#I'm sure they all shift around with time you know

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide" A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences but you're already making your way towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. You think that might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, they could probably smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief-

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to see just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[smollsmule]

Ok ok but you wanna know the real tea?? I've read several beach fics at this point (which are all awesome btw, y'all are amazing writers) and it's a beloved staple to have Edwin be somehwat scandalised at everyone's beach outfits not to mention all flustered from seeing Charles in swim wear. Which is a Good Trope, don't get me wrong, I love that just as much as the next person

HOWEVER

I think actually it's Charles who should be more shooketh about Edwin in his funky lil edwardian two piece!!

Picture this. The year is 1916. You are 16 year old Edwin Payne with a bunch of repressed gay thoughts. Much unpleasantness happens, you die and get dragged to hell, even more unpleasantness happens, 70 years later you finally manage to claw your way up and suddenly women are allowed to vote. There's been not one but two world wars, several countries you grew up reading about in the news don't exist anymore and mini skirts are a thing now.

All I'm saying is, for all the teasing Edwin gets for "What is a handjob?" and "Crystal's internet", this kid was essentially thrust into a scifi world full of weird shit and gets mostly by via an attitude which can only be paraphrases as "fuck it, this might as well be a thing (maybe ask Charles about it later)". King of adaption, master of radical acceptance.

Charles on the other hand, and I say this with only love in my heart, is at his core a boomer. He was there for every tiny gradual shift from '89 to modern day. Sure, he was dead for most of that time, but that's not really relevant. All I'm saying is, seeing the bbc announce marriage equality was probably a bigger shock to Charles than it was to Edwin. That's a guy who already had to accept he will never fully wrap his head around home television.

Also consider the states of undress they've been exposed to seeing the other in. Edwin was stripped to his underwear in hell and still had his knees and elbows covered. And that was probably a more exposing outfit than he'd ever be comfortable with. His usual casual get up features a sweater vest for crying out loud! Meanwhile you have Charles going full 'ceps out in his undershirt first chance he gets. Edwin either got real cool with a lot of shit real fast or he would have combusted several times over those 30 years.

And yes yes, we've all seen Edwin "Haunted By Gay Thoughts" Payne's mental slideshow of abs n hips close ups after getting one (1) glance at the Cat King's stomach. But to his credit, the man was going through a full blown sexuality crisis at that and has since emerged victorious.

So all I'm saying is. Edwin seeing Charles shirtless at the beach? Probably not even the first time this is happening, a lil flustering for sure but just last week he saw two people making out nasty on the tube so hell if he knows. Charles seeing Edwin's kneecaps and upper arms for the first time? Incredible, show stopping, pride and predjudice 2005 hand flex level of suppressed horniness.

Anyway. I'm writing this fic now and none of y'all can stop me.

[gyubakeries]

𝗼𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 | c.sc (f)

a/n: for some reason the ask got deleted 😭 but an anon asked for something scoups related, so, anon, if you're seeing this, hi! thanks for requesting! i kept brainstorming, and finally came up with this, so i hope you like it! (sorry the ask got deleted im hopeless w technology 😭)

word count: 2.1k contents: seungcheol x afab!reader , gymbro!cheol , i have 0 gym knowledge forgive me , seungcheol and reader are dating , bullying mingyu is a canon event , lots of fluff , cheol being a green flag as always , slight angst , mentions of insecurities (but they have healthy communication about it!) , just overall cute vibes !

"i wanna go to the gym with you."

seungcheol looks up from his phone to direct his gaze at you. it's a thursday night, a rare day off for the both of you, and you had been in the process of selecting a movie for the night when you suddenly spoke.

"what?" seungcheol asks again, not sure if he heard you right the first time.

"i want to go to the gym with you," you repeat, meeting seungcheol's eyes reluctantly, trying to mask your ulterior motive with a smile.

seungcheol was taken aback, but don't get him wrong. he was a regular at the gym, but in your last three years of dating, he had never heard you wanting to accompany him to the gym. instead, you'd always said that you'd rather be at home than be surrounded by sweaty people, including seungcheol himself.

so why the sudden interest?

"babe, everything okay?" seungcheol asks. he knows asking questions may seem rude, but he notices the way the smile you're shooting at him doesn't feel genuine at all.

"yeah! i just wanted to see what was so great about the gym for you to spend hours there," you say, making up an excuse on the fly, hoping you sounded convincing enough.

seungcheol knew you through and through, and he also knew that you weren't telling him the entire truth. but instead of prying, he decides to agree to your request.

"alright,come with me tomorrow," he nods. "it's gonna be pretty intense though. mingyu tells me i'm a really strict gym trainer." he jokes.

"it's okay," you laugh, finally cracking a real smile. "i have a feeling i'll become your favorite student in no time."

"we'll see about that," seungcheol teases, and you drop the topic, shifting your attention back to choosing a movie.

seungcheol needs to get to the bottom of this.

-

the next day, seungcheol comes home from work, and like clockwork, he changes into his workout clothes and grabs his gym bag, ready to head out, but-

something feels different about today though....

"excuse me? were you forgetting your star student at home?" comes your voice, and he finally remembers. he turns to see you waiting in the kitchen, and any suspicions he had about your strange request melt away at the sight of you dolled up in the cutest workout fit. your hair was up in a ponytail, and you were wearing a baby pink sports bra with a matching pair of leggings. you even had a cute duffel bag packed with you.

"aw, baby, you look adorable," he coos. he walks towards the kitchen and stops in front of you to place a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug. "also, i'd never forget my favorite student." he says defensively, and you laugh at his cuteness.

"sure, big guy," you chuckle. "let's get going, shall we?"

-

whatever worries had left his brain when he saw you at home had come back to him ten-fold at the gym. he started you off with some basic warm-up exercises and then the treadmill. the both of you jogged next to each other for a while. you had found all of this manageable until now, even though all the physical exertion had made you all sweaty, which in turn made you uncomfortable. you mask your uneasiness though, not wanting to alert seungcheol.

but he had already seen the signs of discomfort on your face. after the treadmill, he decided that he needs to take you home.

"i'm actually feeling really tired today, babe," he fake-yawns while you're sipping on some water. "how about we go home now and come back another day?"

"woah, you're tired just from some cardio?" someone speaks up from behind him, and it's mingyu.

how is he always at the gym?? seungcheol wonders, cursing mingyu's timing.

"i just had a long day at work. what are you doing here?" seungcheol rolls his eyes.

"working out, duh," mingyu retorts. "didn't you clock in late to work today, though? i've seen you less tired while you were working on three days of no sleep."

seungcheol really wants to punch mingyu in the face right now.

"if you're really feeling tired, we can head home," you butt in before seungcheol throws a dumbell at mingyu.

seungcheol would be relieved, if not for the way you look dejected and upset, and seungcheol would rather walk through fire than be the reason for that frown on your face, so he relents.

"it's okay, i'm feeling fine," he smiles. "we can continue, baby."

"just don't be all gross and couple-y," mingyu adds, and quickly scurries away before seungcheol can elbow him in the stomach.

after mingyu leaves, seungcheol gets you started on some basic squats. he shows you the correct posture, even helps you for the first few times till you get the hang of it.

finally, you gain the confidence to do the squats on your own, so you start off with a goal of completing 10. by the time you're on squat number 4, there's a burn in your thighs. you've heard people saying that it's supposedly a good burn, but right now, it's making you feel like your legs are going to snap into two, like twigs.

not wanting to embarrass yourself, you push through the remaining squats, collapsing to the floor after you finish them.

"hey! that was great!" seungcheol smiles cheerily. "i'm so proud of you. let's take a break and then we can move onto something else."

the next challenge: push-ups.

while you weren't a frequent gym-goer, you had an idea of how a push-up should be done. guided by seungcheol's instructions, you find yourself in the position to carry out some push-ups. once again, you set a goal of 10 and you start.

at push-up number 7, your arms give out and you lose your balance, your forehead bumping with the ground.

"shit. y/n, are you okay?" seungcheol is by your side in a blink, helping you up into a sitting posture. you look around the gym, and thankfully there weren't a lot of people around to see your disastrous attempt at push-ups, but you still felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"i'm sorry," you sniffle, tears welling up in your eyes as seungcheol gently rubs your forehead. "i'm sorry for being bad at this."

seungcheol freezes when he sees you cry. he knows you, and you weren't the type to cry from such a small failure. the uneasiness twists his gut; something is really wrong.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," he says, tone firm yet gentle. "let's go home and talk about this, okay? you did a good today, and you should rest."

leaving no room for negotiation, you let seungcheol gather both your belongings and walk you back home.

once you reach your shared apartment, you're aware of how sweaty and gross you are, your nose crinkling with disgust.

"i need to shower..." you mumble.

"you can head in first. call me if you need anything, okay?" seungcheol suggests. "i'll start on dinner."

you nod timidly and head towards the shower. a long and relaxing shower later, you're emerging from the bedroom in your comfiest pajamas, and a red spot on your forehead from the incident at the gym. you walk into the kitchen to see seungcheol putting down dinner on the table, freshly showered.

"you used the guest bathroom?" you ask, and he nods. you can tell that there's something on his mind, and you know its related to what happened today. knowing seungcheol, he likes to communicate whatever he has on his mind to maintain trust between you, so you eat dinner in silence, anticipating the conversation after.

once the dishes are washed and put away, you quickly go to bed, hoping to avoid any tough conversations by falling asleep early. but seungcheol is too aware of your tendencies, so he follows you to the bedroom, sitting next to you on the bed as you lay down.

"does it hurt a lot?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"my forehead? not that much. but the rest of my body is really sore," you admit truthfully.

"should i get you a painkiller for it?" seungcheol offers, and you shake your head. you've seen him come home from the gym complaining of sore muscles, but he never takes any medication for it, and you don't want to seem weak for doing so.

"you can take one, it won't make you weak," seungcheol says, as if he's read your thoughts. "what's going on, baby? i know something is bothering you, tell me what it is. let me help you."

the gentle tone to his voice makes you tear up immediately. you bring your hands up to your face as you cry. an alarmed seungcheol is quick to hug you, whispering comforting words into your ear.

once you've calmed down, you realize it's time to tell him the truth.

"i wanted to have something in common with you. all our friends and their partners have a shared interest. mingyu and his girlfriend love cooking, wonwoo and his girlfriend like photography; even minghao managed to end up with someone who loves tea as much as him. i just wanted to share something with you. i realized that you and i don't have a lot in common. everyone says 'opposites attract' but to what extent? that's why i thought of going to the gym, so that we could have something to share."

seungcheol is silent for a few moments, and you bite the inside of your cheek nervously while you wait for his response.

"y/n, you're the one person on this earth i have found a perfect match in. you and i have a lot more in common than you think. like the fact that you're the only person who supports my 'dipping french fries in milkshake' agenda," seungcheol cracks a soft smile, holding your hands in his.

"you don't have to force yourself to do things just to share an interest with me, baby. i love you for who you are. you're a wonderful artist, and i'm absolutely pathetic at drawing basic human figures. that doesn't mean we don't work together," seungcheol explains, hoping that his words make sense to you.

"i know, but i just- i just got worried that one day you'd be tired of having to deal with someone so different from you," you sigh, confessing the thought that had been plaguing your mind for a few weeks. "i don't want to lose you, cheol. that's why i did all this. but all i've really done is embarrass myself..."

seungcheol's lips draw into a pout as he crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you. he covers both of you under the blanket and pulls your body closer to him, your head cradled against his chest, and his arm wrapped around your waist.

"i'll never get tired of you. you're the love of my life, and i like the fact that every day we spend together, i get to learn something new about you. there's a familiarity in that too, you know?" he says, and the warmth in his voice makes your heart melt.

"ever since the day i met you, i've wanted to know who you are. i've wanted to know what makes you smile and cry, what food you don't like so i'll never bring it up, what your favorite disney princess is, even how much sugar you like in your coffee. and i'm so grateful to be able to learn every small thing about you, because that's how i show my love for you."

you pull away slightly from his embrace, meeting seungcheol's soft gaze.

"i love you the way you are, and no amount of differences could ever stop me from loving you. even if you were the north pole and i was the south, i'd do everything in my power to be with you, you get that?"

"how'd i get so lucky?" you whisper, eyes welling up again. "i love you too, so much. you- you made me cry, you idiot." you chuckle wetly, slapping his chest playfully.

"you're just a sap," seungcheol teases, but he rubs your back comfortingly nonetheless. "anyways, you're not going to be following me to the gym just for the sake of it anymore. i already think you're perfect the way you are, but if you ever do want to go, you should do it only because you want to, okay?"

