#and she’s like well I’m not going to wait around to be saved

[fastandcarlos]

Save The Day : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your shopping trip couldn't have gotten much worse, until a stranger approaches and swoops in to save the day

“Excuse me, is everything alright? You look in need of some help.” 

Your eyes flickered up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, noticing a man stood just beside you. You were walking all over the place as you tried to push your daughter’s pram, balancing your shopping bags in both of your hands, barely able to walk in a straight line as things stopped to drop out onto the floor. 

You smiled shyly across at the man as he picked the bits that you had dropped off of the floor. Once he’d put them in a bag he took the bags from both of your hands, walking by your side. Walking immediately felt easier as you focused on pushing the pram out of the store and over to where your car was parked. 

The man carried your bags with ease, the strength easily defined in his arms as he walked at your pace. You didn’t quite know where to look as you walked, feeling his eyes watching over you. 

“Where’s your car?” He asked you, watching you point to your small car that was hidden by a much fancier looking vehicle, a car far too expensive for the area where you lived. 

There was a shade of embarrassment in your cheeks as you walked, feeling slightly humiliated that you weren’t able to carry your bags. Trying to balance all the weight was hard, but you were stubborn, and liked to think that you could take on the world all by yourself. 

“I’m just here,” you told him, reaching into your bag for your keys. 

You opened up the boot, going to take the bags, only for the man to swerve you. “Allow me,” he grinned, easily lifting the bags and placing them in the back of your car. 

You stepped back as he did so, watching as he carefully let go of them. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that for me, most people just walk straight on by.” 

“Well, I’m not most people,” he told you, a wide smile on his face. “Most people are assholes, it’s human nature to help someone when you see them struggling, or in my eyes at least.” 

You offered him a grin as you unbuckled your daughter’s pram to start getting her into the car. “Saying thank you doesn’t really feel like enough, there’s got to be something that I can do for you.” 

His head shook, taking a step back and watching as you took your daughter into your arms, hearing her let go of a squirm. You hated taking her out when she was asleep, but at this point you couldn’t wait to get home and forget about your struggle. 

“She’s beautiful,” the man whispered behind you, leaning across and tickling against her tummy, bringing a smile to her face again. “I bet your mummy and daddy feel like they won the lottery with you,” he added, only to watch your smile drop, eyes landing on the ground. 

“I-it’s just me,” you stuttered, immediately hearing the man mumble several apologies beside you. “Don’t be sorry, I’m used to it by now. Most of the time I’m alright, the two of us make quite the team,” you smiled, not wanting him to feel bad for you. 

It didn’t stop the man feeling guilty for making his assumptions, sensing that you found things harder than you were letting on to him. 

As the two of you fell silent, your daughter soon began to get quite unsettled in your hold. You quickly tried to settle her, bouncing her in your arms, but as a gust of wind blew through the car park, your eyes soon darted onto the sight of her pram beginning to blow away from you. 

“I got it!” The man shouted, running down the car park and quickly grabbing onto it. 

“You really are saving the day for me today, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

He looked around and found the brakes of the pram, quickly putting them on. Before you knew it, he had managed to collapse it down, placing it into the back of your car too, making sure not to squash any of your shopping. 

“You must have had some practice doing that before.” 

“No,” he smiled back across at you, “but I assumed it can’t be too hard to figure out. I’ve not really got any experiences with babies, although I’d like to,” he carried on, surprising himself that he suddenly decided to confess such a thing to someone that he barely knew. 

You didn’t quite know what to say as he spoke, offering him a sympathetic smile. You weren’t expecting him to be so open with you, leaving you a little loss for words. You almost felt bad for standing in front of him with your daughter in your arms, as if you were showing off that you had something that he seemed to want.  

“Does your partner not want children?” 

His eyes widened at your question, unaware that you had dropped yourself in it almost as much as he had done with you only a few moments earlier, feeling bad when his head shook at you. 

“I don’t have a partner,” he told you, scratching nervously over the top of his head. “I’m going through life on my own currently, that’s why I have so much time to help other people when they’re in a mess.” 

“Well, you definitely saved me from one today.” 

He was glad to have been able to help you out, but now he found himself unable to take his eyes off of your daughter. There was something about him that seemed to be drawing her to him too, her eyes watching him closely every time he moved or spoke. 

“I didn’t even get the chance to introduce myself, I’m Carlos by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back across at him. 

“And who’s your little one?” He asked, poking your daughter’s tummy again. 

A giggle came from her that left you both grinning. “This is Luna,” you told him, “although I think you might be able to call her your biggest fan judging from the smile on her face.” 

“Well, I like to keep my fans happy, so do you think Luna would like to hang out again sometime?” Carlos offered, “I mean, only if that’s something that her mummy would like to do too.” 

“I think she would,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “and I don’t think her mummy would mind either if she got the chance to see you again, maybe coffee sometime?” 

Carlos nodded in reply to your offer. “I’d love to grab a coffee with you, well, the both of you. How about I give you my number and you can let me know a time that works best for the two of you?” 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you told him, walking across to place your daughter into her car seat so that you could take Carlos’ phone from him. 

His smile was wide as he passed it across, “make sure you text yourself from my phone so you have my number too. You can save my number as the guy who saved the day.” 

“You’re a bit of a hero, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“Well, I certainly try my best.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

I’m Sorry (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Rafe didn’t tell the Pogues that Y/N (his wife and their ex best friend) (and JJ’s ex) would be on this trip to get the crown with them.

Word Count: 2,558

Rafe didn’t tell the pogues that his wife, their ex best friend, would be on the boat. JJ and her dated for a while but things didn’t work out and she ended up in the arms of Rafe Cameron.

The pogues disowned her after they found out that she was dating him. She was heartbroken and Rafe put her heart back together. She was with him while he stirred the boat. The others outside the door talking about them.

She knew that they didn’t trust Rafe and they probably didn't trust her. She didn’t blame them but she had hoped that this would make them see that they could trust them, mostly her. “Rafe, Y/N.” John B said the couple’s names.

They both turned to look at the group that was by the door. “Hey guys.” Y/N said but her voice was quiet. She hadn’t talked to them in so long and to hear her name fall from his lips was crazy. “We just want peace.” That would have been simple until JJ decided to punch him.

Y/N felt rage through her body at him doing that. Almost like JJ had always wanted to do that, probably has. “REALLY?” Y/N yelled at him. “I don’t trust him, none of us do. Not sure if we even trust you.” He said. That had hurt her a lot.

She wasn’t the reason their relationship ended, it was him. Rafe fixed her and sure he wasn’t the best guy but it was enough for her. “I’m not the one who fucked you over JJ, you fucked over me.” Y/N said. 

Y/N waited for Rafe to wake up. It was a battle but she convinced them not to tie him up. She had food and pain killers waiting for him. He woke a few hours after the incident and looked around, “Hey babe. I brought you some food and painkillers.” Y/N told him.

He was pissed and wanted them off the boat after that but again Y/N had to convince him not too. “He punched me. Let’s not pretend that this is just about me not being trustworthy.” Rafe said to her as they ate. Y/N raised her eyebrows.

He was probably right. “Yeah well that was 3 years ago, Rafe.” She was over it and was even ready to forgive him but JJ didn’t feel the same. Maybe JJ was still in love with her after all. 

The boat started to rock like crazy causing them to get up and see what was going on. It was a disaster waiting to happen. The boat was crashing into the water and flooding. “Guys what’s going on?” She asked. “The storm.” Kie said. Y/N managed to make her way to where John B was.

JJ and Sarah are also there. It was bad, so bad to the point that Y/N ended up in the water. “Y/N.” JJ yelled and grabbed a raft and threw it in the water. “I’m coming.” He yelled and jumped in the water after her.

Rafe got there just in time to see them get covered by a big wave. He screamed his wife’s name and Sarah managed to hold him back so they didn’t lose more people. 

Rafe was crying and freaking out. The others had hope that they would turn up but Rafe had lost too much. They all felt bad and guilty that they treated them like that and realized that they aren’t bad people. Y/N never was and she might be dead. Sarah couldn’t help but cry.

Maybe it was the guilt or the sadness but she was crying so hard. Rafe was thinking about it so much. His wife was most likely dead and JJ jumped in after her. If they were alive he couldn’t even be mad about it. What if JJ had saved her life but what if she realized that she still loved him?

Rafe was deep in thought that he didn’t realize John B looking out in the distance at two people. “Guys.” Everyone looked over at the two people walking towards them. Rafe jumped up and ran to them. As he got closer he saw his wife and he laughed in relief.

She saw him and ran to him as well until they collapsed on the ground in a hug. Both of them were crying and saying that they love one another. JJ watched as the couple kissed and laughed in relief. He saved her life and though she was thankful, she was not going to leave rafe for him. 

“I saved her life.” JJ tells the others as they all sit around the fire. “And I am thankful for that JJ.” She said to him. He couldn’t meet her eyes, why was it that he thought she would love him all over again now? “Thanks for saving her.” Rafe said to him.

Everyone was shocked by that but also it made sense. Y/N was his wife after all.  Rafe wanted to be mad and yell at him but he couldn’t. She might not be alive if it wasn’t for him. But the thought of JJ and her together sickened him. Rafe wasn’t an idiot and saw right through JJ.

He knew that JJ was hoping for her to love him again and that’s what scared him. What broke him out of his thoughts was her yawning in his arms. “Well, I’m tired. Goodnight guys.” She said. Rafe followed her to where she was sleeping and laid down next to her. He pulled her body right up against his and he felt her snuggle up against him.   

Hearing that Sarah was pregnant actually made Y/N happy. She knew that John B and Sarah would be good parents and she was very excited for them. Rafe and her wanted kids but Rafe was scared. He never wanted to treat his kids the way he was treated.

Sure he loved his dad but it wasn’t a hidden fact that he wasn’t the greatest dad. But Rafe had no reaction to hearing that Sarah was pregnant. Y/N wanted to ask him about it but they really had no time. When Rafe almost got arrested for something the others did, it slipped her mind.

And Rafe had a lot of questions for her when they were walking around. “Did he try anything after saving you?” He asked after buying them clothes. “No. We barely talked.” Which was true. She thanked him and even hugged him but besides that they didn’t talk. “Did he tell you that he was still in love with you?” She looked at him like he had three heads. She shook her head, “No because he isn’t.” Rafe wanted to argue that factor but instead asked another question.

