#and they will probably knock something over

[ghouljams]

Maybe this is kinda weird or offputting for most, but there is something so hot about risky sex, like “just the tip” sex or pulling out. Like bad in real life, but oh man…..Simon “just the tip” Riley.

Youre among friends here anon, risky sex is so...

I'll do you one better of playing "baby trapped" with Soap. Tracking your cycle and going off the pill to use condoms as your main form of birth control. Except the closer you get to ovulation the less care Soap takes with the condom. Putting it on inside out, reusing the one he just came in... Worst of all he rolls the condom down a little less each time he puts it on, pulls out and has to push his fingers into your cunt to grab the condom that had slipped off, coos about how it probably caught everything. You can't be mad baby, he's using the condom just like you asked it's not his fault if it doesn't fit right. Right? It's not his fault that this is when you're most fertile, and what do you care when you're so stupid horny you're practically begging him to knock you up? If anything he's just doing what you asked.

And is he really as bad as Mr. "Just the tip" Riley who wakes you up with murmured promises and his cock already nudging at your bare cunt? Who promises he'll pull out but somehow never manages to in time? Who tells you over and over that your cunt's too good to waste, that it's such a shame he's gotta come with his fist wrapped around his cock and not your pussy, that if you just let him fill you up this once he won't ask again? Is he really as bad as the man that holds your arms behind your back and rocks his tip an inch inside of you, fucking your sweet spot until you're begging for him to bruise your cervix before you squirt all over his fatigues? No, Soap thinks if you compare the two of them he's definitely the better option.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

David Gaider: "Just to clarify the "they're probably why you'll never see Fenris" thing, as it's spawned commentary: 1. It's the reasoning as was explained to me back then. 2. Obviously, if Bio *really* wanted to, they'd find a way around it. But it was a complication that meant he couldn't be included casually." [source]

[gayeddieagenda]

❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

--

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

[catzncoffee]

A little FiddleStan AU I cooked up, more information about the AU below the cut!

I'll probably post a few more characters from this AU later!

Aren't they just the cutest couple? (* ´ ▽ ` *)

BADEND FiddleStan Au

> Welcome to BLIND EYE CO. : Unsee It All!

-To Start us off, Ford sends his postcard over to Stanley a lá Canon, and Stanley immediately drops everything to rush up to Gravity Falls all the way from New Mexico, spending his last dime on gas and driving with as little breaks as possible. At this point in time, Fiddleford has left Stanford and is actively going through a divorce and the process of loosing his mind via mind gun overexposure. Stanford is not doing well, paranoid and extremely sleep deprived, watching for Bill in any eye sockets or triangles that flash in the corner of his eyes. None of them are doing well to sum it up.

- Stanley arrives fresh off a no breaks drive to meet with his estranged brother of 10 years, and while not exactly expecting a warm welcome, a crossbow pointed at his head and a flashlight shone in his eyes certainly didn't help set the tone of the meeting. Or help the spinning in his head. Or the Nausea. Frankly he only caught the tail end of Fords very concerning speech, but at least he knew to follow him down the stairs.

-naturally things devolve from there, Ford demanding Stanley take his research and flee while Stanley grapples with the fact that it's all Ford wanted of him. Spiraling into a physical fight once old grudges are dug up from their graves. A Fight that brands Stanley with a symbol he can't even understand, turning something on he didn't even know the danger of. A singular shove that absolutely wrecked Stanley's world, and the last words "Do Something Stanley!" Haunting the room as the portal that his brother built ate him and imploded.

- Fiddleford notices the gravitational anomalies and panics, going into hiding but terrified for Fords safety against his better judgment.

- Stanley spends the next week desperately trying to peice together both the portal and the journals contents, and his mental health takes an even steeper decline. He sits in the same lab going over whatever books he can find and that stupid journal over and over and over until he works on the portal till the next injury or road block, surviving off of whatever canned food both he and Ford combined had left

- Enter Fiddleford, who couldn't bear not to check on Ford after the gravitational anomalies and continued radio silence. Just a confirmation that he wasn't dead, Fiddleford told himself. Nothing more. Stanford deserved no more from him, after all Fiddleford had given. Just a quick safety check in for the sake of an old friend. A knock on the door, however, brought a slow shuffle towards it and opened to reveal a very tired, very devastated..... not Ford? But also Ford? At least he certainly looked like Ford. But Ford had less muscle mass last time Fiddleford saw him. Less hair too, because Stanford? Have a mullet? What sealed it was the normal, five fingered hands that the Not-Ford rubbed his eyes with when Fiddleford demanded, as politely as possible, to know who he was and where Stanford went.

- Fiddleford is invited in and the two sit on a couch Not-Ford cleared off in this waste zone of a house and explains that his name is Stanley, and he's the estranged brother of Ford. Who also happens to be his identical twin. Ford had called him up to help him by taking his stupid journal and running, the two got in a fight, and Ford got sucked in. Fiddleford felt cold panic settle in his gut, thoughts scattered and memories of what was on the other side coming back in nauseating waves, lapping at his consciousness.

- At first Stanely succeeds in getting Fiddleford to help him with the portal, and he's extatic while Fiddleford is decidedly not. However much to Fiddlefords surprise, he isn't forced into the basement, or working on that devil machine, or even couped up in the study to work nonstop. Instead, Stanley gives him a notebook and pen, and gives a description or photo of the exact thing he needs help with, explains to the best of his, admittedly limited, knowledge what the problem is, and has Fiddleford help. Then, Stanley thanks him profusely and dissapears by himself down to the depths of the lab, laving Fiddleford with the glow of the TV and a warm drink.

And it confuses him.

Greatly.

Because there were very few times Ford mention having a twin; Fiddleford could count them on one hand. But Ford had been angry most of those times, other than the one or two when crying and drunk, saying that Stanley had been 'ruled by emotion' and was 'brash with no tact'. But where Ford had been accusatory and sharp, Stanley had been understanding and toned down. There had been very few times over the last few days Stanley had raised his voice, and it was more out of frustration or picking at a touchy subject than anything. And more than that was the way he would shrink just a bit and apologize with enough self loathing that Fiddleford could taste it, sticky and bitter in the back of his throat. Stanford ignored everything when in a project. Stanley only seemed to ignore himself. Stanley was nothing like Stanford had been, and Fiddleford found himself craving those differences more and more, craving more time spent with Stanley, more conversation, more memories, just more Stanley. A pleasant but confusing change, especially when Stanley's features where so similar to Fords.

- Fiddleford would blame the fact that he didn't notice Stanley's condition until much later into staying back at Fords place on the way his mind was still shifting itself into something usable again, however once he noticed he would never stop cursing himself for how he didn't before. Stanley had collapsed in the kitchen, and it had taken nearly all of Fiddlefords mental power to drag the information on his injuries out of Stanley so he could treat them. The poor man had been walking around with that nasty burn treated the best Stanley could, but improperly the whole time, and infection had begun to set in like a bastard. That wasn't even beginning to speak of the malnutrition, dehydration and multiple other bruises and cuts, some yellowed, faded, crusted over, some fresh, purpled and bloodied all on too pale skin. Scars told of a life that was harder than Fiddleford had ever originally thought to think of, questions popping in his mind as he treated the increasingly more worrying Stanley.

And in this Time, Fiddleford was alone with his thoughts.

Fiddleford was here. Again. In Fords house, trying to save him from himself. Again. And frankly he was tired. He'd pushed past his family in favor of Fords shiny promises and stayed far past when he should have, gave more of his knowledge, more of his friendship, hell, more of his heart than he'd ever thought possible. And Ford still always wanted, Needed, more. Fiddleford had felt all that rage for himself and his life over and over, but feeling it for someone else was new. Yet here he was.

Here Stanley was.

Because really, what kind of man gets a call from a man he hasn't seen in 10 years, basically a stranger, one who never talks about him, and drops absolutely everything to help them? New Mexico was a 20 hour drive from Gravity Falls, and Stanley had driven that with the absolute last of his money, no sleep, just driving. Only for Ford to completely dismiss him for the survival of his research over the world. Fiddleford had no idea what Stanley supposedly 'did' when they were younger, like Stanford had vaguely mentioned and Stanely kept saying in a heartbreakingly familiar tone dripping with guilt and self hatred, but Fiddleford could tell from a mile away it was bullshit. Stanford had no reason to hate Stanley so badly. Stanley had no reason he should have helped Ford after God knows what he went through, but he did anyways. Ford? Fiddleford would bet the last of his sanity just to say that Ford wouldn't return the favour. He never had before.

- Fiddleford spirals deeper and deeper as he treats a heavily feverish Stanley, his hatred for Ford growing into a tangible thing the more he thought. And oh, how much simpler this would have all been if he'd simply met Stanley first. Rougher around the edges but kinder. Sweeter. God the way he was so gentle with Fiddleford even though he had no reason to be. The way he'd taken the existence of the memory gun in stride and stated he'd be here if Fiddleford needed support with it. It would be so much easier if Stanley just agreed to shut the portal down forever. Then they could just live. Together, of course, Fiddleford didn't think he could live without Stanley's gruff support now that he'd had it, but just. Simply live. Without the threat of the world, or demons, or weirdness over top of them.

Without the threat of Ford.

Oh how tempting it was, Fiddleford thought, in the days were Stanley was becoming more lucid while still soft and warm due to his sickness, to just simply erase Ford from Stanley's mind. But that would leave too much of a gap, and as he regains his mind bit by bit, Fiddleford begins to come to the conclusion that the memory gun needed a bit of work, yes, but as long as it wasn't over used then it's intended purpose would be served. Over using included, however, memories that were too big to simply pluck out completely. Its where he'd went wrong with his own treatment, and like hell he would leave Stanley to deal with the consequences of that.

Then, in the last few days where Stanley was beginning to move about in small increments as he shook away the last clawing hands of illness away, Fiddleford realized it. He didn't need to erase Ford completely from Stanley's mind.

Fiddleford just had to erase Stanley's love for Ford.

- So, he was patient. Fiddleford waited until Stanley was well, until he walked with full strength and his laugh was full again, until he was sure that the grown affection Stanley had for him after his illness allowed him close enough.

Fiddleford even made sure his memory gun was freshly updated and tuned to the most perfect he'd ever gotten it, making sure the shot would be clean and accurate for his Stanley's sake. Only the best for that man from now on, Fiddleford swore it.

Then he waited until he'd made sure Stanley was relaxed. Had gone out for the day and convinced him to go out to Greasys with Fiddleford. Had taken Stanley for a walk through the woods and laughed as his eyes sparked in excitement even as he cussed out a gnome. Had curled up together, warm and safe on the couch, watching movies and drinking a couple beers. Fiddleford even managed to persuade Stanley away from another long night in the portal room, asking him to stay to sleep for Fiddlefords sake, which Stanley relented to nearly immediately. It was all just such a perfect day. It all just confirmed to Fiddleford that he was absolutely doing the right thing. He'd be happier. Stanley would be happier. And Ford could stay having his horrific adventures on the other side, just like he had seemed to want so badly.

In the dead quiet of that night, Fiddleford pulled the memory gun silently from underneath his pillow, and smiled at Stanley, sleeping soundly on his chest, and fired it directly at Stanley's temple. The only sound Stanley made was a soft exhale, one that Fiddleford chose to believe was relief.

- In the following years, Fiddleford never regretted that choice. Stanley woke up and immediately broke down to Fiddleford, initially panicking him at first thinking he'd broken Stanley, them realized the man was talking about desperately not wanting to bring Ford back, asking Fiddleford if he thought he was horrible for saying so. After that it had been Fiddlefords pleasure to inform his sweet Stanley that not only did he not hate him, but shared his thoughts and truthfully didn't want to open that portal ever again. Things had moved quicker with Stanley dismantling the cursed thing than building it, and Fiddleford hadn't ever been happier. Clearing out Fords house of anything not safe to research or just plain garbage had been so satisfying too, convincing Stanley with little effort to replace any symbol of Bill with quite literally anything else. The Society of the Blind Eye had been a surprise, after all Fiddleford had never expected a group of people to find his scrapped plans or suggest he ever start them, but it was sweet, professional conman Stanley who had suggested making something more out of it. Afterall, Fidds had wanted his own company once, why not start with this?

- With that, BLIND EYE CO. was born, originally starting as a cover for the Society to do their work, growing into a more legitimate business with Fiddlefords inventions and Stanley's charisma faster than they'd thought possible. Fiddleford even continued the Gravity Falls anomaly research to better understand what could cause what, and which things were better of forgotten. Stanley, however, wanted nothing to do with the research of the journal to help with these findings, stating that nothing Ford had made he would ever want to touch, which suited Fiddleford just fine, in fact it delighted him. With Fiddleford and Stanley as both the owners and CEOs of the company( and the Society not that the town knew) it was no wonder the town quickly came to love them and know them, this large company that gave back to the community and was started right here in sleepy little Gravity Falls! How novel.

- Fiddlefords son, Tate, (now allowed to visit since Fiddleford was 'mentally stable') had taken the change badly at first, seeing his father turn from fine to broken to better than ever before, but warmed up once Stanley showed his soft side to him. Tate seemed to like Stanley better than he ever had Ford, which made Fiddlefords heart absolutely soar with happiness. Stanley and Fiddleford, while it wasn't legal to be married just yet, didn't have a solid relationship with the law anyhow and happily wore matching rings with pride. The memory gun is still in use and is consistently upgraded, with Fiddleford being the main figurehead to use it while Stanley happily sat next to him and did whatever he needed.

- Meanwhile in the nightmare realm, things are absolutely not going how Bill Cipher thought. Seriously how the hell was he to know the hillbilly would come back and steal Mackerel away from fixing the portal?! Stanley should have been getting that portal open to get Fordsy not forgetting he ever even liked sixer! Once again that stupid Specs, always messing up Bills progress. He does, however, get a new idea on how to screw with Ford while he's trapped here.

- Ford is greeted randomly, via Bill, with mirrors into his home dimension, taunting him with what's happening just to screw with him as he survives.

And screw with him it does.

Ford watches helplessly as his closest friend and former partner cuddles up to his frantically overworked brother finally at rest, and puts the memory gun to his head, and sees pure Red.

Ford is now hopping though dimensions with a purpose; subdue Bill, get home, cure Stanley, and Kill Fiddleford. And he won't stop until he does.

- Enter Mabel and Mason(Dipper) Pines, sent to their Grunkle 'Stanford' and his husband for the summer, when Dipper finds a journal that seems to have a page of a diffrent kind of paper hes never seen sticking out. The note holds an incantation written in the same cursive as the journal, and details preforming a spell on a mirror, labelled simply as EMERGENCY CONTACT NEEDED. Upon doing the incantation, the children are met with a shadow in the mirror telling them he's their trapped uncle, he's trying to get back to someone named 'Stanley' Pines, dont make deals with yellow triangles and above all else:

Do NOT Trust FIDDLEFORD

Do NOT Trust 'STANFORD'

TRUST NO ONE

Welcome to Gravity Falls!~☆

[obxsummer]

how much do you love me // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: a proposal pogue style gets overshadowed with the arrival of chandler groff. your night goes from celebrating into treasure hunting, and john b and jj are in for the shock of their lives for completely opposite reasons

warnings: little spicy beginning, drug use, mentions of not being able to have kids, pregnancy trope (i still love u, sarah cameron), and i fear you're all about to hate me....

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--

JJ found you shortly after you climbed out of the shower, hair wet as you tried to wiggle into a pair of sweatpants. Nothing ever went on easy with damp skin, and your frustration was building faster than you liked to admit. 

“C’mere,” JJ’s tone was soft as he sat on the bed and reached forward for you, helping you tug the ankles over your feet so you could comfortably adjust the fabric without the risk of falling over. He reached forward when you were stable, pulling your waist to bring you closer so he was level with your chest.

“My eyes are up here, Jayj,” You teased and placed your fingers under his chin to reroute his gaze from your lace bralette. The boyish grin told you his attention on your face wouldn’t last long so you needed to move quick. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He mumbled, his hand reaching you to grab the back of your neck and gently pull you down to meet him for a soft kiss. A groan left your lips as his other hand tucked itself on your side, his thumb brushing the skin under your bralette teasingly. 

“Please don’t start something we won’t stop,” You whispered, teeth pulling on his lip slightly. Your skin was still damp and clammy, heating up with every move he made. “They’re gonna be waiting on us.”

JJ hummed, his mouth moving from yours to nip at the dip of your collarbones. If you let him keep going, the two of you would not be leaving this room anytime soon.

“Babe, you- oh,” Your breath caught as he bit down a little too harsh and soothed the skin with the swipe of his tongue. “JJ.”

“Shh,” He shushed you, fingers gently tugging the strap of your bralette off your shoulder so he could get closer to where he really wanted. There were a lot of things running through JJ’s mind right now, but they all centered around you. You with a ring on your finger, bare underneath him after you share a last name. You were going to be his in ways you hadn’t been before.

“You guys hungry?” Sarah at least knocked on the door, her voice interrupting before the two of you could get much further. You smirked as JJ flopped against the bed with a huff. 

“I’m not, but I’m sure JJ is,” You called back, adjusting the strap of your top before shrugging on a cropped long sleeve to cover up any evidence of JJ’s recent actions. Bending down, you gave him one more long kiss before standing back up and patting his thigh lovingly. “Enjoy your cold shower, babe.”

JJ groaned loudly as you left the room, meeting Sarah in the hallway, a knowing smile on her face. She reached up to poke the sore spot on your collarbone and you pulled back with a gasp. “JJ’s hungry, all right,” She laughed, “Hey, I need your help with something, c’mere.”