"you don't have to worry about it," you dismiss his concerns. "from the second i step foot into the gym and got attacked by the stench of sweat, i promised to never come back."

"hey! that's rude!" seungcheol gasps dramatically. you can only laugh at the way a grown, 29 year-old man pouts like a toddler.

yeah, you really were lucky to have him.

-fin.

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

���୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[juniperdugong]

Super Weird - Vernon

WC: 867 || Genre: Fluff || CW: Suggested bullying (?)/ reader being an outcast || Vernon x GN!reader (established relationship)

A/N: For all my weirdos because I'm a weirdo and Vernon is too, ain't no denying it, just a buncha freaks in masks huh?

"Do you think I'm weird?"

Vernon looks at you, eyes squinting in confusion and his expression shifting into a scowl seeing that you're completely serious, "Whaf dar haw ah yo tarking abo-?" (What the hell are you talking about?)

His mouth is filled with the last and biggest spoonful of food that you knew you couldn't finish so - as the routine goes - you gave it to Vernon. He furiously chews at a pace that you know probably isn't safe and with a large and rather painful-looking gulp his mouth is free of obstructions. "What did you just say?" his tone sounds more lightly confused but his face gives quiet anger more than anything.

"Hansol you heard me. Do you think I'm weird?" You speak very monotonously, a trait the two of you shared.

"Of course you're weird." He says it like it's a matter of fact. His expression completely drops into the deadpan face you're used to. He ignores how perplexed you look as he brings the dishes to the sink.

"And you're okay with that?" You ask out of genuine curiosity, you know that most people would outcast someone they think is weird - it's something you've often experienced at school and work. So if he thought you were strange then why would he stick around?

"Why wouldn't I be?" He looks up at you almost accusatorily as he scrubbed the dishes and put them to dry.

"I mean- It doesn't bother you at all that I'm abnormal or weird? I know people talk about how I sound or that I'm too... strange and stuff. It isn't lost on me but if you also know that then why do you stick around?" You let your words spill just wanting to get down to the root of the issue while escaping the heavy-handed approach of blurting out "Why would you want to be with someone you find weird?".

"Nope." That was his reply. His. Entire. Answer. Just "Nope." and then he picked his phone up from the table and went to sit in the living room. You know he saw your face as it contorted into even more confusion and bafflement but he ignored it!

You did the only sensible thing, of course, and immediately trailed him and sat right next to him, snatching his phone out of his hand as he opened up a game. You had his attention and yet he seemed confused? As if he wasn't the one who completely dodged your questioning before.

"Yes?"

"You have nothing else to say?"

He gave himself a moment to think, you thought for a millisecond that perhaps he's finally found a more appropriate answer, "Nope."

"Huh?" You shake your head completely bewildered. "You know I'm weird and you still want to be with me, why is that?"

"It's probably because I love you or something weird like that-" He turns to you as a blush sets in. Chuckling he gives a small pinch to your cheeks, fighting the cuteness aggression he feels, "Don't think about it too much though, that's a fact you should already know about by now... I would hope you know about by now..." He tilts his head as he says that last part as if questioning if you really did know about his love after all this time.

Vernon's love for you was something you never questioned, even though he wasn't exactly the best at physically expressing it he always made sure to assure you through words, actions, or gifts. It was a bit odd honestly, like he had some sort of psychic powers to know what your needs are. Maybe...

"I think you're the weird one actually-" you start thinking out loud.

"Yeah? Maybe."

"And you accept that, Han?"

"Mhm." His answers are blunt and to the point, you have to wonder if he's just saying this to satisfy your curiosity- "I'm not just saying that by the way. I know that I'm weird, babe."

"You a wizard?" He squints as he looks at you, waiting for clarification, "You read my mind like one."

"Nope, I'm just a really good boyfriend I think." He relaxes into the couch, pulling you onto his lap and retrieving his phone from your grasp.

"So we're both just weird and we both just have to accept that?"

"Looks like it, babe."

"huh..." You ponder on it for a moment as your eyes look around your shared apartment. Shelves filled with knick-knacks of yours, pillows in the shape of cartoon characters, anime on the TV currently... "Yeah, okay." You retract your worry as quick as it came, it was an absurd thought that you let yourself get caught up in any way. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulder as you watch him play his game.

"Hansol?"

"What?"

"Why am I seeing a half-naked man on your screen right now?"

"That is my current boyfriend, Sylus."

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, he meets your nebulous expression with a peck on the lips. "You are weird, Han."

"I know baby. It's honestly weirder that you heard me say all of that and that's your only reaction."

A/N: Hahaha totally not something to sate you guys as I continue working on the Cheol angst fic... (Please help me I'm 3000 words in and still haven't gotten through half of my bullet points) Tbf I did say it was gonna be long though... First Vernon fic though! Plus comeback around the corner, yeah let's all talk about all the whiplash that's been going on in Caratland rn...

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Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

[sexsylexi]

Can I request a Jason Todd x reader where the reader has a health scare

Of course, I'm not exactly sure if this is what you wanted but i did my best! 💗

Through the darkest hours.

Jason Todd x Reader

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had just gone in for a regular check-up, a routine visit to make sure everything was fine. It had been a while since you had seen a doctor, and you figured it was time to make sure everything was still in order. After all, you didn’t feel bad, not exactly. Just a little more tired lately, a bit more sluggish than usual, but nothing that couldn’t be blamed on stress or a long week.

But then the doctor’s face grew serious. The casual conversation you had been having shifted into something else, something tense. He asked you to wait a moment, left the room to consult with a colleague, and that’s when the fear set in. Something was wrong.

You sat on the cold examination table, the paper crinkling beneath you as your mind began to spin. What if it was something serious? What if…what if this was something that couldn’t be fixed?

By the time the doctor returned, your hands were clammy and your heart raced. He explained that they needed to run some additional tests, and while he tried to assure you it could be nothing, the words lingered in your head: could be nothing. Which meant it could be something.

You managed to keep it together long enough to leave the doctor’s office, to walk to your car and sit behind the wheel and drive home, your hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. The fear had grown inside of you, threatening to spill over, and you didn’t know who to call..

Jason. Of course, Jason.

Your hand shook as you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, pressing it to your ear as it rang. Each second that passed without him picking up felt like an eternity. Finally, on the third ring, his familiar voice came through the speaker, gruff but warm.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Jason… I’m scared.”

The line was silent for a beat, and then his voice was filled with concern. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I—I’ve been to the doctor’s. They found something, and they need to do more tests, but I don’t know what it means. Jason, I don’t know what’s happening.Im outside our apartment. ”

You heard him shift on the other end of the line, like he was already getting ready to move. “Okay, okay. Stay right there. I’m coming to you. Just breathe, alright? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Relief flooded through you at the sound of his calm, commanding voice. Jason always had a way of making you feel safe, like no matter what happened, he’d be able to handle it. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

After you hung up, you sat there in the car, staring out the window but not really seeing anything. Your mind kept racing with possibilities, with worst-case scenarios that you couldn’t quite shake. But you held onto Jason’s words, repeating them in your head like a mantra: Breathe. I’ll be there soon.

True to his word, it didn’t take long for Jason to arrive. You saw him through the windshield as he parked his bike next to your car, his leather jacket catching in the sunlight. He was already looking around, scanning the area for you, and when his eyes landed on you, you saw the tension in his face relax just a little.

He opened your car door and crouched down beside you, his hand immediately reaching for yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady. “I’m here.”

The moment you saw him, the tears you had been holding back broke free. You reached out, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you sobbed. “Jason, I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close as you cried into his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you cry, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek, and somehow, that grounded you. Jason was here. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

After a while, when your sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles, Jason pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. It could be nothing, okay? I need you to trust that whatever happens, we’re going to deal with it. Together.”

You nodded, your chest still tight but feeling a little more steady with him here. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you pause. “Not until we know what’s going on. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m with you. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, settled something inside of you. You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch as you nodded again. “Okay.”

Jason smiled, a small but reassuring grin that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. “Come on,” he said, standing up and offering his hand to help you out of the car. “Let’s go home.”

---

The days that followed were filled with a strange kind of limbo. You were waiting for the results of the tests, waiting for some kind of answer, but all you had was silence and uncertainty. And in that silence, the fear grew.

Jason could see it. He wasn’t the type to hover, but every time you saw him out of the corner of your eye, he was watching you, concern etched into his face. He didn’t push you to talk about it, but he made sure you knew he was there.

He did little things, too. Things that might have gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention. He cooked dinner more often, even though you both knew his culinary skills were limited. He’d pick up your favorite snacks on his way home, or slip an extra blanket over you when you fell asleep on the couch. He even spent more time at home than usual, even though you knew he was itching to be out on patrol. But Jason didn’t say anything about it, and you didn’t either.

One night, as you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while Jason scrolled through his phone next to you, the weight of it all started to feel unbearable. The tests were supposed to come back soon, and the anxiety was eating away at you. You couldn’t pretend everything was normal anymore.

“Jason,” you whispered, not sure if you wanted to bring it up but knowing you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

He immediately set his phone down, turning toward you with full attention. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice so small you barely recognized it as your own.

Jason sighed softly, reaching over to take your hand in his. “I know,” he said. “I know you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if… if something’s really wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he said eventually. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. But worrying about it before we even know… that’s only going to drive you crazy.”

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that were already forming. “I can’t help it. It’s like this… this thing in my chest that won’t go away.”

Jason shifted closer, pulling you against his chest. “Then let me take some of that weight,” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. You’ve got me, remember?”

His words, so simple but so full of love, made you feel like you weren’t drowning anymore. You buried your face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, the leather and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to him. It was comforting in its own way, a reminder that he was real, that he was here with you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jason said softly, his fingers running through your hair. “And even if—even if—it was something serious, we’d fight it. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in his warmth, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside of you. It was easy to forget, sometimes, just how much Jason understood about fear, about fighting battles you didn’t know if you could win. But he always fought anyway. And with him by your side, maybe you could too.

---

A few days later, the phone call came. You were sitting on the couch, your leg bouncing anxiously as Jason flipped through the channels on the TV. You weren’t even watching, your mind too preoccupied with waiting for the phone to ring.

When it finally did, you almost jumped out of your skin. Jason’s eyes were on you immediately, watching as you picked up the phone with trembling hands.

“Hello?”

You held your breath as the voice on the other end spoke, and with every word, the tension in your body began to ease. It wasn’t serious. The tests had come back clear. It had been nothing more than a scare.

You hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment as the relief washed over you like a tidal wave.

Jason was still watching you, his brow furrowed. “Well?”

A smile broke across your face, your chest feeling lighter than it had inweeks. "It’s okay," you whispered at first, almost as if you couldn’t believe it. "I’m okay, Jason. It was just a scare."

For a moment, Jason stared at you, his face unreadable. Then, all at once, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissolve. He let out a deep breath, one that he must have been holding ever since this whole nightmare began. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as you both sat there, feeling the weight of the relief that had finally come.

"Thank god," Jason murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled you into his arms again, holding you as tightly as he had that day in the car when everything had first spiraled out of control. But this time, his grip wasn’t one of fear—it was one of gratitude, relief, and an overwhelming sense of love.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You sat in Jason’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was over. The worry, the uncertainty—it was all over, and you hadn’t even realized how much it had been weighing you down until now.

After a long while, Jason finally spoke, his voice a little lighter than it had been in days. “I told you it’d be okay,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His tone was teasing, but there was a tenderness to it that made your heart swell.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “You did,” you admitted. “But I didn’t believe it.”

Jason let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course you didn’t. You’re stubborn as hell.”

You laughed too, the sound light and freeing in a way it hadn’t been in what felt like forever. “I guess I am.”

He tilted your chin up slightly, his eyes searching yours. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly, his thumb grazing your jaw. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to go through stuff like this alone.”

Your throat tightened at his words, and you felt a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes—this time, not out of fear, but out of gratitude. Jason had been your rock throughout all of this, even when you hadn’t known how to ask for help. He had just been there, steady and unwavering.

“I know,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jason.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re never gonna have to find out,” he said, his voice low and full of certainty.

And in that moment, you believed him.

[fkinkindagauche]

Slutty Little Mouse

For @steddiesmuttyseptember week 3 prompt "sneaking around".

Rating: Explicit | WC: 1376 | CW: none | Tags: blow jobs, gags

Steve was trying so hard to fall asleep. He’d gone through his nightly routine, which had become something like a religious ritual at this point - turn off the TV by 9pm, wash his face and brush his teeth, go through a series of stretches and calisthenics, then sit quietly in his room for an hour reading before climbing into bed and shutting his eyes. Some nights it worked. Most nights it didn’t. 