“Do you feel anything for him after that?” “Rafe, what?” She asked. “He saved your life and did something I couldn’t.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. Whether he was going to admit it or not she knew that was his worst fear. “Rafe, I can assure you I don’t love him. I love you.” She tells him.

Before he could respond he notices someone and pulls Y/N with him up against the wall. The people were talking about Groff. They listened and figured that he was close by. 

Rafe didn’t wanna leave her alone so he bought her a four wheeler and told her once he has Groff to speed off with them. She nods and waits for her man as he kicks some ass and gets Groff. Before Groff could say anything to her they drove off. She followed Rafe to wherever it was that he was headed.

She got off the four wheeler and Rafe immediately started to question Groff. Groff didn’t even get to say anything to Y/N with how Rafe was questioning him. Groff didn’t have the money anymore but he had the map to the treasure. Y/N gasped when they started fighting and Rafe took those things from him.

The Pendant was beautiful. Y/N couldn’t wait to wear it but that slipped her mind as Rafe pushed him in the well. “HAHA CHECKMATE BITCH.” Y/N bit her lip, finding that hot but knew it wasn’t the right time. He handed her the pendant and she put it on. “It looks beautiful on you.” He winks at her. She smiled at him and he looked at the map. They had a long way to go. 

“You know it was really hot when you pushed Groff into that well.” She said to him. He looked over at her and smirked, “My wife is a freak.” She laughed at him and shook her head, “Anything you do I find hot, Rafe.” He looked back at the map as they walked.

“Yeah well I would love to fuck you right now after hearing that but we gotta get our money first.” She sighed. It was truly unfortunate that they couldn’t. “Give me the pendant.” He says and she takes it off and hands it to him.

He tries to read the map with it but gets frustrated. “Here.” She said and took the necklace from him. She used to do this treasure hunting stuff with the pogues all the time. He smiled as he watched her figure it out. 

Rafe, who had the map in his hand, held up his hands as they were held at gunpoint. Y/N also held up her hands and looked at her husband, nervously. “Let her go she has nothing to do with this.” Rafe tries but they don’t care. “Drop the map.” Rafe nods and announces that he’s doing it slowly.

Y/N couldn’t look anywhere but her husband, missing her old friends ready to shoot the guys holding them hostage. It was in a flash of a second that Sarah shot at them and Rafe took Y/N’s hand and they ran. The pogues followed them. Rafe picked Y/N up and ran faster. She told him to wait as she saw the pogues but he didn’t listen until they barged through the door. “Next time we’ll let you get shot.” Kie tells him but Y/N thanks her. He sets Y/N down but still has the map. “Groff didn’t have the money.” She says to the others.

“Hand over the map.” Y/N looks at Rafe knowing he wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Rafe, baby give them it. They know what they are doing.” He looks at her, “You also know.” While that was true this was their fight now. “Dad would want us to work together.” Rafe was about to break. He believed that Sarah killed him. Y/N didn’t. “Rafe, they are willing to work together.” Y/N tries but he yells at Sarah saying that he couldn’t trust her because of Ward. “Dad died saving me. I was gonna die.” Y/N felt tears in her own eyes. “You’re so quick to blame me for everything.” That was true. “You’re gonna leave me just like everyone else in my life has besides Y/N. She’s the only one keeping me going. You’ll ruin that. He’s trying to ruin that.” Rafe pointed at JJ.

JJ stayed silent as Sarah talked to him, “I’m all you have.” “Baby look at me. She’s telling the truth. I know them baby, they aren’t bad people. Nothing will ever come between us.” Her heart broke at the sight of him crying. “We’ll still get our cut?” Rafe asked Sarah. “Yes.” He goes to hand her the map but she pushes it away and she hugs him. Y/n smiled at the sight and rubbed his back as he tried to hold back tears. 

“Hun, I’m going down there to stop them.” “No.” “Rafe, they are killers.” Kie said to him. He looks at the two of them. “I’m a killer too.” He says and if he said that at any other point, she would have been so turned on but right now they were on a mission. Kie and Y/N couldn’t really see JJ but kept telling him to hurry up. He was trying but he was going to find it no matter what.

Y/N kept looking behind her hoping to see Rafe but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose him and this was making her think she would. “JJ we have to go.” Kie yelled at him. He was reaching into the eye of the sand statue and it looked like he pulled something out but she couldn’t be so sure.

The sand was everywhere. She heard yelling and cheering from him and smiled to herself. He got the crown. A few minutes later he showed them the crown and they all hugged. It was a nice feeling, one that she missed. They ran down to get the others and Y/N’s mind was on her husband. She had to make sure he was okay.

She yelled his name as she looked for him but gasped as she saw Groff. She hid so he couldn’t see her and he grabbed Kie. Y/N had to cover her mouth. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hurt her but of course he was willing to trade her for the crown. They were so close.

Y/N watched as the trade was made and sighed in relief. She was glad her friends were okay. Sure she wanted the money back but their lives were and always will be more important. She turned to go find Rafe but heard Kie gasping. Y/N turned around and her eyes widened, her heart dropped and her soul left her body. Groff had stabbed JJ.

She didn’t care anymore and ran over to him as Groff ran off. She thought about chasing him but didn’t want to get killed. “JJ.” She cried and he looked at her. For once since they reunited he looked at her and he didn’t look mad. Kie and her helped him to the ground.

“You’re gonna be okay. We will get you out of here.” Kie said. JJ gave them a smile, “It’s okay.” “JJ we can get you help.” Y/N tells him. He looks over at her, “Y/N I’m sorry that I messed up with you and never gave you what you deserved.” “JJ I don’t care about that stuff.” He could barely get out words but he had to tell her, “Kie I never told you my wish.” Kie was crying.

“JJ it’s okay…” “I have everything I could ever wish for right now.” He holds both of their hands. “My best friend.” He looks at Kie. “And the woman I’ll always love.” He looks at Y/N. Y/N starts crying harder. “I love you both.”  He said and his grip on their hands weakened. He was dead.

The others started showing up and everyone was crying. Rafe showed up and saw Y/N put JJ’s hand in his lap. He couldn’t even feel relief about this, nothing about it was. He wasn’t jealous or mad cuz for once he knew that she was his and that no matter what they were together.

He got on the ground with her. “Hey.” He said and she collapsed in his lap crying for her friend. “It’s okay baby. I understand and I promise you we will avenge him.” He whispered to her. One thing she learned about being married to Rafe Cameron was that he kept his word. Especially on Revenge. 

[popjunkie42]

Hungry Thirsty Roots - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter Two:

“We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?”

Christina Rosetti Goblin Market

Feyre faces the consequences of her poorly-worded wish as she returns to a mate enchanted to give her all of her desires.

Tags: just so much smut, mild magical dubcon, UTM stuff, light bondage

Thank you to my loves @climbthemountain2020 and @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta read!

I don't know, I just wrote you so many words of smut. I also don't want to let go of October. Don't look too closely at the plot or anything here. Please enjoy!

Read on AO3 and a snippet under the cut:

Feyre’s bare feet knocked uselessly against the wall, her hands pinned above her, firm pressure on her neck robbing her lungs of air.

In the darkness, all she could see was the flash of violet eyes, the bright glint of teeth.

Just as quickly as it came, the magic grip released around her neck and she coughed, still dangled off the wall, the tang of magic in the air.

“Rhys - what -”

“I believe I asked you a question, human.”

The High Lord hovered in the sharp silver light of the moon. His eyes - his eyes were swallowed up with deep swirling violet, not stars but whole galaxies rippling in them, undulating like waves on the sea. Not a black pupil in sight.

Feyre froze.

She could still feel the path the peach pit took down her throat, thick and rugged.

I wish for one night with my mate where things are back as they were, in the beginning between us.

Breaths came out of her in heavy pants. In the beginning between us. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before she could sift through the enchantment at work on her mate, the cool tickle of smoky midnight tendrils caressed her bruised throat again. A reminder, laced with threat.

Sometimes she forgot what he had been like Under the Mountain. Something sickly churned in her stomach and she wondered if the enchantment would end if she threw the whole pit up.

“It isn’t wise to keep a High Lord waiting, darling. Or do you simply have no good explanation, and are attempting to save a shred of your dignity?”

Feyre blinked, the oxygen finally flooding back into her brain.

She had forgotten this too - how he could be such an insufferable ass.

Dressed as casually as he was, with a fine embroidered dressing robe over his bare chest and soft sleep pants, one might think he would be slightly less menacing. But even as his bare feet sunk into the carpet of their bedroom, Feyre couldn’t help the chills that erupted over her flesh. He cocked his head, all observant predator, and desire started to grow unbidden, a heat deep in her gut.

Surprising, and annoying, that he could always affect her so. Even this vulnerable to him - her body exposed for the taking.

Or perhaps because of it?

He clicked his tongue, disappointed. “So, I’ve caught the stubborn, vicious human girl sticking her pretty nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. The guards once told you I’d pull your skin from your body, strip by strip. A little messy for me, truth be told. Tell me Feyre, how would you like to be punished for invading a High Lord’s room without an invitation?”

The chill of fear turned into the crackling fire of anger - sparks that started to catch in her chest.

The joints of her shoulders burned, blood rushed from her fingertips, but she readjusted to straighten her body, lifted her chin.

First she was going to deal with her mate, and then she was going to hunt Mother Enfys down and repay her hospitality in kind.

His mind was trapped in an earlier time - her mate and his mask Under the Mountain. But it was fine. She knew him there, as well.

“I’m not afraid of you, Rhysand.”

He stopped his pacing, facing her fully. Dark features highlighted in the moonlight, haughty and beautiful.

“Stubborn, vicious…and foolish too.”

Feyre bared her teeth. Leave it to her mate to make her want to slap him and eat him whole.

And he stood so far away she couldn’t even feel the heat of his body, could barely catch his scent.

Unacceptable.

“Is part of my punishment being tied up and forced to listen to you talk to yourself?” Feyre asked.

The High Lord quirked an impatient eyebrow, flicked a piece of lint off of his shoulder.