You followed her into the next room where she had a handful of dresses scattered across the bed. 

“I think John B and I are gonna go to City Hall tomorrow and apply for a marriage license. So, which one should I wear?”

You glanced at her, “Sarah, these are all my dresses.”

She pursed her lips. “Yeah… yeah. Just hypothetically, though, like if you were to wear one, which one?”

You gave her an odd look at her weird attitude before pointing at the one on the bed that you preferred. “Probably this one. Cute but not too formal, you know?”

Sarah nodded and picked it up to hold in front of the two of you. After a moment, she tossed it at your chest. “Try it on for me, I wanna see what it looks like.”

“Then why don’t you-”

“No, no, please.” She pushed you toward the bathroom as you tried to object which didn’t help as she closed the door behind you. You sighed, frustrated from being pulled from JJ to try dresses on that you already owned. 

You pulled your shirt and sweatpants back off and shimmied into the dress per Sarah’s request. Glancing in the mirror, you forgot how much you loved this item. After getting some necessities for everyone in the group post-gold, Sarah insisted on getting some items for you and Cleo to help blend when she went back to her dad’s rental condo since Kie already had some. This happened to be your favorite one you saw that day. It was gorgeous and flattering in every way possible, and you were simply obsessed.

“Okay, here,” You spoke before grabbing the door handle to walk back out. Only, it didn’t budge in the slightest. You frowned and tried wiggling it again, but it didn’t move. “Sarah? I think the door’s stuck.”

Silence followed your words.

“Hello?” You repeated, knocking this time but received nothing in return. “Oh, you bitches.”

It became obvious they were up to something that involved locking you in John B and Sarah’s bathroom with no form of communication or entertainment. You sighed and sat on the floor, leaning your head back against the cabinets as you settled in. Knowing them, you’d be here a while.

You tried to rack your brain for any important date coming up. Your birthday still had a few weeks and was the closest out of anyone in the group, so birthdays were out. No anniversaries, and as far as you know, nobody else got married. Unless this had suddenly turned into a baby shower, you were out of options.

Minutes passed of pure boredom and you were beginning to question if a bath towel would suffice as a comfy blanket only to be spared as the door opened. 

“Finally,” You huffed and got to your feet to see Kiara staring at you. “Where’s Sarah? We suddenly have beef.”

She laughed and took a step in the room despite your wishes. “You look cute. Date night? Let me fix your hair.”

You shook your head, now completely confused. “What? No, we-”

There was no room to argue as Kiara started digging through all of Sarah’s hair supplies. She quickly set to work, avoiding most conversations with you and letting her phone play music to satisfy your desire for noise. Soon, she’d completed your favorite hairstyle, the one she used to practice all the time when you were younger. 

She caught your gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Cute.” She shrugged and walked out without another word. 

Your jaw dropped as you watched her form disappear, utter confusion left in her place. “What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself and walked out of the bathroom. The house was oddly silent and your heart started racing. 

Cleo hopped out of her room a second later. “Well shit, where you going looking so sweet?”

You shrugged. Either she was in on it, or at least played it off better than the others. “No idea. You know something I don’t?”

Cleo clicked her tongue. “Not a chance, girly. But what I do know, is you need some shoes.”

You should’ve seen it coming and took the outstretched pair of your shoes from her hands to slip on your feet. Shaking your head, you continued down the stairs in hopes that whatever secret they were hiding would pop out soon.

You peeked around the corner to see Pope in the kitchen with his back to you. You let out a breath, hoping your confusion would end here. “Hey, what is-”

He flipped around with a creepy smile on his own face, his attempt at not being suspicious.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, what?”

Pope held out the infamous purple bandana that was usually around your brother’s neck. “Blindfold time.”

Disgust took over your face as he came closer with the fabric. “Pope, please tell me you at least washed it first? Please say yes. What the fuck.” You could smell fresh laundry detergent and sighed in relief. 

He wrapped the fabric around your eyes, making sure it was secure but not too tight. Waving his hand in front of your face, you didn’t move in the slightest, but you were a little too rigid for his liking so he grabbed your hand instead. “I’m right here, won’t let anything happen.”

You nodded, trying to keep your racing thoughts at bay and let Pope guide you slowly. The chill of outside settled in soon after and you gripped his hand a little tighter. 

“I’m so kicking your ass for this later,” You grumbled, your steps awkward as you tried to navigate a terrain you couldn’t see. You tried listening for anything out of the ordinary but came up empty-handed. “All of you, actually. Asses are grass.”

Pope laughed quietly, his other hand grabbing your open one as he guided you down a few stairs. “Remember when we would play hide and seek as kids and you’d always pick the same spot?”

You smiled at the memory. “Yeah, and you’d never let me win because of it. Always checked the stupid cabinet first.”

Pope squeezed your hands reassuringly. “Couldn’t let that ego get too big so young, you’d be even more like JJ than you already are. Gotta hand you off, that okay?”

You hummed in agreement and Pope slowly let go before another pair of hands took over your hold. 

“Bandana smell good for once?”

You clocked John B’s voice instantly and attempted to hit him, but missed. “You’re an asshole, I thought I was going to suffocate to death when Pope first told me.”

John B laughed, “You can thank Sarah for that one.”

“Figured,” You mumbled, “Don’t think you’ve done your own laundry since ever.” 

You could hear the noise of your steps changing from the grass to wood, meaning your brother was guiding you down the dock. The movement of the water was much louder now.

“Hey, I love you, yeah?” John B asked and you nodded in return, agreeing with his statement. “Do me a favor and try not to scream, okay?”

You froze as John B let go to undo the bandana from around your eyes, even though you had them pinched shut in anticipation. Your brother squeezed your upper arms lightly and you finally forced your eyes to open.

Despite his wishes, you did scream before covering your own mouth to quiet the noise. The covered portion of the dock was covered in its usual white Christmas lights, which wasn’t new. What was new, was the handful of flower petals leading up to the person standing under the lights.

“Girl, you crazy? Go get him!” Someone laughed at Cleo’s comment, and you shook your head, still in shock at the sight before you knowing they would be hiding somewhere nearby to watch this go down. 

You took off, shoes smacking loudly against the wooden platform to meet JJ who opened his arms and caught you with ease. You pulled back slightly to kiss him, your actions having a much different meaning than earlier.

JJ set you down gently and before he could even speak, you were nodding your head. He chuckled, “You’re not even gonna let me ask the question before agreeing?”

You let out a teary laugh. “Doesn’t matter, answer is yes.”

“Okay, well I was actually asking if you would stop taking long ass showers so-”

You pushed him lightly, your fingers shaking with adrenaline. “J.”

He shook his head and kneeled down in front of you, which caused another round of tears and you nearly choked at the sight of him. JJ Maybank would never get down on his knees for someone, but apparently, you were and would continue to be the exception to that rule. 

“I um… you know I suck at putting emotions into words, and I already gave John B the speech of my life-”

“You prepared better for my brother than me?” You teased and brushed tears from your cheeks. “Should’ve known you always wanted him.”

JJ nearly flipped you off in response but opted for a roll of his eyes instead. “Baby, are you seriously talking about your brother while I’m trying to propose?”

You gaped at him in disbelief. “You started it!” “Alright, alright,” JJ laughed and reached into his pocket to grab the ring. “Look. I know so much has happened in our lives, and shit will continue to hit the fan, but… you have made every day of our time together so worth it. You’re the reason I get out of bed, even when there’s so much I want to hide from. You’re the reason try to come home every night, to hold you and know it’ll be okay. You continue to be the reason I believe in love, after growing up in a world without it, and.. and I don’t know what I would do without you, and I don’t plan to find out, obviously. There’s so many promises I’ve yet to make, and there’s so much I owe to you, and I’m just gonna shut up before my leg goes numb so, will you marry me?”

Heart racing, you reached for JJ’s hand and a flicker of confusion crossed his face before he grabbed it and stood up to his full height again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and shifted closer. “There is actually nothing in the world that I want more than to marry you. Where you go, I go, yeah?”

JJ barely cried, but the words were enough to push him over the edge and he quickly leaned down to kiss you in a way he hadn’t before. You fell in, melting into his hands like it was where you belonged. You could hear the faint cheers of your family behind you when the two of you pulled away, JJ taking the opportunity to slide the ring onto your left hand.

You gasped at the ring, eyes meeting his in shock, and you swore you were going to hit the ground at any second. “Where did you find this?”

JJ smiled, his thumbs brushing tears from your cheeks as he held your face softly. “You can thank Sarah for that one.”

Your bottom lip quivered at the sight of your mom’s ring resting on your hand. This ring had once meant family and promise, but it couldn’t hold up to that, no matter how much you wished it did. But with JJ in front of you, and your friends storming their way down to celebrate, you knew the story was about to change…. all because of you.

--

You didn’t ask who stole the alcohol, and quite frankly, you didn’t care because it was making you bubbly and warm inside. Your guess was Sarah raided whatever remained at her dad’s rental condo, considering there was a bottle of champagne in your hands and someone had a gnarly bottle of vodka somewhere in the room.

JJ was standing against the counter in front of you, your arms wrapped securely around his chest as his hand lightly traced the skin of your leg. You lazily leaned against him, glancing at your hand every so often to see the gems staring back at you. JJ would smile each time and squeeze your knee. You didn’t want to leave his side, and thankfully none of your friends would even try.

The scroll that John B had snagged from the mercenaries was laid across the table, Pope’s eyes looking over it closely. Cleo was snuggled into his side, whispering her own thoughts and ideas as they looked over the paper.

Kie handed you the newly lit joint. “To the happy couple,” She offered, bowing for emphasis which had you and JJ laughing.

You took it between your fingers and raised it to your lips to inhale before the blond boy in your arms turned to face you. You shook your head, already knowing where he was going before glancing to see where John B was in the room. Noticing he was occupied with Sarah, you took a deep inhale and held it for a moment before leaning to connect your lips to JJ’s, exhaling the smoke into his mouth.

“Oh, you assholes.” The protest came from Kiara who was still standing next to you, her face contorted in disgust.

You didn’t care though, and when JJ’s eyes met yours, the whole world disappeared. This was the start of your future together, of a new chapter in your lives that outweighed any before, and you were so excited to share it with him.

Kie rolled her eyes and took the joint back from you, pausing long enough to squeeze your arm. “Love you guys.”

“We love you, Kie,” You replied, giving her an appreciative smile before she walked away. JJ pulled the bottle of champagne from next to you and took a hefty sip, attempting to focus on the scene in front of him. 

“So, what are we supposed to do with this? It looks like a trippy mosaic.” Sarah pointed to the map in confusion, unable to read a single thing on the worn paper. 

“Decode it,” Your boyfriend, fiancé, answered her question. “That’s what we’re supposed to do.” He shifted out of your embrace to approach the table. You followed his motions to stand next to him, taking in the confusing document before you wrapped JJ’s jacket tighter around you.

“But…how?”

“With the code breaker, that’s how.” JJ plucked the joint back from Kiara’s fingers as he spoke. He took a hit before passing it to John B who did the same. You watched as your brother unconsciously passed it to Sarah, the blonde girl taking it into her grasp absentmindedly. 

You and Kiara acted instantly; Kie gave her a weird look as you cleared your throat in warning. Sarah’s eyes widened and she apologized, moving to hand the item back to Kiara, almost burning her in the process. Cleo watched the three of you skeptically, always paying attention, unlike the boys around you. You caught her eyes on you and opened your mouth to explain.

Thankfully, something clattered outside, creating enough of a distraction to save you all from an awkward explanation.

“What was that?” Pope asked quietly, silence overtaking the room. JJ shifted slightly, moving to stand in front of you as all eyes looked out the back windows where the commotion was coming from. 

To your dismay, the boys moved first, JJ’s shirt slipping out of your hold as you took a step toward Cleo, Kie shifting closer to Sarah. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have come back here,” Kie whispered as JJ and John B grabbed nearby ores in hopes of having some defense over whatever was out there. Cleo plucked her knife from her side, twirling it expertly between her fingers. You admired her bravery, as she was never one to let fear show on her face. 

Kiara tossed John B’s flannel over the map, a poor attempt at hiding it, but you guessed it was better than nothing. 

“What are you doing?” Pope was startled as John B slowly pushed open the door, a creaking noise filling the room. 

“Anything?” JJ asked a little bit louder when all you could hear were the animals chirping away outside. 

“No, nothing. That’s so weird.” Your brother slowly closed the doors. “It kind of sounded like it was-”

A loud crashing noise pulled a scream from Kie, all of you gasping in shock as none other than Chandler Groff stumbled his way inside.

Cleo’s grasp on your arm lightened but she held her knife steady toward the man as he gave mumbled apologies. If your heart wasn’t racing before, it sure as shit was now. 

The unwelcome visitor turned his attention to the boy behind you. “JJ. You made it. I uh, I’m sorry to bother you here. I swam, I swam all the way in.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah breathed in shock, taking the opportunity to move closer to John B for comfort.

You turned to see JJ’s expression drop, annoyance taking over all his features as he watched the man who claimed to be his real dad lean against the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

Groff shook his head, clearing his throat with a loud cough that made you flinch. “I had nowhere… nowhere else to go, son.”

The name made JJ wince slightly and you suddenly wanted to rewind to 5 minutes ago when all of you were much happier and celebrating something positive. You watched carefully as his face went stoic and he leaned the ore against the wall, shifting past you to loop an arm under Groff’s and help him inside. 

John B turned to you with a look and all you could really do was shrug in response. You obviously weren’t thrilled with what was supposed to be a night for the two of you was suddenly out of your hands. 

Groff clambered messily into a chair as JJ went to reach for water from the fridge. You stood quietly, watching the scene with uncertainty. Sarah had come to join your other side, Cleo still on guard next to you. She didn’t trust this man, and honestly, neither did you. And now he’s running to you guys for help?

You walked up to JJ, your palm easing across his back to his shoulder blades. He didn’t seem happy about Groff being here, making you question what had happened on Goat Island before you arrived. Neither of you really had a chance to talk about it, and you regretted not checking in with him prior.

“Is it true?” Your question was quiet, meant to be shared with only you and JJ. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“Is it true that I’m JJ’s biological father? Yes.”

Your gaze was sharp as you regarded the man sitting just across from you. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Groff sighed and looked down. “I don’t deserve the title. And you have a right not to trust me, I understand. I could’ve done better by him, I know that. I look forward to telling you all about it.”

JJ shook his head, turning toward you so he didn’t have to stare at the sight in front of him and could redirect his gaze on you. Your hand dropped from his back, unconsciously following down his arm so you could twist your fingers with his, keeping him close. 

“I’m afraid time is short. We’re all in danger here. Let me guess,” He pointed over your shoulder to where John B had tossed the tube that contained the rolled map. “You open that packing tube over there and find a scroll inside, but you can’t read it. That scroll is encrypted.”

“How do you know that?” John B returned.

“Because if you took that from the Corsairs, I suspect that you are in possession of the Mogador scroll, created by Barbary pirates in 1703. The Lupine Corsairs are dangerous mercenaries. Now you’ve stolen from them.”

You rolled your eyes, having zero interest in this man’s monologue. If you were in danger, having him here did not help in the slightest. 

“Okay, so what exactly is this Mogador?” Pope asked. If anyone could put together the pieces of this, it would be him.

“It’s…a map.”

Cleo almost groaned next to you. “We aware of that, man. To where?”

Groff continued, “Well, if I knew the answer to that, I’d be a very rich man. But I can tell you who made it. Murad the Younger.”

The name sparked in your head, familiar but not quite recognizable. You glanced at John B to see him already looking at you. “Murad?” He repeated. 

“Oh, you know him? Groff asked, looking between the two of you. “Barbary pirate, slaver. In 1703, a Berber shepherd gave Murad a gold coin as tribute. He asked the shepherd where he’d gotten the coin, and after some persuasion, the Berber told him about a hidden vault in the desert filled with gold. And one other very special item.”

“The Blue Crown,” John B answered softly.

Groff turned to him, curious. “So, you know what it is?”

Sarah cleared her throat purposefully as your brother tried to back track. “Uh, it’s uh… my dad was a historian.”

“It was practically a bedtime story,” You tried to reinforce John B’s excuse and shot him a look.

“What is it though? The crown thing?” Kie asked as she pulled herself up on the table next to Sarah. 

“A mythical artifact,” Groff explained, “And if you trust the legends, a dangerous weapon capable of granting wishes and rendering enemies defenseless.”

You almost scoffed at the ridiculous reasoning, but Cleo was happy to voice her skepticism, “And you believe that?”

Groff shook his head. “No, of course not, but it’s invaluable. I’m looking for it just like you, and if I could help you find it, I’d… just want to get my cut. Nothing more.”

“If they found it 300 years ago, there’s no way that magic cap is still there,” JJ said, his foot nudging yours gently. 

“Maybe, maybe not. See Murad was encamped in Essaouira, in what’s now Morocco. Before he had a chance to follow the map, it was stolen by a young woman named Elizabeth Howell, who later became Blackbeard’s future wife. He helped her elude her captors, and the two of them escaped to the Carolinas with the map. The rest of their lives they wondered, was there really a vault in the desert that held the crown? On the day he died-”

“He left Elizabeth with the map,” Sarah cut him off, her boredom winning as you all listened to this man ramble. 