He had tried to keep his eyes shut, forcing himself into sleep, but at some point he had opened them and was now staring at the ceiling, thinking. You’d think that he would be reliving memories of torture at the hands of Russians or horrible extradimensional monsters, but he wasn’t. He was thinking about how his life had effectively stalled - a 20 year old still living with his parents, working at Family Video with no immediate plans to branch out beyond that. 

He sighed, shifting from his back to his side, barely muffling a scream when he saw a figure looming in his window. The figure tapped a few times, and Steve gradually made out the wild hair and excited smile of Eddie Munson. 

Steve scrambled out of his bed and over to the window, pulling it open. Eddie was standing precariously on the roof of the Harringtons’ garage. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve hissed. “My parents are, like, right down the hall!”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s face in his hands and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “Came to keep you company,” he said, too loudly, and Steve shushed him while blushing. 

“Sorry,” Eddie whispered, looking not sorry at all. 

“How’d you know I wouldn’t be asleep?” 

Eddie gave him a disappointed look, like Steve was being deliberately obtuse. “You can never sleep, Stevie.” 

Steve huffed, and looked past Eddie at the street below.

“Get inside, someone’s gonna see you,” he said, yanking on Eddie’s arm. Eddie spilled in through the window, making more noise than Steve would have liked.

“How’d you even get up on the roof?” Steve whispered once Eddie had righted himself. 

“Climbed the trash cans. I’m very athletic.”

Steve snorted. “I can’t believe you didn’t knock them over and wake up the whole neighborhood.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Baby, you wound me.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you came over,” he whispered. “We can barely even talk with my parents right there.”

“We don’t need to talk,” Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows, and letting his eyes rake down Steve’s body. Steve was in only his boxers, chest bare. 

“We definitely can’t do anything else,” Steve replied.

“You know what always makes you fall asleep?” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. He could see where this was going, but decided to play along. “No, Eddie, what?”

Eddie stepped toward him, getting in his space.

"When I blow you and then we cuddle."

"I think I’m constitutionally incapable of letting you blow me with my parents right down the hall. You know how loud I am," Steve said, pleading. 

"I do know," Eddie said, stepping closer to Steve. "And I love it. Every single sound I wring out of you should win a fucking Grammy. But I'm sure you can be quiet."

Steve leaned into Eddie's warmth, chronically touch-starved. "I'm not sure I can be quiet." 

Eddie reached for his back pocket, pulling out his black bandana. "We could keep you quiet," he suggested, and Steve shivered, feeling his cock start to fill out. The idea of being gagged by Eddie was more arousing than he would have anticipated.

“So you came over here just to blow me to sleep?” Steve asked, trying to shift the focus away from his reaction to the gag.

“Yes, absolutely,” Eddie replied. “You need your beauty sleep.”

Steve was a weak man. He turned and walked back over to his bed. It was a twin, and not really big enough for two adult men, but he and Eddie liked to latch onto each other like two demented starfish so space wasn’t much of an issue. 

“Take off your jacket and jeans,” Steve said. 

Eddie saluted him. “Yes, sir.” He peeled off his jeans and threw his jacket onto the floor, following Steve over to the bed. Steve got under the covers and held them up for Eddie to follow.

Eddie got under the covers, putting the bandana on the bedside table, and instantly moved into Steve’s space, draping his whole body over Steve’s and shoving his face into Steve’s neck to kiss him there.

Steve laughed and tried to push him away. “That tickles,” he whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly. Eddie pushed himself up on his elbows and smiled down at Steve, putting those mind-altering dimples on full display. Steve leaned forward to kiss him, and Eddie reciprocated, pushing Steve back down onto the bed. He licked at Steve’s lips and Steve happily opened them, tangling his tongue with Eddie’s. 

Eddie pressed his hips down into Steve and Steve could feel his hard cock pressed against his thigh. He let out a breathy little moan as Eddie slid a thigh in between his legs, pressing it up into Steve’s cock.

“You gonna need the gag already, baby?” Eddie asked, smirking, and Steve moaned again at the thought of the gag. “Oh, you like that,” Eddie said, delighted. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bandana. “Open up?” Eddie stuffed the bandana in his mouth roughly, and Steve bucked his hips up into Eddie’s thigh.

“Good boy,” Eddie said, kissing Steve’s cheek. Steve tried to moan at the praise, but it was thankfully muffled now. “That’s better,” Eddie said. “Quiet as a slutty little mouse.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Eddie started to kiss down his body, spending a few minutes licking and sucking over his pecs and nipples, which always made Steve outrageously horny. Eddie eventually kept moving south, trailing kisses over Steve’s abdomen. When he got to the waistband of Steve’s boxers he pulled them down, freeing Steve’s cock.

Eddie pressed a kiss onto the head of his cock, sticking his tongue out to lick up the precum at his slit, then moving away to kiss his inner thighs. Steve let out a muffled whine and shifted his hips. Eddie took pity on him and moved back to Steve’s cock, sucking the head into his mouth.

He played with the head of Steve’s cock for a few moments, running his tongue around the glans, sucking lightly, before moving his mouth further down his shaft. He took Steve in most of the way, his hand holding the base of Steve’s cock, and started to bob his head gently up and down. Steve was moaning with abandon now, very glad to have the bandana in his mouth muffling all the noise. 

Eddie moved his hand away and took Steve into his throat, swallowing against his gag reflex to fit Steve all the way. Steve started to thrust up into Eddie’s mouth in time with Eddie’s movements, and felt his orgasm start to build. Eddie could feel it, too, pulling off of Steve for a moment to look up and say, “Come in my mouth, baby.”

That was all it took; the moment Eddie got Steve back in his mouth he was coming, his normally loud cries muffled behind the bandana. Eddie swallowed all of his cum, gently working Steve’s dick with his hand until he was spent. 

He moved up Steve’s body and reached out to pull the bandana from Steve’s mouth. “Sleepy now, darling?” Eddie asked. 

Steve nodded, then noticed Eddie’s cock still hard against his thigh. “What ‘bout you?” he asked, voice already heavy with oncoming sleep. Eddie shifted off of Steve, laying on his side and wrapping an arm around his waist. “I’m fine. You just go to sleep,” Eddie said, kissing Steve’s temple. 

If Steve hadn’t been so exhausted, he would have put up a fight, but he could finally feel himself starting to sink into blissful darkness. He turned over onto his side with his back against Eddie’s chest, letting Eddie spoon him.

“Love you, Eds,” he said sleepily. 

“Love you, too, mouse,” Eddie replied, and Steve drifted off to sleep.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 90)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (68) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (23)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3.4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

“For someone so independent, you’re very needy,” Jordan chuckled.

YFN pouted, looking at her watch again. “They’ve been gone all fucking day. Surely that’s a bad thing?”

The slightly smaller woman shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, what if they’re just tying everything up with a pretty bow to make sure that it’s all sorted today? With both Lucy and Leah speaking, and then our testimonials, along with Ridley and Alexia, and your injury report, surely that’s enough to have Kristie locked up for the foreseeable future.”

Kristie. She never wanted to hear that name again. Lucy had no intention of letting her be in the same room as her, and Leah had offered to go as a character witness, knowing that her fame would make them realise how important of a case it was.

Jordan reached out and squeezed her hand. “It should be an open and shut case. Especially seeing as you didn’t want to go for the harshest punishment.”

“I just didn’t want her doing it to anyone else. She needed to know it was wrong.”

“Some jail time and community service will definitely get the message across.”

“And restraining orders…” she murmured. That had been Lucy’s non-negotiable.

“Leah there is going to throw a spanner in the works too. Her platform is massive. No one in their right mind will want her publicly speaking about how Kristie got away with her friends being stalked and then assaulted to the point of this.”

She gestured to YFN sitting up in the hospital bed.

She squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here, Dory.”

Jordan’s little smile took over from her serious, friend look. “Of course, mate. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

A few minutes later Lucy’s doctor returned, or rather, her doctor too.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said as he stood next to her bed with a gentle smile. He was one of those men that you were always comfortable around. The benevolent type. “The scans are good - better than I expected given your… history.” Another smile, though this one was sympathetic. “Would you like the good news or the very good news first?”

She felt herself let go of tension she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“Save the best for last.”

“Very well.” He put the scans up on the light box and pointed to her collarbone. “The second surgery went well. The screws are holding, though I’m afraid I need you in the sling to keep it immobile for the next 4 weeks or so..”

She sighed, though knew it was the case. Her Christmas was officially in a sling.

He continued. “Unless there’s an incident, or any issues with pain, I won’t need to give it a check-up until just prior to Christmas, and then I’m hoping to have you out of it for the new year.”

She smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s positive…”

He moved onto the next two x-rays. “Your forearm and wrist are healing well, though I’m afraid the cast will need to remain on for the next 6-8 weeks. We’ll give you a check-up when we get rid of the sling. Your jaw is also healing nicely, I know the bruising has been persistent, but expect it to be gone in the next week or so..”

“I can handle the cast,” she chuckled. “My shoulder is just in need of a good movement.”

She’d just wanted to swing her arm around, to roll her shoulder, instead of having it stuck where it was. It was a level of frustrating that bordered on pain.

“There are a few small massages that you can do to help, though you’ll need to be quite gentle with them, and careful not to shift your collarbone too much.”

He handed her a sheet with the exercises.

“Lucy can help with these. Any issues, give me a call.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gratefully. She was always grateful at the opportunity for Lucy to touch her more.

Jordan took the sheet interestedly and looked over it.

“Now onto your ribs. They’ve been thrown around a bit…” he looked at her with eyebrows raised and she blushed, knowing full well that she’d been abusing them a little too much with Lucy. “…which I understand.” He was politely giving her an out. “You already had several past injuries and you’re very limited with your movements given your state, and so it’s understandable that your ribs are catching the brunt of it. Though, you’ll need to be more mindful. No overexertion. No twisting yourself. No…excessive movements.”

To his credit, he did seem entertained by it.

“I think you should call Lucy and tell her that directly,” Jordan joked.

YFN’s mouth dropped open, though he and Jordan shared a good chuckle at her expense. She made a mental note to not tell Lucy so that she didn’t lose any part of her sex life.

“Now onto your kneecap…”

She braced herself for bad news, but how could it be, when he’d said the worst of it first?

“It was only ever a minor crack, however I wanted you to keep your full weight off of it as you can’t exactly use crutches. I’m going to keep the brace on, however you can walk on it again.”

She grinned – her first thought being that Lucy was going to be so happy. She could picture her face lighting up now.

“Now don’t overdo it. Don’t put all of your weight onto it at once. Place your foot on the ground and ease your weight onto it. It’s a slow process, but you need to build that habit up so you’re not overdoing it. The brace will be on for another few weeks, and I’m hoping to take it off just before Christmas.”

No brace for Christmas. Lucy was going to be thrilled.

“Hoping…” he said again, making sure she understood that it was only a possibility at this stage. “…and you can take the brace off for showers now, just don’t put all of your weight on it in the shower.”

No more garbage bags. She nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

They finished up with him, getting her scripts for medication and some more information. Lucy, ever the anatomy fanatic, would want to know every detail possible. Especially because it was her.

She walked slowly to the car, relished the feel of being able to use her legs like legs again. She was officially The Little Mermaid.

She groaned the relief for her hips and lower back as she did so, knowing this would take a lot of strain from Lucy needing to carry her around.

She slipped into Miles, Lucy’s car, and Jordan slipped into the driver’s seat. The footballers had taken Leah’s Mercedes as it was lower to get into and Lucy hadn’t wanted her dropping into the seat and struggling to get out.

It was later in the afternoon now, and she looked at the time, wondering why it was all taking so long.

“Celebration dinner?” Jordan asked.

“Why do I feel like you all had this planned already?”

“Maybe. You know Lucy…”

“Has she messaged you?!” She looked over at Jordan who seemed to barely be able to see over the steering wheel. She gave a sympathetic smile. “No, sorry. But the table is still booked, so maybe we should see if they make it? I would suggest Katie and Caitlin but they’re not in town. Most of the girls are with their international squads. We can ask Alex but Jill is in Manchester. There’s a few other’s in town.. LJ and Keira, maybe?”

“Oh, that’s an idea!”

Jordan gave them both a call. LJ wasn’t available, however Keira and Georgia were. They met them at the Italian restaurant Lucy had booked and made a night of it. The girls joked about how they’d be in trouble if they were caught eating carbs when they were in season, though YFN had convinced them that they’d deserved it after their hard fought victory over the Netherlands. The more she got to know Keira, the more she got along with her. She opened up slowly, though at the end of the day, they both thought similarly, and had a similar sense of humour.