She wanted him so much, annoyed as she was, it made her feel light headed again. The lack of his touch - his careful distance - was primed to drive her mad. Combined with the insistent thrum of the mating bond in her chest, to protect, protect - any distance from him was somewhat unbearable. And any panic and fear were eaten up into something else, stoked inside her belly - a thrill, a need, to break through his walls.

What do you dream of? Mother Enfys had asked.

“You haven’t answered my question yet, of what you’re doing here. And dressed so deliciously.”

A little scoff escaped her mouth. He might be enchanted, but he was still her mate.

Her eyes roamed over his form as he regarded her, haughty and bored. Besides the enchantment in his eyes, he seemed…fine. Body whole and unharmed, at least. Personality matched to his dark mask.

But would he remember this in the morning? Would he be angry with her? If the roles were reversed, would he have locked her in a closet, kept safe and alone until morning broke the enchantment cast over them both?

Guilt welled up under her racing mind, under her desire. This was her fault, her foolish bargain.

Feyre took a breath, trying to calm her thoughts.

Whatever might happen, he was hers and she was his. He could trust her, always. She wouldn’t let any harm befall him.

And maybe, just maybe, he could be convinced to let something like this go, in light of his past transgressions.

He stared at her, still waiting for an answer, his annoyed menace filling the room like smoke.

“What if I’m here for you?” Feyre spoke aloud into the cold.

Rhysand smiled, incisors flashed. “Now you want me to believe you enjoy my company? Tell the truth now. I can read your mind, you know.”

She licked her lips, plotting, weighing what she knew of her mate - “You’ll laugh.”

“The alternative is you’re punished for lying.”

“Oh.”

Feyre wondered if he had noticed her scent changing, the way she watched his powerful thighs as he paced. The way her mouth was parted, tasting the air for his scent.

Speak your desire, and it will be fulfilled.

She breathed deeply, wet her lips. Spoke, voice a quiet whisper:

“How would you punish me?”

Rhysand went still.

The air between them charged, like crackling lightning. She shivered, muscles taut.

Ribbons of darkness slowly unfurled against her skin as she was released, and she dropped her arms with a sigh, blood rushing back to her fingertips.

Frowning, the High Lord strode towards her. A voice in her whispered: finally.

He towered over her, standing above her like a looming shadow.

Feyre let herself feel the thrill of fear again. If this was her role, then she would play it, and well - the human plaything of the dark High Lord.

“What are you scheming, Feyre?” he asked, his voice low between them. “You know how dangerous it is when you get silly ideas in your head.”

Prick prick prick. “I think they’ve gotten me this far.”

He snorted, very un-High Lord-like. “Not without ample amounts of my assistance, if you’ll recall.”

Oh, he was infuriating, and oh, how she loved him. Warmth spread in her chest as she remembered his assistance. The knife’s edge they walked underground. The way he loved her, even now…how even now he was protecting her. Even from himself.

Feyre didn’t know how much he remembered, perceived about their changed circumstances under the enchantment. Perhaps she was glamoured in his eyes - rounded ears, shorter limbs, that hungry, fierce human look. But she would play her part - and she thought she could lead him to what they both wanted.

“Why did you come to my room, Feyre?”

She was silent a moment, and she pressed her wrists together in front of her, as if she longed to be bound again. “I got lost looking for the kitchens,” she lied.

He stepped closer, his breath brushing her hair. “Stop playing games. You’re terrible at them.”

In her mind, Feyre carved out a small room, right at the surface, for him. Filled it with her feelings, her desires, her needs. Shielding over all the memories, her amusement, her plots barreling towards seduction.

“I’m not playing games.” Wasn’t she? What might one call a drunken bargain in a magic market, a fumbling and inelegant wish spoken into the air? If not a game then a foolish mistake - but one she had to see through to the end now.

She had to be bold - be brave. “I wanted -” the faltering of her voice was not an act. “Just one night. Just for one night, I want you to help me feel something different. Something…” she stuttered, grown shy again, missing the words to what she wanted. Rhys’s jaw was clenched tight in front of her. She tried to capture her feelings, send them down the bond.

Something to banish away the memories of Under the Mountain, of her bleeding to death in a bed. But also something controlled, something that might be frightening but where her life wouldn’t be at risk…flesh she would trust under his hands.

Rhysand’s eyes flickered back and forth across her face, unsettling under the enchantment. “You believe you can trust me enough for that?”

“Can I?”

His eyes shuttered. Then closed.

“You’re a fool to trust anyone down here, any of us at all,” he said, his voice quiet, opening his eyes again to see her face.

“No, I’m not. Not with you.”

He was so close to her now, his scent in her nose. The darkness poured from him like water.

Feyre leaned up on her toes to kiss him, but he twisted his face away from her. Still uncertain.

“Please,” she whispered against his cheek. That hammering need inside of her roared to life, overcome with wanting him - his skin, his heat, his body - as much as air, as water.

He growled, and for a moment she was afraid he was angry. He swooped down so his teeth were next to her neck, her pulse thrumming in her veins.

His breath was warm and wet on her skin, and she shivered.

“I like it when you beg.”

Feyre couldn’t help her grin.

“I know.”

Halting, testing, Rhys placed a gentle kiss on her hammering pulse, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, and she whimpered.

She could feel his smile against the skin of her neck, the pleased hum from his chest.

“Now darling, how do you think a High Lord should punish you for lying?”

[gothamite-rambler]

Rose helping out Jason

Rose sat on the couch in her duplex apartment, her mouth agape in disbelief as she listened to the story of how Jason had died and then been revived. She had always been curious about the details but was hesitant to ask, worried she might be stepping on a landmine. Their relationship was still new, and she wanted to ensure Jason didn’t feel pressured to share anything he wasn’t ready to discuss.

Yet, as he recounted everything he remembered, she could see that, despite the pain of the experience, he didn’t resent reliving it. He seemed to find a certain catharsis in sharing his story, and she felt honored that he chose to open up to her.

Rose (stunned): That's... How you died?

Jason nodded then sighed.

Jason: The craziest part was stepping out of the Lazarus Pit covered in—wait, why do you look mad?

Rose (fixating on one detail): That bitch egg donor sold you out to the Joker to save her own skin?!

Jason (laughing dryly): Yeah, pretty much. She’s not around anymore. She wasn’t exactly the best mom to the bitter end. Honestly, it was stupid of me to even go see her that night.

Rose frowned softly, covering her mouth in disbelief.

Rose (reassuringly): Jace, it’s not your fault you were deceived by someone so terrible. I’m sorry for insulting her, but that infuriates me—along with the fact of your death itself. The whole situation makes me so mad. And my dad? He’s just as bad. Oh my God.

Jason chuckled, rubbing his forehead.

Jason: You’re fine, trust me. It’s crazy to think about dying, but I’ve managed to adjust to this new life pretty well.

Rose (smiling): You really have.

She exhaled, gently rubbing the top of Jason’s hand. He smiled in response.

Rose (holding back her anger): But the Joker is still… alive and walking? Not okay with that.

Jason: That’s a whole different mess. I don’t want to think about him right now; sorry for unloading so much on you.

Rose (smiling softly): It’s fine, I asked. I showed you my missing eye, and in return, you gave me a detailed account of your death. Just so you know, I could take care of him for you since Batman won’t.

Jason chuckled, quickly pressing a kiss to Rose's cheek.

Jason: Nah, his misery is enough for me.

Rose (with a mischievous glint in her eyes): His misery is enough? I like the way you think.

She leaned in closer, kissing him passionately as she pushed him down onto the couch.

Jason (sly smile): That turned you on?

Rose (whispering near his ear): Are you turned on?

Jason (blushing): I definitely am now.

Rose smiled, deepening the kiss as she felt the chemistry between them simmer. With a carefree motion, she tossed aside his shirt and kissed him again, all while her mind began weaving a plot for revenge against the Joker.

---Later that night---

Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke, sat in his prison cell, engrossed in Shawshank Redemption.

Slade (towards the end of the book): Huh, he dug a hole in the wall? Amateur.

He chuckled softly, continuing to read until his phone rang just moments later. Without bothering to check the caller ID, he answered.

Slade: Go for Deathstroke.

Rose (whispering): Death—Sla—Da—Nope… Father, yeah, that works. Father, I have a request that you definitely won’t turn down.

Slade's interest piqued as he continued to read.

Slade: I’m listening.

Rose: The Joker’s in Arkham with you. I want you to beat him to a bloody pulp. He probably won’t die easily, but don’t kill him. Go all out. I’ll bring you muffins when I visit next week.

Slade snapped the book shut, excitement coursing through him as he stood up.

Slade (pumped up): I’d do that regardless of an award! Regardless! You’re not joking about him not dying, either. I saw someone push him off the railing near the stairs and that clown jumped to his feet while laughing. I will smash his face to a pulp regardless! Guard! Bring me my brass knuckles! Code J!

Rose (sighing happily): Thank you.

Slade: No problem, Jeri—Which child are you?

Rose paused, remembering who her father was and that this was just typical of him, even during her time as his loyal brainwashed agent. She mentally noted to bring this up during her 'sucky dad' contest with Raven later.

Rose: It's Rose.

Slade fell silent as he slipped on his brass knuckles.

Rose (pinching the bridge of her nose): I cut my working eye out for you.

Slade: Oh! The one who proved her loyalty to me. Got it… Daughter? Right, Rose is my daughter. Just remember to bring me blueberry muffins on visitors' day.

Rose: You really don’t want to hear the reason behind—

Slade (with a hint of hatred for the Joker in his tone): Rose, regardless!

Rose: Cool, thanks. Loyal to ya.

Slade (with a cocky grin): I know you are.

With that, he abruptly ended the call and strode out of his cell.

Slade: Hey, jester man! Get over here!

---Meanwhile at Rose's house---

Rose ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Rose (whispering to herself): Thank God he hasn’t realized I hate his guts. I really am such a good person.

Jason: You done with the call? I’m getting cold in here, come back to bed.

Rose smiled as she let her robe fall to the floor, heading back to her room. She closed the door quietly behind her, keeping her plan to punish the Joker in prison a secret from Jason—at least for now, until the moment felt just right.