Groff nodded. “And now, you have it. But you can’t read it, right? You need a lens, a special lens. A piece of refracted crystal encased with a chain. Elizabeth Teach had that lens when she was killed at Blackstone.”

You exchanged a glance with JJ before facing Chandler. “So, let me guess. You uh, you have that lens.”

He made a dramatic effort to act all upset and looked down. “Not in my possession, no. But I know where it is.”

JJ squeezed your hand slightly. “Where?”

“Your mother’s grave.”

You groaned softly, dropping JJ’s hand to cover your face and rub at the skin like it could wash away all of your annoyance with this conversation. All of this history talk was making your brain hurt and you really, really didn’t like that you’d lost this entire night to JJ’s supposed dad who had no business showing up here. 

“I, um, I’m gonna go to bed,” You excused yourself, giving JJ a rushed kiss before almost running out of the room. Various chatter followed your departure, but you swung yourself up the stairs without another word. Stopping in John B and Sarah’s room to grab your clothes from earlier, you were quick to change into the comfy attire and retreat to your hammock on the balcony, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet. 

“Babe?” JJ wasn’t very far behind you, coming out to stand over you as you settled into the material. “You okay?”

You sighed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes as the alcohol and weed wore off, leaving you slightly buzzed and just tired. “Yeah, just didn’t wanna keep listening to him.”

JJ reached out for you, his hand grabbing yours as you swayed slowly. “This is not how I imagined this night going. Was supposed to celebrate with you, in every way possible.” He leaned down to rub his nose against yours gently, eliciting a small laugh before you kissed him softly.

“Not your fault,” You whispered. “Please tell me someone’s down there with him.”

JJ brushed a hair from your face gently. “Pope’s picking his brain while Cleo plays guard dog. Sarah said she needed to talk to John B.”

You nodded, hoping she was talking to him about what you thought she would be. “Are you okay?”

The hesitation told you that no, he wasn’t, but he didn’t know what else to do. JJ took the opportunity to slide into the hammock next to you, practically flopping on you so his head rested on your chest, and you welcomed the embrace. He was so warm against you and you truly cherished the moment as the first one you two had shared alone after the proposal.

“Love you,” You whispered quietly, leaning to kiss his head as your fingers sorted through his hair. 

“Love you too.”

--

John B was a shit liar. You had been able to clock him so easily growing up, and unfortunately (for him), Sarah was just as good at it.

So when Sarah came into the room and very shakily asked to talk to him, he was nervous. He didn’t know what she was going to ask, or say, and he wasn’t mentally prepared. But she seemed really scared, so he couldn’t say no. 

“I’m pregnant.”

The words practically smacked him in the face, his whole body going into shock as he tried to wrap his head around the concept. Sarah, his Sarah, pregnant. 

“You’re pregnant?” He repeated the phrase, keeping his tone as neutral as possible even though a little bit of shock slipped in. He wasn’t sure how she felt about this and wanted to tread carefully. She was teary and nodded. “You’re… pregnant?”

“Mhmm,” She answered, her whole body filled with nerves. Sarah had been through so much shit, but she could confidently say this was the scariest moment of her life that regarded her relationship with John B.

The idea was starting to visualize in his head and he nodded. “We’re pregnant.”

Sarah’s heart clenched in her chest. “Yeah.”

“O-okay. Um…”

“I’m really, really scared,” She admitted shakily, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this, I know you don’t know how to do this. And we’re… so young. And I know the timing’s probably terrible. And I know you and JJ wanna go after that crown, but-”

“Hey, come here. I’ve got you.” John B shushed her, gently pulling her into his lap as she sobbed, terrified of what was to come. 

She sunk into his arms, shaking as she hugged him tightly against her. “I’m just really scared, I was really scared to tell you, but your sister said I should, and…”

John B nearly choked on his own air at the mention of you knowing. “She knows?”

Sarah pulled back a little to look at him, nodding. “Yeah, she’s the first one I told.”

Your brother nearly threw up at the idea, knowing you hadn’t told him which meant you’d been keeping enough bottled up since whenever you found out. “Oh, shit.”

Sarah frowned at his identical reaction to Kie. “What?”

John B shook his head. “No, nothing, it’s-”

“No.” Sarah gave him a particular look, one that froze him in his spot and usually got her the answer she was looking for. “Why does everyone react with oh shit when they hear that she knows?”

John B took a deep breath and weighed his options. Either he told Sarah the truth and sent her into a guilty spiral with the information, or he told her to ask you and watched her feel even worse when the news came from you.

“I um…” John B tilted his head back with a sigh, keeping his hands anchored on Sarah’s hips to hold her steady as she repeated his name. “She… when we were at the church, in Charleston, I asked her what had happened before we left. I didn’t know it was Rafe at the time, but she started asking me all these questions about our conversation on the ferry and kids, and-”

“John B,” Sarah interrupted him softly, recalling his focus.

“She can’t…she can’t have kids.”

Sarah’s heart nearly shattered in her chest and the tears built up all over again. “What?” Her voice cracked as she looked at John B, his own eyes teary at the repetition of your conversation in his head. “Are.. is she sure?”

John B nodded. “It was, after everything with Rafe, when we were gone a-and-”

Sarah stood abruptly, her brother’s name enough to make her lunch threaten to come back up. “I’ve gotta talk to her.”

“Wait, wait!”

John B took off after her, following her rushed steps as she climbed the stairs with the intention of getting to you. “Sarah, wait!”

Sarah wished she had listened. She wished she had taken a moment to stop and think about what she would say to you, because the moment she opened your door, she was met with JJ’s raised voice. She was met with JJ, standing in the middle of the room, his loud frustration directed at your crying form that was across from him.

But that wasn’t what made Sarah so nervous.

It was the pregnancy test, the one she had taken earlier, in JJ’s hand, the two positive lines staring back at her as he pointed it at you with an intention that made her want to throw up. 

And when Sarah made eye contact with you, she realized how truly, truly fucked up this whole thing was about to be.

--

a/n: so.... i'm sorry?

anyway, listen to how much do you love me by kelsea ballerini

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Unhinged two

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI

(part one)

wc: 1.2 K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive content, no y/n used a/n: since some of you wanted a part two of this, I gladly made one. (this came out a little rushed as well, not proofread! sorry!!) Enjoy!!

The moment he left the room, you grabbed your phone and made sure to never open that chat again. You still feel borderline embarrassed and ashamed, realising how weird it is.

Sighing out, you calm yourself down and sip on your tea, hands trembling from your racing heart. After another exhale, you start to think of what to do.

You need to apologise. That‘s the least you could do with a situation like this, after… you can‘t even think about it!

From the silence that lingers around the whole apartment, it‘s clear that Jason is probably expiriencing a mental breakdown too. Now that you think about it, you can‘t really imagine how he feels like after finding out about your dirty thoughts about him.

You don‘t even finish your tea before you sprint off the living room, throwing over your coat and storm outside to get him a proper apology.

Meanwhile, Jason is concerned. He started to look for his therapist‘s number on his phone, but hesitated actually clicking on it. What, should he say that he read through his roommate‘s messages and now wants to kill himself because of the pure filth that was written about him?

No, surely no one will believe him, or at least make fun of him if they believe him.

The safest option would be to keep it for himself, or tell Dick. Yeah, the safest option would be to keep it to himself.

Outisde of his room, he hears the front door click open again, laying his phone down as he contemplates wether to go out or not. His thoughts get interrupted once he hears soft knocks against it.

»Yeah?« Shit, he should‘ve said he is busy.

»Can I come in? I, um… I need to apologise.«

A hint of shame comes through your tone, head hanging low behind the door. There‘s clearly nothing more pathetic than this situation. The silence that follows after only makes your nerves run higher, making your shift on your feet.

»‘Kay.«

Jason is great at pretending to be non-chalant. But it‘s an answer, at least.

So you walk in. And stop in the doorframe, boquet of flowers in hand, his favourite order at the local fast food restaurant in the other. A pathetic expression on your face. He has to stop himself from reacting surprised and both pleased at the action, remembering what happened just a few moments ago.

»So… about those messages. I won‘t sugarcoat it, I did send them, there‘s no excuse I can use. But I won‘t do that again and I don‘t actually think of you in that way. I just… had to describe to my friend how you look like.«

You shrug at the end, placing the smaller paperbag onto his nightstand and hold the boquet in both of your hands for now. It‘s difficult, embarrassing and devistating, saying something in hopes that he will forgive you and let you stay in the shared apartment.

Truth be told, Jason couldn‘t feel more touched by this, trying so hard to keep his composure. He fails either way, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so faintly as he shakes his head.

»You didn‘t need to bring me flowers for that, but… thanks? And, I won‘t look into your phone again. Ever.«

That‘s a relief, handing over the boquet of flowers anyway. He takes them, finally smiling down at them. That‘s not how he expected to receive flowers, he never thought he would get them at some point in his life anyway.

»There‘s also you favourite order, I‘ll leave for now, just… uh— don‘t kick me out.«

Now he has to chuckle, putting the flowers away before he takes a look into the bag of food.

»Oh, I won‘t. It would be boring without you, no?«

He muses as he glances back up to you, an amused and teasing glint in his eye. Of course… he will never let you live that down.

From then on, every time you were slightly annoyed over something he did, Jason simply pulled out the ‚Remember how you talked about me to your friend?‘-card and instantly makes you shut up. But sometimes, you ignore that and go on about the rant you were currently holding.

»No, Jason, I don‘t care, and this happened two months ago! You should be able to clean at least the counter after cooking or baking something.«

You track back to the current argument, waving frustrated to the countertop that has traces from flour and butter.

Instead of getting hissy too, he simply tilts his hxcead, boxing you up against said counter.

»Say again?«

You go silent, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes, standing there at a loss of words.

In short, his ego grew a lot bigger after the initial shock wore off. He started to use such tactics in harmless arguments, before he just used them randomly to tease you. And lucky for him, it worked every damn time. He is sure you already texted every single encounter like this to your dear friend – and he is dying to know if his theory is true – but he won‘t check your phone again, simply too scared at the same time.

On the other hand, you are secretly enjoying it. No, loving it. What do you mean your hot roommate flirts with you randomly for no reason? You would never trade that for anything else.

The same thing happens on a casual saturday, leaning over the kitchen counter as you scroll through some new recipes on your phone. Jason walks in through the front door, ever so silent that you don‘t notice him coming in, before you hear his soft voice mumble near your ear.

»Watcha cooking?« His hand rests on the counter by your side, dangerously close for your own comfort. But you wont back away or say anything against it, answering him back instead.

»Nothing yet. Looking through stuff.«

He hums in acknowledgement, resting his chin on your shoulder while he watches your phone too.

»Wanna cook something together, then? I brought some groceries.« His hand brushes against your side as he leans away, starting to sort through the bag and put the stuff away that he bought.

After an easy agreement, you both settle on making something simple for dinner, not wanting to waste your energy on something new.

Cooking with him would be relaxing, if his hand wouldn‘t linger around your back or waist every minute. You grew used to it after some time, but it still never fails to make you slightly distracted on your current task.

In general, you noticed that Jason became way more touchy with you after the incident, as well as teasing. You try not mentioning it and simply never talk about it in hopes this will never end, but he secretly wishes you would.

He made a single masterplan in his mind on ultimately asking you out once you start to mention his antics, but there‘s no luck so far. Okay, guitly as charged, he did talk about that with his brother Dick. He follows his advice half-heartedly, hoping for some miracle to happen at the same time until you notice his signs.

←MASTERLIST

[postracehair]

say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

three times george curses. or, a beginning, a middle, and a future.

cw: george cursing. a few scrapes and a little bit of blood, some kissing, and a love confession to boot.

a/n: this kind of ran away from me, especially in the middle but every time george russell says fuck an angel gets its wings. written ages ago but posting in honor of Las Vegas.

---

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

You've only been here a few times, but a match day spent with your coworker and some of her friends is better than sitting on your couch alone, right? Wine and cookies in hand, you trudge up two flights of stairs to her flat. By the time you reach the landing, you can already hear the chatter and the TV.

No one seems to hear your knock so you push the door open and gingerly step in. The kitchen is on the other side of the flat, and you assume everyone is somewhere between there and the television.

But when you pass the living room where the TV actually is, there's just one guy on the couch. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees watching a penalty get called.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says to no one.

You snicker. He whirls around. "Hello," you say.

"Sorry," he says, standing immedietly. Wow, he's tall. "Sorry, hello."

Oh, and he's familiar. You know him, kind of. He's -- god, he races cars, right? Shit, what is his name? Your coworker has social connections you barely understand so it's not really a surprise to find someone who is probably famous in her flat.

"It is just you, then?" you ask. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Dressed in jeans and a team jumper, his casual outfit is at odds with the severe cut of his jaw, his cheekbones. He just looks expensive.

"No," he says. "No, everyone is putting plates together. I'm afraid I might be the one most interested in watching the match."

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

He rounds the sofa, hand out. "Could be better," he says. "I'm George."

You readjust the items in your hands to shake his and tell him your name. He repeats it, and you smile.

"Let me go put these down," you say, "and then, um. Do you want some company, George?"

Honestly, you're not sure where that came from. But, though you came here to escape the smothering loneliness of your own flat, something about him makes you want to stay here rather than go into the kitchen with everyone else.

"'Course I do," he says. "I promise to tighten up my language. Won't do for that to be my first impression."

You wave him away though your cheeks feel a little hot and head for the kitchen.

Your coworker brightens at seeing you and takes your hostess gifts with ease.

"The match is on in the other room," she tells you, "but most of us are drinking in here."

"I saw," you say. "I met George."

She hears something in your tone that turns her expression something between amused and calculating. "You did, did you?"

You just nod, loading up a plate with the various nibbles. "How do you know him, anyway?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know." No, you don't, but she plows on. "What did you think?"

"Taller than he seems on TV," you mutter. "But very polite. He shook my hand."

That gets her to laugh. "Oh, of course he did. Well, don't stand around in here with us. Go chat up a Formula 1 driver!"

George is back on the couch when you return, arm stretched over the back of it, brows furrowed.

"Has anything exciting happened?" you ask him, sitting down with a perfectly responsible distance between you.

He grimaces. "Nothing good. Wolverhampton, bless 'em, are quite bad."

That might explain why no one is watching this match with him, but you keep that to yourself.

"I see," you say, solemnly. "But loyalty is loyalty, I suppose, if they're your club."

"Exactly," George says. "It's suffering but it has to be done." Someone on the screen triggers a free kick and George leans in until it's over. He starts talking about one of the players being traded, or his contract being renegotiated, or something. You nibble on your plate and just watch. He's animated, this man. Fringe falling over his forehead the more he gestures, blue eyes wide and serious. It's all very endearing.

"Sorry," he says suddenly. "I'm being so rude. You don't want to hear about all of this, do you?"

You smile at him. "I don't mind. I came over for some company more than anything else."

He sinks back into the couch a little, hand running through his hair again. "Well, lucky for me that you did," he says.

Your face feels hot and you don't want to mistake this for flirting if it's not. He is a world-famous athlete, after all, but here you are on the couch next to him. "Lucky for you, indeed."

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

This is not how you saw your life going, but maybe that's just the nature of it. Big moments happen just the same as small ones and we have to handle them regardless. The trajectory of your life shifted just a little bit when you sat down on someone else's couch to watch a football match with a stranger.

Because that stranger -- George -- is now much more than that. He asked for your number that day before he had to leave earlier than everyone else, and has been speaking to you ever since. Texts, phone calls, FaceTimes. And, when he's not driving hundreds of miles an hour halfway across the world, he likes to spend time with you.

They're dates, you know they are. But things are still casual, immensely so. Coffee, dinner, long walks through the park. It's probably past due that you ask him what he'd like out of this, but your friends tell you to just have fun for the time being. You've learned a lot about him in the last month or so, both from him directly and by doing your research.

You'd watched a few Grand Prix before meeting him but not with any kind of rapt attention. Now, obviously, you watch with purpose. See him zip around the track, read his radio messages, hope desperately that he'll be alright. He's a big mix of things, George Russell. Witty but determined, thorough but reactionary, polite but intense. You want to keep getting to know him on a personal level and measure that up to how he appears to the world.

Today, you're on one of those long walks. George is recounting the last race at your request. It's always more interesting to hear him talk about what happened than watching it, though you're really growing to love that part, too.

It's a bit chilly and he's got a scarf on in addition to a nondescript hat pulled down low over his eyes. You're used to this by now, though you wish you could see his face more fully.

"And then -- well, I'm sure you saw this bit -- he turned right into me like I wasn't even there!"

"But you avoided it," you remind him. "I saw that, too." A cold wind blows down the path and you shiver a bit.

"You alright?" he asks. "Nippy, huh?" He stops walking and turns to you, his huge hands coming to rest on your shoulders before he rubs them up and down your arms.

"A bit," you agree, a little breathless. God, you really need to talk to him about what this is. You're thinking about him all the time, which is a bit of a nuisance, as you're not sure he's feeling the same. But, a small voice in your head tells you, you can't be too far off in thinking that it might be based on the way he's looking at you right now.

Even under the cap, you can see the soft set of his brow, the way his eyes are shining. The gentle quirk up of his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he let you?

George stops his warming efforts, catching your hands in his. "Better?"

All you can do is nod. He grins, looking a bit too pleased, and starts walking again, you in tow. This is something else you've learned about him -- he really can be a cheeky bastard. He must have more than some idea as to how he affects you and enjoys it. It's somewhere between a game and a challenge.