It was also one of the first times she’d been close and in intimate conversation with Georgia since she’d caught the first kiss between her and Lucy. They spoke about the game, Scotland, how much they needed to win by, Lumos and the interviews. The three footballers had a good catch up now that they all played for different teams, and they saw less of Jordan.

The two opted to skip dessert as they’d apparently already been too bad, though once they saw Jordan and YFN’s desserts, they couldn’t help but try a taste.

When their dinner was ending, she checked her phone and her stomach sank.

“Still nothing?” Jordan asked, seeing her reaction.

She gave a sigh. ��No. You?”

She shook her head.

“Doesn’t usually take this long, surely?” Georgia asked. “What, are they hand delivering her to jail?”

“There must be a good reason…” Keira comforted. “Either way, we have time to do the interview if you want?”

They were being efficient, with Keira offering at dinner to come over and do the couch interview that YFN had suggested was best to ease the ‘Wonze’ fanatics of the internet. She still didn’t know Keira well, though she could see that she’d offered partly because not only did she want to get it over and done with, as she hated interviews, but she knew YFN needed a distraction from the current legal situation that Lucy and Leah were tied up in. She called Bridget and Emily to see if they were available last minute for the interview. They were more than eager, as she knew they would be, though still offered them extra pay for the inconvenience.

After dinner, they made their way to Lucy’s and settled in, Bridget and Emily setting up for the interview while she ran through queries with Keira prior to it.

“Did you read the questions and prompts I sent..?”

She hadn’t expected her to, as the interview wasn’t supposed to take place until later in the month, however things seemed to be working this way for her for some reason.

Keira nodded, asking questions and YFN couldn’t help but be impressed at her eye for detail.

She’d said that Jordan and Georgia didn’t have to stay, but they’d insisted, wanting to catch up on lost time.

The interview went for just over an hour, though it was exactly what she’d wanted. Keira had not been tense at all, and she was proud of herself for creating such an environment. To be fair, she even felt like she’d flirted with her a little, which had surprised the Australian. She’d never seen an interview with Keira so comfortable before. Hopefully that would suppress the ‘Wonze’ fanatics who’d been sending her so much hate on social media.

Keira took photos for their interview, while she answered Georgia’s questions about the content process. She had very little content outside of the Lionesses as she played at Bayern Munich and they weren’t exactly known for their social media. They didn’t have time for another interview that night as the girls had training the next day before flying out to Scotland, and needed to get rest.

They all left, though Jordan stayed with her. She looked at her watch as they walked out of the door. 8pm. She hadn’t heard from Lucy since 7am.

She sighed, dropping her hand in defeat. Jordan gave her a cuddle. “They’ll be home soon..”

She cuddled into her friend, allowing herself to relax when her phone buzzed. She jumped immediately and grimaced at the pain that shot through her body as she grabbed for her phone.

Joe calling…

At this time of night?

“Hey, Joe,” she answered, feeling awkward calling her that.

“Hello, YFN. How are you?” Her voice sounded as soft and regally calm as ever. It was comforting to her.

“I’m doing well. It’s late – is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. I was calling to check in on the hearing today. Did it go well?”

She wondered if she’d used any of her influence to help the situation. Her voice suggested that perhaps she had, though just a little.

“Luce and Leah aren’t home yet. They’ve been gone for over 13 hours.”

“I see. It’s not unusual, though. I’d like an update when they’re done, please. I need to make sure this is all wrapped up so that you’re safe.”

Seeing as you don’t want the security team I offered, she could practically hear her saying. Catherine was worried about her, which made her feel loved. She’d never had that from a mother figure beyond her grandma. Her heart softened.

“Thank you…” she said, gratefully. “I’ll let you know when I know. Also, I had a check up today. Everything is healing well, and I can now walk, albeit gently.”

“I read the report you sent through,” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. “I was very happy to read that. Hopefully you can be moving a bit more freely by the new year.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She gave a light laugh. “Mine certainly are. Now, I was thinking about the Gala event this week that Lucy and Alessia are doing this week. We’re a bit on the back foot with everything since there’s so much going on, however I was hoping that the timing will work out to have our own Lumos event this week, on Friday or Saturday perhaps. Do you think we could get any high profile players in that time?”

“How many were you thinking?”

“Ten maximum. I don’t want the focus to be lost if there are too many.”

“Well, Lucy will be with me for a little before headed back to Barca. Most girls will be back with their teams by then. I think I can get Jordan Nobbs, Leah Williamson, potentially any players from the WSL, and also perhaps… perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

She pondered. “Perhaps… Alexia. That’s a big maybe, though.”

“Alexia would be the white whale, if we could get her on. Otherwise, it sounds great. Perhaps some other nationalities too, if you can?”

“Coaches too?” She asked, trying to think who would be available at a moment’s notice. “I could ask Sarina. Emma. I could get Caitlin for Australia, Katie for Ireland, Yui for Japan, Ashley for Canada, or similar if they're not available?”

“Brilliant. I do hate to drop this on you last minute, though I have been wanting to get it done before the rush prior to Christmas. If you could look through availability and give me a date and names, I’ll work on booking a location for Friday or Saturday so we can start promoting it.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, YFN. About tomorrow night, I have a location to meet. I’m assuming Lucy will be coming also?”

“I think Leah and Jordan have a right to be there too.”

She could practically hear her nodding. “I’ve sent the location and time to Mark. I have an aircraft departing at night for you. I’ll put you all on the manifest. You may need to clear it with the Lioness management.”

“Leah will handle that…”

“Perfect. I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Cath-” She cut herself off. “Are you sure about this?”

“There’s only so much hiding I can do. This is an unnecessary evil, unfortunately. You’ve been through too much already. I won’t have you fighting him too. I’m hoping to finish this once and for all with him tomorrow night, though from then on, my intention is still to be the silent partner while you are the face of Lumos. Has anything changed for you in regards to that?”

The empathy in her voice had YFN feeling comfortable. Comfortable enough that she could have said no, and Catherine would have accepted it without question.

“Nothing has changed on my end. I’m just very eager to get us onto a schedule where I’m not chasing my tail with interviews and events.” She chuckled. Catherine shared in her chuckle.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been hoping the exact same. It’s good to hear we’re on the same page, though. We’ll speak more tomorrow night. Until then – keep me posted on the hearing and anything you need at all, let me know.”

YFN and Jordan fell asleep on the couch, their feet overlapping under the blanket they shared as their heads were at opposite ends. She wasn’t sure how long she slept for, however she was woken by a warm kiss to the cheek and Lucy’s deep, comforting voice. “I’m here, little one. Everything’s okay.”

“Luce?” She mumbled, half asleep. She opened one eye, followed drearily by the other as she looked at her favourite person. Her expression was peaceful, which calmed the Australian.

She looked down at Jordan who was sitting up with Leah next to her, the two talking quietly. She looked back at Lucy.

“What happened?”

“It’s done, little one.”

She tried to prop herself up, and Lucy helped her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist to pull her up into a sitting position. “It took that long?”

“The incident happened in Spain, so we were delayed due to that, however someone pulled some strings for us.” Catherine. Lucy gave her a knowing look. “Without her, this would have been dragged out for weeks.”

“It’s done?”

She nodded as she reached out to stroke the yellowing bruises on her jaw. “Jail time for a period. Community service for the rest, as you didn’t want her to be stuck in there for the maximum time. Restraining orders for life. She won’t be attending any games in the future. And she apologised. It’s done.”

“She…apologised?”

“Mainly to me, but yes. She cried a lot.”

“That must have been hard…”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seeing someone upset, but she did hurt the person I love so… my empathy was not there for her. I’m just happy it’s all over.” She leant forward and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. “What did you two get up to, love?”

“We had dinner with Keira and Georgia,” Jordan said from across the couch.

Leah gave YFN a smile. She looked tired.

Lucy was caught off guard. “Oh?”

“It was great,” she reassured, putting her hand under the collar of her shirt, and on that strong collarbone of hers. “I did my couch interview with Keira after it.”

Lucy looked impressed, though like she had questions for when they were alone. She didn’t blame her.

“And?” Jordan prompted.

“Oh! And Lumos wants to host a public event with 10 female footballers in London this Friday or Saturday. Are you all free?”

“You know I am,” Lucy murmured, leaning her head against hers.

“I’ll be in town.” Leah answered.

“You already know I’m in.” Jordan agreed, looking at Leah. YFN hadn’t realised until just then that it must have been a while since they’d done something like that together in public.

“And I messaged Riddles, hoping to get Alexia if she’s back in town…”

“Mmn. I’m sure it’ll all be perfect. You’re good at the last minute organising,” Lucy teased.

She rolled her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

She gave an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do wonder how the doctor went today? I have an email titled: ‘No funny business.’”

Jordan cackled. Actually cackled. YFN blushed, a little embarrassed and frustrated that she had to tell her. Lucy didn’t understand. Bless her, she was incredibly smart, though a lot less quick for these types of situations.

“Everything is healing well apart from my…ah…ribs. They’ve not been having the rest they should.”

“I believe he said they’ve been ‘thrown around a bit’…” Jordan offered.

Lucy clicked and gave a guilty look. Before she could speak, YFN jumped in, trying to distract her with ten different things to keep her mind away from limiting sex with her.

“But everything else is healing well… hoping to be out of the sling by the new year and the knee brace by Christmas. Also, I can officially walk.” She gave a proud smile. “No more looking for the wheelchair in Scotland, Luce. I’ll be the one-armed flamingo with the Australian flag.”

[sometimesanalice]

“well,  i do feel a little better now that you’re here”

Bradley and SG please 👉🏼👈🏼 love your work Alexa ☺️☺️

Charlie, you gem! Thank you for always being so lovely and supportive! I hope you enjoy this one! 🥰

There You Are

Summary: It's the first time you're seeing Bradley in over 2 years. A lot of things have changed for you since the night he'd called you before that mission, but if there was one thing you knew you could count on, it was that he'd always be there for you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 1.5K

It had been nine days of radio silence.

Nine days since Bradley had called you in the night before he left for whatever classified mission the Navy had ordered him back to Top Gun for.

Nine days of wondering and hoping for the best. Trying to convince yourself that no news was good news.

Nine days of not tasting any of the meals you'd forced down as you waited. Not that you had much of an appetite anyways.

Nine days of tossing and turning in the bed you slept alone in, as you worked on untangling your life from your now ex boyfriend. The two of you agreeing to share the apartment like roommates until you found out about the promotion you were up for.

The one that might take you to San Diego. To the sunshine and ocean. To new opportunities. To your best friend.

You had pretty much dropped everything the moment you saw Bradley's name flash across the screen of your phone. The relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice- at his Hey, kid- nearly sent you to the floor.

While it had been another few days before you were able to get on a plane- he'd told you there were still some debriefs and paperwork that still needed to be done before him and his team could take leave- but you'd started packing your suitcase the moment the call ended.

You were antsy the entire six hour flight from Boston. You'd apologized more than once for nudging your neighbor's arm as you shifted and squirmed in your uncomfortable seat.

Hearing that final ding of the seatbelt off sign was music to your ears.

You'd called him the moment you stepped off the plane and Bradley picked up on the first ring.

"This feels familiar, doesn't it?" he rasps over the phone. You know he's thinking about the Spring Break you'd went to visit him at UVA. He'd picked you up at the airport then, just like he was doing now. "When is it my turn to be picked up at the airport, kid?"

Of course they'd dropped you off at the furthest gate in Terminal 1. You let out a huff and then set about threading your way through the throng of people standing between you and your best friend.

"Please, when's the last time you flew commercial?" you tease. "And it's not all of us can just waltz onto a Naval Base anytime we want."

"Hey, no one's stopping you from joining up. I'll even write you a letter of recommendation."

You weave around a stroller.

"Hmm, pass. But thank you for the generous offer."

And then past a couple holding hands.

He chuckles. "Guess that means I get to keep my title as designated chauffeur, huh?"

"Lucky you," you sing.

If you weren't on a mission, you'd consider stopping at the coffee shop that you're briskly gliding past for a quick cappuccino. But you had other priorities.

"Such a smart ass." You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You speed up your steps, the glimmer of the exit now in sight. "Why don't you say that to my face, Bradshaw."

"I'm trying to, but you're taking forever," he grouses, famously the more impatient one of the two of you. "I'm to the left of Arrivals gate, by the way."

You smile to yourself. Knowing him, he has probably been there for at least an hour keeping tabs on you with some flight tracker app he'd downloaded on his phone.

"It's a good thing you told me, I'm not sure if I'd recognize you with that bold fashion statement you're sporting on your face now."