[coquettemouse]

Breakfast

The kitchen was already alive with the smell of oatmeal cooking on the stove when Jason walked in, carrying a sleepy-eyed Sofia on his hip. Her head lolled against his shoulder, but as soon as she caught sight of the high chair, she perked up.

“Up, Daddy!” she commanded, pointing at the chair like a queen giving orders to her loyal subject.

“Your Highness,” Jason said with a mock bow, settling her down carefully. Her feet swung back and forth, thumping lightly against the base of the chair. He tucked a stray braid behind her ear, and she gave him a lopsided, toothless grin.

“What’s on the menu today?” she asked, puffing out her chest like a food critic ready to give a harsh review.

“Oatmeal with berries and ‘the crunchy stuff,’” Jason announced, waving a wooden spoon for emphasis. “Only the finest for my princess.”

“Good,” she said seriously. “But no weird green stuff.”

“Who do you take me for?” he scoffed, pouring oats into a pot. “Some kind of spinach wizard?”

She giggled, and he felt the corners of his lips pulling up. As the oats bubbled on the stove, Jason tossed in a dash of cinnamon, stirred, and then turned to face her. She was trying to grab at an invisible something above her head, small fingers stretching.

“What’re you doing, Sofi?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Catchin’ fairies!” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They always try to steal my crunchy stuff. It’s their favorite.”

Jason grinned as he stirred the oatmeal. “Well, those sneaky fairies better watch out because I’m putting extra crunchies today.”

Sofia gasped, eyes wide. “Extra? They’re gonna go bonkers!”

With a dramatic flourish, Jason scooped the oatmeal into a small bowl, added a handful of strawberries and blueberries, then sprinkled granola over the top. He brought it to her like a prized offering. “Here it is—the one and only anti-fairy oatmeal deluxe.”

“Thanks, daddy!” She grabbed the spoon and dug in, but not before giving the bowl a serious look. “No fairies allowed,” she whispered to it, then took a big bite. Her eyes lit up. “Mmm! It’s crunchy!”

“I told you,” Jason said, leaning against the counter with his own burnt toast. “The kitchen elves helped out.”

“Not elves again!” Sofia groaned between bites. “They’re always leavin’ their crumbs everywhere.”

Jason nodded gravely. “The worst. Absolute crumb bandits.”

Suddenly gggles echoed through the hallway, bouncing off the walls. Jimena burst into the kitchen, hair flying in all directions, her laughter coming in breathless gasps. Hot on her heels was Leo, a grin plastered across his face. Keeping his pace slower than her.

“You’re too fast!” Leo exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he came to a dramatic halt beside the table, pretending to be out of breath. He bent over, resting one arm on the tabletop for effect. Jimena skidded to a stop, still giggling, and tiptoed back toward him, eyes bright with mischief.

“Gotcha!” she declared, poking his shoulder. It was exactly what Leo was waiting for. He lunged, wrapping his arm around her waist and lifting her up, her legs kicking wildly as she squealed.

“No!!” Jimena shrieked between bursts of laughter, squirming in his grip. “Dad! Dad! Help me!”

Jason, who had been watching from the counter with a faint smile as he sipped his coffee, raised an eyebrow. “Oh no, a damsel in distress! What should I do?”

Jimena pointed at him, barely able to get words out through her giggles. “Save me, Dad!”

Jason set down his mug with deliberate slowness, like he was considering a life-or-death mission. “All right, hero mode it is.” He walked toward them, his frame casting a playful shadow over them. “Leo, prepare for battle.”

Leo held Jimena a bit higher, shifting her like a human shield. “You’ll have to go through me first!” he declared, mock-seriousness in his voice.

“Dad!” Jimena wheezed, caught between laughing and catching her breath. “Don’t let him win!”

“Never.” Jason moved, hands darting out to tickle Leo’s sides. Leo yelped, losing his grip just enough for Jimena to wiggle free and land on her feet, victorious.

“Ha! We got you!” she crowed, pointing at Leo while clutching her sides.

Leo, feigning defeat, sank dramatically onto a chair. “Betrayed by my own daughter and out-tickled by my husband. Is there no honor left in this world?”

Sofia, still munching on the last bit of her oatmeal, chimed in with all the wisdom of a five-year-old. “You shouldn’t mess with dad,” she said seriously, a bit of granola sticking to her cheek. “He’s a hero.”

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 53/54

Prev | Next

Danny hugged Sam and Tucker. He would miss his friends, but there was no reason to stay. His dad and family were in the other dimension. Besides, even when they destroyed the portal, they could visit with Wulf's help.

Ghostwriter, who had been stuck in the thermos with Danny, had said he would look for Wulf so that they could facilitate communication between the friends. The other ghost had gone through the portal when they let him go to tell Raven they were fine and not to call other heroes.

Thank the Ancients he did because if time was slower in Danny’s home dimension, who knows how long it’s been in the other dimension? He didn’t want Auntie Raven freaking out. They already had to think of something to explain Danny’s disappearance. They didn’t need to add heroes to the mix.

They all went to the basement. Danny was wary; he didn’t want to see the Fentons’ bodies.

He was thankful Talia had cleaned up well. There wasn’t even blood on the floors. He did idly wonder where she hid the bodies.

Don’t think about it.

���We’ll miss you, Danny, but I’m glad you found a parent that cares about you,” Sam said as she hugged him again.

“Yeah, dude, you deserve some happiness. And who knows, you might have caught up to our age again the next time we see each other. You’re so shrimpy right now,” Tucker teased.

“Hardy, har-har, Tucker.”

His friends grinned, and Danny couldn’t help but give one of his own.

“We’ll wait for Wulf. We can trade letters or try to visit each other in the Ghost Zone,” Sam said with a sad smile. “It’s not goodbye. It’s an ‘I’ll see you later’ type of deal.”

Danny nodded, “I’ll miss you guys, but…”

Danny turned to look at his dad. He was standing by Talia and Jazz. Talia was tucking Jazz’s hair behind her ear and telling her something. Jazz’s eyes were still red. Danny couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Jazz had killed the Fentons to save him. It was his fault.

Talia had a maternal air around her as she continued talking to Jazz. Maybe he should accept her, not as his grandmother but as part of his family. She seemed to be helping Jazz after—after what happened.

Sam brought Danny back to the present.

“Live your best life; it sounds like you’re in a great dimension.”

“It has problems, but at least I’ll be more accepted with my powers. And the best part is, no GIW or Vlad!”

“I wonder what he’s going to do when he finds out Maddie is, well, you know,” Tucker said.

Danny tried not to think about it. He ignored the renewed sense of guilt at the thought of the Fentons’ deaths.

“You guys should go; we’re going to blow up this place and the portal. We don’t want anyone to think it was your fault.”

They hugged one last time, and then they were gone. It saddened Danny to see his friends leave, but he didn’t regret his decision. Besides, it was, as Sam said, it wasn’t goodbye.

“Are you sure about this, Danny lad? We can stay here. I have no problem leaving it all behind and, umph.”

Danny had tackled his father, “You’re silly, dad. I’ll miss my friends, but we can always visit. This dimension has left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d rather be home.”

Danny saw Batman and Nightwing’s tense shoulders relax from the corner of his eyes. Danny ignored them. They had been the main cause of his dad’s pain.

“Danny, chum, stop.”

“I’m not doing anything, daddy,” Danny said innocently. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t completely ignoring the two men. And maybe glaring at one of the founding members of the Justice League with glowing eyes wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t help it.

Dad laughed and hugged Danny, “I love you, chum, so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“I hate to break up this sweet father-son moment, but it’s time to leave,” Jazz said in a hollow voice, “I set the portal to blow up in ten minutes. That should give us enough time to get far enough away from it.”

“And you’re sure this explosion will stay isolated to the basement,” Batman asked. Which okay, it was a valid question, but why couldn’t someone less annoying have asked?

Jazz turned toward him, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll only take out the basement and the portal. Nothing or no one else will be affected. Also, I know that you copied the data on the computer. I want to receive a copy. And that isn’t up to negotiation, Batman.”

“Busted,” Nightwing murmured.

“Seriously, old man?” Danny grinned at his dad’s pissed-off tone.

“Of course, I’m…sorry that I didn’t ask before doing so.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. Let’s go.”

Dad glared at Batman one last time before walking through the portal. It was time to go home.

____

Jazz drank a hot cup of tea as she watched the sun move across the sky. Ellie was sleeping beside her in a baby bouncer.

Thankfully, by the time they returned home, they had only been gone the whole night and part of the morning. They had made up a story about looking for Danny in the woods behind the school all night and having found him. The official story was that Danny had followed a kitten into the woods and gotten lost. It hurt Danny’s pride a little, but they had to come up with something.

The police had notified the school officials, and by midday, everyone knew Danny had been found.

Even Avril had shown up to make sure they had been fine.

“I’m so glad little Danny is well,” she crouched down to Danny, “Don’t follow animals into the woods anymore, sweetie; it could have ended so much worse. Oh, Sarah was so worried.”

Jazz couldn’t tell if the woman was being sincere or not, but they were all too tired to care about her.

After their statement had been taken, the little family went back home. Raven had picked up Ellie, and Jazz had wanted to hold her little girl after the shitty day she had.

They had let Bruce and Dick stay the day so they could rest. Bruce had overstepped his boundaries but still helped get Danny back. He even gave Jazz the drive and asked if he could review the information.

Jazz and Jason could let the two men rest at their home.

Jazz had been too restless to sleep, so she had offered her bed to Dick while Bruce had taken Jason’s. Jason had gone to sleep with Danny in Danny’s room. Raven had gone home but promised to return with Roy and Lian the next day.

Jazz took another sip of her tea, Ellie’s soft snores calming her nerves.

She let time pass her by without any real thoughts, which was her excuse for not noticing Talia until she put something wrapped in a white cloth in front of her.

It took Jazz a moment to recognize the shape of the item. It was a knife. Jazz’s blood ran cold.

“I doubt you would want to keep it, but I had to ask before taking that decision away from you,” Talia said.

Jazz took the wrapped dagger in her hands. Although it was clean, she swore she saw red specks on the cloth.

“It’s Danny’s; you should ask him.”

Coward, she thought to herself, making Danny decide is a cowardly move.