You're thinking about ways you can get him back, ways you can flirt mercilessly. His hand is in yours and he's half a step ahead of you when suddenly your fingers are ripped from his and you find yourself on your hands and knees with a gasp.

George is immediately there with you.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I--" You're a bit too stunned to say anything. George rarely curses, which is funny given how you met, but it unsettles you a little bit as much as it warms you. "I think I tripped?"

"Let me see your hands," he says, gently tugging at your wrists with his long fingers. He sucks on his teeth when he sees your palms. "Not too bad, but a little scratched."

You rearrange yourself so you're flat on your bum, legs in front of you. Your hands might be alright but your knees are another story. The fabric of your jeans isn't ripped but you can see the bloodstains already.

"Oh," you say. You look up at George, feeling a bit pathetic. "This is embarrassing."

He scoffs. "No, it's not," he says. "I do think we should get you cleaned up, though."

"We can go to my place," you suggest. The sting sets in a little more, but mingles with your chagrin and you just set your jaw. "Help me up?"

"Brave girl," George says. He presses his lips to the base of your wrist and stands, tugging you up as he goes. "Have you got first aid things at your flat?"

You nod, running through the contents of your bathroom in your mind. It occurs to you that George has not been to your place before, and you did not mentally prepare yourself to bring him there today.

George gently says your name. "Let's get a cab, shall we?"

It takes no time at all to flag one down. George removes his hat in what you can clearly see as an effort to get the cabbie to hurry along a bit, but it seems to work. He takes one look at you, one more at George, and steps on it.

"Let me get your belt," George mutters, making quick work of the buckle.

"I don't think I've ever worn a seatbelt in a cab in my life, George," you reply. He just pats your thigh.

"Think we've had enough injuries for one day, don't you?"

George and the cabbie chat about the race season, about how hot it really is in Singapore, about one of George's recent podiums. He keeps you tucked into his side the whole time -- he's ignored his own seatbelt, you notice -- hand on your thigh. You keep your palms turned up on your knees and wonder how on earth you got here.

The city flies by and you lean your head on his shoulder. You can feel something shifting between you, something clicking into place that wasn't entirely settled before. It's scary, it's exciting, it's big. It's something you're going to have to talk about.

George pays the driver in some large bills and helps you out of the cab and up the steps of your building.

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

"Pardon my reach," he jokes, and lightly rests on palm on your hip and slides the other into your pocket to find them. He tugs the keyring out and winks at you before unlocking the door. Up the stairs, into the flat. Shoes toed off, coats on the hook after George helps you out of yours.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," you tell him. He clicks his tongue.

"We don't want blood on this nice coat of yours, do we?"

You roll your eyes. George glances around your flat and smiles. "This is very you."

Dishes on the counter, the pillows a mess on the couch, your books and trinkets on every flat surface -- you suppose he's right.

"Thank you?" you say. He taps your chin with his knuckle.

"It feels like a home, I mean." Your cheeks feel warm and your heart sighs. God, the things he says.

"Oh," you breathe. "That's kind."

"And does this home have a first aid kit?" The reminder brings the dull sting of your scraped skin back to the forefront of your mind.

"Bathroom cabinet," you tell him. George nods.

"I'll get that. Why don't you change into something loose so I can get to your knees?"

In your room, you tug carefully tug on some sweatpants, mindful of your palms, and let yourself marvel at how today has gone. You expected to have George here someday, but certainly not like this. Will he want to see your bedroom? You shove some dirty laundry into the hamper and thank past you for making the bed this morning.

"I think you should sit on the counter," George calls. "Whenever you're ready."

You pad out to meet him in socked feet. It's quite the sight, him in your kitchen. He's bent over your sink, washing his hands. His sweater has been tossed over a chair and you can see the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

"Do you need help getting up?" he asks. You nod. Together, you get yourself on the counter, making you about eye level.

"Hello," you say. His hat is gone, too, so his fringe falls across his forehead in slightly curled strands. When you've cleaned yourself up, maybe you'll work up the courage to run your hand through them.

"Hello yourself. Right hand, please." You hold out your palm and George gets to work. He cleans it, getting all the bits from your skin, and then uses an alcohol wipe.

"Do you have a special interest in first aid, or something?" you ask to distract yourself from the sting. His thumb strokes your pulse point as he works.

"I guess you get beat up a bit in karting when you're young," he says. He wraps one palm in gauze and moves onto the other. "I suppose i just like knowing how to take care of people."

"God," you groan. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

He looks at you then, hair falling into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh," he smirks. "Plenty, darling." He finishes up on your other palm and holds it in his for a moment longer than you expect. Then he slowly brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the bandage.

You might gasp, You're not entirely sure, eyes glued to his lips like nothing else exists. Then he kisses the other palm. Your gaze flicks up and George is looking right at you.

"Knees," he says, voice a little hoarse. "Alright?"

"Alright," you breathe. You stick one leg out just to see what he'll do. You're learning that he rises to the occasion, and that's exactly what happens. He cups your ankle, places your foot on his thigh, and slides your sweatpants up above your joint.

"That's gnarly," he says, breaking the tension. You laugh and tap his leg with your other foot. "You ready?"

"I'm ready."

He makes quick work on it. One hand on your calf, the other gently cleaning and bandaging. The silence is comfortable, familiar, though you've not been in this situation before. It's not until George is almost done with your other knee that he speaks.

"You know," He says, lightly. "If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask. The tripping wasn't entirely necessary."

"George!" you gasp. He squeezes your calf.

"I'm just saying, darling."

He ties off the gauze and rolls down your pant leg. You widen your knees and he steps between them immediately, hands resting gently on your thighs. It's absolutely electric -- going from shy, appropriate touches to being in your flat together, his hands all over you. How are you going to go back?

Maybe you can't.

George's eyes rake over your face. You inhale his exhales, feeling them on your lips. His pupils dilate.

"What is this, George?" you whisper. His fingers press into your thighs a little harder.

"Well," he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly. He is not dissuaded, does not back away. He must know that this is hard for you -- his life is so different from yours. As it is, you avoid social media so you don't see pictures of you splashed across gossip accounts. It's impossible to totally stay away from it but you try, because you really like being with him.

"Shall I tell you what it is for me?" George says.

You nod.

He cups your face in his hands, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under your eyes.

"Every second I am not with you I am thinking about when I'll see you next," he says. "I store up things to tell you and take photos to show you and I have a bag full of things I've bought you but been too afraid to give you. Beautiful things, things that remind me of you."

"George--"

"I worry about fucking up your life," he continues, and you fall silent. "This is a lot. I am a lot. My life is not simple, and you've already seen that. But I want you in it. I want you in it however you want to be there, though I have my suggestions. I promise that if you let me, I'll treat you so well, because you deserve everything, and --"

Your heart is going to explode if he goes on any longer, so you close the gap between you and kiss him. Finally.

It's just the press of your lips against his for a few seconds, your eyes fluttering shut, before George catches up to what's happening and angles your faces a little bit to make it deeper. Your bandaged hands rest on his elbows and you swallow a sound from deep in his throat, something that lights a fire in your belly.

"Blimey," George says, leaning your foreheads together.

"What, no curse for me?"

His eyes sparkle and he wrinkles his nose at you. "Fuck," he says. "I've been thinking about that for weeks."

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "That's more like it."

BLOODY HELL

What the fuck was that? Is he serious? Keep focused, George. This is fucking ridiculous. Head down.

It's a bad day. Not as bad as it could be -- George does not end up in the wall. But he ends up way further down the pack than he should, barely scraping together a few points. It's the car and everyone knows it. The bouncing, the drag, the understeer. A showing far too poor for this late in the season.

And George is pissed. It's not often that you see him this way -- he's fairly levelheaded, even when things get tough. Something about him causes conflict to lull, things to fall into place, but even that can't fix the silver arrow.

You slip out of the garage during the last lap to sit in his driver's room and wait.

This isn't your first race. Far from it, by now. Things got official halfway through the season after that day in your flat, and you've been coming to as many as you can. It's a rush, really, to see him work. Scarier than anything, but when it's good? It's amazing. You love the energy of the garage and everyone seems to have taken to you, too.

So much so that they know to send George right to his room before the media pen so you can calm him down.

You sit on the bench and wait.

He comes in, closing the door firmly but never slamming it, and sighs. All the tension melts from his body and he looks defeated. Sweaty, annoyed, and defeated.

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

You love how George looks after a race. Hair a mess from his helmet, skin beaded with sweat. He unzips his race suit and lets it hang at his hips and you can see the outline of his muscles through his fireproofs. It's genuinely swoonworthy, even with his visibly bad mood.

"Are you alright?" you ask. He shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and winces.

"Bloody hell," he curses. "My back is killing me."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he says automatically. "You're perfect just as you are."

It's a reflex he has -- not to ask for things. You're still working it out, poking and prodding to find the cracks. Maybe, with time, he'll loosen this grip he has on his desire to make your life as comfortable and wonderful as possible without thinking of himself. There are moments when it's best to just let him fuss, but right now you think you can push back a little.

"George," you sigh. "Come on."

He hides his face behind a sweat towel for a breath, then tosses it aside. "Alright," he says. "Just sit with me for a bit."

You scoot over on the bench and he flops next to you, head back against the wall and eyes closed. His hand fumbles around for yours, pinching your thigh when he overshoots, which makes you laugh. He cracks a smile and opens one eye just enough to see your grin before settling back into his rest.

He breathes deeply, fingers entwined with yours. The line of his jaw is pronounced in the awful lighting of the room and the shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. A few more races and then he can rest. What will you do in the off season? Maybe a vacation. Hopefully a vacation. You imagine George in swim trunks on a beach somewhere, dozing in the sand. Rubbing sun tan lotion on his back and his shoulders and his nose, reading books for hours until he convinces you to run into the water. Lazy days on a balcony or in a bed with all the windows open, never being far from each other --

Someone knocks on the door.

"Christ," George mutters. "Let's ignore it."

"You need to go to the pen, darling," you whisper back. He squeezes your hand and presses your legs together.

"Just a few more minutes," he says. "Eventually they'll just come in."

"If you say so."

You press a kiss to his tacky cheek and lean your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

George takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says.

The words stretch into the silence that comes after, the moments it takes for you to process it. They fill the small room, sneak their way into your bloodstream, your lungs, all the way to your heart.

Part of you is waiting for the follow-up. I know it's too early, I know it's a lot, You don't have you say it back. But George doesn't deal in excuses. He feels it, so he says it.

You lift your head to look at him and find him already staring at you. Not expectant, just looking to look.

"I love you, George," you say.

He grins bigger than you've ever seen, bigger than after your first kiss, than the days when he's on the podium.

Someone knocks on the door again.

"Oh, piss off," he mutters and leans in to kiss you.

[warping-realities]

All For The Family - Part I

That was the only part of his job that Brian dislike, even though it was necessary. To justify what he had to do, he told himself those folks deserved it, that they should’ve been more careful with their own bills and the loans they took out, and paid their mortgage right. It wasn’t his fault. He was just there to deliver the truth they were probably expecting anyway. He tried to adopt a “don’t shoot the messenger” attitude while also showing he felt for their situation, even though he still had to do his job. That rarely worked in the two years he’d been doing that gig, and this time was no different. The blonde 24 years old man, rockin' a sharp suit that fit him like a glove on his skinny frame paired with his glasses, he was supposed to look classy and confident. Which clearly didn’t have the intended effect on the crowd he was facing. Standing in front of him with his arms crossed and a look on his face like he just sucked on a lemon was the biggest man Brian had ever seen in his life.

“You gotta understand, Mr. Abernathy, that the promissory note’s overdue again. If you don’t cough up the cash, the bank won’t have any choice but to foreclose and take your land to auction.”

“I get it, kid, but it seems like you’re the one refusing to understand. Tomorrow, I’m getting another hand to help with the harvest, and we’ll pay up all the back dues and even get ahead on a few!”

“Mr. Abernathy… Roy, can I call you Roy?” Brian asked with a smile he hoped was friendly and not showing the frustration he felt at that moment.

“My friends call me Roy, kid; you ain’t my friend.”

Brian let out a sigh at that response and decided to drop the pleasantries, taking a more hard-nosed approach.

“Well, Mr. Abernathy, I hate to break it to you, but if that promise of yours doesn’t pan out, I’m afraid that come the first of next month, you and your family are gonna have to vacate this property.”

“Save your worries for yourself, kid, while you hightail it off my land, ‘cause for now, I’m the one who decides who comes and goes around here.”

“If you weren’t planning on negotiating at all, why’d you make me drive all the way out here?”

“‘Cause there are some things that need to be said and done face-to-face, son.”

“Well, next time, just call me if you got something important to say!��

With a huff, Brian turned his back on the older, muscular man and headed toward the sports car parked behind the big barn that flanked the simple but well-kept farmhouse.

As he watched the kid walk away, unaware of the wave of golden sparks emanating from him, Roy murmured to himself, “Next time we talk, you’ll take whatever I say as important, boy!” He said, flashing a wide grin before turning to a figure that was approaching. “Is it done?” he asked, his smile widening at the answer.

That spat with the Abernathy family patriarch left Brian pissed off. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that it might be through his work that those folks would lose everything. At the same time, he knew that if it were his older brother knocking on that door, dressed in his cop uniform, the treatment would’ve been a whole lot different. Of course, he could never pull off Lucas's job. Lost in those gloomy thoughts, he took a while to realize that the gas tank he filled up that very morning was nearly empty, and it was only when a beeping alert rang out that he noticed.

“Damn, how is this possible?” he exclaimed to the empty car as he pulled over to the side of the road and weighed his options. Looking at his cell, he found he was out of signal. The nearest town was miles away. The only option left...

“Damn!” he yelled again, getting out of the car and shrugging off his suit jacket, heading toward the Abernathy’s place, wondering what kind of reception he was gonna get. No matter how much empathy he might have started to feel for those folks, it surely wouldn’t be mutual. Halfway to the farm, the already bad situation took a turn for the worse when rain started pouring down, soaking Brian's expensive clothes.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he was being punished by some higher power for doing that job, and he was sure of it when he ran smack into the person he needed but didn’t want to see: Roy Abernathy in all his bulk! He was standing in front of an old Ford pickup, arms crossed again, but this time with a grin that Brian would’ve usually taken for some petty celebration, but at that moment it seemed to him to have more sincerity than he was used to seeing from “clients.” The man was with someone who could only be his son, given the huge resemblance between the two. Those behemoths made for a frightening sight for Brian, leaving him speechless. However, he didn’t even get a chance to speak, as Roy started the conversation for him.

“Looks like you need a little help, son. Where’s your fancy car?”

“I… the gas…”

“Oh, I get it; it’s real reckless to be out here with an empty tank.” The man said, still grinning, and Brian initially felt like he was just saying that to mess with him. But quickly, a small voice in the back of his mind disagreed; the Abernathys weren’t stingy like that. That new, dissenting voice made him hold his tongue and respond more calmly than expected.

“I don’t know what happened; I left town with a full tank. And… I… um… I’ll need some help, yeah.”

“Sorry, son, what was that?”

“I said I need help, if you could… please?!” He replied louder, though he was pretty sure the man heard him.

“Of course I can help, son. Out here, we all pitch in, no matter who you are.” Another jab, and once again something made Brian hold back; he deserved that treatment, the little voice said, and he would take it like a man, like the man he was. Roy smiled again, apparently noticing that the young man was holding back from snapping back.

“Thanks, sir. Now, if you could just follow me to the car and get me some gas…”

“No, son, you’re soaked through. Let RJ and me take care of that; you go to my house and talk to my wife; she’ll get you some dry clothes and a hot meal.”

“I’d rather go to my car…”

“No arguments, kid; do what I said!” Roy replied, his face turning serious.

“I… I… fine!” Brian said, biting back his anger and trudging down the road.

“That one’s a bit rough around the edges.” RJ commented to his dad as he watched Brian walk away.

“Oh, but he’s starting to behave, and there’s nothing wrong with him being a little rough, son, as long as he uses that attitude in the right way…”

“Dad, are you sure? This mumbo jumbo sounds crazy… and the risk we took, messing with that guy’s car. What if he noticed?”

“What are the odds a guy like that knows how to handle a car, Junior? At least for now.”

“Dad, what you’re talking about doing… it’s impossible…”

“Son, you’re gonna have to trust me on this; believe me, it’s already started. Tomorrow at this time, we’ll have the help we need and one heartless drone less in the world.”

“But how? How can you be sure? Have you done this before?” The young man asked.

“No, Junior, I haven’t.” Roy replied, looking quite uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact with his son. “But since you apparently doubt your old man’s word, maybe you should trust your own eyes; take a quick look now, and you’ll see something unique.”

“What the hell? What is that, Dad?” The boy asked, seeing the golden sparks surrounding the man who walked, seemingly unaware of anything strange.

“That, my boy, is the solution to our problems; now hurry up.”

As father and son climbed into the old pickup, an oblivious Brian, unaware of their plans for him, arrived at the farmhouse door. The moment he raised a hand to knock, the door swung open suddenly, and he found himself facing a beautiful woman with bronzed skin and black hair streaked with gray, whose age he couldn’t quite pin down, though he knew she was Abernathy’s wife. The woman looked at him with a warm face that, for some unknown reason, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A lost kitten? How can I help you, sugar?”

“Um… I’m sorry, ma’am. I… Mr. Abernathy told me to come here and… hum… change clothes while he looks at my car.”

