about the paperwork Tucker would be emailing soon confirming the boys adoption, the drive he needed to pick up to give to the bats, the council meeting he needed to schedule to discuss the GIW, the work he needed to make sure was getting done on the daycare, and he sighed.

“What time?”

“YES!” Santi shot up and started running around in victory.

Miguel checked his phone. “Damian said dinner’s ‘round six-thirty but we could come over at six to meet everyone.”

That was only two hours to prepare. Danny rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I have some work to do before we leave, send me their address so I can figure out when we should leave.” He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Make sure Curiosity’s fed and let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my study at my place.”

It was a few moments later when Miguel sent him the address and, after looking it up, Danny dropped his head to his desk. 

“Only you, Danny.” He groaned into the desk and processed the information that seemed obvious but hadn’t been for him apparently. Damian fucking Wayne. He’d been casually conversing with Damian Wayne, asking favors of him, not knowing who he was, and now he’d agreed to go to dinner at his house. House. Danny scoffed. His fucking manor. 

On the bright side, Duke would probably be there. It wasn’t like Danny was worried about them all being rich assholes or something, nice people like Duke and Damian didn’t come from rich assholes, but he wasn’t mentally prepared to have dinner at Wayne Manor with Bruce fucking Wayne.

Putting aside the work he’d planned on doing, Danny decided to take the rest of the time given to him, to prepare. Starting with a nap. 

Thank Ancients his sleep had been coming easier recently.

~~~~~~~

“Who did you say was coming to dinner again, Dami?” Dick asked, lounging on a couch in the main sitting room. 

Damian looked up from his sketchbook. “You remember the people we ran into at the store a few weeks ago?” Dick nodded. “Them. Nightingale is an acquaintance of mine and he is now a person of interest as well.”

“What do you mean?” Dick sat up.

“I forgot you were not here last night.” Damian tsked, setting down his charcoal and cleaning his hands off with a dirty rag. “Todd brought father a case. A very serious case that father isn’t too pleased about. He’s meeting with the Justice League tomorrow to discuss it, but seeing as Nightingale was specifically mentioned by Phantom, he is now a person of interest.”

Dick blinked. “Phantom?”

Sighing loudly, Damian picked up his sketchbooks and charcoal and stood up. “Read the report, Grayson.”

“Wait! We’re back to Grayson?” His older brother groaned as Damian exited the room with a hidden smirk on his face.