Talia put her manicured hand on top of Jazz’s, “It’s yours now, Jasmine. I can take it away, and you’ll never see it again, but you have to decide.”

For a while, only Ellie’s soft snores punctured the silence.

Jazz put the dagger down.

“I want to keep it, as weird as it sounds.”

That dagger was her partner in crime. Probably the only other thing that could understand her. After all, it had helped Jazz take Jack Fenton’s life.

Jazz tried not to think too deeply about her keeping a souvenir of her first kill.

She laughed hysterically: did she really think ��first?’

Talia squeezed Jazz’s hand. “Jasmine, I am not a perfect mother or person, but I want to be here for you. I want to help you through this.”

Jazz looked at Talia and said sincerely, “You have helped me. Thank you.”

She got up and hugged the woman. Talia tensed with surprise before putting her arms around Jazz.

Jazz would get through this. She could try to find a therapist who specialized in PTSD, or she could ask Talia to find one who wouldn’t report her to the authorities and lock her up.

She would not let this consume her. Jazz had her future ahead of her; the Fentons had taken enough of her past, and they would not have her future either.

Hey everyone, just one more chapter to go through, and I'll finish this fic. I actually have tears in my eyes. I can't believe it's almost over 😭

[fxrmuladaydreams]

angel on his shoulder: happy birthday (op81)

mean!oscar x sweet!reader

summary: oscar struggles to find the perfect gift for your birthday

notes: again, he’s not really mean, but idk what to call him now

wc: 1533

prev. part

You had somehow managed to do it, to worm your way into Oscar’s life, to make yourself a permanent part of his day. What was once passing glances had now turned into soft smiles and quiet conversations. He looked forward to seeing you everyday, to talking with you.

He started saving a seat for you whenever he ate lunch, or sitting closer to Lando during meetings, so he could sit closer to you. He longed to be at the receiving end of your smiles and laughs, and mentally cheered when he was.

Of course spending more time with you meant spending more time with Lando as well. Oscar didn’t dislike Lando, not at all, but Lando could occasionally be… a bit much. Especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows at him for simply talking with you.

He was sitting in the training room at the MTC one day, getting ready to begin his workout when he feels an arm around his shoulders. He turns to see Lando smirking down at him.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey yourself.” Lando replies. “What are you up to?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows and looks around the gym. “What do you think?”

Lando rolls his eyes, but smiles as he walks towards a set of weights.

“Is, uh, is Y/n coming around?” Oscar tries to sound casual, but hearing Lando snort makes his face flush.

“To stay with me while I work out? I doubt she’d be interested in that.” He scoffs. “But I bet she’d be more interested if she knew you were here too.”

“What?” Oscar spurts. “Why would she?” He can feel his face burning up.

“No reason.” Lando says, teasingly. “Hey, what are you doing for next week?”

Oscar furrows his brows. “What’s going on next week?”

“Y/n’s birthday.” Lando answers. “You didn’t know?” He turns to look at Oscar.

Oscar tries to think back, wondering if you’ve mentioned your birthday.

“Well it’s next week. I’m throwing a party for her. You can come if you want.”

Oscar nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

Lando grins. “Good. She’ll be glad to hear that.”

Oscar tries to hide the blush he feels spreading on his cheeks.

“I’ve already got her gift picked out and wrapped. Not by me, of course. It’d look like I was handing her a wad of paper.”

“Gift?” Oscar asks. He feels panic beginning to rise in his chest.

“Yeah, gift. It’s a birthday.” Lando laughs. “You have to get her a gift.”

“Right.” Oscar murmurs. He stands up. “I think I’m done here, for the day.” With that he walks out of the training center, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his gaze locked on the ground as he leaves.

“Didn’t even see him do anything.” Lando mumbles to himself.

Oscar spends the rest of the day wracking his brain for something, anything to get you for your birthday. He could get you jewelry? But that seems too intimate. Money? Too casual.

He sits alone while he eats his lunch, staring off into space as he eats, trying to think of something.

“Hey, Os. You okay?” You ask softly placing your food down on the table next to him.

He snaps out of his thoughts, looking at you wide-eyed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

You laugh. “I don’t know, you’ve got this weird look on your face.”

He shakes his head. “No I don’t.”

“Okay, fine.” You laugh.

Oscar sighs, looking back at his food, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a book on your lap.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“Oh,” you smile, lifting the book to put it on the table. “It’s the book I’m reading right now.”

Oscar looks at the cover.

“It’s actually like, the tenth time I’m reading it.” You say.

Oscar snorts. “Why?”

“It’s my favorite book.” You shrug. “It’s so good. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.”

Oscar hums.

“No, seriously, it would be so nice to have someone to talk to about it.” You whine. “I tried to get Lando to read it, and do you know what he said? He said ‘I’ll wait for the movie’. Can you believe that?” You ask.

Oscar laughs. “That sounds about right.” He watches as you push the book to the side to eat your lunch. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, okay, see you.”

Oscar tries not to let the way your shoulders slump affect him. He gathers his things, and leaves you sitting there, pulling out his phone as he walks away.

After work Oscar goes to several different shops, looking for that damned book. He’s just about to give up, when he finally finds one lone copy. He keeps it tucked close to his chest as he walks to the checkout counter, as if afraid someone’s going to try to pry it from his hands.

He spends any free time he has for the week with his nose in the book. He brings it with him to the MTC, he reads it before and after work, he feels like the book becomes a part of him.

He shows up to Lando’s apartment for your party, with his gift tucked under his arm. He’d spent about an hour on picking a shirt, then another on fixing his unruly hair.

He has to admit, he’s surprised when he walks into Lando’s apartment. It’s not the bright rave lights or loud music he’d picture Lando would pick out for a party for himself, instead it’s soft warm lighting with some soft music in the background.

“I see you’ve made it.” Lando says, when he sees Oscar. “And you’ve managed to find a gift.” He smirks. “What’d you get her?”

Oscar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Keeping it a surprise?”

Before Oscar can answer, he’s pulled into a soft hug. “Thanks for coming, Os.” He hears your voice next to his ear.

Oscar smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Happy birthday.”

When you pull away Oscar allows himself a moment to admire you. You’re wearing a soft dress that compliments you well. He notices the small sparking stone on the necklace around your neck.

“Pretty necklace.” He says.

You lift a hand to touch the stone. “Thanks. Lando got it for me.”

Oscar feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. His eyes search for the brit, who has made himself scarce.

“I told him it was too much. He said it’s the least he can do for me, having to put up with him everyday.” You laugh.

Oscar gives you an unconvincing smile, awkwardly shifting the gift under his arm, the gift he’s starting to feel immensely insecure about.

“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” You ask him. “Lando invited all of these people, but I don’t think I know half of them.” You laugh.

Oscar nods, following you as you lead him to the balcony.

You each take a seat, looking out at the sun setting over Monaco. He can’t help but admire you. The sun makes you practically glow, your eyes quite literally sparkle.

“Thanks for coming, really.” You break the silence. “I appreciate what Lando’s done, but I can’t help but feel a bit… out of place.”

Oscar hums. He holds out his gift to you, figuring it’d be better to deal with the embarrassment of you thinking it’s lame out here alone, rather than inside surrounded by people.

He watches as you tear open the gift, a confused look spreading across your face as you see what it is.

“It’s my book…” You say, holding the same book you showed him at the beginning of the week, though this copy is clearly newer. “Thanks Oscar.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment.

“Open it.”

You look at him confused again. “I swear if you cut a hole in my favorite book-“

“Just open it.” He cuts you off with a smile.

You slowly open it, flipping through the first few pages, the title page, the acknowledgment, the table of contents, until you get to the first actual page of the book.

Inside, surrounding the text in the book are little notes and doodles, scrawled in messy handwriting. You flip through the pages to see them everywhere.

“You annotated it?” You ask softly.

Oscar nods. “I read it this week. I figured it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to about it.” He says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s not great-“

“I love it.” You cut him off.

“You do?”

You nod. You had copies upon copies of this book, paperbacks, hardcovers, special editions, sprayed edges, but none of them compared to the one in your hands. The one Oscar took the time to read, then write out all of his own thoughts for you. It felt like you were holding a piece of him in your arms.

“Yeah, I love it. Thank you.” You murmur, pulling him into a hug.

Oscar feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. He smiles to himself, feeling like he’s successfully planted himself in your heart now.

[thievinghippo]

So I promised a postmortem and it’s finally time! Here’s the TL:DR. I loved it. I can already tell I’ll probably have more played hours in this game than Inquisition, and I fucking loved Inquisition! Good, bad, and ugly beneath the cut and there will be heavy spoilers for the entire game, so read at your own risk. (This is also long, because I have a lot to say!)

THE GOOD

Rook. Once I let go of my preconceived notion of how Rook was (mid-40s and serious but kind) and accepted Rook for the young, sarcastic character they are, I fell in love. Edda is going to be an A possibly even S tier OC for me

The dwarves. We were fed so well, y’all. So much lore and dialogue choices. There was even a Grey Warden dwarf specific dialogue choice. I love the confirmation of what we all suspected with the Titans. I just wish that a dwarf Rook had the opportunity to confront Solas. He apparently apologizes to Harding. But what about a dwarf Rook?

Exploration. I’m an idiot when it comes to figuring out in-game puzzles and such. I’ve read some complaints that everything was far too easy, but for one of the first times I remember, I could do a vast majority of puzzles and finding treasures without consulting a game guide. And I was actually proud when I figured things out. When I play Edda again, I’m going to 100% the world and I cannot wait

The Companions. Bonus points for Emmrich Volkarin. I ended up loving all of them. Even the ones I was very ‘meh’ on before playing the game. Like Bellara. She was on my list to romance second to last. And she has moved up to third, after Emmrich and Davrin. 