Bradley scoffs indignantly. "You haven't even been here thirty minutes and you're already dunking on the 'stache, kid? It looks better in person, give it a chance."

You pull over just to the right of the Terminal exit, tucked next to a potted ficus, taking a moment to scan through the crowd of people waiting for their own travelers. He's not hard for you to find, standing head and shoulders above everyone else in the area.

Whole and healthy and here in front of you.

It's been a little over two years since you've last seen Bradley in person, he'd been stationed in Japan before his return to Top Gun. It was still hard to believe that the lanky boy you'd grown up with had become the well-built man standing across the way from you.

During his time in the Navy, he'd truly come into himself. The easy confidence in his posture was well earned and looked good on him. But you had to stop yourself from laughing and giving yourself away when you see him impatiently tapping his toes. Because no matter how much some things change, there are some things that will always be the same.

"I don't know about that," you muse, still taking him in because there was a moment there when you weren't sure you'd ever get to see him again. "I can see it from here and I'm still on the fence about it."

You see him look around, confused for a moment, head swiveling trying to spot you. You don't keep him waiting long, stepping out from your hiding spot and into view.

You mouth hi and give him a little wave.

"Hey, there you are." There's no missing the wide grin on his face. "You going to stand all the way over there or are you going to come see the mustache up close and personal?"

You laugh and shake your head making your way to him. "I guess I might as well considering I did fly all the way across the country to see it."

"And me, I hope."

"And you," you confirm.

You end the call, tucking your phone into your bag as you close the gap between him and you.

Those whiskey brown eyes are one you've known your whole life. His curls looked like they've seen some sun, as did the rest of him. And the soft smile he had directed at you looked like contentment.

What stops you in your tracks are the fresh cuts that mark his face, new scars to be mixed in with the ones you already knew so well. They're shade of bright pink that's impossible to miss.

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He doesn't say a word as you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head this way and that, inspecting him for yourself. He just gazes at you, reading every emotion as they run across your face, as you try to hunt for any clues to an answer about what happened that you know you'll never get.

"I'm fine, I promise," he murmurs.

"It doesn't look fine," you press.

He grasps you wrists with his warm hands and coaxes yours down between the two of you.

Too close. Whatever it was was too damn close. The evidence is right there on his neck and behind his ear, and you hate it.

Bradley squeezes your hands reassuringly. "I'll have you know passed the concussion protocol with flying colors." He tries to play it off as a joke, but the dark circles under his eyes and the weariness you see around the corners of his eyes tells a different story.

"Does it still hurt?" you ask, trying not to let your voice wobble.

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You're so-"

Ridiculous. Frustrating. Important to me.

You don't get to finish you sentence because Bradley is tugging you into his broad chest. The arms that wrap around you are fuller now, but his hug is as just a familiar as it's always been.

Yours thread themselves around his waist instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He holds you close, holds you tight. Bradley's always been the type to really hold on tight because he knows what it's like to have to let things go.

People come and go. There's the sound of departure and arrival announcements on the speakers overhead. Some people are saying their goodbyes, and some- like the two of you- are saying hello.

All of it happens around you and Bradley. As you hold him and he holds you. Both of you all too aware that this moment hadn't been a given.

"Thank you for not standing me up," you whisper, throat thick.

"I wouldn’t dream of it, kid," he says, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, and gives it a little wiggle.

You blow out a breath, not wanting a raincloud of what-ifs to damper your golden afternoon.

"Hi," you say again.

"I'm happy to see you," he replies, earnestly. You just nod your head because the feeling is so, so mutual. "You just gained three hours, you up for a little adventuring?"

"I’m all yours, Bradshaw."

It didn't matter to you what you did for the four days you were in town, just that you got to spend it with him.

"Good." He drapes a heavy arm over shoulder and reaches for your suitcase. "Because I'm pretty sure I owe you a milkshake."

You let him steer you towards the exit, to where you assume the short term parking garage is located, and ask, "Can I drive the Bronco?"

Bradley pauses. "We'll see."

You grin because it's not a no.

The California sun hits you in full force as you step out the automatic doors. You reach up and tug out the sunglasses that had been haphazardly tucked into the pocket of his silly Hawaiian shirt- that you were definitely going to tease him about later- and slip them on your face.

Bradley smiles over at you.

"I think California is going to suit you, kid."

And for the first time, here with him, you think it might too.

[sceletaflores]

any nasty down bad breeding kink art musings love of my life?

viciously yanked me out of my mini challengers rut with this one because yes. yes i do have some thoughts on that.

for some reason the first thing that came to mind was virgin!art....in a universe where he somehow didn't get laid before stanford lol

like auurgggghhh virgin!art and his deep seated breeding kink. it's literally ingrained in him even before he has sex for the first time.

you're his first real girlfriend, met when you needed a tutor in accounting and art's professor suggested him.

the two of you have been dating for two months and he already knows that he loves you despite what patrick says about "playing the field a little man, you're not married to the chick."

but the thing is that art would marry you. he'd up and marry you tomorrow if that's what you wanted. he doesn’t care how crazy it sounds.

he loves you and he wants you to be his first.

maybe he wasn't entirely expecting it when you laid on your back on the mattress of his dorm, peering up at him through your lashes as you announced that you were "ready to take our relationship to the next level..."

he was hard before you finished talking.

art could barely think straight, his body reacting faster than his mind. he swallowed hard, trying to steady his hands, which had started trembling the moment you laid back on the navy blue comforter of his bed.

“are you...are you sure?" his voice came out more breathless than he intended, his brain scrambling to keep up despite all the blood rushing to his dick.

your gentle nod, paired with a soft smile that made his heart stutter in his chest was all it took for him to lose any lingering doubts.

he crawled up the mattress, leaning down to kiss you with more tenderness than urgency, his heart thudding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape his chest.

he fumbled his way through fingering you, his hands shaking with nerves even though you've done this part countless times.

it wasn't until the two of you shed all clothes, art settling himself between your legs before you were speaking, thighs twitching to close around his hips.

"you'll have to pull out, i'm off the pill."

fuck.

art's heard of that before, pulling out. usually the punchline of some jokes the guys like to tell in the locker room, or from patrick recapping his own hook-up stories.

the dirtiness of it makes his cheeks burn, and he hopes to god you can't see the embarrassing red blush he knows is there.

he takes a deep breath, steeling his resolve as he presses the leaking head of his dick to your slick hole.

"okay." his voice sounded pained, his hold on your hip probably a little too tight as he held his throbbing dick steady and nudged his hips forward until just the tip slipped inside your fluttering hole.

"oh fuck."

art’s brain short-circuits for a moment, his entire body freezing as the tight heat of you grips the head of his dick. he sucks in a shaky breath, trying to keep his cool, but every nerve in his body is screaming at him to move, to take more. to bury himself so deep he wouldn’t know where he ends and you begin.

he lets out a low groan, fingers digging into your skin, knuckles turning white with it. he wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming it would feel, like his entire life had been leading up to this exact moment.

"jesus...you're so—" he can’t even finish the sentence, his voice breaking.

"art," your hips shift beneath him, making him jolt forward, sinking just a little deeper inside you. his mind goes blank, a vast space of nothingness but the tight heat wrapped around his dick.

there's only you, your soft skin, your quiet gasps, the feeling of being wrapped in the most sinful warmth.

for a while art gets lost in the feeling. in the way you pant into his open mouth, to overwhelmed to kiss him properly. in the way your hands grip his shoulders harder with every inch he gives you. in the way you pussy shakes around him like it can hardly wait any longer.

but soon enough, art knows he's getting close, that he probably needs to pull out soon. but you're just so soft and you smell so good and your pussy is sucking his dick in so wet and warm like it never wants him to leave again.

"i can't," he grits out against your collarbone, shaking his head frantically. "i can't do it."

"don't stop," you whine, manicured nails digging into the toned muscle of his shoulders, "don't stop, baby. fuck, give it to me harder, harder please-ah!"

art screws his eyes shut as tightly as he can, brows pinched together as he presses his forehead against the sweaty skin of your shoulder. to ground himself. his hips speed up to punch out more high whines of his name from your slick lips.

there's an odd feeling working it's way through his body as he ponders his options, a wrongness flashing in the back of his mind each time he reminds himself of pulling out to spill over your stomach.

despite the fact that he's never done this before, his gut tells him no.

you deserve his come inside you, painted along your insides as he claims you for the first time.

"i can't pull out," he whines through clenched teeth, big hands tightening their hold on your waist. his voice is pinched and high in a way it's never been before, desperation leaking through his tone.

your lips fall open on a gasp, your head shaking back and forth dazedly, but he feels the way you clench around him. the way your pussy tightens up like it's trying to milk the load directly out of his aching balls.

"fuck! please don't make me baby," he begs, self restraint snapping in two as he buries his face in your neck. "lemme come in you, it'll be okay. we'll be fine, nothing gonna happen if it's only this once."

"no..." you moan, "art don't, gotta pull out..." but your hips start rising of the bed to meet his thrusts, the dirty smack of skin on skin filling his tiny single. you're dripping around him, coating his dick with a slick layer of shiny wetness.

"i can't," art repeats breathlessly, dick twitching inside you warningly.

"i need it…need you, need to come in you so fucking bad," his voice is strained and cracking, hips trembling with the effort, but you’re so tight around him, every squeeze pulling him deeper.

it's too much and not enough all at once—the heat, the wetness, the overwhelming need. it has pure kerosene burning in his veins.

"art," your legs stay wrapped snug around his hips, ankles locked over his lower back. "m'close, gonna come, fuck! i'm coming—!"

so is art. the added squeeze of you're pussy coming around shattering the last of his resolve and sending him careening him over the edge.

"fuck," your name falls from his lips in a tight groan as he unloads inside of you. flooding your pussy with warm come as his hips keep up the punishing pace he set.

art doesn't stop thrusting even as he comes so hard his vision whites out. he can't stop, like you've got some sort of magnetic field that keeps pulling him in over and over and over.

your too-loud moans and cries dissolving into sharp keens and gasps as he fucks you into over-stimulation, his hips pumping in in in as the image of his come getting fucked deeper and deeper inside of you plays on a loop in his mind.

when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of you in a sweaty heap of limbs, your arms immediately come up to wrap around his shoulders. a pleased hum rumbling through your chest as you scratch your nails along his scalp soothingly, smug smile hidden in the sweaty halo of his hair.

art's out like a light in five minutes, falls asleep right there with his head resting on your bare-chest and his dick kept safe inside you.

patrick buys a plan-b for art the next morning when he's too nervous to face the cashier at walgreens.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

ghost drabble

I had a horrific dream where I was in an on-again-off-again relationship with a guy whose whole deal was "but you'll get hurt!"... So we're turning the weirdly consistent symbolism from said dream into a drabble cause why not.

_

Ghost was never good with feelings.

Sure, he's comfortable with certain people--the 141, namely, in that he can share a space with them without looking over his shoulder every half second, or being aware of every hair on the back of his neck.

Still, that doesn't mean he's open with them.

They can have conversations, they can share thoughts, but they can't be soft. They're the 141, for heaven's sake. The guys who get things done. And there's no room for that sort of domesticity--that appreciation of the small and humble--when you're out on the field, fighting for your country, your people, your life. So no, it's not just fight or flight mode that has him shifting around awkwardly when its back to the civilian world. It's the strange detachment, the odd disconnect, of trying to do normal things when one is anything but.

That's particularly true when it comes to romance: you're a sweet little thing. A bit feisty, but sweet, and good for him. And he knows that--he knows that you can't heal him, but you're a good motivator. And you're there when he needs to come home to something warm and dear and darling. There are nights when he wants nothing more than to rest his head in your lap, kneeling before you like the sinner he is, yet finding not admonishment but a quiet, calming comfort.

At the same time, though, he knows he's a target. That's why he never has a picture, not even on his official files. The name "Simon Riley" is as much of a ghost as his callsign. And that's what's kept him safe--having so little, or nothing at all, that there was nothing for his enemies to find. Nothing left to lose.

But now there's you, there's you, and he can lose you.

And he'd rather lose you on his own terms than someone else's.

"Simon, stop it. You're being mean."

Oh, yes, he's mean--and that's all he's ever known.

Your bottom lip is trembling because you're trying so hard to pout. So desperate to keep your frown instead of an open-mouth sobbed, and he's just standing there. This bulk of a man. His hands firm at his sides because if he'll reach for you, he knows he'll shake like you do now.

"I'm sorry," is all he says, an indifferent blankness in his stare.