“You’re soaked, poor thing! Come on in, come on in. I’ll ask Debra to get you some of RJ’s clothes. Be a good boy and wait right here; I don’t want my carpet all wet!” The woman said in a whirlwind, pulling him inside the house and leaving him standing at the threshold. Brian, for his part, had to control himself not to run back out into the rain, as something urged him to get out of that place as fast as possible. Holding himself back, he waited until the woman returned with a young girl about his age, just as pretty as the mother, in a floral dress.

“Debra will take you to RJ’s room; you can dry off and wear some of his clothes until the boys bring your car back. Meanwhile, I’ll whip up some dinner; a big boy like you must eat as much as my husband and son!”

“I… actually…” Brian started, but he gave up announcing his intention to leave as fast as possible upon receiving a look from Mrs. Abernathy that simultaneously showed expectation and reprimand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Great, now let’s go, let’s go! You’re soaking my carpet!”

Brian followed Debra up to one of the rooms on the second floor of the house. Upon entering, he was surprised to find it was a double room. Did the Abernathy kids, brother and sister, share the same room?

“I’ve set aside some of RJ’s clothes for you; they might be a bit big, but at least they’re dry.” The girl said, smiling between the two beds in the room. Brian couldn’t help but ask.

“You sleep here with your brother?”

“God, no, eww! That bed’s for my other brother!”

“I didn’t know that… wait… there’s no record of the Abernathys having another kid in the paperwork given to the bank!”

“Shhh… relax; there’s no need to stress about that, it’s not important. You city folks with your data, your records, your… contracts. Life is so much more than that, you know? So why don’t you chill for a bit, dry off, and head down? Dad’s gonna want to talk to you.” The girl replied and left the room, leaving a very confused Brian behind. He was still pondering the family’s strange behavior as he undressed and wondered what the hell Roy Abernathy would want to talk to him about. He wasn’t fooling himself thinking it could be something good for his job, not after the confrontation they had just had.

After drying off and getting ready to put on RJ's much larger clothes, the little intrusive voice invaded his mind again. Whatever Roy had to say was important, and he should listen and obey, just like he always had. Before his mind could fight back against that, a beam of golden sparks emanated from his body, and both the intrusive voice and the need to resist it vanished from Brian's mind. In fact, all thoughts disappeared. He couldn't tell how long he stood there, just breathing, with his mind blank of thoughts or worries.

He only returned to reality when someone caught his attention.

“What are you doing just standing there, brother?” A deep voice asked, startling him awake. Turning quickly, Brian found himself face to face with Abernathy’s son, RJ. He’d only seen him briefly on the road, but now he was just a few inches away. RJ lacked the bulk of his father, but that didn’t mean he was small. On the contrary, he was a strong guy, a year or two older than Brian, with a muscular, hairy chest on display. Looking at that figure, Brian felt a strange sensation wash over him, a kind of bond between him and this stranger; it wasn’t sexual, it was something… brotherly, maybe? He knew he’d felt that before, but couldn’t remember when or with whom. As absurd as it was, it was like this guy in front of him was someone very important.

“Earth to you, bro! Get some clothes on and let’s eat; Dad’s waiting.”

“I… uh… yeah.” Brian replied, hurrying to put on the clothes that were lying next to him.

“You coming?” He asked, wanting to stretch the time spent with the other man, even though he didn’t know why.

“Nah, I already ate; I’m gonna crash here. We’ll talk later and figure out how to fix your car!”

“Car?”

“Dude, you really are in another dimension, eat your food, talk to dad, I’ll be waiting!”

Brian headed downstairs and made his way to the kitchen, not even questioning how he knew which way to go, while trying to pin down that feeling of connection to someone he’d just met. As he reached the kitchen door, he found Roy Abernathy sitting alone at a large dining table piled high with food, looking serious and pensive. Brian instinctively stopped at the door, watching the older man. Strangely, all the animosity he’d felt toward the man had vanished, and revisiting his feelings, even the fear he refused to admit existed was different now; it wasn’t fear of violence, but a hefty dose of respect, with a healthy hint of dread. He didn’t even have time to try to figure out what had changed, as Abernathy spotted him and broke into a smile.

“Come on in and grab a bite, son, don’t just stand there like a deer in headlights!” The man said, and while part of Brian’s mind told him he should be anger by that comment, a now dominant part made him smile shyly and head over to the table.

“Excuse me, sir!” He said politely and respectfully.

“Sure thing, son, make yourself at home; things here are simple but done right.”

“Thanks, sir.” Brian replied, serving himself a bit of everything on the table, ending up with a plate piled high, which seemed to please his host.

“That’s a plate fit for a real man!”

“Sorry, Mr. Abernathy; it all looks so good and…”

“No need to apologize, son; that’s a compliment you’re giving my wife’s cooking. And you can call me Roy. That’s what my friends call me.”

Hearing that sparked something in Brian’s mind, some kind of half-forgotten memory, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall it… if he can’t remember it must not be important, right? So, he opted to eat all that delicious food, smiling, again oblivious to the shower of golden sparks surrounding him. But Roy Abernathy couldn’t help but notice, making his smile grow even wider.

Brian devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, time slipping by without him realizing it. He only stopped eating when his belly stretched the elastic of RJ’s shorts, which was no small feat since the man was much stronger than him. Satisfied, he let out a loud burp.

“Burrrpp… sorry, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Once again, that’s a compliment to my wife’s fine cooking, kid; and I already told you, my friends call me Roy.”

“Thanks, Roy… you… you all didn’t have to do this for me, not after… after…”

“After what, son?” Roy asked, with an apparently innocent look.

“After… after…” after what? What did I do to Abernathy? I can’t remember… something about work… my job. “… my job.” Brian mumbled.

“Kid, just ‘cause you’re gonna work for me doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop treating you like a guest.” Roy replied with a smile, sending a shock through Brian’s mind. That information couldn’t be true… or could it? He tried to remember his job, but nothing came to mind; he had gone to college and studied… what? He couldn’t recall. But he knew his job had given him the means to buy the clothes he liked and the car… yeah, his car! There was something about his car.

“And my car…?”

“Oh, right, tomorrow you and RJ can figure out how to fix it. But I gotta tell you, son, there’s only so much an old car can take!”

“Old…? no, no!”

“Oh, I know young folks prefer the term classic, but still… anyway… if I were you, I’d save up for a good reliable pickup, kid! Now head on up; I’m sure you and RJ will want to talk before bed, but tomorrow the day starts bright and early around here.”

“I… I… Roy… there’s something… something…” Brian started as he stood up and headed for the door, unable to finish. He wanted to say there was something weird, something wrong, but he couldn’t.

“Something you wanna tell me, son?”

“Yeah… Mr. Abernathy… Roy…” He struggled to find the right words to express how he felt. “… thanks again!” That was what he finally said, with a fresh wave of golden sparks surrounding him, and any doubt about what he was doing there vanished.

“Thank me with hard work, son; now go to your room.”

Feeling a bit dazed, Brian climbed the stairs and reached the room he shared with RJ. The other man was lying down, apparently asleep, which left Brian feeling a bit down.

He couldn't say why, but he felt the urge to talk to RJ; somehow, he felt like the other man was a special friend he hadn't spoken to in a long time, though that didn't make any sense. He hardly knew the guy; they had barely exchanged words since they met that day... or was it the day his father hired Brian? And when was that? Brian sat on the bed, trying to sort out his thoughts and calm the strange feeling that had taken over him since his car broke down on the road. And why was he on the road if he had gone to the Abernathys to work? He couldn't get very far with those thoughts, as apparently, his movements had woken RJ, who quickly sat up in bed.

“Hey, brother, why didn’t you let me know you were in the room?”

“I didn’t want to wake you; didn’t wanna bother you…”

“Man, it ain’t no bother! We gotta talk about your car, figure out what we’re gonna do!”

“Your dad thinks I should sell it and save up for a pickup!”

“Bro, no way! Dad’s a great guy, but for him, if something ain’t useful for work, it ain’t worth a damn. He’s forgotten what it’s like being a guy our age. And selling a 1969 Ford Mustang? The king of American muscle cars? Only if you’re crazy! I figured with a car like that, you’d know how to appreciate a classic!”

“I… uh… I just didn’t wanna offend your dad, with him being my boss and all…”

“Dude, just be straight with him, and he’ll get it… and forget about the boss stuff… you’re sleeping in his son’s room; you can bet he sees you as more than just an employee.”

“Thanks…” Brian replied awkwardly.

“Come on, enough of that; you’re gonna work with me, hell, you’re sharing a room with me, brother! No need for all that formal junk.” RJ said, grinning before giving Brian a scrutinizing look and asking, “Bro, do you lift?”

“Uh, no… I’ve never been much for working out…”

“So how you ended up working on a farm??”

“Uh… I… went to college… I think, and… I don’t remember…”

“Chill out, brother, I’m just teasing you!But seriously, if you wanna work around here, you gotta pack on some serious muscle.” RJ said, casually scratching his powerful pecs and biceps, making Brian, who had never cared about that kind of thing, feel mesmerized.

“You think… you think I can get as big as you or your dad?” Why was he asking that???

“Ha, dude, nobody’s as big as my dad, and getting to my size is a good journey, but the beauty of the thing is just that, brother; you never settle for the size you are, and I bet with the right training and all the farm work, soon you won’t even recognize yourself.” Hearing that reply filled Brian with a level of contentment he never thought possible.

But before he could try to understand why, RJ went back to talking about cars, and soon the two were discussing their favorite classic models and what they’d do with Brian’s old Mustang. Their conversation flowed like they’d known each other for years and was only interrupted when a very serious Roy Abernathy opened the bedroom door and told the two to hit the hay already, like a couple of mischievous kids being schooled by their dad. Somehow, that thought was comforting to Brian, who quickly fell asleep after Roy turned off the lights and left the room.

He was in a strange place; it looked like a gym. There was a young, skinny but strong guy, as blonde as he was, staring at him. After a few seconds, he realized he was standing in front of a mirror and smiled.

As he dreamed of that, Brian smiled in his sleep on the bed in Roy Junior’s room, his shirt pulled off during the night without him realizing, and golden sparks surrounding him as he moved around happily, unaware that someone was watching him.

“Sleep tight, little brother, ‘cause tomorrow’s when things are really gonna get interesting!”

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Drakel behind the cut; "a pocketful of Kons". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Bruce turns down a side hall and heads for the metal door at the end of it. He still hasn’t said a word since they got here aside from the comment about codenames, and continues in the fine Bat-tradition of not telling them a single friggin’ thing they might need to know as he taps two fingers against the keypad next to the door. It slides open silent and smooth, and Tim tries not to wince as Stud keeps chattering excitedly at Cat and Star and Red while flitting back and forth between Star and Red, Cat still lounging casually in his arms and all three of them seeming entertained by him. 

Tim really, really wishes he understood what the hell was going on there. 

“What the hell,” a baffled-sounding voice says from the other side of the doors, and a Pocket squeaks in surprise. Tim can’t see past Bruce filling up the doorway, but the voice sounded like Green Arrow’s. 

“Bats, please explain why you have a Superman Pocket now,” Green Lantern’s voice says, and Stud startles and looks through the doorway himself, given he’s got a better vantage point than Tim does. “Which literally no one is surprised that you do, for the record, just that it took this long.” 

“They’re not mine,” Bruce replies matter-of-factly as he sweeps through the door, and Tim can finally see past him. The room ahead looks like a meeting room, and it’s mostly dominated by the large circular table in the center of it where Green Arrow, Green Lantern, and the Flash are all sitting with their respective Pockets. “Where’s Wonder Woman? I need to speak with her. The rest of you too.” 

“No idea,” Lantern answers with a matter-of-fact shrug, his Saffie peering curiously at Stud from his shoulder and chittering inquisitively. “She was here this morning, but some friend of hers called and needed her for something in Gateway, so she switched off monitor duty with Hawkwoman and headed back planetside.” 

“I think Canary said something about her calling something in earlier?” Arrow says, scratching at his jaw as he glances towards his Singsong, who’s leaning forward curiously too and making melodic little crooning noises at Stud. “But she didn’t talk to her herself and we were more concerned with digging through the news on that whole bizarre mess in Metropolis, so I don’t actually know what–oh, okay, so you brought up half the belfry today, huh.” 

“Well, only the half of us,” Dick says with a grin, Flash appearing in front of him in an electric rush and the two of them knocking fists lightly in greeting as Flash’s Charger chirps a greeting of her own and peers up assessingly at Stud. Stud jumps like he was startled by the suddenness of Flash’s appearance–which, also weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown again. Flash can’t have been going that fast outside a combat or crisis situation that Stud’s own superspeed wouldn’t clock him. Though in retrospect . . . 

Does Stud actually have Superman’s powerset? He’s been flying, obviously, and he’s clearly more than strong enough to carry another Pocket around without even noticing their weight, but that’s not actually all that much, in terms of superpowers. Flight and enhanced strength are pretty basic ones, in fact, and Stud hasn’t even shown particularly impressive levels of either. 

Shapeshifting is less basic, but whether Stud has that or not is a whole different question anyway. 

Tim . . . probably should not have assumed that Stud would have Superman’s powerset, come to think. Or definitely should not have assumed Stud would have Superman’s powerset, more like. 

“Is the guy yours, man?” Flash asks skeptically, and Dick snorts. 

“Yeah, no, Red’s still annoyed over Star popping up, don’t think she’d forgive me getting a third Pocket,” he says wryly. “Robin woke up to him about six and a half hours ago.” 

Flash–pauses. Pauses for what is a very noticeable length of time, coming from a speedster. So do Green Arrow and Green Lantern. 

“That is a whole-ass adult man,” Flash says frankly, visibly raising an eyebrow even behind his cowl, and Stud looks briefly conflicted but then just scowls at him. “So, respectfully: what the hell?” 

“Yeah, we’re still figuring that out,” Dick says with a sigh and a shrug. Charger twitters up at Stud, who startles again and then abruptly abandons Cat on his shoulder and zips back behind Tim and–hides, again, for lack of a better word, same as he did when she and Star and Red were sitting down at the table and expecting him to come over and sit with them. Given that Charger is just as pretty as–well, not Star, because Starfire is in a whole league of her own, frankly–but is at least as pretty as Cat and Red, it’s still not a reaction Tim actually understands. 

Though there’s a lot of things about Stud that Tim doesn’t understand so far, obviously. 

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS

CHAPTER FOUR: POOL

synopsis: during breakfast with the Skywalker family, you try to stay away from Anakin, but it seems that one way or another, his hands always end up on you.

warning: SEXUAL CONTENT, age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, fingering, semi-public

words: 3.1k (got a little carried away)

a/n: hello there, this chapter has sexual content, a brief introduction to my intentions for this fanfic, anyway, I hope you like it, enjoy reading ;)

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, but it couldn’t burn away the haze of last night’s memories. Sleep had been a restless labyrinth of dreams—each scene replaying Anakin Skywalker’s touch, his intense gaze, and the tension that had simmered between you. The way his hand had held your ankle, warm and firm, sending shocks of electricity through you. The way his thigh brushed against yours in the pool, the charged silence heavy with everything unspoken.

What if we hadn’t been interrupted? The thought spiraled, both thrilling and terrifying. Part of you clung to relief—you were here, unscathed, with no irreversible mistakes. But was it a mistake? A dangerous whisper in the back of your mind admitted that you’d rather regret tasting his lips than regret never knowing.

A knock at the door jolted you back to reality. Luke’s voice called, “Breakfast by the pool. You coming?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back on the pillow before dragging yourself out of bed. The white bikini you chose felt simple yet daring, enhancing your figure in a way that made you feel exposed and powerful all at once. You threw on a sheer beach cover-up and slid into your flip-flops, grabbing your bag to follow Luke.

The deck was alive with quiet conversations, the hum of voices blending with the gentle lapping of water. Tables draped in crisp linen were laden with an extravagant breakfast spread—vividly colored fruits, delicate pastries, and steaming carafes of coffee. Guests, dressed in resort-chic, mingled under the shade of large umbrellas.

“Let’s sit with Leia,” Luke suggested, already piling his plate high with cakes and fruits. You shook your head, amused, and made your own selection before following him.

“Did you sleep well?” Leia’s voice broke through your thoughts. She watched you with a curious gleam, a hint of something unspoken in her eyes.

Before you could respond, Padmé joined, carrying a cup of coffee and a small bowl of fruit. Her grace was impeccable, a calm veneer that belied the tension simmering beneath. “Good morning, my dears. May I join you?”

“Sure, Mom,” Luke said through a mouthful of pastry, pulling out a chair.

“I thought the senators would monopolize your attention.” She smirked knowingly, her teasing tone reminding you of her father.

Their banter washed over you as you scanned the deck. The entire family was here—except for Anakin. Your eyes drifted, searching, your heart thrumming with an anxious energy you couldn’t suppress. Where is he? Was there another argument? Did he and Padmé fight again? No, probably not, the senator looked so good this morning, as if she had left her husband's drunken singing in the past.

Before you could spiral further, movement at the pool caught your eye. Anakin emerged, the water cascading off him in silver rivulets. His sandy hair clung to his forehead, darkened by the moisture. He flexed his arms, hoisting himself up with an easy grace that belied the raw strength beneath.

The water sluiced off Anakin's body in mesmerizing rivulets as he climbed out of the pool, each drop glistening like liquid diamonds in the moonlight. Your eyes traced the lines of his form, drinking in every detail—the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his chest, the trail of droplets that flowed over the ridges of his abdomen. Each breath he took caused his muscles to shift and flex, a tantalizing display of raw power barely contained beneath smooth skin.