Emmrich Volkarin. Yes, he gets his own special mention. I love him so much that I created a second Rook to romance him. That way I have one Emmrich that is not a lich (Edda’s choices) and one Emmrich that is a lich (Sonnet’s choice). I love his compassion, his kindness, his reverence of the dead. I adore his romance and how clear it is that Rook has bewitched him, body and soul. The fact that they lean into the age gap and it becomes entwined with his own fears of death. He has my favorite personal quest. I loved the music, the atmosphere. How it pertains to his own journey, facing his mortality (plus Johanna Hezenkoss can get it). Plus it has the banger line of ‘Show them what a real necromancer can do!’ I even can’t wait not to romance him and see what the friendship is like and encourage him to hook up with Strife

The backgrounds. Granted, I’ve only played through the game 1.5 times, but there have been so many background mentions. Especially for the Grey Wardens. Mourn Watch has some great ones too. I mean, there was Grey Warden romance banter during a fight. In a side quest! I can’t wait to discover more

The character creator. I love how inclusive it is, especially when you compare it to previous Dragon Age games. The hair is beautiful (but where is my braid crown! my kingdom for a braid crown!) and I have overweight OCs, which make me very happy. Varric's shaving mirror is also amazing, and because I want EA to know that people are using these options, Sonnet is a trans woman who will save Thedas

THE BAD

Weird tonal switches. Emmrich and Harding are going to Ferelden so she can show him around but the South is being razed by darkspawn. Harding’s mom sends her back with pie and gives great hugs. How in the world are they getting to Ferelden? Rook was amazed to see the Inquisitor in the North so why would the members of the Veilguard be able to go to the South? Some of the codex entries are so dark and yet everyone is happy in the Lighthouse 

Give Rook a problem, please! I kept waiting for Rook’s LI to go up to her and ask if there’s anything distracting her. If there’s any problem they could solve together. But that never came and Rook is apparently the only person on the team that can’t be distracted by their own problems. How amazing would it have been if Rook had some sort of personal quest. Maybe based on lineage. Or background. Something that shows that she matters as much to her companions and they mean to her

The Act One Choice. Still mad about it. Are you telling me that two extra people would have saved Minrathous? That a city full of the most powerful mages in the known world couldn’t take down a fucking dragon? It didn’t feel earned and it did annoy me a great deal

Let. Rook. Mourn. While I appreciate that Rook was able to mourn Varric and Davrin (in my playthrough) privately, the fact that it immediately jumps to a sex scene sort of bothered me. Especially Emmrich’s taking them to the Necropolis so they can bang in a coffin. This was not the time to leave the Lighthouse, Emmrich! The rest of the team got to mourn Davrin and worry about Neve together. I wish Rook could have been a part of that too. 

Let’s talk Varric’s death. I didn’t see it coming. I actually ranted to a friend before I knew what happened that they should have killed him in the prologue if this was how they were going to use him. Oops. I hate how callous the truth about his death makes Rook look. I hate that Harding and Neve didn’t even really seem to mourn. Hate how the Inquisitor or Dorian or Isabela don’t mention him at all. I hate how obvious his death is in my second playthrough. I will have to fix this all in fanfic

THE UGLY

Assuming there is another DA game, where do we go from here? I really dislike the concept of the Executors in the secret ending. One thing I’m optimistic about is that by basically wiping the south off the map, we might be able to have more games there. Because everything will have been reset, so to speak. How does the South deal with the mages when they’ve all been fighting darkspawn for their lives? Put them back into Circles? I think not

I’m also not sure about what choices would move forward into a new DA game. Not talking companion choices, but choices that actually affect the world. No matter what we do, the Blight is over and the Veil is safe. If BioWare couldn’t be bothered to have the Well of Sorrows choice matter, I can’t imagine they’ll care how Solas was bound to the Veil, whether it be by choice, trickery, or force. Minrathous or Treviso is the only other non-companion choice I can think of that might possibly matter

But honestly, it doesn’t matter, because who knows if we’ll ever get another Dragon Age game? I know I would love one, but I have this sinking feeling there won’t be (please let me be wrong!)

So there you have it. I really love this game, good, bad, and ugly. And I found so much more to love than to dislike. I have a feeling I will be yelling about this game (and Emmrich!) for a long, long time

[anmaries]

I think about this issue sometimes because she’s soooo quick on her feet. She’s always ready to jump into action and figure out a situation. It makes sense why people like steve rogers keep wanting her to be a leader type; she’s empathetic, she’s smart, and she’s decisive. she knows how to make those split second decisions and she’s all about putting herself in the line of fire to keep everyone else safe (see also: rogue not caring about herself and so the choice of self sacrifice is an easy one if it means saving her loved ones / innocent people)

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[girlrotterr]

꒰ lick it up, fucking eat. ᮫ ⭒ ❀

married!ellie x interior designer! reader Summary: Ellie hires you to bring her shitty wife’s so-called "dream home" to life, but you end up fufilling something else.

The house was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioning, which flowed through the sprawling, half-renovated living room. You stood in front of a swatch of paint samples, holding each one up to the fading light from the bay window. The sun dipped low, casting golden fingers across the unfinished floorboards, hinting at what the space might look like when it was finally complete. Ellie watched you from across the room, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms crossed, her gaze drifting between you and the wall.

“That one,” she muttered, jerking her chin toward the beige sample you held. Her voice was laced with something close to disdain. “She thinks it’s ‘elegant.’ "

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the shade—a flat, muted tone that felt as lifeless as the drywall it would cover. "Well," you replied, “if she wants ‘elegant,’ I’m sure we can do more than beige."

Ellie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glint of something both dark and playful in them. She pushed off the wall, coming a little closer, her boots scuffing against the rough wood. "Exactly what I was thinking," she murmured, her gaze lingering on you a second too long before shifting to the wall.

You let out a quiet breath, suddenly very aware of the way her presence filled the room, heavy and warm, with a pull that seemed to demand attention. Her sleeves were pushed up, revealing her tattooed forearm—faintly smudged paint stains and a few scratches etched across her knuckles. Her messy hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away, glancing down at the floorboards as if they might give her the answers she was looking for.

“So… if it were completely up to you,” she continued, her voice softer now, “what would you do with the place?”

You felt a small jolt of excitement, surprised that she cared enough to ask your opinion. You took a slow breath, letting yourself look around the room with fresh eyes. "Something warm, to make the room feel alive. Maybe custom furniture, something that doesn’t look like it’s from a catalog."

She nodded slowly, her gaze following yours as you spoke, but there was something deeper, something unspoken in the way she looked at you. Like this wasn’t about the walls or the furniture.

"We could go for that," she said, and her voice dropped, quiet, the weight of her words sinking into the empty space between you. "Anything that makes this place feel less… hers."

Your heart fluttered at the faint edge of bitterness in her voice, the quiet rebellion hiding beneath her sarcasm. She was closer now, close enough that you could feel her warmth radiating toward you in the cooling room, close enough that you could see every detail of her: the subtle flecks of green in her eyes, the faint line of a scar near her temple.

You reached out, brushing your fingers over a scratch on the windowsill. "This place could be incredible. It just needs to feel lived in, loved.”

Ellie swallowed, her eyes following your hand. “Can you fullfill that?,” she murmured, and there was a softness in her voice now, something that made your stomach flip.

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as you felt the subtle shift in the air between you. The moment held a thread of tension, tight and fragile, like something waiting to be snapped. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’d love to show you. Just need a little… freedom with the choices.”

Ellie’s smirk returned, faint but laced with something deeper, "Freedom, huh?" She stepped back, giving you a lingering once-over before nodding, her voice a low murmur. "Yeah… I think we can work something out."

She pulled her gaze away reluctantly, as if forcing herself to break the spell, and you felt the strange tug of her absence, the fading warmth of her presence as she retreated toward the hallway. "Just… no beige," she added, her back already turned, her voice drifting down the hall like an invitation. 

You stood there, the glow of the setting sun washing over you, you realized you felt a thrill. 

The days passed in a blur of decisions, late-night calls with suppliers, and a dozen small, carefully calculated adjustments to make the space feel warmer, more vibrant—despite the rigid input from Ellie’s wife. You’d spent the afternoon with her, going over fixture placements and fabric swatches. She was precise, clinical, every suggestion an opportunity to correct, to refine, to turn down anything that dared to stand out.

Ellie’s wife stood in the middle of the room, studying the sofa with a critical eye. She let out a sigh, her fingers skimming over the velvet, dismissing it as though it were somehow beneath her. “I thought I made it clear I wanted something more sophisticated. This feels… almost flashy.” Her gaze landed on you, thinly veiled irritation simmering beneath her smile.

You opened your mouth to explain the intention behind the choice when the front door opened. Ellie walked in, still in her work clothes, a slight weariness to her step. Her gaze moved from you to her wife.

Ellie’s wife immediately turned to her, her posture stiffening. “There you are. I was just telling our designer here that this,” she gestured to the room around her with an air of distaste, “is not what we discussed.”

Ellie’s face tightened, a frustrated, almost exasperated look clouding her eyes. “ A little color wouldn’t kill you.”

“Yes, but I expected you’d listen to what I actually wanted.” She crossed her arms, her gaze pointed. “This was supposed to be tasteful, Ellie. Not… whatever this is.”

Ellie let out a dry laugh, brushing past her, stepping closer to you as she took in the room. “And by ‘tasteful,’ you mean dull walls and soulless furniture. Right?” 

Her wife’s eyes flashed, and she folded her arms tighter. “It’s not my fault you don’t understand the concept of refinement.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her hand flexing at her side. “God, do you even hear yourself? It’s a fucking home, not a damn workplace. Just—" she glanced over at you, her face softening briefly as if realizing you were caught in the middle. "Never mind.”

You held your breath, feeling the tension swell, a raw kind of frustration radiating between them. But Ellie’s wife was relentless, her voice sharp and dismissive. “Oh, here we go again. You act like I’m asking for something ridiculous. Just admit it—you’re the one who’s never satisfied. You’re the one who thinks everything has to be some big, meaningful statement. Not everything’s about you, Ellie!”

Ellie’s face flushed, her eyes flashing with something dangerously close to anger. She opened her mouth, then closed it, a defeated breath slipping past her lips as she seemed to reconsider. She cast one last glance at you, and you felt that familiar pull between you—a silent, unspoken understanding—and then, with a shake of her head, Ellie stormed off, her shoes echoing down the hallway until the door slammed behind her.

Silence swallowed the room, leaving you and her wife alone once more. 

“See what I have to deal with?” she muttered, shaking her head. "She gets these weird ideas about what’s ‘creative’ or ‘cool’ and just… doesn’t listen to reason. She doesn’t even understand what it takes to make a space look sophisticated. Her taste—it’s like a teenager trying to decorate a dorm room."