But what hurts you more isn't that indifference--it's the fact you know it's a lie. That you've carved a hole in his heart and melted the ice, and he's trying to freeze it. Undo all your hard work--his hard work. Because he's so damn stupid and selfish with his utter selflessness.

He'll come crawling back eventually. He just needs some time. Because you were everything and anything and more, and he wanted to be enough. If he can't have you now, and if he's afraid to lose you, first he'll have to get rid of everything that could ever take you.

[applesontheground]

I have a big, beautiful, fat fucking request for you. Let me get, some Danny Johnson, him totally, ferally obsessed with the reader. He is down BAD for her. He has so many cravings, he doesn't know where to *start* when he finally breaks into her place. He wants to do it all and has a knife, rope, duct tape and nothing but time since your vacation just started and no one is expecting to see you for DAYS. All he knows is he wants to fuck you and see you cry and bleed, ruin you for anyone else. <3

last night never happened 📞

SO, THIS IS GOING TO BE THE FIRST DIVE INTO DANNY, HUH?

As someone who's coming out of one hell of a break, i'm very excited to find my writer's muscle again, and what better way than to finally get started on some of my requests? :D

This is also a part of celebrating @bisexual-horror-fan's birthday today! I told Bex I wanted to do something special for this, and give a good reminder I sure don't forget about any ideas that get thrown at me... even the ones that have sat in the inbox for far too long.

Hope you like it, Bex. Happy birthday!! ❤

NSFW | Word Count: 3,138 | Danny Johnson x Female Reader contains MAJOR DUBCON THEMES, stalking/obsession, masturbation, B&E, sadomaso, knifeplay/v light bloodplay, titfucking, BDSM, gagging, fingering, orgasm denial 🎼: x, x

“How do we know the stories that come from that beat are always going to center around this part of town?”

“Well,” A pause, a knowing pause that was tired of answering the question, “How do we know it isn’t? This is downtown, [Y/N].”

Then came a small murmur from the group. You were silent, but you didn’t lower your head. It was a standard meeting with the head photographer, and you were merely sitting in. More of an intern than any sort of employee, it was almost mindless to speak up like you did. You appeared not to understand that it was all supposed to deter you from being so steady on your pedestal, of once-believed expertise that you were ahead of some nonexistent curve in reasoning. Your unwavering blink, a denial to be crushed despite the odds falling against your face, was tantalizing.

It made the muscles in his hands flex, white knuckling as he folded his hands and craned his neck to force his eyes on the space in front of him. You had no right to know just what those hands wanted to do, no one besides him did – at least, while he was forced to exist so identifiable in public, surrounded by others.

Someone could gut that pretty little body like a fish and she still wouldn’t find the need to run from the knife. That idea raced to the forefront of his head, a realization that made him need to shift uncomfortably, pretend his nose itched to explain to the world why a jolt of energy had just shot down his leg, made him almost leap at some thought up opportunity.

There was a scheduled break in the work – for all of the team, including you – after that session. A full week to catch up on the work at hand, take the time to do what mattered if you were already there. Although the weather was great for travel, for visiting friends, you had been idly chatting about it after the meeting, mentioning there were no plans outside of “decompressing”.

It was perfect, and he nearly moved in closer to get a look at you, mere steps away from where he had been sitting. He couldn’t meet your eyes just yet. It all came from deep in his chest, something that drummed sweat in his hands and made him promptly leave the meeting room without another look around.

Some time that evening, remembering the curve of your jaw when you would turn to look at the clock on the wall and melting into the hot sweat against his hand that stroked to the rhythm that he’d believe resembled a pulse under his fingers, Danny decided you were going to be his next project. He had been sliding ideas of others that he saw along with you day in and day out, and you were a babe, sure… but this oblivion you showed, a deer with no thought behind the eyes in the face of an oncoming car. It made him want to get under that skin.

When he had seen you before this decision, it was all casualties: picking up pencils that slipped off your desk, null glances when you passed each other in the hall. He would then observe from afar, over the edges of a novel he was reading or a laptop screen, acting like he was far more preoccupied with his work and you none the wiser. He could care less about editing photos he took, the program making his computer grow hot as he would instead shift his stare to you, fixing flyers on a corkboard or chatting with another body.

The way your hair framed your face and made you appear so friendly, mundane being too stale and homely being too chaste. You had a quirk in your lips, a scoff to your giggles; that all made you seem a little more than something plain.

Finally, there came the photographs. You walking by the building, mostly outdoors settings where he could perch somewhere perfect, capture your likeness without any sort of hints or the confines of indoors closing off noises, the way he had to sometimes move alongside you. When people approached, there was always a bird in the trees, something else happening to make Danny look unsuspecting. No one noticed anything close enough to see you in the background each time he was out on field work.

It was an easy plan to put together, because he figured he’d just need the basics: a hunter’s knife, curved and ridged in little spots for the variety and the flare. Then, a basic nylon rope, something itchy and uncomfortable to add to every reaction that he was seeking, knowing he could tear from you. He had gotten it on sale.

The idea to save his zipties, wanting to use them but recognizing there should be other times, only made a smile quirk on his lips. It would be the perfect plan for another visit, and that possibility would make him suck in a breath. He took the duct tape instead. That’d be far more fun than his other supplies he had used just as soon as a month prior.

The entering itself was as simple as he had imagined it would be. He had watched you come home from an evening’s grocery shopping, ready to hide from the world for this long week. He had waited until the streetlights on your corner turned on, a sign sundown was well underway, before standing from the bench he had been lounging on. One eye had been kept on some photographer’s notes he had been working on – he had to actually get some work done, form that alibi nice and early – and one on your front door, your windows as you passed through like a sweet visage only for him. He slipped the cloak on, the mask in hand as he walked across the street, found a bush outside your home, and got into position.

The first star in the sky rearing its luminous face was what got him to stand again, slipping through an unlocked garage door on the side of your home. You were so trusting of anyone who could find their way through the cracks of your personal life, your abode that maybe had enough locks to keep guys like him out…but unutilized.

He’d be sure to hold that faith up to the light for you. How real was it, [Y/N]? You’d really let anyone have a hold of your security, seeing that your coworkers treat it so poorly, laugh at you?

You barely yelled, more so yelped in shock before slipping in your socked feet around the kitchen when he let himself inside. He had considered making it more explosive, but sliding from a curtain and imposing with a feverish desire to feel that exposed skin he was seeing was far more interesting.

Moving before thought only made the soles of his shoes feel heavy on the floor, solid in his own movement.

“Where are you going, baby cakes?” he asked, laughing when your jaw dropped open. Again, it made a crick in his muscles tense, shiver as he willed self-control that was merely buying time.

He couldn’t go ballistic, not yet. Maybe not even during this visit.

He was heaving breaths, silent laughter in his chest and bubbling along the brook of desperate gasps for air. You tried to push your body away, the skin of your thighs and back squeaking painstakingly against linoleum. With a lunge that sent him on his hands and knees, the assailant merely prowled after you, eye contact much easier now from behind the slim shape of the mask.

He took his time; it wasn’t like you could make your way to the door in any way that would cut ice. Those eyes of yours, confused but still meeting the mask’s own in some unwavering attempt to comprehend what was happening. It only made the connection of pressing flush into your body more rewarding.

The first audible sound was an ecstatic giggle from his throat, one that could blow the whole lid off his entrance and his identity should you be able to recall what “Jed Olsen” from work sounded like, remember anything in the brief interactions you two shared…

You wouldn’t, and he knew that when you choked out, not sure what to even ask first, “Who- What are you doing!?”

He nodded quaintly down at you. “Something I should’ve done a long, long time ago.”

On your back, you really could've found the leverage to wiggle him off. Still, when the steady throb protruding from a pair of dark jeans and curtained with the robe touched your chest, it disarmed you.

It only got worse for your composure as his hand trailed between your breasts, and he then realized a knife wasn't ready for that spot yet. You jerked your hips against his own slightly, a meek warning with no bite that was met with his gloved hands touching them next, and you felt the way his palms were shaking. The shudder from your abdomen was involuntary.

Danny wasn't untrained, just at the hilt.

You shuddered, a hard swallow fighting gravity and the threat of that hunter’s knife now being grabbed from the floor, touching your bare thigh in an idle drag. It was in sync with a gentle motion he was making with his hips. One could assume it was just him trying to keep balance, but you saw his free hand go to his belt and start undoing it, and you sucked in a breath again. Breathing was all you could really bring yourself to do.

“Not gonna stop me?” He asked with a huff, opening his hands with the blade rolling against his palm idly. You murmured something intelligible, bracing the floor as his thighs squeezed the outside of your hips. He froze, a second of breath before grabbing you by your shirt collar, the knife sawing into the hem of your collar and making you jerk back. Still, you didn't scream as he tore through it, and let its messy remains fall behind you, a weird bump in the smooth floor that only gave you a little more discomfort.

"Awe, I appreciate you keeping your voice down." He cooed, idly pulling his pants zipper down and freeing himself. His cock fit between your tits, a slow motion that went up the middle portion between your stomach and your chest, a slow slide up your sternum, and then back down in an experimental pull. You didn't look down on the first thrust, but the second time warm metal brushed your face. A Jacob's Ladder twitched slightly at getting some attention.

The noise you let out, appalled by your own enjoyment, got him to falter again. You felt his own in the way he had to roll his shoulders. You turned your head, looking at the closest thing to you on the kitchen floor and only seeing the stretch of tile. The cool sensation was appreciated against your face, if nothing else.

“Come on, [Y/N].” The weight of your name, your actual name, made your throat tighten, meeting eyes with him in a snap of your head. This couldn’t be a stranger, a sure tone as he insisted with another trace of your searing thigh with a nitrile roll of texture up your skin, touching the marks of the knife and making you grit your teeth from behind shaking lips.

“You could at least try.”

He had to start pointing his energy into something that wasn't going to leave you in a pool of blood on the floor, take the urge back into sliding his dick in between your breasts and look down at it rather than you. He wondered if you could tell where his eyes were, and from where you saw it between the fight to keep from actually getting pleasure from this, he just looked focused on either you or what he was doing to you.

Still, you couldn't deny the weight of the assailant against your stomach, the way he pinned your legs together with his own in something far, far from chaste. You could do more, your unbound arms and hands could push him. Your free legs could come up, push a knee into his stomach, right in that cock that was helping itself to your bare skin. Still, he let a choked noise slip as his pace went a little quicker, and he then snapped the mask to face you more clearly, show he was looking up at your face.

"Hey, be a sweetheart for me." He asked, one hand on his own thigh and the other still holding the knife, the flat side of the blade tapping your shoulder and making you flinch slightly. "I have a proposal to make this easier for both of us. You can either hold your tits together for me, or I'm going to go ahead and tie them up."

You furrowed your brow, and he then warned you, "Five seconds." Quickly, and to your own disgust, your hands came up to cover your collarbone, arms and elbows squeezing together to give him what he wanted. The first slide between them was a little rough, skin catching before pre-cum from a few more thrusts made it easier.

He was far too worked up already, and more so than you. It only made the recognition that he was busting and able to leave before you even recognized what had happened a goal he was desperate for. The weeks of watching you from afar, getting to feel that jaw and those eyes on him was almost too much.

"Jesus," It wasn't reverent, it wasn't grateful. The first intelligible word out of your mouth was a plea, and it only made Danny stop thinking and falter as cum started to spurt out in the middle point between your breasts, deep between the valley. Bending almost perpendicular to you, the mask was inches away from your face, and you let out a gentle moan to the sensation.

One of your hands had his cum on the finger, and it was an insane move on your part, but what better way to try to end this than to scare him? You lifted a finger to your lips, and he saw your tongue lick up its length, his labored breathing stilled and the knife scratched tiled floor as he fumbled with it.

He had to shake out his hands to keep from letting them snug around your neck, scoffing under his breath to keep from snarling like an animal. He reached for the tape that he had placed on the counter in his setup, a loss of pressure on your body but your head was spinning to fast to take advantage of that, heaving breaths and trying not to make more noise as he ripped a strip off.

“Oh. Do you think you’re good enough to taste me?” He pressed the cool tape to your mouth, eliciting a shocked noise that you had been holding back until now. He leaned in, tilting his head and the chin of the mask brushing yours in a callous scratch of plastic. He turned attention to your wrists, taking them off your chest and pulling them down to sit on your still clothed abdomen. The rope had been fastened to his belt, weighing down off his hip from him unbuckling it. He unraveled it, still shivering from the exertion as he got them around your wrists.

“When do you think you’ll get that chance again. Huh, slut?” You just gawked, lips pushing against the tape, unable to answer and unable to consider what the fuck he meant by that. He played around with the idea of getting to see you again, “Next week? Next month, maybe?”

