#and we’re going to another crowded show in 2 days

[autistic-earth-genasi]

On a trip with my family and I can’t wear my flare calmer ear inserts because my sister saw one of them in my ear once (she had no idea what it was and asked me the next day if I had gotten part of my headphones stuck in my ear or something) and I acted like I had no idea what she was talking about so I can’t risk her seeing them again. I can’t talk to my family about autism without a diagnosis because I know they won’t believe me and I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable telling them even if I get one so I’m just stuck being in sensory overload hell every time I’m with them forever

[secretmellowblog]

People who try to analyze what happened on Tumblr on November 5th, 2020, often really overstate how much it was actually “about” Supernatural. As someone who has never been in the supernatural fandom ever but dID join in on the hysterical destielposting—it was really more about the stress of the pandemic and the 2020 presidential election.

The two biggest Youtubers I’ve seen try to dissect “what happened that November 5th” in video essays both weren’t American—- and I think that explains why they both tried to explain the hysteria primarily via analyzing the Supernatural fandom/the original show, rather than through the lens of the election. And while those videos are cool, valid, informational, and make lots of really well-considered interesting points— I can tell you that me and almost all my mutuals had literally no knowledge or interest in the fact that “oh supernatural had made nods at the ship in the past but the creators were adamant that I wouldn’t be canon” or etc etc etc etc. the first time I learned about any of that context was way later, watching videos where people claimed that fandom history context (that I did not know anything about) was the actual reason for the hysteria.

But the reality is that people latched on to the Destiel stuff because it was a piece of big useless inane zero-stakes fandom news in a time when we were desperately waiting for serious high stakes election news. We were latching onto a “positive “ piece of inane stupid fandom news in a time of great stress, with all the desperation of a drowning man who latches onto whatever piece of wood will keep him afloat.

The core of the hysteria was that Americans (who make up a huge chunk of tumblr’s userbase) were currently glued to their laptops watching the live presidential election vote counts come in. These vote counts were taking an extended amount of time due to the pandemic causing high numbers of mail-in ballots, resulting in a constant state of Election Day Stress for multiple days straight.

This was also during the height of the Pandemic. People had predicted Trump’s presidency would be bad; no one had predicted it would be this apocalyptically bad. No one had predicted pandemics and lockdowns and hospitals overflowing with bodybags. remember Trump spreading Covid lies and conspiracies?? There were so many Qanon conspiracies about democrats being Satanic child traffickers who had to be put to death, and coup threats were mounting from the right wing side. It seemed like this election was a choice between ‘centrist democrat’ and “apocalyptic right wing conspiracy theory authoritarianism,” in the midst of pandemic conditions that people feared would never ever improve— and it seemed like a close election.

Another major point was that Trump voters were more likely to be antimaskers/Covid deniers, while Biden voters were more likely to take the pandemic seriously— so Biden voters were more likely to send in mail-in ballots instead of risking the in-person voting crowds, which meant their ballots would take much longer to count. And so, in many state electoral vote counts, it would initially seem like Trump was very far in the lead— only for Biden to slooooowly build up an agonizingly small lead as the mail in ballots came in, and then defeat Trump at the very end.

So you’re just watching these news sites giving live election updates, refreshing the page every 2 minutes to see if you’re going to live under a spineless centrist democrat or a literal Qanon Dictatorship. And then you go on tumblr to distract yourself, and there’s more election posting, and more agonizing over the votes, and more stress and despair—-

And then it’s been days and we’re right at the crucial tipping point where it’s anyone’s game and the next few hours will determine whether Trump will win, so you need to keep your eye on the vote count, because the next hours will determine the future of the pandemic and your country and your plans for your entire life—

And then stupid Destiel becomes canon! And it becomes canon in the silliest way possible!

If Destiel had become canon at any other time, it would have been a big goofy tumblr celebration? But we wouldn’t have gotten the insane explosion of hysterical interaction.

The entire core of it was the contrast between the inane meaningless stupidity of fandom news vs the actual stressful election news you wanted to hear! It really is best conveyed in that meme where Castiel says “I love you” and Dean indifferently responds with a piece of important election news.

It’s about the contrast between the low-stakes inanity of fandom and the massive life-destroying stakes of a terrifying election. There really was no reason it had be Supernatural specifically, except that Supernatural was a thing everyone knew basic things about from dashboard osmosis— it could’ve been any other equally huge silly fandom ship news about a ship everyone *knew of* but might not necessarily be invested in (ex. Stucky becoming canon, Johnlock becoming canon, Kirk/Spock becoming more canon somehow, etc etc etc.)

I think it’s true that people who weren’t paying agonizingly close attention to the American election news got swept up in it, and that non American Supernatural fans also were extremely excited for purely fandom reasons — but the entire reason it blew up to an unprecedented degree was because of that core of stressed out terrified Americans glued to their computers watching election results and suddenly receiving stupid fandom news instead, and deciding to just hysterically parodically hyper-celebrate this absurd useless zero-stakes news.