You felt your grip tighten on the sample book, but you forced yourself to stay professional. “Well, Ellie did mention she wanted something with a bit more character.”

Her wife snorted, crossing her arms with an exasperated sigh. “Exactly. Character. She’s so out of touch with what a home needs to feel welcoming. She can’t just accept that maybe—just maybe—she doesn’t know better than me.”

She flipped past a deep, velvety forest green swatch Ellie had specifically loved. “This green? I mean, it’s hideous. Who even wants a dark color like that in their home? It’s depressing.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the swatch she’d just discarded. “It could add some depth to the space. Sometimes dark colors bring a warmth that—”

Her wife gave you a sharp look, like you’d crossed some invisible line. She forced a tight smile. “Trust me,” she said, voice dripping with condescension, “there’s nothing to ‘deepen’ here. I know what I want, and I don’t need Ellie’s… outlandish tastes cluttering up my vision.”

The house had transformed into a hive of activity, buzzing with the sounds of hammers, paint rollers, and snippets of conversation as workers bustled around. Every corner of the room felt alive with movement, a stark contrast to the emptiness you’d felt days prior. Furniture was being hauled in, drapes were hung, and the walls were beginning to take on their new colors. Yet despite the flurry of activity, your attention was divided, searching the room more often than not for a familiar face.

And then, as if on cue, Ellie appeared.

She wove through the workers, carrying a crumpled paper bag in one hand and balancing two cups of coffee in the other. She wore a smile, her messy hair peeking out from under a faded baseball cap, a glimmer of excitement lighting up her face as she caught your eye. She slipped between a worker with a paint can and another adjusting a lamp, until finally, she stopped in front of you. 

Ellie held up the bag with a faint smile. “Thought you could use a break,” she said, nudging the bag into your hands. “There’s a place around the corner that makes delicious pastries.”

Surprised and a little touched, you opened the bag, the warm, sweet scent wafting out immediately. “Thank you.”

The noise of the workers faded into a distant hum, becoming a mere backdrop to the moment as you took a bite of the pastry. The warm sweetness melted on your tongue, rich and comforting, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. But in your enjoyment, you didn’t notice the crumb that fell, catching just at the corner of your lips. 

Ellie did, though.

In the midst of all the clamor—the sharp buzz of saws cutting through wood, the metallic clinking of hammers striking nails, and the sound of her wife’s sharp voice scolding a worker about the paint application—Ellie stepped closer, her expression suddenly serious.

Her fingers were careful, warm, and impossibly soft as they brushed the crumb from your lips. You felt her fingertip linger there, feather-light, barely skimming your skin, but enough to make your breath catch.

Her gaze held yours, deep green eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion that pulled you in. Ellie’s fingers felt electric against your skin, her knuckles resting against your cheek, the warmth radiating from her touch contrasting with the cool air of the room. Ellie’s eyes dropped for just a heartbeat, shifting from your gaze to your mouth, where her thumb hovered near your lip. You could feel your heart racing, each beat echoing in your ears as she lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

You could hear her breath hitch slightly as her fingers finally pulled away, leaving your skin cold in their absence.

“Fuck” she murmured, voice low and just a little hoarse. Her gaze drifted to your lips one last time, almost on purpose, before she forced her eyes to focus anywhere but on you. 

You remember when the affair began.

It was a cold winter, the kind that seeped into your bones, making everything feel heavy and muffled. Snow blanketed the world outside, a serene white glow through the window. 

Ellie was pressed against you, her body radiating heat as she leaned in closer, her face achingly near yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with the cool air between you. Her hands flexed around your hips, desperate to grip them, to anchor herself to you. 

There was a desperation.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” She pleaded, her voice strained,  a wish that perhaps if you rejected her, if you spoke the words she needed to hear, the desires swirling for you would vanish. 

But as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch, the world around you blurred.  A shiver raced down your spine, igniting something deep within you—a spark that flared into a flame, daring you to give in. 

“I need you,” Ellie breathed, the urgency in her voice sending warmth pooling in your stomach. Her words ghosted over your skin, leaving a trail of heat that made it impossible to think straight. “I need to feel you, to taste you. Please, let me have you…” 

You could see it in her eyes—the hunger, the need. 

Your lips touched Ellie’s, slowly, tentatively at first. You hesitated for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation, any hint that this was a mistake. But all you found was a dark hunger reflected in her gaze, a need that mirrored your own. The soft sound of falling snow outside barely registered as you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of her body.

Ellie’s lips then pressed against yours, slow and soft, “Oh, fuck.” she gasped, her breath warm against your mouth. 

It was all you needed. 

You kissed her again, this time deeper and more sensual, losing yourself in the taste of her. Every brush of your lips was a question, every stroke of your tongue an answer. Savoring the way her tongue stroked against yours with caresses that left you breathless.

“God, you taste amazing,” she murmured against your lips. The way she spoke made you feel seen, desired, as if every part of you was exactly what she craved.

“Ellie…” you breathed, her name slipped from your lips so easily. 

Ellie’s kisses grew more urgent, each one a desperate plea for more as her hands gripped your hips with bruising force, anchoring you against the wall. Her lips trailed down your neck, gasping as her teeth grazed over your skin.  And then, without warning, she sucked hard, her mouth forming a seal against your neck. 

“Oh fuck..” you breathed, your voice aching to be more than a whisper. 

Ellie was already lost in her own world, her focus entirely on you, on the way your body responded to her touch.

"Shhh, we need to be quiet," she whispered, her voice low with need, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils dilated with lust, a fiery spark that made your stomach knot.

Her hands wandered down your body, fingers tracing the contours of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as she pulled you closer, digging into your skin and leaving dents where her grip tightened.

"God, I can’t get enough of you." she breathed, her hands slipping to unbutton your jeans. Her fingers teased the waistband of your panties, dipping just beneath the fabric to caress your folds, igniting a heat through you. She kissed and nipped at your neck, her tongue flicking out to taste your sweat-slicked skin.

Her hand slid further into your panties, her fingers parting your slick folds to stroke your sensitive clit. You gasped, your mouth agape as she circled the swollen nub with a feather-light touch. Her other hand slid up your body, cupping your tit and kneading the soft mound. Her fingers found your hardened nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between her thumb and index finger.

"Oh fuck.." you hiccuped, “please.." 

Leaning down, ellie’s hot breath hovered over your sensitive skin before she took your nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. She moaned against your nipple, her tongue flicking against the hardened bud as she sucked hard, her teeth grazing your skin, making you gasp.

"Ellie," you begged, your voice strained with need. "I need more.”

Her eyes darkened with lust as she gazed at you, turned on by your desperate pleas. "Beg for it," she groaned, her voice low. Ellie's fingers stroked your slick folds, teasing your entrance but not yet delving inside. She circled your clit with light touches, making you buck your hips, seeking more friction.

“Please," you moaned. "Please, fuck me."

Apparently she didn’t need much convincing.

With an urgency, Ellie plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaking cunt, curling them upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. The lewd sound of your juices squelching filled the air as she pumped her fingers in and out, stroking your inner walls with each thrust, her thumb rubbing soft circles around your aching clit.

"Atta girl.." Ellie groaned, her voice thick with desire. "Ride my fucking fingers."

"fuuck, right there," you moaned, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

You reached down to slide your hand to unbutton ellie’s jeans. Her belt clinking as her hips bucked forward. Your fingers crept beneath the waistband of her boxers, feeling the slick flesh of her dripping hole.

"Fuuck me," Ellie moaned, grinding her hips against your hand, spreading her thighs wider to give you more access to her aching cunt. Her movements were desperate, urging you to rub her swollen clit, the sensitive nub pulsing beneath your touch.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she groaned, her perky tits bouncing slightly with each thrust. Her head rolling back in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself.

"Yes, just like that," You moaned, ellie’s fingers pumping faster in and out of your dripping cunt. She could feel your slick coating her fingers, your juices dripping down her wrist. Your hips jerked erratically, your stomach beginning to knot. With a sharp cry, you came, your pussy spasming around her fingers as you rode out your orgasm.

"That's it, cum for me," she moaned, rubbing your clit faster to prolong your pleasure. "Come all over my fucking fingers." Your body shuddered, your walls clenching around her as you milked her fingers for all they were worth. She could feel your juices gushing out, coating her hand and dripping onto the floor. Your moans filled the room, echoing obscenely off the walls.

Ellie slowly withdrew her fingers, feeling your walls clench around her as she pulled them out. Your juices coated her hand, glistening in the low light of the room.

She grabbed your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees. She hooked her thumbs in her waistband, shimmying her boxers down her thighs before stepping out of them. Ellie's pussy was glistening, she parted her folds to reveal her throbbing clit. She straddled your face, her dripping cunt hovering just above your mouth

“Fuck I -" Ellie moaned, grinding her hips down to press her pussy against your lips. “Fucking taste me.” Ellie's juices coated your mouth as you flicked your tongue out, lathering it along her slick folds before delving inside her dripping hole. Ellie's poor thighs trembled, her hands gripping your hair as she rode your face frantically, bringing her fingers to her lips, sucking your slick off of them with a low moan.

“You’re so fucking good," She groaned, her juices coating your mouth, dripping down your chin.

"That's it, right there," Ellie panted, her thighs trembling around your head. "Fuck, your tongue feels so good." Her hands gripped your hair, pulling you closer as she rutted against your mouth. 

"That's it, fuck, I'm gonna cum-," Ellie moaned, her hips jerking erratically. You plunged two fingers deep into Ellie's soaked cunt, her walls clenching around quickly, her juices gushing out. You sucked ellie's clit faster, feeling it twitch beneath your tounge as she came. 

“What the fuck!?” ellie’s wife excalimed. 

She had walked in, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene before her. 

Ellie was still straddling your face, her dripping pussy pressed against your mouth. The obsecene sounds of slurping and moaning filled the room, leaving no doubt as to what had been happening. 

You remember when the affair began. 

You remember when the affair ended.