~~~~~~

Distantly, you could hear a young man screaming. “Who the FUCK ARE MIGUEL AND SANTIAGO NIGHTINGALE!?”

~~~~~~

Driving to Wayne manor was wild. And Danny said that as a half dead half alive ghost king who’d been cut open by his own parents and ended up opening a daycare without any plans. So you know he meant it. 

The driveway was long and winding, they had to introduce themselves at the gate so the butler could let them in, and when the pulled up the building towered over them. Now, technically, Danny did own a keep. It was certainly bigger than the manor, but that was a ghost thing. He’d never seen a place so big in the living world.

(And despite his abundant wealth, Danny didn’t care much for his large keep or deep pockets except for what they could do for others.)

Parking in front of the stairs- yes there were actual stairs leading up to this double door front entrance- Danny turned off the car and turned to the boys. “Okay, be on your best behavior- I don’t know this fruitloop so if you want to leave at any time, let me know. But also, have fun.”

Miguel rolled his eyes but Santi was the one who spoke up. “Fruitloop?”

“Crazy rich person.” Danny interpreted

Miguel frowned. “Aren’t you technically-”

“OH KAY!” Danny shouted, not wanting to be reminded that he technically fell under the same category as Vlad Masters and Bruce Wayne. “Let’s go!”

He hadn’t told the boys to dress up, he certainly hadn’t dressed up himself, and they’d all ended up wearing what was most comfortable. Danny at least put on jeans instead of sweatpants and threw on a cardigan instead of his usual ratty sweatshirt. He’d panicked after his nap took longer than it was meant to and barely had the time to shower and throw on some clothes before they needed to leave so he hadn’t had the chance to really think about his clothes.

Miguel fiddled with his bracelets as they approached the door and Danny noted that the boy was already anxious about the evening. “Hey, just try to have a good time. Seriously, we can leave whenever one of us gets tired, yeah?” The boy nodded silently, shifting a tiny bit closer as Danny rang the doorbell.

Opening the front door was exactly the kind of guy he expected. Dressed up, bald, with perfect posture, definitely a rich butler. He heard the footsteps of a couple more people approaching but- wait, wasn’t that the guy from-

“Alfred?” Danny said before he could stop himself. 

The butler offered a small smile. “Mister Danny, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I was unaware that you were the Mister Nightingale that Master Damian informed us would be visiting tonight. Please, do come in.” He opened the door wider, gesturing for them all to step into the foyer.

“Nightingale.” Damian greeted as he stepped into the foyer. “I was unaware you were acquainted with Pennyworth.” It was a statement, but the way he said it made Danny feel like he was being interrogated. 

Before he could respond, Dick stepped in right behind Damian. “Danny! A pleasure to see you again! I didn’t know Damian had befriended your kids.”

“They’re-” Danny started to refute Dick’s claim, out of habit, before stopping himself suddenly. All eyes were on him as he paused and glanced at Miguel who nodded subtly not quite meeting Danny’s eyes. “Yes, Damian’s been helping the boys learn how to take care of their cat. I will say I didn’t realize who either of you were.” He chuckled awkwardly.

Damian tipped his head to one side. “You… did not know?”

Shrugging, Danny took note of the shoe rack behind him and the boys and the lack of shoes on Dick and Damian, and gestured for the boys to take them off. “I’m not from Gotham, I mean, sure I’ve heard of you guys, but I didn’t really make the connection that you were Waynes.” He did his best to keep it casual, knowing well how annoying it could become when people talked to you like you were famous. He was a king after all, some people respected his status.

“Perhaps you should show our guests a more suitable spot to have this conversation?” Alfred offered with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Dick smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Alf, come on, most of the others are chilling in the living room.” 

Following Dick and Damian, Danny wondered how many others there would be. Growing up he thought he was really good with names and faces but after moving away from the small town he’d lived in his entire life and eventually taking up residence in Gotham, he realized he wasn’t any good at them at all. It had taken a long time to memorize his regular kids and parents’ names and who went with who-

“Well how was I supposed to know that? No one ever tells me anything!” A distinctly female voice shouted from the room they were entering. “Besides, who woulda thought Dami would have friends-” She cut off the moment Dick walked into the room and cleared his throat. “Oh come on- you know it’s true!”

Danny frowned to himself. Damian seemed like a pretty nice kid to him. 

“Tt. Brown. I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends. Nightingale, Miguel, Santiago, this is-”

“Wait a minute! They get first names but I’m still brown!” The girl shouted. Her hand movements and tone of voice felt familiar and Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before.

“Everybody calm down!” Dick sighed loudly. “Danny, Miguel, Santiago, this is Steph, next to her is Cass,” the girl waved with a small smile. “And- where’s Tim? I thought he’d be here.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m here, Dick.” A young man grumbled, face buried in his phone. “Was working on something, are our guests- Danny?” 