I think it was also all elevated by the fact that, as I said before, this happened at the crucial “tipping point” of the election where the next few hours would determine the winner. The fact that Biden began to slowly develop a lead in the hours after made it feel, hysterically, as if the hours after Destiel became canon was somehow the turning point where he began to win; so celebrating Destiel felt like celebrating that slow turn towards victory.

The tl,dr is that it’s so important to Remember the Fifth of November …..in preparation the inevitable hysteria that will happen in the presidential election on November 5th of next year. XD. Personally I’m rooting for Johnlock or Frodo/Sam to somehow become canon in the eleventh hour right before the democrats win

[theonottsbxtch]

BABY, BABY | MV1

an: max verstappen you are a four time world champion!!! here's a little fic to celebrate that. i started writing it while watching the race, then had to mourn the loss of the battle then went back to writing it and my back hurts because my posture is shit. anyway enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

Max Verstappen lived for speed. The roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the thunderous applause of the crowd—this was his kingdom. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend, a three-time Formula One World Champion whose name was etched into the annals of the sport. And this season? It was shaping up to be another triumph. Four wins in the first five races, podium finishes for all of them, and whispers in the paddock that he was untouchable.

He had every reason to be confident. The car was a beast—precision-engineered, relentless in its power. His team was operating like clockwork, every pit stop a perfectly executed ballet. But above all, she was there. His fiancée. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known; her calm, unwavering gaze from the paddock was like a talisman. He could feel her watching, believing in him, and it drove him forward.

After his most recent victory in Japan, he leaned against the garage wall, sweat still beading on his forehead. She approached him, her smile soft and private, meant just for him. The cameras flashed around them, capturing their moment, but he hardly noticed.

“You’re unstoppable,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“For you? Always,” he replied, brushing a gloved hand over her cheek before he was whisked away to interviews.

Everything was perfect. The season was his to lose, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Six races later, the Max Verstappen that stood on the grid in Barcelona was not the same man who had claimed victory in Japan. His car was still strong, and his team still flawless. But the man behind the wheel was... distracted.

The cracks had started to show at the Monaco Grand Prix. A clumsy lock-up during qualifying left him sixth on the grid. In Hungary, he was slow off the line and struggled to match the pace of the leaders, finishing fifth.

The press was quick to pounce.

“What’s happening to Verstappen?” the headlines screamed.

Max shrugged it off, his trademark confidence still on display. “It’s the car,” he said with a wry smile after Hungary. “We’re making adjustments. It’ll come good.”

It was a convenient excuse, one his team begrudgingly accepted because of who he was. But the truth was far more complex—and far more personal.

She wasn’t here.

She hadn’t been at the last couple of races. At first, she’d said she wasn’t feeling well, and Max had brushed it off. But then the phone call came.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. “I—I want to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can travel.”

In that moment, his world shifted. Joy, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her collided in his chest. The image of her radiant on their wedding day-to-be now came with another—her cradling a newborn, their newborn. And with that came a thousand anxieties he’d never anticipated.

At every moment since, his thoughts weren’t on the track but on her. Was she eating enough? Was she getting rest? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t there?

But no one knew. Not his team, not the press, not even his closest rivals. To them, Max Verstappen was still the king of the circuit. He could never let them see otherwise.

It was lap 32 of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Max was battling for third with Charles. The two cars screamed through the corners, inches apart, but Max hesitated. He felt it—his grip loosened, his focus wavered. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he could make the move stick.

Charles darted ahead, and Max watched as the gap widened. His engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Max, you’re losing time in Sector 2. What’s going on?”

“Just the car,” he lied, jaw tight. “It’s sluggish through the corners.”

He crossed the finish line in fourth. As he stepped out of the car, he pulled off his helmet, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The cameras were on him, the journalists waiting. But all he could think about was her.

He needed to call. To hear her voice. To know she was okay.

The season was far from over, but the battle raging within Max was one he’d never prepared for. And as he watched his championship hopes start to slip through his fingers, he knew one thing for certain: no race, no trophy, no accolade mattered more than the life he was about to build off the track.

The Belgian Grand Prix was a race Max Verstappen wanted to forget. He’d spent the entire weekend battling the car—or so he told anyone who asked. But deep down, he knew the problem wasn’t mechanical. The fault lay within himself, his mind a chaotic swirl of worry and love that refused to quiet, no matter how fast he drove.

When he was finally allowed to go back to the hotel, the first thing he wanted to do was go home. Not the sprawling apartment in Monaco that everyone assumed was his sanctuary, but the smaller, quieter house tucked away in the English countryside. The place where she was.

It was just after midnight when his car pulled into the gravel driveway. The house was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp in the living room window. She always left it on for him. He slipped inside quietly, leaving his suitcase in the car.

She was asleep, of course. Seven months pregnant and glowing with a beauty that stole his breath even in her most unguarded moments. He found her curled on her side in their bed, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Max dropped his coat on the chair and toed off his shoes before slipping into the bed beside her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her, and then rested his head gently against her belly. The warmth of her skin, the faint, rhythmic thrum of her breathing, and the thought of the tiny life growing inside her—it was everything he needed to feel whole again.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s me. I’m finally home.”