Your mouth went dry as you watched, transfixed, unable to tear your gaze away. Desire coiled tight in your belly, hot and insistent, as forbidden images flashed through your mind. Thoughts of those strong hands on your body, caressing and claiming, igniting fires wherever they touched. Of those full lips, trailing kisses along your skin, tasting, teasing, driving you mad with want.

You squirmed on the bench, pressing your thighs together as a fresh wave of arousal flooded you. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable, your body crying out for his touch. You knew it was wrong, knew that the gulf between you—in age, in status, in relationship—made any dalliance dangerous. But in that moment, lost in the haze of lust, none of it seemed to matter.

Anakin turned, water streaming from his hair, and fixed you with a heated look, his eyes dark and knowing. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he walked, each step deliberately, predatory. Your breath caught in your throat, pulse hammering in your ears as he drew close.

Anakin reaches the table, the sunlight glinting off his damp skin, rivulets of water trailing down his chiseled physique. He shook his head playfully, droplets spraying in all directions, eliciting a delighted squeal from Leia and a soft, exasperated laugh from Padmé. Anakin leaned over, pressing a lingering kiss on his wife's cheek in a casual gesture of affection. Yet, over her shoulder, his eyes met yours, the intensity in their depths sending a shiver down your spine.

The weight of his gaze was palpable, a silent promise of the forbidden desires that simmered just beneath the surface. You couldn't look away, your heart racing as unspoken words passed between you. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a heated exchange that no one else seemed to notice.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, your body responding to the unspoken invitation in his eyes. The air between you crackled with tension, electric and dangerous. You knew you should look away, should put an end to this dangerous game before it went too far. But you were drawn to him, moth to flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the moment ended. Anakin straightened, his attention returning to his family, the mask of the dutiful husband and father slipping back into place. But you couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, the memory of that shared look searing itself into your mind.

As you sat there, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of his family, your thoughts drifted to the stolen moments you'd shared, the forbidden touches and heated glances. You knew it was wrong, you knew that the gulf between you was too wide to bridge. But in that moment, lost in the haze of desire, none of it seemed to matter. All that mattered was him, and the promise of pleasure that lurked in his eyes.

“So, who’s up for a swim?” Anakin’s voice carried an edge of playful energy, his eyes twinkling as he leaned back, stealing a grape from Padmé’s bowl. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, his gaze lingering on the group.

Leia glanced at the pool, her brown eyes thoughtful. “Maybe later,” she said, absentmindedly tracing patterns on her plate with her fork.

Padmé shook her head politely, her smile a practiced mask of composure. 

“Not right now, dad.” Luke echoed her, grumbling about being busy, already busy on his phone.

You bit into a ripe strawberry, the juice slipping down your lip. Anakin’s eyes followed the drop, his tongue darting out to lick his own lips. The air seemed to thicken between you, his gaze like a touch.

“And you, daughter-in-law?” His voice dropped a note lower, his smile teasing as he ran a hand through his still-wet hair. Droplets shimmered against the sunlight. “Want to get wet?”

Your breath caught. You looked away, biting your lower lip, a war raging inside. The pool beckoned, a tempting escape from the oppressive heat—and from your own tangled thoughts. But there was danger here, the kind that whispered to your most reckless desires. Could you trust yourself not to fall deeper into something you couldn’t undo?

“I don’t…” The words stuck in your throat, but before you could decide, Luke’s voice cut in.

“Come on, I know you’ve been dying to get in that pool since we arrived.” He elbowed you, grinning. “Enjoy it. You deserve to relax.”

If only he knew. Each word felt like a push toward the edge, toward the very temptation you were trying to resist.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost reluctant. You stood, slipping off your beach cover-up. The white bikini clung to you, and you felt Anakin’s eyes trace every line of your body. His gaze was intense, appreciative in a way that made your skin flush and your pulse quicken.

He offered his hand, the gesture simple yet loaded with unspoken promises. You took it, his grip warm and firm, sending a spark up your arm. The conversation at the table resumed behind you, distant now, like the murmuring of waves.

Padmé’s eyes flicked toward you both, a shadow of something unnameable crossing her face as Anakin led you toward the pool. She watched for a moment, her expression unreadable, before turning back to Leia’s voice.

The deck’s heat faded into the cool shimmer of the pool, but the fire inside you only burned hotter. Each step toward the water felt like a step toward something inevitable. You knew you should stop, pull back—but with Anakin’s hand in yours, restraint felt like a distant memory.

Anakin jumped into the pool, the splash sending a cascade of cool droplets toward you. A soft gasp escaped your lips as the water hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine. The contrast between the scorching deck and the sudden chill sent goosebumps racing over your body.

“Come on, get in,” he called, his voice low and inviting, as he glided effortlessly through the water. The pool was deserted, the breakfast chatter on the deck fading into a distant hum.

You hesitated, biting your lip, the anticipation a knot in your stomach. Finally, you slid to the edge, dipping your toes in before pushing off. The cold water enveloped you, a sharp contrast to the heat still lingering in your skin. You surfaced, breathless, your hair slicked back, droplets clinging to your lashes.

Anakin watched you, a slow, amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes lingered on the way you wrinkled your nose, the tiny tremors of goosebumps across your arms. He swam toward you, the water parting easily around his broad shoulders.

“Cold?” he teased, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the water. He stopped just inches away, the edge of the pool pressing cool and firm against your back.

His closeness made the air feel thin, the water warmer. “Need me to warm you up?” The words were low, almost a purr, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and inviting.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes darting to the deck. The others were still engrossed in their conversations, oblivious. The fear of being caught tangled with something else—something dark and thrilling.

Anakin followed your gaze, leaning in until his breath brushed against your ear. “No one’s paying attention to us,” he whispered, his voice a warm caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

The pool seemed to shrink around you, the world narrowing to just the space between you and him. The water lapped gently against your skin, but it was his presence, his nearness, that set you alight, a fire that no amount of cold water could extinguish.

Anakin reached out, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the feather-light touch sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled under his cares, the sensation amplified by the cool water lapping at your skin. He smiled smugly, his eyes darkening with appreciation at your reaction.

His hand slid down your arm, fingertips skimming the curve of your shoulder, dipping dangerously close to the edge of your bikini top. Your breath caught in your throat as his touch brushed the side of your breast, the brief contact sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your chest. He continued his exploration, his hand gliding down your spine, his touch a sensual caress that left a trail of fire in his wake.

When he reached your hip, his hand cupped your belly, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, igniting a hunger deep within you. You were frozen, pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze, afraid that any movement, any sound, would break the spell and make this moment fade away.

His thumb traced lazy circles on your thigh, the touch both soothing and maddening, teasing you with its proximity to where you think to be touched. Lower and lower his hand crept, until he was skimming the edge of your bikini bottoms. You bit your lip, stifling the moan that threatened to escape, praying that Padmé and the others were too thickened in their own conversations to notice the charged exchange playing out mere feet away.

"You're blushing, darling," Anakin murmured, his voice a low purr that sent shivers dancing down your spine. His eyes flickered to your flushed cheeks, the corners of his mouth curving into a knowing smile. "Flattered by my attention, are we?"

You couldn't respond, couldn't find the words to express the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you. 

Anakin's thumb rolled over your most intimate place through the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms, the pressure igniting a fire deep within you. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your breathing growing ragged as he caressed you, stoking the flames of your desire. He smiled, pleased by the effect he was having on you, his eyes dark with lust and possession.

"Shhh, angel," he murmured against your hair, his breath hot on your skin. "You don't want them to hear you."

His fingers deftly pushed your bikini bottoms aside, exposing your sensitive folds to the cool water. A gasp escaped your lips at the sudden contact, your body trembling with anticipation. Anakin's fingers teased your most intimate places, his touch both gentle and exciting, building the tension within you with each deliberate stroke.

"So wet already," he purred, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Is this all for me, angel?"

You couldn't respond, lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers danced over your sensitive flesh. The water lapped at your bodies, hiding your illicit activities from the prying eyes around you. Anakin's other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he continued his sensual torture, his fingers circling your clit, dipping into your entrance, teasing you with the promise of more.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice husky with desire. "I want to see your face when I touch you."

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his intense gaze. The heat in his eyes feels a shiver down your spine, the forbidden nature of your encounter only heightens your arousal. Anakin's fingers moved faster, pressing harder, his touch relentless in its pursuit of your pleasure.

Your body tensed, coiling tighter with each deliberate stroke, the tension building to an unbearable peak. Anakin's fingers moved faster, pressing harder. "That's it, angel," he encouraged, his voice low and seductive. "Let me feel you"

Your thighs trembled, your hands gripping the edge of the pool for dear life as he brought you to the edge. His eyes never left yours, drinking in every micro-expression, every quivering breath. The intensity of his gaze only heightened your pleasure, the forbidden nature of your encounter adding fuel to the fire that consumed you.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he purred, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. "I can feel how much you want it, how much you need it."

A whimper escaped your lips, muffled by your fist as you fought to contain the impending explosion. Your walls clenched around his probing fingers, desperate for more, for the release that hovered just out of reach. Anakin's eyes darkened with lust, a triumphant smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you unravel.

"Come for me, angel," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative growl. "Let go, give yourself to me."

With a final, powerful thrust of his fingers, he feels you tumbling into heaven, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your back arched, a silent scream tearing from your throat as ecstasy consumed you. Anakin held you steady, his fingers still moving, prolonging your pleasure until you shook with the force of it.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips. Your eyes widened as he sucked them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digits coated in your essence. He groaned, the sound lost beneath the splash of the water, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Delicious”

Your heart raced, desire and shame warring within you as you watched Anakin walk away, his casual demeanor at odds with the intensity of what had just transpired. The casualness with which he winked at you, as if he hadn't just brought you to the brink of ecstasy, felt a thrill of excitement through you, even as it filled you with a sick sense of longing.

You glanced at the table where the Skywalker family sat, oblivious to the forbidden attempt that had just taken place mere feet away. Padmé laughed at something Leia said, her eyes bright with maternal love. Your stomach twisted with guilt, the weight of your betrayal threatening to crush you. You had allowed your desire to override your better judgment, risking everything for a fleeting moment of pleasure.

Anakin's parting words echoed in your mind, his mischievous tone sending a shiver down your spine. "See you later, angel. I still want to taste you in my mouth." The promise in his voice was clear, a tantalizing hint of what was to come. 

You knew you should put an end to this dangerous game, should focus on Luke, he was your best friend, after all, and you were lusting after his father.  But the memory of Anakin's touch, the way he made you feel, was too powerful to resist.

With a heavy sigh, you ducked beneath the surface of the water, hoping to cool the burning desire that still coursed through your veins. But even as you submerged yourself, you knew it was futile. Your desire for Anakin only grew stronger with each passing moment, a forbidden fruit too tempting to ignore.

As you surfaced, you caught Anakin's eye from across the pool. He smiled, a secret, knowing look that felt a thrill of anticipation through you. You looked away, your heart pounding in your chest, your body aching for his touch. 

You knew you were playing with fire, but at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All that mattered was the promise of more stolen moments, more forbidden pleasures, and the man  who could make you forget everything but the touch of his hands on your skin.

[billysadventure]

It looks like something has been dropped beside you billy! Check that out, it appears to me to be a phone!

Cyberbullying

You’re right! He’s not sure he can use it to call for help, what with the ropes and all, but maybe it will have some valuable information on it, like the time! Or where he is. That’s probably important too

It’s a group chat. He guesses it’s probably between the two guards who were watching him. The texts read:

1: (cut off text)

1: Anyways

1: Why we guarding this kid like he’s the damn joker?

2: Idk bro, but money is money. If Thunder King wants to throw his riches at us to guard someone ‘dangerous’, then we act like he’s dangerous.

2: I sure ain’t complaining

1: I still think the guys crazy

1: Kid looks like still air could knock him over lmfao

2: FR

Were the insults really necessary?

He’s incredibly saddened by the fact he couldn’t find the time. All he learned is that the boss is likely the fellow called “Thunder King” (Which he’s pretty sure is a rip off of his own title, but whatever,) and that the goons are really rude.

He tries to use the phone with his nose, but the tape covering it doesn’t register to the screen. He’s sure this wasn't an intentional setback as the goons seem pretty incompetent so far. He’s lucky they remembered to poke air holes!

Masterlist || First || Previous || Next

[slayfics]

You make Hawks a coffee.

900 words

Keigo watched from your balcony as you sauntered around your kitchen and living room. Tending to various tasks, while scrolling idly on your phone in between.

It occurred to him this was stalking but he couldn’t bring himself to knock and announce his presence yet. Even though he was on a short schedule he lingered a few more moments watching you.

It was captivating to see you in your house clothes, being a regular citizen. It was such a contrast to the hero you were to the public.

Feeling the moment was becoming too intimate he knocked on the glass, causing you to jump and turn your attention to the balcony.

Keigo threw his hand up in a wave, his signature “Heyo,” recognizable even through the glass that muted his voice.

You slide the baloney door open allowing Keigo to come inside. Before you could even ask, he was explaining his unexpected visit.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, I just need to pop in really quick to ask your help with something,” he announced.

You looked him over still startled and confused. He wasn’t in his hero costume, just a plain white shirt and comfy joggers.

“Yeah of course, what do you need?” You asked your surprise wearing off but interest peaking.

Keigo sat down on your couch as you eyed him expectantly.

“That villain we ran into yesterday, could you tell me what he looked like?” Keigo asked.

Your head tilted in curiosity, arms crossed, “Uh yeah, but you were there, you saw him too. Is everything ok?” You replied, wondering why Keigo would need your description of the villain.

“I know, I’m just trying to make sure I have all the accurate information. Still working to track them down, so anything helps.” He explained further, gold eyes locked onto yours.

“Sure,” you agreed looking over him again. This time you noticed how exhausted he looked. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and the whites of his eyes were plagued with redness. It was plain to see he had been straining himself. “Well, the villain was pretty average-looking. I’m not surprised you’re having trouble. They had black hair, brown eyes, and an average height of probably 171cm… Oh! But they did have a scar on their nose, it looked like it had been broken before,” you recalled.

Keigo flung his face into his hands, “Why didn’t I notice that,” he called out frustrated. Running his hands over his face. The redness in his eyes grew with exasperation.

“There was a lot going on in that encounter-,” you tried to rationalize with him, but he quickly cut you off.

“I’m fast enough to observe everything in a fight, I shouldn’t have missed that detail. I could have tracked him down by now if I was more alert.” He said sternly.

“Hawks, it hasn’t even been 24 hours since that happened.” You argued.

“That’s way too long. Who knows what damage they could have done by now. Who else they could have hurt. Alright, I’m off, thanks for the help.” He said standing up from the couch.

“Wait!” You called out before he could make it back to the balcony.

“Hm?” He hummed, turning around.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You asked softly.

“Don’t be ridiculous I’m fine. No need to worry about me,” he said with his signature smile. But it didn’t shine the way it used to, and the stress he was under was all too apparent.

“Keigo, you need to rest.” You said more authoritatively, daring to use his first name even though he completely outranked you.

His smile vanished and his eyes squinted piercing through you, but he didn’t scold you. “I told you I’m fine.” He said dryly.

“You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve been taking on too much."

“Hey if I don’t who will. Besides, this is lightweight. Just for a few more things to finish up on and I’ll be done for the night,” he said dismissing your concern.

“You haven’t slept since that encounter yesterday, have you?” You questioned.

Keigo let out a sigh, “I’m sorry but I don’t have time for this,” he said sliding the balcony open.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard. I understand people need you, but that’s exactly why you have to take care of yourself. You can’t keep this pace up without collapsing soon,” you said following him out to the balcony, stretching out his wings and preparing to leave.

Keigo looked at the ground processing your words before speaking, “I know…,” he admitted quietly. “I promise I’ll rest after I get this villain alright? I can’t rest when there’s a job to do.”

You huffed unsatisfied with his answer, “Fine. I understand… but at least let me make you a coffee first? I can make it sweet.” You said trying to entice him.

Keigo smiled, “Alright fine. You make it hard to say no. But I got to take it to go, ok?”

“You got it, come sit down inside while I make it,” you suggested, walking back inside.

It wasn’t much, but you got Keigo to sit on the couch for a moment while you made him up a coffee in one of your tumblers. Deciding that getting the hero who moves too fast for his own good to relax for one moment was a win enough.

sinners: @unofficialsapphire @mintsbubbletea @starieqqq

[b-lossm]

•+*I'm high and I'm bi-- WAIT I mean I'm straight*+•

Sevika x highfem!reader

Synopsis: after smoking with her at a party you accidentally tell her you like her because she looks smoking hawt :P

warning: getting high, obviously, but neither of them r stoners, guys tbh idk how to write smoking I dont do it 😭

Also idk if its like clarified but Sevika still has a mech arm, don't ask me how because she's a broke college student

You where invited to this listening party for this music group by Sevika, while asking you for your address she said something about a WolfGang or a WeirdFuture?? idk you don't get it, you where too focused in on the fact that your biggest crush invited you to this party "So I'll pick you up at 6?" she gives you a sly smirk "Oh! um yeah.." you smile awkwardly, your makeup; thankfully, covers up your bright red face, but your ears betray you "you nervous or somethin'?" she moves a little closer, she can smell your vanilla perfume you put on just moments before when you saw her coming, see the tiny, tiny hearts you put at the end of your eyeliner "you smell nice" Sevika chuckles and backs up, starting to walk away "See ya later angel"

oh see her later you did...