Okay, once was a coincidence, twice? “Tim?” What were the chances that he already knew half of this family from previous chance encounters around the city? Because he knew Duke, Tim, Dick, Damian, and Alfred, and there couldn’t be that many more after Steph and Cass. 

“Oh my god why does no one tell me anything.” Tim breathed.

Steph shouted and pointed. “HA! Tim agrees with me! Maybe if the demon brat had told us who he was having over this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Uh… I’m not  sure how that would have helped but it’s good to see you again Tim. And nice to meet you, Stepp, Cass. I’m Danny, these are-” He hesitated, still getting used to things. “Miguel and Santiago, my boys. Thanks for having us over.”

The room grew silent and all of the Waynes seemed to be exchanging looks until finally Tim let out a sentence that was genuinely worrying. “Oh my god you’re as bad as Bruce.”

Oh goddamnit. He was a fruitloop.

The room burst into laughter, even Santi and Miguel seemed to understand the joke, Danny just rubbed a hand across his brow and shook his head. Hoping to change the subject, he brought up the only topic he could think of. “Where’s Duke? He’s the only one I knew would actually be here.”

“He was working on some stuff last I checked, he’ll be here soon for dinner though- huh.” Dick paused. “Dami, did you happen to mention to Duke who our company was for dinner?”

Damian tsked. “I did not think it imperative to alert every member of this household who would be coming over for dinner. They are my guests.”

“Yes well, have yourself and your guests wash up, dinner is almost ready.” Alfred said, making Danny and the boys jump. How the hell was he so quiet? The man moved more like a ninja than a butler.

Once Damian had showed them to the nearest bathroom and they’d all washed their hands, they were shown to the dining room. It was… crazy. A crystal chandelier hung above the center of the room, the table was long enough to hold ten people on each side, the chairs were ornate, the floor was immaculate, and Danny was reminded once again that he was inside a multi-billionaire’s manor.

Damian, possibly sensing the boys’ anxiety, offered them seats beside himself and Danny found himself somehow sitting to the left and one down from the head of the table. Tim sat beside him (thank Ancients there would be a buffer between him and Bruce Wayne), Dick sat across from Tim, and Steph and Cass sat across from the boys (leaving one chair between them and Dick for some reason).

“Sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice called, footsteps rushing into the room. “Still not as late as Ja- oh! Uh, hi, Danny!” Duke smiled, confused, and looked around at his family.

Danny offered a smile in return. “Ah, and Damian’s lack of communication strikes again.” He jokes.

“It was not a lack of communication, Nightingale.” Damian corrects. “I simply didn’t see a point in alerting Thomas to your dinner invitation.”

“Riiiight… not like ‘Thomas’ and I are acquainted or anything.” Danny jokes as Duke takes the spot directly across from Damian beside Cass. “Sorry to surprise you at home, I didn’t realize I’d be dropping in on my employee until after I’d already agreed to come over.”

Duke shook his head. “No, don't worry about it! I just didn’t expect it!”

“Ah, Mr. Nightingale.” A deep and buttery smooth voice greeted from the other side of the room. Danny looked up to see Bruce Wayne approaching the table. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Damian’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Sounds fake.” Danny blurted out before realizing he probably shouldn’t treat every fruitloop he met the way he treated Vlad. “Uh,” Bruce’s kids burst out in laughter. “Sorry, I didn’t.” He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you too, mr. Wayne.”

Taking his seat, Bruce smiled. “Please, just Bruce is fine.”

“Then you can call me Danny. And this is Miguel and Santiago.” He pointed to the boys who were in a surprisingly deep conversation with Damian about what quantified a hero vs. vigilante vs. anti-hero. He prayed to the ancients the boys wouldn’t bring up any of the ghost stuff he’d told them about.

“Well we’re happy to have you over. It’s not often Damian brings friends home.” Bruce flashed another smile and Danny couldn’t help but feel they weren’t as genuine as they seemed. Don’t get him wrong, Bruce seemed nice enough for a fruitloop, but he definitely didn’t feel like the kind of person who was really this smiley.

On top of that, ever since they’d arrived Danny had been sensing more and more ectoplasm, both throughout the house and on the people living in it. He’d never noticed before (whether that was because everything seemed less ectoplasm-y outside of the realms he’d been living in for the last five years, or because he wasn’t observant, he didn’t know) but Damian had a strong ectoplasm signature. Tim and Dick had a bit of one too, but Bruce? Bruce had been around death no question.

Bruce looked around the table and frowned. “I thought Jay was coming by tonight?” He looked between his kids and the obviously open spot across from Danny and beside Dick. “Has anyone heard from-”

“All right all right- I’m here, don't get your panties in a twist!”  Just as a man Danny recognized waltzed into the room, Miguel let out a groan. Jason looked at the kid for a moment before taking his seat. “Yeah yeah kid, good to see you too.”

Miguel crossed his arms. “Din’t say it was good ta seeya.” 