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[clockwayswrites]

Wibirbs Wobble Part 15

masterpost

Bruce stood, along with most of the theater as Cass and her dance partner came onto the stage to join the rest of the Cass. Bruce was so proud of her. Despite everything Cass had been through, she had grown to be such a kind, confident young lady. For her not only get up on a stage and dance but to also be the one of the leads was truly a testament to how hard she had worked to find a life she wanted.

Next to him, Danny stood, wavered, and ended up right back in his seat.

“Danny?”

“I’m fine, watch your daughter,” Danny said. He waved one hand dismissively at Bruce while he rested his forehead in the other.

He’d gone alarming pale.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned back to applaud one last time. As soon as the curtains closed, Bruce took a knee in front of Danny’s chair.

“I’m fine,” Danny tried again.

“You look like a ghost,” Bruce argued and took Danny’s wrist.

Danny covered a snort of laughter with his other hand.

Danny’s pulse fluttered weakly under Bruce’s fingers. “We should get you to an urgent care—”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. Even his smile looked a little weak. “I just need a moment.”

Bruce doubted that a moment would help much. “I’m worried about your pulse.”

“You caught that?” Danny asked, question curious and not at all concerned.

“I was studying to be a doctor at once point,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“You were? Hum, maybe I’ve heard that before? I don’t really know,” Danny said before he shook his head a little. (The movement did Danny’s coloring no favors.) “But okay look, I know about my pulse issues. I’m having a bit of a bad… few weeks right now, but I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen my doctor about it. I get how it seems concerning, and yeah I need to keep taking it easy a bit, but this is pretty normal for me. I have some complications from an accident when I was a kid.”

Bruce frowned, searching the words for a lie.

There wasn’t one, even if there also wasn’t much information.

“At least let us offer you a ride home then,” Bruce insisted. He continued quickly when it seemed Danny would protest. “It really won’t be an issue and it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Danny’s lips pressed together thinly.

Bruce pulled out the big guns. “And Cass would hate it if you were hurt from coming to see her perform.”

“Does she have everyone wrapped around her finger?” Danny asked, lips quirking into a little smile.

“Basically since she arrived,” Bruce said wryly. He stood and offered Danny both his arms, palms up. “Please stand carefully. If you go over the edge of the box I’ll have to drive to save you or something equally dramatic.”

“We would make the papers for sure,” Danny said. His grip was concernedly shaky as he wrapped his hands around Bruce’s forearms, but he stood in a smooth motion, even if he ended up basically leaning against Bruce’s chest. Danny stepped back after a second, cheeks dusted with red. “Okay, should I just… wait for you out front?”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m letting you out of my sight,” Bruce said. He rested his hand lightly on the small of Danny’s back and started to guide the other out of the box. “Again, you falling over the edge of the box, down the stairs, dramatically onto some absurdly pointy bit of Gotham architecture— these are all things I am not going to take a risk of happening to you.”

“You are such a father.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Bruce said honestly as they took the back stairs down to avoid the crowd.

“Oh, well, more of just a statement? But definitely not an insult,” Danny insisted.

They were tucked slightly close together until the stairs opened up into a sitting room that was kept aside traditionally for those in the boxes. Tonight the Wayne name had kept it aside for for Bruce, his family, and their close friends. Well, and Danny, Bruce mused as he made the other sit down on the sofa that purely for looks and not comfort.

Bruce poured a glass of the recently refreshed water and brought it over to Danny.

“I really will be alright,” Danny said, but took the glass and a long sip. His color was a little better after some water. “I’ve been dealing with some level of this for… huh, almost twenty five years now. I sorta hadn’t realized that it had been so long… but anyways, that means I’m used to it.”

Bruce rested on the arm of the sofa. “Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean that you have to bear it alone.”

Danny gave a little shrug. “But I do, Bruce, or a lot of it at least. I live alone after all.”

The door burst open as the room was swarmed with a multitude of Waynes and might-as-well-be-Waynes. It left Bruce without any time to respond to that and grateful, as he watched his family pile into the room, that he had been lucky enough despite everything to not end up alone.

Tim was the one who paused, as if just noticing Danny, before shaking his head. “Right, the engineer Cass invited! Hi, I’m Tim. I intern at WE so you might see me around there too. Well, not that you won’t see the others, but I mean that you might see me more often.”

“Nice to meet you Tim, though I don’t know how often you’ll be down by engineering,” Danny said.

Danny had a bit of a tight grip on the glass in his hands, but Bruce supposed it was a great deal of people very suddenly. There was something though…

“Oh, Tim is also a huge nerd,” Steph said as she threw her arm over Tim’s shoulder. “He likes to tinker so you might be surprised. Trust me, I’m his ex.”

“We only dated for months,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s Stephanie, a family friend,” Bruce cut in before things got far too out of hand. “You know Dick and this is Barbara, who he mentioned. Jason, my second oldest, is in the back with his boyfriend Roy, Duke is next to them, and this is Damian, my youngest.”

“Greetings,” Damian said. His tone was sever, but far more curious than cutting. Bruce was proud of the growth even if there was still more work to be done.

“Hello everyone. Like Tim said, I’m Danny,” Danny said with a little smile that was mostly real with just a bit of polite company strain. “Cass spent an afternoon in my office chatting with me. I suppose since we talked so much about the show, she invited me to see it. Sorry to invade your family time though, I didn’t know I would be doing that.”

“That’s just how this family goes,” Barbara said with a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve been around them long enough to know how they absorb people.”

“Way to make us sound nefarious, Barbie,” Jason grumbled.

“No, no, you guys are,” Roy said casually. “It’s in a good way, sure, but you’re still sorta nefarious and you definitely absorb people. This isn’t even everyone.”

“Have I apologized for them already?” Bruce asked, though he supposed the fond warmth in his words ruined the intent.

Luckily Danny just gave a soft laugh. “Don’t. The best sort of family and friendships all have a good helping of chaos and malarkey.”

“Malarkey?” Steph repeated.

“It’s a good word, illiterate ingrate,” Jason defended.

The room dissolve into chaos and Bruce turned to apologize again only to find Danny watching the group with a small but fond smile.

[targaryenluvs]

— OPPOSITES ATTRACT

pairings: clarisse la rue x aphrodite!daughter!reader (romantic) percy jackson x reader (platonic)

summary: the one where percy jackson has to wrap his head around the fact that the nicest person he’s met at camp, is dating clarisse.

warnings: kinda crack ficy in my opinion, fluff, smooches, capture the flag, reader is percy’s saving grace, percy sees the reader as a sister

a/n: i just got inspired okay? ✊🏽

percy’s feet were booming, heard from afar as he ran to the creek’s shore. the ares trio hot on his tail as they chased him down. he knew he couldn’t run forever, he’d have to fight, but how on earth was he going to win against three trained teens?

as if clarisse wasn’t frightening enough already, her scream sent literal chills down percy’s back, guess she really likes spears? he thought to himself.

the sounds of cheers and celebration drew the pairs attention as luke planted the opposing teams flag into the floor. they’d lost. percy felt clarisse’s grip falter, only slightly, but not when she saw the flag, clarisse’s eyes were currently trained on something behind him. more bullies? “there you are! i was waiting for you, wanted to show you my new and improved skills.”

clarisse let go of him and he couldn’t believe it, the rage in her eyes seemed to dissipate the second you came around. you, the sweetest person he’d met here, were friends with that thing?

that thing was capable of feelings?

his jaw dropped at the sight of clarisse’s hands on your cheeks, listening to you ramble on about who you’d fought and defeated in the woods, the pretty butterfly you’d seen. percy’s eyes were so close to popping out of his skull as clarisse kissed you, deeply. then he wanted to vomit as hands traveled and tongues met.

at dinner that night you sat by luke and chris, happily eating away as your hand rested on a book infront of you. “hey perce! come sit down.” you patted the space next to you as he accepted. “what’re you reading?” percy stared at the cover you’d flipped over to display to him, well he wasn’t expecting that. “where’d you get it from?” you pointed towards your girlfriend proudly, “she said she knew i’d like it, isn’t that sweet?”

percy’s weird version of a smile caused you to frown, “your smile is scaring me.” he immediately dropped it as you laughed, causing him to nudge you. “don’t be rude, i’m just a baby.” percy hadn’t felt so comfortable with someone since his mother. you pinched his cheeks, “naw, yes you are.” he swatted your hands away as you giggled, percy stared at you, studying you.

shining eyes, a beaming smile and an enchanting personality, truly a daughter of aphrodite, yet you dated clarisse. it didn’t make sense in his head, but from what little scenes he’d seen between the two of you, if you were happy than he was too, “what do you see in clarisse? why are you with someone so—” you turned to look his way, percy was worried you’d be offended.

but of course you weren’t, “because i like her percy, and she likes me. she’s absolutely gorgeous, if she wasn’t already a daughter of ares or i didn’t know? for sure aphrodite. and, people are always misunderstood, just because someone seems like a bad person, doesn’t mean they are. when clarisse and i are together, i see the best parts of her, always. i love her regardless, but there’s obviously things that you don’t tell everybody you just meet, or if you aren’t super comfortable with a person then you won’t show all the parts of yourself. i think, when you love someone you accept all parts of them, the good, the bad, the worst. you love someone despite their flaws. clarisse is good to me, and i like her, that’s all that matters. you’ll understand when you find someone yourself perce.”

he sat still, raking over your words in his head, “if one person can feel that way about someone else, they’d explode.” you laughed at his words, he was still young of course, he’d understand soon, you had a feeling. “i’d happily explode because of how much i love her.” you glanced back at her, only she wasn’t there.

“well i don’t want you to explode, i do want to spend my night with you.” clarisse stood behind you with her arms crossed, you could see percy tense up at her presence. with your hand on his, and your eyes reassuring him, he smiled, “i’m happy for you, but if she try’s anything i’m more than happy to beat her ass for you even if i’m broken in half.”

clarisse couldn’t hear his whispers, thank god. your smile was small, placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed percy’s forehead, “my protector, now no one can try anything with me huh? thank you perce, if you need anything here at camp, or if you just want to talk and eat those blue foods of yours—” his arms wrapped around your neck tightly as you recovered from the force.

“thank you.”

“any day perce, any time.”

and percy sat back, watching the two of you walk away hand in hand. a clear thought rung through his head.

opposites attract.