When she picked you up you wouldn't have known it but she was giving herself a pep talk, telling herself that she had the responsibility of keeping you all safe and nice, if she didn't the idea of kissing you goodnight was out of the window.

As you put on your shoes and your perfume you hear a knock on the door "Coming!!" rushing over to the door you quickly check yourself in the mirror to make sure you look nice for her while grabbing your purse with the cute little keychains that you and Sevika match with, her's stays on the carabiner that lives on one of the left beltloop of her jeans-- anyways you then open the door to see her in a outfit that matched yours in a more masculine way "oh? so your copying me now Angel?" She teases, resting her arm against the doorframe to lean towards you "o--oh no, um, its okay! I could um change!" bullshit, you had no idea what the freak to wear other then that "Nahh keep it" she chuckles, looking you up and down, stopping at your plush lips "S' real cute.." Sevika stands up straight, leading you to her truck and opening the passengers seat for you, even buckling you in "Ya' ready Angel?" she looks to you for a second before starting her car "um.. yeah!" you smile nervously as you play with the edge of your cardigan "Hey, none of that Angel" Sevika reaches over and offers her hand to play with so you don't mess up your clothes

The drive to the Venue was quiet short, it was filled with you and Sevika talking about random stuff, but eventually it turned into Sevika warning you about what's probably gonna happen at the party "But don't worry Princess, I wont let anyone pressure you into doing stuff you wouldn't wanna" Sevika grabs your hand and squeezes it a few times to reassure you that your safe with her. You look away and giggle softly "Thank you Sevika.." you smile softly at her and squeeze her hand back. You two then pull up to the venue, a warehouse but not the abandoned type "We're here, you still wanna do this Angel?" Sevika checks in on you one last time "Let's go 'Vika" you smile back at her, nerves practically gone as she comes around to your door to unbuckle and help you out

--

Well you never thought you'd be doing this. Currently your cuddled up next to Sevika on this couch outside- away from the noise of this guy singing about Tamales while smoking a blunt one of her friends named Domo rolled "hehehehhe" you giggle at her she can tell-- you are gone "You okay Angel? Having a good trip babes?" she blows smoke from her nose, leaving stars in your eyes "S-Sevikakaaaaaa" you whine "y--your too hot! a--and you keep teasin' me!" she blushes and chuckles "fuck.." she mumbles "Not on purpose Angel" "bullshit" you giggle and cuddle deeper into her, causing her to hoist you up on her lap "agghhghhh you caught me" Sevika blows more smoke out of her nose while chuckling and passing the blunt to you "t-this is m' laaast one.." you giggle and take a puff, knowing that was a lie "H--Hey S'vika...y--ya knnow.....I--I realllly really like you.." you giggle into her neck and pass it back to her.

Sevika's world stops for a second, she had a hunch that you where into girls but always dismissed it, she chuckles and takes it "Oh really? This isn't the Green talking right..? you didn't take anything while I looked away hm?" Sevika starts to rub shapes into your side "n-nuh uh... i- i write about you in my journal like,, like,, everyday" your practically melting into her touch "hmm.. interesting,, I think we should take you home now right Angel?" you whine softly and she coos in your ear "Cant have this Angel not sleeping in her bed hm? I'll get the uber" as she pulls out her phone you tug at her arm "H--hey that guy just said some lyric that is so mee Sevika!" you giggle "M' high and i'm bi" you repeat the line in a sing-song voice "Is that so.." Sevika unfortunately pulls you off of her lap and then guides you to the front towards your uber "Lets go, we can get m' truck tommrow"

--

The next day you wake up with a start, a dry throat and a fuzzy head, and a certain 6 foot woman standing at your doorframe "boo" she chuckles as you jump a little bit "I- um.. I made breakfast" she looks away, "you should come eat before it gets all cold angel.." she walks off into your kitchen with you in tow, smiling as you see the breakfast sandwich she made you two "aww thanks Sevika" you sit next to her, not wanting the table to get in the way of you two "so um.. what happened last night?" 'please don't say we fucked and i don't remember-- please please don't say we fucked and i don't remember--' you repeat in your head as you try to nonchalantly eat your sandwich but you look like a blushing mess "you don't remember?" she smiles teasingly "we got high at this party and you told me you liked me" 'oh fuck that's worse' "O--Oh!" Sevika leans in to kiss your head "Don't worry it was cute.. afterwards we caught an uber and I took off your makeup, changed you then we slept okay? Nothing happened don't worry" chuckling she moves back to eat her sandwich, almost choking on it as she feels your soft lips press against the corner of hers "M' glad that's settled.. thank you for taking such good care of me.." while coughing she looks away "Its um-- noproblemi'lldoanythingforyou" she mumbles and quickly scarfs down her sandwich while you giggle, who knew the scariest senior on campus was such a softie all for you..

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I love OddFuture :P

upnext

sevika 1

hcs 1

sevika 2

hcs 2

change 3 and possibly 4

sevika 3

[spiderb00]

Fam out 2 - Sophia Laforteza

Sophia Laforteza X Reader 

Synopsis - Sophia still loves when you're caring, she REALLY loves it! 

Genre – Fluff, still a little suggestive at the end ;) 

a/n - Thank you anon who asked for this, I wasn't going to do second part but I loved it, so here it is <3  request

Part 1 Part 2

MAMA 2024 happened, the girls on stage, the bright lights, the well-executed choreography, the excitement, it all happened very fast. One moment the girls were on stage and the next Sophia was in your arms. The Filipino girl seemed happy and relieved that it was over, the comfort of your arms helped Sophia's breathing to calm down and everything seemed perfect.   

Until you hear unregulated breathing. But not like that one when you're just tired, no, that one looked different. Moving away from Sophia slightly, you can see a Yoonchae seemingly hyperventilating. And then it was like everything got a little murky. 

"Yoonchae, are you okay?" You said, your hand linked to Sophia's as you dragged the black-haired girl closer to the youngest.   

Panic set in when the younger girl didn't respond verbally, just looking at you with tears in her eyes. It seemed that Yoonchae's legs would give way at any moment, and that's exactly what happened. Your sixth sense helped hold the girl before her knees hit the ground. 

"CAN SOMEONE BRING A CHAIR, PLEASE!" You screamed.   

"There's a sofa in the dressing room, can you take it?" A staff member says as he points the way.    

You gently took Yoonchae in your arms, carrying it in bridal style. As you followed the staff, you could hear Sophia trying to calm the girls, who were coming quickly after you. 

"Yoonchae, dear, keep your eyes open, breathe with me, I'm here, okay. It's going to be okay." You repeated it like a mantra. 

"It's going to be okay," was what you kept repeating in your head, knowing that staying calm was best in this situation, because that way you had a better chance of calming Yoonchae down faster, and wouldn't leave the Kats in total panic.   

Laying Yoonchae on the couch, you asked someone to get some water, Megan quickly stepping up. Daniela tried to stay calm along with Lara, the two wondering if they could do something to calm the situation.  

"Yoonchae, here, I'm here. Breathe along with me, okay?" The younger girl shaking her head.   

Yoonchae tried to imitate the speed of your breathing, holding your hand, the younger girl looked into your eyes. Megan had handed the bottle of water to Sophia, who was now looking at the scene with a heavy heart.     

As Yoonchae's breathing calmed, everyone's nerves were lowered. Still holding your hand, Yoonchae drank water, receiving scratches on her head, from Sophia. Your girlfriend now looking at you, when your eyes met, you felt relieved, the comfort of knowing that you managed to handle the situation.   

As the leader of Katseye, sometimes Sophia was called to meetings and things like that, you didn't know much, but you knew that whenever Sophia came home, all she wanted was to sleep clinging to you.   

So today, you decided to go to the Kats' house to wait for your girlfriend to arrive, greeting the girls when you arrived and going to the room that Sophia shared with Yoonchae. You knocked before entering, even though Yoonchae was probably asleep. But the biggest surprise was when the younger girl opened the door.   

"Hey Yoonchae, I thought you were sleeping. I brought you some things." You said lifting the bag so the girl could see.   

"What did you bring?" She asked, dragging you inside.   

"Nothing much, just a few snacks." you said.  

Minutes later you and Yoonchae were lying in the younger one's bed, a movie Yoonchae chose playing on TV while you and the younger one devoured the snacks you had bought. 

When the door to the room was opened, none of you noticed. Sophia, who had finally arrived from a meeting, quickly got a warm heart watching the scene. The movie was still playing on television, but you and Yoonchae had been asleep for a long time. The younger girl's head resting on your shoulder, by this time Yoonchae had a blanket wrapped around herself, while you froze to death. The bag of snacks was almost empty, only one package of candy was closed, Sophia recognized that, they were her favorites.  

The Filipino girl wasted no time, taking a picture of you and Yoonchae and making a mental note to post later on her Instagram. Lightly kissing your cheek, Sophia went straight to the shower, she couldn't wait to join you two. 

Olivia Rodrigo's concert seemed like a dream for Sophia and Yoonchae. They were both extremely excited and even if you couldn't keep up with their excitement, it was great to see your favorite girls so happy.   

 Now, you've always been a calm person, few people had really seen a more aggressive side of you. Today, you didn't expect to be stressed, despite the huge queues and the large concentration of people in the same place, you were happy because Sophia and Yoonchae were happy. But now, you were no longer sure about it.   

Forgetting your wallet in the car seemed like a normal thing, at least boring, I mean, people forget things all the time. Leaving Sophia and Yoonchae in line, you quickly went to your car and grabbed your wallet, oh, how you wished you hadn't done that.   

As you walked closer to the girls, you can clearly see a guy hitting on Sophia. Normally this wouldn't make you so angry, but the fact that the guy was trying to hold Sophia against the wall made his blood boil. Getting closer you can hear Yoonchae say something, but all your decency was thrown into the air when you heard him reply "Shut up brat," while still holding Sophia to the wall with his arms. 

Coming up behind the guy, you can see the look of relief on your girlfriend's face, which soon turned to concern when you grabbed the guy by the back of the sweatshirt he was wearing.   

"Stay away from her, you fucking idiot." You said, holding on tight as the guy struggled.   

Looking at the boy's face for the first time, you can see how pathetic he looked. He was a little shorter than you and slightly taller than Sophia, he looked like he was about nineteen and had horrible bangs.   

"Sorry, please, I thought she was single." The boy said, it felt like he was about to start crying.   

"I said she had her girlfriend you idiot." Yoonchae said glancing at the boy.   

"And I told you to shut up!" The boy answered without thinking.   

"HEY!" By shifting the grip from the back to the front of the boy's sweatshirt, you pulled him up to your eye level. "You'll never talk to her like that again, do you understand?"  

The boy quickly shook his head. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know she was with you, please let me go."  

Not wanting to get in trouble with the security guards and also not wanting to ruin the girls' night even more, you let go of the boy with brutality, which made him trip and fall on his butt on the floor.   

"Get the hell out of here before I change my mind, you asshole."  

The boy ran away making you snort with such mediocrity.   

 "Wow, I had never seen that Yn side of you, it was always the calm Yn." Yoonchae said, while laughing.  

Sophia just looked at you with a smile.   

"Sometimes idiots make me mad." 

Finally you could enter the stadium to find your seats. With Yoonchae a little in front, without leaving your view, you felt Sophia grab your bicep as she leaned close to your ear.   

"That guy was an idiot, but I kind of enjoyed seeing you all mad..." The Filipino girl said as she bit her lower lip.   

"You liked it, did you?" you asked, seeing Sophia shake her head positively, knowing exactly where this was going.  

"I'll show you how much I enjoyed it when we get home."    

____________________________

damn, I have to stop making the endings always seem suggestive (I won't stop)

[bullet-prooflove]

Buck + ferry ⛴️ flowers 💐 firetruck 🚒

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @sophiah2253 @qutequeersstuff @gatefleet

Buck meets you at Catalina Island during a call out. You’re dangling from a top rope halfway down a cliff face, rendering first aid to another climber, whose hanging 50 feet up in the air after knocking himself unconscious. It takes them a while to get down to you, they’ve come by air rescue because the fire truck can’t make the ferry trip to the island. They have to find the right anchor points to rappel down safely, bringing their kit and a backboard with them.

He can tell you’re on the job from the way you relay the information regarding the other Luis, the other climber’s condition. You use the same terminology, talk in a calm precise manner and you’re not squeamish, especially not about the bone that’s sticking out of the guy’s arm.

“They’ll get him down and then I’ll clip you in with me, the two of us we’ll go down together ok?” He says to you as Eddie and Chim begin to guide Luis’s form further down the cliff face.

“Honey,” You drawl, fixing him with a shrewd stare. “Trust me, I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way down.”

Honey…

For some reason the term makes Buck’s cheeks color.

As you start the descent it becomes clear to him that you’re a skilled climber, your movements are smooth, careful and in coordination with his own. The two of you set a quick pace as you abseil down the cliff. If it were any other circumstance he’d probably find it fun, but Luis has just woken up and he’s screaming blue murder because he’s just realised his forearm looks like something out of a gore movie.

“You’re one of us aren’t you.” He says when you both reach the bottom and you give him a quizzical look as you unclip the carabiner from your rope. “A firefighter?”

“Mountain rescue.” You tell him loosening the harness around your waist. “I usually work out of the national park. Today’s my day off, I thought I’d get some time in on a different rockface so I came out here to the island and then-” You gesture to Luis, shaking your head. “- your guy over there ends up bashing himself on a couple of boulders trying to get a picture with those flowers sticking out for the ‘gram.”

He's about to respond when Bobby calls out to him, he turns his head to acknowledge the words and by the time he turns back you’re already walking away to pack up your kit. He guesses you won’t be doing much more climbing today.

He can’t stop thinking about you on the way back, he takes out his phone and Googles the Los Angeles Mountain Rescue website, he finds your name on the Team Section. He spends the rest of the shift going through your Instagram feed, scrolling through your pictures, getting a sense of the person you are.

Fun, adventurous, a little wild, a little soft.

All traits that appeal to Buck in a partner.

“Are you gonna keep cyber stalking her?” Chimney asks as he drops down on the couch alongside him. “Or are you actually gonna do something about it?”

Sliding into your DMs reminds him of his dating app days and Buck, he’s not looking for something casual, he wants to settle down, experience something real.

It’s a few days later that you run into each other, literally. He’s grabbing a smoothie order for the firehouse when he collides with you in the doorway, he’s skimming through your feed again, whilst you have your eyes fixed firmly on your own screen. He apologises as he knocks the phone out of your hand, bending down to pick it up and that’s when he sees it. His profile live on your screen. It looks like he’s not the only one that’s been doing a little cyber stalking.

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the other day.” He says as he hands the phone back to you. “I’m Buck.”

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[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 14

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, funeral setting

Y/n’s POV

The soft chime of the bell above the bridal studio’s door signals the end of my shift. I tidy up the counter, brush a few stray threads from my clothes, and grab my bag. It’s been a long day of fittings and consultations, but my excitement about tonight keeps me energized.

Chris is meeting my parents tonight. The thought alone sends a nervous flutter through my stomach, but it’s a good kind of nervous.

On my way out, I stop by the cafe down the street to grab two lattes and a croissant for Willow. It’s become something of a tradition to visit her after my shifts, especially when I need a pep talk. With everything going on tonight, I need her calming advice more than ever.

Willow’s apartment is buzzing with energy when I arrive. She’s blasting music in the kitchen while unpacking groceries, a pair of fluffy slippers on her feet.

“You’re a lifesaver” she says, grabbing the coffee from my hand and taking a sip. “Ugh, perfect. Come in, sit!”

I settle onto her couch, pulling the croissant out of the bag and sliding it across the table to her. “Figured you could use this.”

“You know me too well” she says with a grin, taking a bite.

As she eats, I fill her in on the news. “So.. my parents are meeting my boyfriend tonight.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “BOYFRIEND?!”

I nod, though the flutter of nerves in my chest betrays me. “Yeah, it feels right. I mean, he’s really trying, you know? So he’s coming over for dinner.”

Willow leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies me. “How’s he doing after today, though? With the funeral and all?”

I freeze mid sip of my coffee. “Funeral?”

Her expression shifts, suddenly cautious. “Wait, he didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head, my mind racing. Why didn’t he mention this? Now I feel stupid.

“Yeah” Willow continues, her voice softer now. “I heard it was today, Chris must’ve been there.”

I nod slowly, unsure how to process this new information. A funeral. A funeral. And he hadn’t said a word to me about it.

Part of me feels hurt, like I’ve been left out of something important. But the other part of me, the rational part, knows why he didn’t tell me. He’s trying to protect me, to keep me away from the darker parts of his world.

Still, it stings.

Willow must notice the shift in my expression because she reaches over and places a hand on my arm. “Hey, don’t overthink it. Chris probably didn’t want to stress you out with everything going on. He’s dealing with a lot.”

“I know” I say, my voice quieter than I intended. “It’s just.. I want him to feel like he can tell me these things, you know?”

Willow nods, her eyes sympathetic. “You’re in a tricky spot, Y/n. But he’ll come around. Just give it time.”

I glance at my phone and realize how late it’s gotten. “Shit, I need to get going. I have a million things to prep before dinner.”

Willow grins, her mood lifting again. “Go knock em dead. And text me after, I need all the details.”

“You’ll be the first to know” I promise, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.

As I start the journey home, my mind is buzzing with thoughts. Chris and I have come so far, but there’s still so much I don’t know about his life. Maybe tonight will be a step toward bridging that gap.