Danny was still trying to process what was happening. So- there were nine ‘Waynes’ including Alfred, and he’d known six of them before even walking into the manor tonight. Holy shit- how did he not know all of these people were Waynes and how did he always get into these situations?

“Jason, you know our guests?” Bruce asked, surprise lacing his words.

Jason shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “A guy’s gotta have friends.” 

He was pretty sure Jason said it more to evade Bruce’s questions than anything else, but it was still nice to hear that Jason counted Danny as a friend even if they’d barely had the chance to get to know each other.

“Jason!” Santi gasped. “I finished that book you gave me- did you know it’s a series?” He asked excitedly.

Grinning, the man nodded. “Got the rest of the books if you’d like to borrow them too. But you’ve gotta write an essay about the book first and then we’ll talk about it in depth and then you can pick a different book.”

Santi nodded excitedly before turning back to Miguel and elbowing him. “Be nice.” He hissed.

Miguel eyed Jason warily, neither seemed to know what to say to the other.

Nobody in the Wayne family seemed to know what to say either- was it really so surprising that Jason was friends with them? While it had been a surprise every time someone Danny knew walked in the room, it hadn’t been quite as shocking as it seemed it was for Jason to know them. Maybe he was a bit of a loner?

“Babs can’t make it tonight.” Dick finally interjected. 

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of water. “She had that dinner with her dad, right?”

Dick nodded. “And Wally sends his love but he’s got a work thing.”

Alfred walked into the room and began dishing the first course and oh holy shit Danny didn’t know which fucking fork and spoon to use for everything. Ancients he hated fruitloops and their fruitloopy ways.

“So Danny,” Bruce started. Danny caught Jason rolling his eyes subtly. “Terrible what happened to your daycare, I hope none of the children were hurt?”

Danny nodded, thanking whoever was watching over him from having to pick a spoon for the soup. “Yeah Scarecrow and his goons did some damage but nobody was hurt thankfully. Duke was a great help keeping the kids safe.” He nodded to the boy who smiled sheepishly. “We usually have really good security but I’m going to have my guy look it over since, obviously, Scarecrow shouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was quite the surprise-”

“A surprise? Come one B! The man tackled the scarecrow no hesitation! I don’t think he was that surprised!” Steph joked.

Danny blinked. He hadn’t realized the video those teens recorded had started so early. He could have sworn the teens didn’t start recording until after Phantom had appeared. “Ah, well, just had to make sure I held him off until someone showed up. Luckily Phantom was there so-”

“Phantom?” Bruce cut in.

“Just some vigilante who helped out. Not really one of Gotham’s I don’t think. But he took care of the fear gas and the goons and whatnot so Duke and I could watch over the kids.”

“Yeah, and then Red Hood showed up and kicked their asses!” Miguel added enthusiastically.

“Language.” Alfred and Danny scolded at the same time, everyone freezing to look between the two before laughing.

Miguel pouted and muttered something about how cool Red Hood had been while glaring at Jason.

Holding up his hands defensively, Jason smirked. “Hey you don’t gotta convince me kid, Red Hood’s my favorite too.”

Of course he’s your favorite, he’s your boyfriend. Danny thought forlornly.

Miguel untensed slightly. “Just because you got good taste in heroes don’t mean I like ya all the sudden.”

Jason glanced at Danny, smirk intensifying, before looking back. “Whatever you say kid.”

Ancients why was Jason looking at him like that? Danny rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan- why was it so hot in here? Were rich people just always running the heat or something? 

The conversation turned away from the daycare and onto other things. Steph and Cass seemed to be in a debate with Duke about the best flavor waffle- obviously it was chocolate chip- while the boys and Damian continued their previous discussion.

“How did you two meet?” Bruce asked, pointing his knife between Danny and Jason.

Jason sscowled. “The way that normal people meet, old man.” 

“Well we met at a clothing store with Damian.” Dick offered. “I’ve gotta say Danny, I haven’t seen Damian make a friend so easily before, how’d you do it?”

Danny shrugged. “I dunno, he’s a good kid.” Tim eyed him in shock. “He helped me set up my apartment for some cats I found and then I started sending him cat pics. He did the same, the boys wanted a cat, Dami was willing to teach them, now they’re friends.”

Dick choked. 

“Did you just call him Dami?” Tim asked cautiously, looking at the end of the table to see if the boy had heard.

Nodding, Danny leaned to see Damian. “Hey Dami?”

The boy pinched his eyes closed. “Yes? Nightingale?” He sighed.

Turning back to Dick, Bruce, and Tim who all gave him completely shocked looks, he smirked. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Tt.” 

“He’s a sweet kid.” Danny shrugged, finally just taking a wild guess and using one of the spoons to start eating the soup. While three of the Waynes stared at him like he was crazy and one stared at him like he was crazy but in a good way, Danny enjoyed every bite of the best bowl of soup he’d ever had.

Tim stared in awe. “You’re a madman.”

Danny snickered. “I have been told that on occasion. I don’t think this is all that crazy though.” He glanced down the table, making sure Damian wasn’t listening before continuing. “We hit it off right away, he’s a good kid, with a lot of knowledge, and was kind enough to help me.” Starting to grow uncomfortable with the stares he was getting, Danny changed the subject. “Enough about me, Tim, how're your boyfriends?”