The rubber nitrile of his glove framed one side of your face as he then spoke in a more severe voice again, “Because I’m not done with you, [Y/N]. Not tonight.” He laughed when you let out a noise, trying to sound horrified. It became real as he finally slipped under your waistband, the cozy shorts and underwear barely acknowledged by his hand as he found your entrance in no time.

“Think you can wait?” He asked, hearing a more confident, more aroused noise from you from behind the tape as you rolled your head. He slid his middle in, the pressure along with all the fiddling he had been doing to stop himself from the choking, the tearing, only got his limp dick twitching slightly and another one going in with it after a few prods.

He worked until that shudder from your lower body came again, and you were in an even string of moaning under him, the mask all you saw in shy glimpses as you had to quickly forget this situation and let the pleasure take you down. When you clenched hard around his hand, he then pulled out, and the tears were quick to form in your eyes as you put on a pathetic display, glaring at him as your bound hands slapped him in the chest.

"I think I can wait." He giggled, like he was in trouble with you as he yanked the rope from your wrists, gathering it up as he stood again. You used the leverage to touch your face, and he suddenly knelt down.

"Don't cry, baby." He reminded you, a gentle tap on your face as he then paused to cup your cheek, rub the remnants of your slick against your face, "I'll be back for you."

He tore the duct tape off, a glance down to make sure the cum on your chest was dried and not going to be enjoyed in a way that mattered again before doing it. The wail was the first and only noise that had gone above confused moans and murmurs, and it was more involuntary from the quick motion, the pain of an industrial tool used on such gentle skin.

You caught a look at yourself in the reflection of the knife as he quickly took it from the floor and stood a final time. There was blood on your face, too, and looking down you saw he had done more than just dance the blade of his knife across your inner thighs.

He was already rushing out again, closing the door behind him in an insanely casual move, so you took the moment of utter shock and still on the floor of your own house to pull your leg into better view.

[How did he know my name starts with a D? / Why did he carve a very clear, concise letter "D" amongst the other marks?" ]

[mythicalmaven]

omg i saw your prompt list and I'm a sucker for oscar lately, so i thought 45 (God, I am so in love with you) with him? fluff please :)

i love your writing btw!

First Kiss - Oscar Piastri (requested)

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader ↳word count: 0.8K ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & finally kisses you for the first time ↳prompts used: 45 - "God, I am so in love with you"

Oscar had been in love with you for years, a secret he’d kept tucked away in the corners of his heart, afraid of what would happen if he ever let it out. He’d watch you laugh, your eyes sparkling with a light that made everything else fade away, and he’d feel his chest tighten with the words he could never quite say.

You’d been his best friend since forever, the person who knew him better than anyone else. Every victory, every defeat—you were there, cheering him on or comforting him in the quiet moments when the world seemed too much. But as much as he cherished your friendship, he was terrified to risk it by confessing his feelings, convinced that you saw him as nothing more than a friend.

It was a thought that haunted him every time he caught you looking at him with that warm smile, every time your hand brushed against his, sending electric shocks through his body. He couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, so he swallowed down his love, settling for being your best friend even if it meant his heart ached every time you were near.

But everything changed the morning of the Baku race. He was in the paddock, nerves buzzing under his skin as he tried to focus on the upcoming race, terribly failing as he catched himself staring at you once again. But then Lando came up to him with a knowing smile.

“You know she’s in love with you too, right?” Lando said casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on him.

Oscar blinked, his brain struggling to process the words. “What?”

“Yeah,” he continued, oblivious to the way his heart was suddenly racing. “She’s been head over heels for you for ages. Honestly, it’s kind of obvious. I thought you knew.”

He stood there, stunned, his mind spinning as everything he thought he knew shifted. You were in love with him? All those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, the lingering touches, the way you looked at him—had he been blind to it all?

"Are you sure?" Oscar asked, completely dumbfounded. Afraid that Lando might got the wrong signals, that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Couldn't be more sure" Lando smiled at him, patting his shoulder "Mate, she legit told me, 'I wonder if Oscar has any idea how crazy I am about him.' That clear enough for you?" he chuckled, mocking your love sick tone "Didn't wan't to be the one to spill the beans, but I'm pretty sure the both of you otherwise would have been too shy too ever confess to each other"

His heart soared, hope blossoming in his chest, but there was no time to process it. The call for the race was going out, and he had to get to the grid. He barely remembered the moments that followed, his body moving on autopilot as he climbed into the car, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

And when he crossed the finish line, his first instinct wasn’t to celebrate the victory—it was to find you, to tell you everything he’d been holding back for so long. Because now he knew. And he wasn’t going to let another moment slip by without you knowing, too.

He glanced around, searching the crowd with an urgency you’d never seen before. When his eyes locked onto yours, a grin split his face. Without a second thought, he handed his helmet to a nearby mechanic and practically sprinted toward you. Your heart leaped into your throat as he reached the barrier, reaching out to lift you over it with ease. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intense look in his eyes.

“Oscar—” you began, but your words were cut off as he crashed his lips onto yours, his kiss filled with a raw, unspoken longing. You gasped against his mouth, stunned, but the surprise quickly melted into warmth as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their shouts echoing around you, but it all faded into a blur. It was just the two of you, standing there in the middle of the chaos, wrapped up in each other. The kiss was everything you’d ever dreamed of—soft yet demanding, sweet but full of a simmering passion that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the joy and relief radiating from him, his lips moving against yours with a mix of exhilaration and tenderness that made your legs weak.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, Oscar rested his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with unspoken words. His thumb brushed over your cheek as he searched your gaze, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered, his voice slightly breathless but steady.

A giggle bubbled up from your chest, pure happiness spilling over as you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. The cameras were still flashing, the crowd still cheering, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his hands and the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Oscar’s gaze never left you, his grin widening with each passing moment. Finally, he could hold you the way he’d always longed to. He’d admired you for so long, captivated by your beauty. But now, seeing you up close, you looked even more stunning. He was completely smitten. “God, I am so in love with you.”

Masterlist

[shadowmaat]

Shatterpoint Shuffle, pt. 2

Here's more of the Padawan Mace & Initiate Kenobi AU. Part 1 can be read here. Credit for the original idea once again goes to @bitter-chocolate-stars and @krazykupidspoems.

-

Padawan Mace Windu did not stomp down the corridors; he had far too much control for that. It wasn't that he was mad about his test score, no matter what others might say. His issue was with the fact that Master Radorm refused to accept two of the sources on his paper the Last Battle of Ruusan even though the Master of the Archives herself had found and approved them.

A small, muffled sob broke his concentration. He stopped, head canted as he listened. There were several sniffles, the quality giving the impression of a small, enclosed space.

"I don't care! I don't wanna see him!"

The voice was high-pitched but came out in a hiss, as if the speaker didn't want to be heard.

Expecting to see a pair of younger Padawans, perhaps, Mace stepped around the corner and regarded the empty hallway. There was an access panel of some kind near the floor, looking slightly off-kilter.

"Hello?" He took a step closer. "Does someone need help?"

Silence, broken by the sound of hitched breathing and smothered snuffles. Could two younglings even fit in that vent, or had one of them abandoned the other?

He considered his options, but really, what choice was there? Someone- and they had to be small, judging by the side of the panel- was hurting. Misery, shame, anger, and resentment hung thick in the air.

He'd be late to his next class, but that was fine. He sat, leaning back against the wall next to the panel.

"Perhaps I'll just stop here to meditate," he announced.

He closed his eyes, centering himself before stretching his senses in the Force. It twisted around him, spinning him in circles.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and reached into his pouch for one of the anti-nausea pills he always kept with him.

As it dissolved under his tongue, he took deep breaths, waiting for his stomach to settle. At least now he knew the likely identity of the person hiding in the vents.

He'd crossed paths with the human Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi several times over the past few years. Part of that, he was sure, was due to his Master's machinations, but sometimes, like now, it happened more… organically.

Obi-Wan was still an absolute mess of shatterpoints, but he'd come to terms with the fact that it wasn't the boy's fault, it was simply how he was. As unsettling as he could be to look at directly (and even worse in the Force), he still shone with a clear warmth to Mace's senses. A warmth that had dimmed since their last encounter.

"It's strange that this hall isn't as bright as it should be," he said. "Almost as if there was someone very sad nearby."

The vent huffed.

"If only I had some way of finding who it was, I might be able to help. It is, after all, one of the duties of a Jedi to help those in need."

Another huff.

"I know what you're doing," Obi-Wan said.

The vent cover rattled and Mace helped set it aside and extracted a dusty, disheveled Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His eyes were red and tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face.

"I don't need your help," he continued with a sniff. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his Initiate tunic, smearing more dirt. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your day, Gen- Padawan Windu."

Prickly. Very prickly.

"It's a welcome interruption, if I'm honest," Mace said. "What about you? What brings you to this conveniently broken vent at this time of day?"

"It was already like that!" Obi-Wan snapped. His glare turned to one side and he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just needed to get away from people for a while."

He shifted, turning his back on whatever was in the hall that Mace couldn't see.

"I understand," he said. "People can be overwhelming even at the best of times, and when the Force has blessed you with a particular gift it can be even harder."

Obi-Wan gave him a narrow-eyed look. "A gift?"

"Sometimes gifts can feel like a burden," Mace said, rubbing his thumb against the base of his wrist. "Like psychometry. Or shatterpoints. Or whatever ability it is that you are developing."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Or maybe I'm just crazy, like Bruck 'n them keep saying."

Shock, followed by an all-consuming rage that threatened to swallow him. Mace closed his eyes and breathed deep, acknowledging the anger while recognizing that it wasn't helpful in his current situation. Calmness replaced the rage, but it was the calm of purpose. Banking the fire, as his Master called it.

"No," he said, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. "You are not crazy. The Masters may not have found a reference for your ability yet, but it's clear the Force has gifted you with an important tool. You may not have learned how to use it yet, but-"

"Gossip seems like a stupid tool," Obi-Wan said, glaring at a point past Mace's shoulder.

"Gossip?" He resisted the urge to glance back. "Gossip can provide a lot of unexpected information. Spies in particular covet it."

"Whatever." Obi-Wan shrugged and began trying to straighten his hair and clothes. "Not like I'll ever get to use it anyway. Everyone says I'm too angry to be a real Jedi."

Mace's eyebrows shot up. "Everyone?"

Obi-Wan stood, shaking out the wrinkles in his tunic. "Master Tlah, my teachers, the training Masters, Bruck."

Mace joined him in standing, banking another wave of anger.

"If anger disqualified you from becoming a Jedi, I wouldn't be here right now," he said.

"What?" Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed. "You? But you're perfect!"

It startled a laugh out of him.

"Please be sure to tell my Master that. She'll be very surprised." Waving off Obi-Wan's attempted defense of him, he continued. "No, but I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with having negative emotions, it's even healthy to experience them."

He checked over the Initiate, smoothing down a tuft of hair and unkinking the hood of his robe. The shatterpoints seem to have stilled. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What's important is how you handle those emotions. Has anyone shown you how to channel your anger into something more productive?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, and Mace began to mentally compose a letter to the Master of the Crèches for their lack of oversight into the management and teaching of the Clans.

"Well, then. How would you feel about some private lessons from a lowly Padawan Learner about how to use your anger for good rather than letting it control you?"

"What, really?"

"Really."

The Force didn't express emotions, but if it did, he was sure it would be laughing at him. Cyslin would definitely laugh when he told her about it later. She could tease him as much as she liked, but this was less about picking a future Padawan and more about giving a struggling child the tools he should have already been given to help him.

"Yes! Thank you, Padawan Windu!"

Mace watched, distracted, as some of the shatterpoints around Obi-Wan actually healed. He'd never seen that before.

Then Obi-Wan grabbed his fingers to walk with him, and for half a heartbeat he thought he saw figures in the hallway with him, gone before he could fully register their presence. A possible future, an echo of a different present, or just a sign he needed more sleep? Whatever, as Obi-Wan liked to say. Best to focus on the now and leave the rest to be Future Mace's problem. He gave the boy's hand a companionable squeeze and set off for their first lesson.

[orbitariums]

FINALLY BLACK READER CHALLENGERS FICS WOOOO!!! plz do stanford!art dating black track star! reader👀👀 patrick can be involved too maybe he goes to stanford idk

no more running | art donaldson + black trackstar! reader

i know nothing about track (or tennis!) so bear with me

art was infatuated with you the moment he saw you at a track meet tashi’s dragged him to — he really had no interest in anything but tennis, that is until he saw you.

you were perfect, all silky brown skin and braids pulled up into a high ponytail, with the physique of a lioness. and it helps that your body's insane – you're visibly strong and you carry yourself well. you moved with a flourish, effortlessly and gracefully. nothing and nobody could stand in your way — except maybe art. you'd heard his name echoed all around campus for how much of a tennis god he was, but now, in front of you, he presented as anything but. he was stumbling over his words and his feet introducing himself to you, all crooked smiles and awkward handshakes.