When I get to my house, I take a deep breath. Time to focus. Tonight isn’t just about meeting my parents, it’s about taking the next step, together.

Chris’ POV

The air outside the church was heavy, the kind of suffocating weight that sticks with you after saying goodbye to someone you cared about. Nate and I stood in silence as the crowd dispersed, the murmurs of the attempted hit at the funeral still fresh in my mind.

“You hear that shit?” Nate finally spoke, his voice low but brimming with anger. His jaw was clenched tight, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the ground. “Yeah, I heard. It’s messed up, man. Who does that at a funeral?”

“It’s more than messed up” Nate snapped, turning toward me. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, but now they burned with rage. “It’s a straight up declaration of war. At Danny’s funeral, Chris. Do you understand what that means?”

I did, and it made my stomach churn. Whoever tried to pull this off wasn’t just sending a message they were escalating things in the dirtiest way possible. It wasn’t just about Crimson and H-Block anymore, it was personal.

“What do you wanna do?” I asked carefully, knowing full well Nate was on the verge of boiling over.

“What do I wanna do?” he repeated, his voice rising. “I wanna find out who did it and make them pay. No one disrespects my cousin like that.”

I grabbed his shoulder before he could start pacing. “Nate, you gotta keep it together. If Vince catches wind of this before you calm down, he’ll drag you into something you might not come back from.”

“And you think I’m just supposed to sit here and do nothing?” he shot back.

I didn’t have an answer for that. Nate was right to be angry, and it wasn’t like I didn’t feel the same way. But going off the rails wouldn’t bring Danny back, and it definitely wouldn’t stop whatever was coming next.

I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions. On one hand, Nate needed me. He was barely holding it together, and leaving him alone after what just happened felt like a betrayal. On the other hand, I’d made a promise to Y/n. Meeting her parents tonight was a big deal, and I couldn’t just bail.

“You’re not alone in this” I said after a moment. “But we gotta be smart about it. If we make a move now, it’ll only give Vince more of a reason to lose it. Let’s figure out who’s behind it first, then we’ll decide what to do.”

Nate stared at me, his expression a mix of fury and frustration. For a second, I thought he was going to argue, but then he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if I find out who it was before you do, I’m handling it my way.”

I nodded, even though his words made my chest tighten. There was no stopping Nate once he set his mind on something.

“Listen, I’ll check in later tonight, okay?” I said, trying to sound confident.

“Why? You got plans or something?”

I hesitated. “Yeah. I promised Y/n I’d meet her parents tonight. Dinner in hers.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You’re ditching me for dinner? After everything that just happened?”

“It’s not like that” I said quickly. “This is important, too. I have to show her I’m serious about us. You know that.”

He scoffed, turning away from me. “Whatever, man. Go play house. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

“Nate-”

“Just go, Chris. You’ve got your priorities.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I wanted to stay, to make sure he didn’t do something reckless, but I couldn’t let Y/n down. Not tonight.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. “I’ll be back after dinner. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

He didn’t respond, just waved me off as he walked toward his car.

As I headed to my own car, the weight of everything pressed down on me. Nate was right, this wasn’t just about me anymore. If Vince found out about the attempted hit, there’d be hell to pay. And if Y/n’s family got even a hint of the world I was wrapped up in, things could fall apart before they even began.

Tonight wasn’t just a dinner, it was a balancing act. And one wrong step could send everything crashing down.

Y/n’s POV

The smell of garlic and rosemary filled the kitchen as I put the finishing touches on the roast chicken. Cooking wasn’t something I did often, but tonight felt special enough to make the effort. Mom had already filled Dad in on the whole boyfriend meeting the family situation, which saved me from the nerves of breaking the news myself. He didn’t say much when she told him, just gave a nod and asked what time dinner would be ready. Typical Dad.

At 6:15, I sent Chris a quick text:

“Hey, let me know when you’re on the way :)”

I set my phone on the counter and busied myself slicing vegetables for the side dish, trying not to obsess over every little detail. The table was already set, candles in the middle, the good silverware out, and plates that matched that's how much I wanted this to go smoothly.

By the time the clock read 6:30, my phone buzzed.

“On my way.”

I smiled, though a part of me couldn’t help but feel conflicted. My mind drifted back to what Willow had mentioned earlier about the funeral. Chris hadn’t told me about it. He was probably trying to protect me, but it stung a little, knowing he’d gone through such a heavy day without letting me in on it.

I couldn’t shake the guilt, either. Taking him away from Nate on a day like this felt wrong. It hit me then just how serious Chris must be about me. He was choosing to be here, despite everything else going on in his life. That realization made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

Another buzz pulled me from my thoughts.

“Here.”

I grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe my hands and headed for the front door, my heart thumping a little harder with each step. I took a deep breath, opened it, and there he was, standing on the porch in a black button up shirt and dark jeans, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The sight of him took my breath away for a moment. He looked good, better than good, but his eyes were tired, a heaviness lingering behind them that I knew came from the day he’d had. But I don’t think this is the right time to say anything.

“Hi” I said, my voice catching slightly. I cleared my throat and stepped aside to let him in.

“These are for you.” he said, holding out the flowers.

They were simple, red roses. But something about the gesture made my heart flutter.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you” I said, taking them and stepping aside so he could come in.

“Smells amazing in here” he said as he walked into the hallway.

“I decided I’d cook tonight. Felt like the right occasion” I said, trying to sound casual as I led him toward the dining room.

Chris nodded, glancing around the house. “It’s nice. Feels.. homey.”

“It is..” I trailed off, before I started rambling. “Anyway, my parents are in the living room. Ready to meet them?”

He hesitated for half a second, but then he nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

I led him into the living room, where my parents were seated on the couch. Mom stood first, her warm smile instantly breaking the ice.

“You must be Chris” she said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you” Chris said, his voice steady but polite.

Dad stood next, giving Chris a firm handshake and a nod. “Welcome to the house, son.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As they exchanged pleasantries, I caught a brief flicker of nervousness in Chris’s eyes. He was doing his best, but I could tell this wasn’t easy for him.

“Dinner’s ready” I announced, hoping to move things along. “Let’s eat.”

As we all headed to the table, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Chris. He’d shown up for me today, even with everything he had going on. And as conflicted as I felt about some of it, one thing was clear, he was trying. For me.

Chris’ POV

By the time I pulled up outside Y/n’s house, my nerves were shot. It wasn’t just the day weighing on me, Danny’s funeral, the whispers, Nate’s rage, but the thought of sitting across from her parents, trying to fit into their polished world, made my stomach churn. I glanced at the flowers in the passenger seat, hoping they’d help me make a good first impression.

The house was cozy but big, sitting on a quiet street that screamed stability and comfort, two things I wasn’t exactly overflowing with. I stepped out of the car, straightened my shirt, and grabbed the flowers, making my way to the door.

Y/n opened the front door, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw me. She looked.. incredible, dressed casually but effortlessly perfect.

“Hey” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I held out the bouquet. “These are for you.”

Her smile widened, and she took the flowers, her fingers brushing mine for a second. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

I stepped inside, instantly hit by the smell of something amazing coming from the kitchen. “Smells incredible in here,” I said, trying to focus on anything other than how my pulse seemed to quicken every time I looked at her.

“I cooked tonight,” she said, leading me toward the dining room. “Figured it was a special occasion.”

“It definitely is,” I said, managing a small smile.

The living room was warm and inviting, her parents sitting on the couch as we walked in. Y/n introduced us, and I reached out to shake her mom’s hand first.

“You must be Chris,” her mom said, her smile kind but curious.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” I replied, feeling a little more at ease.

Her dad stood next, his handshake firm, his eyes sharper. “Welcome to the house, son.”

“Thank you, sir” I said, keeping my tone polite but not too stiff.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, Y/n led us all to the kitchen. The table was set perfectly, and the meal she’d made looked like something straight out of a cookbook. I sat down, feeling a little out of place at the polished table but determined not to show it.

The small talk started as we dug into the food. Her parents asked me the usual questions, where I grew up, what I liked to do, and I tried to answer as smoothly as I could. But the longer we talked, the more I couldn’t help but notice how put together they were. Everything about them, from the way they spoke to the way they carried themselves, screamed stability.

Meanwhile, I felt like a mess, a guy with a patchy past, walking on thin ice between two worlds.

“So” her dad said, setting his fork down and leaning forward slightly. “How did you two meet?”

I glanced at Y/n, and she smiled, stepping in to help me out.

“We met through mutual friends when we were fifteen” she explained. “We hung out a lot that summer, but then we just.. drifted apart.”

“Life happens” her mom said with a nod.

“Exactly” Y/n agreed, her gaze flicking to me as if to say you’re doing great.

And then her dad hit me with it – the question I’d been dreading all night.

“So, Chris” he said, his tone casual but pointed. “What do you do for work?”

For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I set my glass down carefully, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“I, uh..” I started searching for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete disaster.

But what could I say? The truth wasn’t exactly an option, not here. My mind raced, and I glanced at Y/n, hoping for a lifeline.

“Freelance” Y/n said, cutting in before I could respond.

The words hung in the air, and I felt my chest tighten. Ground, swallow me up. It was a good save, sure, but it also stung a little. She knew that was my go to line when I didn’t want to get into details about what I actually do.

“Oh?” Her mom’s eyes lit up with interest, leaning forward slightly. “What kind?”

“Social media marketing” Y/n answered quickly, a polite smile on her lips.

Social media marketing? Jesus Christ. From the man with zero social media presence? I could barely keep my Instagram alive, let alone manage someone else’s.

“That’s fascinating” her mom continued. “I’ve heard it’s a really lucrative field these days.”

“Yeah” I said, clearing my throat and forcing a nod. “It’s definitely.. something.”

I glanced at Y/n, who gave me a subtle look that said just go with it. I appreciated the save, but I couldn’t help feeling like a fish out of water.

Her dad, however, seemed less convinced. He raised an eyebrow, clearly about to ask a follow-up question. “Do you work with specific clients or more general campaigns?”

Before I could stammer out an answer, Y/n swooped in again. “He works on a project basis” she said smoothly. “It’s more flexible that way.”

Her mom smiled, nodding in approval. “That sounds perfect for someone your age. Flexible, creative, it must keep you busy!”

“Oh, yeah. Busy,” I said, forcing a chuckle and taking a long sip of water to hide the fact that I was absolutely dying inside.

The conversation shifted to something else, thank fuck, but I could barely focus. I felt like an imposter sitting at this pristine table, in this perfect house, with these perfect people. Y/n’s parents seemed like the kind of couple who’d had their lives mapped out from day one. Stable careers, a beautiful home, kids who followed the plan.

And then there was me. Barely holding it together, juggling one lie after another just to keep my head above water.

Y/n’s hand brushed against mine under the table, pulling me out of my thoughts. She gave me a small, reassuring squeeze, as if to say it’s okay.

I squeezed back, grateful for her in that moment. Even if I didn’t feel like I belonged here, she was my anchor. I just had to make it through tonight without screwing it all up.

Suddenly, I felt a buzz in my pocket. Crap. My phone.

Y/n clearly felt it too, her hand slipped off my leg, her warmth replaced by a flicker of tension.

It buzzed again. And again.

Each vibration felt louder than the last, rattling through me like an alarm. God, I should’ve just turned it off.

Y/n’s dad looked up from his glass of wine, raising an eyebrow. Her mom followed his gaze, giving me a polite, curious smile. “Popular tonight, aren’t you?” she joked.

“Sorry about that” I muttered, trying to play it off as casually as I could. “It’s nothing important.”

But it kept buzzing. Over and over.

I glanced at Y/n, and her expression had shifted ever so slightly. Not enough for her parents to notice, but enough for me to catch the flicker of suspicion in her eyes.

“Maybe you should check it” Y/n’s dad said, his tone friendly but firm, the kind of tone that wasn’t really a suggestion.

Y/n was already shaking her head, smiling to defuse the situation. “He doesn’t have to, Dad. It’s probably just work stuff.”

“Yeah, work.. It’s nothing urgent. I’ll deal with it later.”

Except the buzzing stopped… only to start up again a second later.

Damn it, whoever it is calling me.

Her dad leaned back in his chair, clearly skeptical. “Must be a busy night in social media marketing” he quipped.

Y/n shot me a look. A small, apologetic one, but it was enough to say you’re making this worse.

I forced a laugh. “You’d be surprised. Campaigns don’t stop, even for dinner.”

“Mm” her dad hummed, still unconvinced.

The buzzing finally stopped, and I let out a silent breath of relief. But the damage was done. I could feel the tension hanging in the air, subtle but heavy.

Y/n’s mom, ever the optimist, changed the subject, steering the conversation back toward lighter topics. But I caught Y/n’s glance again, and this time, it was harder to read.

What was she thinking? Was she mad? Annoyed? Or just worried?

I shifted in my seat, the guilt already clawing at me. The funeral, the whispers of a hit, Nate’s grief, all of it had been piling up in the back of my mind, and now it was bleeding into this moment, ruining the one chance I had to prove to her parents that I could be someone normal. Someone stable.

But normal and stable didn’t come with constant buzzing phones, or lies about jobs, or friends who might not survive the night.

As the conversation went on, I did my best to focus, to smile, to play along. But inside, all I could think about was the messages and calls I knew were waiting for me. And how, once again, the life I was trying so hard to build with Y/n was colliding with the one I couldn’t escape.

As we finished up dessert, I followed Y/n into the kitchen, insisting on helping her with the dishes. Her mom and dad moved to the living room, their voices carrying faintly as they settled into a more relaxed conversation.

I rinsed a plate under the warm stream of water, my mind replaying the awkward moment earlier at the table. “I’m sorry about that job thing” I said, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t mean to put you in that spot. It must’ve been awkward for you.”

Y/n glanced at me, her soft smile instantly putting me at ease. “It’s fine, Chris. Really. They like you, I can tell. Don’t overthink it.”

“I just.. I worry, you know?” I admitted, setting the plate in the drying rack. “They’re so put together, so sure of everything. And I’m just..” I trailed off, shrugging.

She dried her hands and reached out, her touch light against my arm. “You’re you.” she said simply. “And that’s more than enough for me. Trust me, they see that too.”

Her words settled something in me. I leaned down and kissed her gently, feeling the warmth of her reassurance seep into me. But just as the moment softened, I felt it again, the buzz in my pocket.

I pulled back slightly, my stomach knotting as I hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“I think I might need to use the bathroom” I said quickly, my voice steady even as my heart raced.

Y/n didn’t seem suspicious, just gesturing toward the stairs. “There’s one right under there” she said.

I nodded, giving her a small smile before making my way out of the kitchen. My steps felt heavier with every buzz I’d felt on my phone.

Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, pulling out my phone with shaky hands. The screen was lit up with a mess of notifications, missed calls, unread messages, demands.

Nate:

"Where are you, man?" (47m ago) "We found out who tried to make a hit earlier on. Going to fuck him up." (43m ago)

Vince:"Need you to cover a run. Meet at Dock." (33m ago) "Big hits tonight. Need you now." (29m ago) "?" (22m ago) "You have 30 mins to get here." (3m ago)

Thirty minutes. I had thirty minutes to figure out how the hell to get to the docks without tearing everything apart.

I leaned against the sink, gripping the edge like it might steady me. My chest felt tight, and my mind raced. They didn’t just "ask" for things, especially not Vince. They demanded. And missing a demand didn’t come without consequences.

But this wasn’t just about me. If I bailed tonight, it wouldn’t just be me in trouble. Nate could be left dealing with the fallout alone.

I stared at the mirror. My reflection was a mess of worry and panic. I ran my hands through my hair, took a deep breath, and tried to figure out my next move.

I slipped back out of the bathroom, tucking my phone deep into my pocket like I could bury the problem there. Making my way into the kitchen, I found Y/n putting away plates. She looked so at ease, so normal. I hated how I was about to ruin that.

“Hey” I started, my voice low, “I’m not feeling great. I think I need to head home and sleep this off.”

She turned to me, frowning slightly. “Are you okay? You didn’t seem off earlier.”

“Yeah, it just hit me” I lied, forcing a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cut the night short.”

I could see the disappointment in her eyes, but she covered it quickly with a soft smile. “It’s okay” she said. “Dad’s already passed out in a food coma, so I doubt he’ll even notice.” She paused, searching my face. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.”

She reached out, brushing her hand against my arm. “Alright. Go home and feel better, okay?”

I leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss, lingering just a moment longer than I should’ve. Part of me didn’t want to leave her, but I knew I had no choice.

I slipped into the living room to say goodbye to her mom, who was already halfway through a glass of wine. “Thanks for having me, Mrs. Y/l/n” I said, keeping my tone as polite as I could manage.

“Of course, Chris. See you soon!” she replied with a warm smile.

I walked out of the house, the cool night air hitting me like a slap. My chest felt heavy, but my feet moved fast. I wasn’t ready for this, none of it. Not Nate’s vengeance. Not Vince’s demands. Not the lies I was weaving into my time with Y/n.

As I got into my car, I stared at my phone again. Thirty minutes. Less, now.

I didn’t even start the engine before slamming my fist against the steering wheel.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I muttered to myself.

I had no answer. Only more questions, and no time to figure them out.

With a deep breath, I started the car and pulled onto the road. I wasn’t ready, but readiness didn’t matter anymore. It never did in this life.

a/n: its become more and more obvious to me that im shadow banned so i appreciate everyones interactions 🥲🥲

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