Clearly knowing what Danny was doing but not caring, Tim rolled his eyes and started on some rant about how his boyfriend Kon who’d apparently made some bet about who could plan the better date for their other boyfriend Bernard. Tim pretended to be annoyed but it was obvious he loved them and their antics and Danny couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to date multiple people.

For no specific reason.

Just.

Science.

Before he knew it they’d been served the main dish which was amazing if not a bit familiar for some reason. Something about the sauce- taking a good look at what he was eating, Danny made the connection. Vindaloo. Hood brought them vindaloo once and after mentioning how much they’d liked it, he brought it again. Hood had never repeated a dish except the vindaloo. But why would they taste identical? Hood must have his own recipe for the food.

“Alf, you gotta help me out here-” Jason cut into his thoughts. “I can never get the meat as tender as you do! I’ve tried tenderizing it, marinating it, cooking it longer- what’s your secret!” 

Alfred gave Jason a knowing smile and, without a word, turned and left. While Jason pouted Danny finally connected the dots. It was either one of two answers.

One, Hood wasn’t actually cooking the food, Jason was, and Hood was just the delivery boy. Or two, Jason and Hood cooked together so Hood’s recipe came from him. Either way, it more than confirmed his theory that Hood and Jason were dating- Jason literally just said that Red Hood was his favorite vigilante!

Danny wished he could say the food stopped tasting good once he realized, but it didn’t. It tasted even better than Hood’s (Jason’s?), something Danny didn’t think possible.

“So Danny, where are you from?” Dick asked, finally sensing the lull in the conversation.

Swallowing the bite he’d been chewing for way too long, Danny wiped his mouth with the napkin. “A small town in Illinois you probably haven’t heard of. But I haven’t been there in years, traveled a bit, ended up here. Honestly, Gotham’s more like home than the town I grew up in ever was.” 

Dick frowned but Bruce is the one who responded. “Why is that?”

Danny shrugged. “My parents were the town crazies so making friends was difficult.”

Please stop asking about Jack and Maddie.

Of course luck wouldn’t be in his favor. 

“Why were they the village crazies?” Tim asked analytically.

“Father,” Damian cut in. “If we may be excused, I’d like to show Miguel and Santiago the barn.”

Bruce nodded. “Of course, you boys be careful out there.” After the boys had excused themselves, Bruce turned back to Danny. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

Something told Danny that Bruce really wanted to know about his parents. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was being watched. He obviously was, there were many pairs of eyes on him, but it was more than that. He felt like the people watching him were analyzing him, peering into his soul, pulling back his layers and layers of defenses and digging around for what they could find inside.

It felt like back in his parents basement when he first woke up and there were cuffs around his wrists and ankles and a gag in his mouth and his parents screamed at him about killing their son. It felt like when they cut into him for the first time and rooted around in his chest, pushing and pulling with no care for what they moved or damaged, searching, searching, searching, for his core. It felt like when they turned him over to the GIW for further ‘study’ and experimentation and he learned what it felt like to lose a limb and an organ and an eye and-

“Danny?”

Seven pairs of eyes stared at him in concern. “Uh, sorry.” Danny unclenched his hand from the tablecloth and forced an uncomfortable chuckle. “Jack and Maddie were ectobiologists- they studied ghosts, the paranormal, that kind of thing. Makes people think you’re crazy and- to be fair- they were so.” Danny ended with a pathetic shrug and took a sip of water to avoid speaking anymore.

“They studied ghosts?” Steph asked, leaning over Cass to get closer to the conversation. “What was that like?”

Clearing his throat, Danny tried not to feel like he was being interrogated. “It made for an interesting childhood.” He didn’t like the way Cass was looking at him- he thought she could definitely read his body language better than he wanted. “Anyways, I certainly didn’t want to do what they did and eventually decided to move here and open a daycare.” Please let them latch onto the daycare, please-

“How’d they feel about that?” Bruce asked. Oh course the parent in the room would ask how his parents felt about his decision. Jason looked like he was about to say something but Danny was getting annoyed with this line of questioning.

A bit tired of the interrogation, Danny shrugged defiantly. “They didn’t know. I don’t exactly speak to them anymore and haven’t spoken to them since I turned eighteen.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, promptly shutting up when Jason shoved an elbow in his ribs.

“All right, well I think that’s enough interrogating our guest. What would Alfred say?” He asked, looking each Wayne in the eye. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Eat your vindaloo and shut the hell up.” Turning back to Danny, he smiled. “So Danny, what’s been your favorite part of Gotham so far?”

Oh thank Ancients for Jason Todd.

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