"hi. i'm art. donaldson. art donaldson. but you can just call me art, obviously you don't have to call me by my full name, that would be weird."

you couldn't help but grin, though your brows furrowed together in confusion,

"right... hi. i'm—"

"yn. i know. i'm uhh, a friend of tashi's. you were really talented out there today."

"is my friend bothering you?" came tashi's voice from around the corner. you started packing your things in your duffel bag, shaking your head with a laugh that made art's heart melt,

"no, the opposite actually."

"great," tashi grinned knowingly. "well in that case... lunch?"

it was history from there. art started showing up to all your meets, and you to his tennis games. it was cute, the way you cheered each other on and pretended it was nothing more than camaraderie and sportsmanship between friends. the way you pretended art's bicep flexing with every thwack his racket made against the tennis ball didn't make your throat run dry. the way art pretended watching you stretch on the field before a match, your shorts lifting up to reveal the expanse of skin just above your thigh didn't make him shift in his seat.

if patrick weren't with tashi, he'd probably go for you too, and art knew it. it's why he almost gets defensive when patrick comes to visit and the four of you go on these little psuedo double dates, since neither you nor art had addressed the fact that you wanted each other. he was always courteous with you, but he made sure to hold every door open for you, pull out every chair, and even paid for your food. it was like he was showing patrick that this was his girl, and it amused patrick so much that he told art,

"if you're gonna fuck her, just do it. you don't need to go getting my approval."

"i'm not trying to fuck her, pat. and i'm not getting your approval. i just... i don't know, i want her to be mine."

"i'm pretty sure she's yours already, pal. have you seen the way you two act?

it's a slow burn, but it feels so good to wait. art kisses you finally during one of your study dates together — you both only have so much time to actually focus on school as student athletes, so you spend that time together — it's soft and longing and sweet. you become something of a power couple on campus, making signs for each others' games and running up to art on the field after he's won, letting him lift you up into his arms and swing you around — never mind the trophy.

art runs ice baths for you when you need them, and lets his strong hands groove into your sore muscles, blushing at your relieved moans. he's got no problem stretching you out in other ways too, fucking you slow and deep like he's just trying to pass the time inside you, spending hours letting your pleasure unfold before him. letting your fingernails leave scars on his back because he has enough already from his sport, what's a few more?

when you have early team meetings, art makes you breakfast and sends you off with your favorite strawberry smoothies he makes. he helps you with meal prep every week, spending hours in domestic bliss with you in your on-campus apartment. when you're not studying together or sleeping together, you're at the gym together, art's hands hovering just by your hips to "help spot you" during deadlift squats.

on your media day, art helps you slick your natural hair up into a bun, aghast at how much edge control you insist on using. he also insists on teaching you to play tennis — you're vehemently against it at first, but you realize how much it actually improves your game. and you don't mind art cozying up behind you to "improve your backhand," even if it means you end up with your tennis skirt flipped over and the racket long forgotten. the same goes for art, except he just wants to curse you out after the first time you make him try uphill weighted sled sprints.

whatever you do, you do it together. you just get each other. and art knows he's found something special in you.

[mustainegf]

→ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find some understanding as my mind spiraled out of control. The only noises in the room were the soft hum of the fan and the steady breaths of James lying beside me. Tomorrow, he'd be off on tour again, and it weighed more and was heavier to handle than I had thought it would be. To me, he'd just got back, and it felt like I was going to lose him all over again.

I shifted, for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to find such a position that my body would agree with. But no matter how I adjusted, I couldn't settle. Not only could I not stop thinking about him leaving... but there was something else I couldn't get our of my head... something that also had to do with James.

James stirred beside me, his voice deep. "You've been tossing and turning," he said softly. "What's goin' on, hun?

I froze, I didn't know how to answer. I didn't want to burden him with just how fragile I had been, how badly I needed him. So I did what I always did in those kinds of vulnerable moments. I deflected.

"Just. hormones," I muttered awkwardly, hoping that would suffice.

"Hormones?" he replied, a hint of a smile weaving its way through his voice. "What kind of hormones?

I swallowed hard, my face starting to heat up. I knew I had to answer him, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for that kind of vulnerability. "It's just… the uh, second trimester," I started, my voice a whisper. "It… it makes me feel… um, you know, horny."

I was instantly regretful that I had said anything. Mortified, really. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Why did I say that? Why didn't I just blow it off?

After a moment, James scooted beside me, twisting his body so that he faced me. "You've been feeling like that and didn't say anything?

I bit my lip, mortified still. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," I admitted, keeping my eyes fixed on the popcorn ceiling. "I mean, with your injuries and everything that's been going on with us, it didn't seem right to bring it up…"

Again, the silence stretched, and my nerves were starting to get the better of me. Then James's hand reached out and found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things like that," he said softly. "I'm here. I want to help you... especially if that's how you've been feeling."

It was as if he had removed a boulder from my chest. I turned my head slightly to his direction. His face was still not distinct in the shitty dim light of the room.

"You want to help?" I asked, the words barely audible.

James nodded, his fingers tracing light patterns down my wrist. "I do," he said firmly, filling his voice with warmth and affection. "Look... I love you... and I'm leaving tomorrow... I just- I want to have a chance to love this body of yours before I have to leave..."

I hesitated, something blooming inside me. Of course, I had missed him and yearned for the closeness again, yet wasn't quite sure how it would work. "But… your arm—"

"I'll be fine," he softly interrupted, squeezing my hand. "We can find a way, It doesn't have to be perfect. I just want to be with you."

The tenderness of those words completely disarmed me. I searched his eyes for some sign of doubt or hesitation and found a lot of love instead.

"Are you sure?" I whispered innocently.

He leaned in far enough that his lips brushed against mine in a soft, gentle kiss. "Always," he whispered against my lips. "I want to take care of you."

His voice melted away the last of my reservations. I nodded, my body melting as I accepted his offer.

We began to kiss again, deeper this time. His lips moved slow and sweet over mine, and the fire that was there between us began to build. His good arm wrapped around me, pulling me more into him, his injured one being careful to stay at his side. His hand stroked over my waist down to my belly.

"I don't want to hurt you," I whispered between kisses, my hands running through his long hair.

"You won't," he murmured, his lips meeting mine once more. "I promise."

The connection f our lips deepened as I shifted closer and my hands slid down his chest, feeling his skin beneath my fingertips. He groaned softly against my lips, and the sound reminded me of the many times we'd done this, yet somehow, it was different this time. I'd missed this, missed him.

But the more we shifted, the more I knew common positions were out of the question. His injuries would make it very uncomfortable for him to be on top, and I wouldn't dare do anything to make him hurt even more.

"Here," I said softly, breaking the kiss and moving back just enough to meet his gaze. "I'll ride you," I say gently, nodding.

For a second, James stared at me, in awe and love. "you sure?" he asked gruffly low.

"I want to," I admitted, my palm resting against his chest, feeling the soft hairs. "I want you to be comfortable too..."

He smiled, his hand gliding up to cup my cheek. "You're..." he whispered, his lips finding mine once more. "I love you..."

"I love you too," I said with a whispered voice, shaking with emotion. We started to undress, each movement sensitive and deliber­ate. James watched with wide wonder as I took my shirt off, his eyes feasted on the swollen curve of my belly. His hands were soft and extremely careful against my skin, touching my tummy in wonder, knowing that resting beneath, was his child.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his hands gliding over every surface he could reach. "So beautiful."

I went red, more vulnerable than I'd ever felt, but his words were making me safe. Carefully, I straddled him, my knees at either side of his hips, and in a second James's hand found its place on my belly, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was.

"Look at you," he whispered, looking me up and down. He drank in the details, the slight stretch marks on my belly, the way it swelled so warm. "Carrying our baby... I've never seen anything more.. beautiful in my whole life."

Honestly, they were never would I thought I would ever hear him say, and it was making my heart beat faster, my hairs prickle and my skin heat up. I leaned down, my hot mouth covering his, as I readjusted myself and positioned us together. His breath caught as I lowered myself onto him, and a soft moan escaped my lips.

Oh my God. We'd had sex before, yeah, but this? This was way different... fuck, it was good. Every thrust, every gentle push was bringing us closer and closer. James's hand never strayed from either my belly or hip, he worshipped me with every stroke.

"You're p-perfect," he murmured, his voice choked and heavy. "So perfect, baby."

I could feel the tears now, threatening to spill as the moment became too big to hold in. I loved him so much, loved this man who was the father of my child, loved the way he was looking at me now, knowing I was the most important thing in the world.

"James..." I panted as I bounced on him, feeling every agonizing ridge and vein clench inside me. "I love you... oh God, I love you so much."   His hips surged harder against mine, his good arm pulled me into him and we moved together. "I love you," he huffed, his eyes pressed to mine. "You're everything to me... You and our baby.. y-you're everything."

I writhed above him as both of our hips worked in turn, slapping over and over. I think he could tell the effect this was having on me, with the hormones and all.

I couldn't help but thick of how perfectly we fit together, even with the added weight of my pregnancy. Each gentle roll of my hips me whining. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I gazed into James' eyes. I couldn't help the tears, nor control them I was too emotional, too hormonal, and I loved him with all my heart... and fuck, this felt so good. His touch was worshipful as he caressed my belly and traced the contours. James' look softened, his thumb brushing away a tear from my cheek.

I let out a loud whimper, my body squirming for release. Tears continued to shoot freely down my cheeks, mixing with the sweat that coated my skin. "Please, James… I need to cum," I pleaded, my voice breaking with white hot lust.

"It's okay… It's okay for you to cum," he repeated, his tone a comforting murmur against my cheek.

It was too much, and as I came, it wasn't just the pleasure that but the my emotions. All wrapped into that one moment.

I melted against his chest, my face streaked with tears, my body shaking right to my soul as I turned into a puddle of whimpers. James clutched me tight against him, but very softly, his lips pressed to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.

"Hey, hey," he whispered softly. "It's okay... I've got you. I'm right here."

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, burying my face in his neck. "I don't know why I'm crying."

He leaned in, whispering softly against me, "You don't have to apologize," and stroked my hair softly. "It's just the hormones, right?"

I laughed weakly through my tears, nodding against his skin. "Yeah. probably."

After a few moments, James spoke softly. "Can I finish?" he asked, his tone carefully measured to convey his understanding should I choose otherwise.

I lifted my head slightly, meeting his gaze with a tender smile. I nod, not wanting to leave him uncomfortable. "Yes," I whispered.

As I nestled closer to James, my hand found its way to his throbbing member, wrapping around him with a tender yet firm grip. With every stroke, I poured out my love, my grip passionate.

The feeling of his length pulsing in my hand only fueled my want to please him.

He was singing with praise and moans galore with every stroke of mine. Escaping lips of pleasure, muttered words of gratitude.

My other hand was gently massaging his tense balls, another point of contact, while my mouth went searching for the soft skin of his neck. I nipped and licked at his flesh, planting wet kisses along the line of his collarbone. My actions were mirroring the rhythm in my hand, tugging on his manhood.

As his orgasm very quickly approached, James's words of became a mantra, hurled with every second that passed. "That's it. Just like that.," he husked.

His climax hit him hard, his seed spilling forth in hot sticky bursts across his abdomen. It was a sight to see, watching him lose control, his face contorted in pure bliss. I watched as his seed painted his skin so beautifully.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, holding me close. "I love you so much," he whispered, his voice all soft gentleness. "I'm here. I'll always be here..."

After a while, James shifted beneath me, easing me off him and settling me back onto the bed. "I'll be right back," he whispered against my forehead.

I watched him stumble naked into the bathroom. I couldn't help but admire his naked body, so masculine and raw. I really was in love with him. Soon, he came returning a few moments later with a warm rag, and a clean stomach. James gently laid me back and helped spread my legs as he carefully cleaned me up. Full of love, and this such a quiet intimacy that bound me closer to him.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside and got back into bed beside me. He wrapped himself around me, his arm splayed protectively over my belly as he kissed the top of my head.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"For what?" he returned softly.

"For loving me."

He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head again. "I'll love you always, whatever happens."   I buried myself in him as he spoke, my eyes closing, his warmth heating my own. I was exhausted, but wrapped up in James' arms, I was safe. And so was our baby.