As if in response, there was a small kick against his cheek. Max grinned, a tear slipping down his face as he chuckled quietly.

“Already a fighter,” he murmured. “Just like your mum.”

Her hand came to rest in his hair, threading through the blonde strands. He startled slightly, realising she was awake, her sleepy smile illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Always,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her palm. “How are you feeling? How’s our little champion?”

“Both fine,” she reassured him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, shifting up to lie beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. His hand settled over hers on her belly, and they stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside forgotten.

The days that followed were a gift—a rare stretch of time without races, press obligations, or the relentless demands of the championship fight. They spent their mornings in the garden, her feet propped up on his lap while he read aloud from the parenting books she’d stacked on the table. Afternoons were lazy, filled with naps, quiet conversations, and the occasional moment when he leaned down to kiss her belly and whisper to their unborn child.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, she turned to him with a thoughtful look.

“You should tell them,” she said softly.

“Tell who what?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Your team. The press. Everyone.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. They’ll understand.”

Max sighed, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes. “I like it like this,” he said after a moment. “It’s ours. Just ours. I don’t want them to turn this into... headlines or speculation. I want to keep it safe.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “You’re not just keeping it safe, love. You’re keeping it locked away. And it’s hurting you.”

He kissed her forehead, a slow, lingering gesture that spoke more than words could. “It’s not hurting me. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m out there, and it’s all chaos and noise, this is what I hold onto. You. Our little one. It’s my anchor.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “But for now, I want it to stay ours. Just a little longer.”

The break passed too quickly, as it always did, but for Max, it was enough. The air in Austin was electric. Max, back from the summer break and seemingly rejuvenated, had shown flashes of his old brilliance in the first half of the race. But a controversial move during a heated battle for second had earned him a twenty-second penalty. The disappointment was palpable.

In the press conference afterward, he faced a barrage of questions, his jaw tight as he fielded them with his usual composure. But his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the gnawing ache of being apart was beginning to wear on him.

The penalty stung less than the silence in his hotel room later that night. The upcoming triple-header—Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo—meant there’d be no chance to go home. Three weeks without her, without hearing the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him or feeling the flutter of their baby’s kicks beneath his hand. He stared at his phone for hours, tempted to call, but stopped himself. She needed rest. He could wait.

The race in São Paulo had just wrapped up. Max won, a result he should’ve been thrilled with, but all he could think about was getting back to England. The charter flight to London felt endless, the hours dragging as he stared out the window, replaying every voicemail she’d left him over the past week. Each one sounded more tired, more distant, and it made his chest tighten with unease.

When he finally arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. He dropped his bags in the hallway, calling out her name. No answer. He checked the bedroom, the nursery—they were empty. Panic began to rise as he pulled out his phone and dialled her number.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft but carried an edge of exhaustion.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I’m home, and you’re not here.”

“I’m at my mum’s,” she replied.

“Why?” His voice dropped, laced with confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched too long. And then, she said it.

“I had the baby.”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You what?” he whispered, as though saying it louder would make it less real.

“I had the baby,” she repeated, her tone gentle, but firm. “Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief.

“You had a job to do, Max,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re my family. How could you think I wouldn’t drop everything to be there?”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also know you. You’ve been carrying so much this season, and I didn’t want to add to it. You were halfway across the world, love. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong, that he would’ve found a way. But deep down, he understood. She was protecting him in her own way, just as he always tried to protect her.

“Is he... okay?” he asked finally, his voice softening.

“He’s perfect,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Healthy and beautiful. I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but we needed a bit of extra help, so I came here.”

“I’m coming now,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The drive to her mother’s house felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into the driveway, he barely remembered turning off the car before he was at the front door. Her mother greeted him with a warm smile and a quiet, “She’s upstairs.”

He took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

She was sitting on the bed, her hair tied back loosely, her face glowing with a tired kind of happiness. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, was their son.

Max stepped inside slowly, his breath catching as he took in the sight. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Come meet him.”

He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She shifted the baby gently, placing him into Max’s waiting arms. For a moment, he could only stare.

Tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling slightly as the baby let out a soft sigh. His nose, his chin—so small, so perfect.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We agreed on Emilian,” she said, her eyes shining. “Emilian Lucian Verstappen.”

He looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. “You gave him my name?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’re his dad. And he’s going to know how much you love him, even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Max pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Both of you. More than anything.”

As Emilian stirred slightly in his arms, Max smiled. He’d missed the moment of his son’s birth, something he’d carry with him always. But here, holding his son for the first time, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For two precious weeks, Max stayed home. It was just him, her, and Emilian. Those days blurred into a haze of quiet moments—feeding, changing, and rocking his son to sleep. He wasn’t just a racing legend at home; he was a father, learning the delicate art of swaddling and singing lullabies off-key at three in the morning.

His fiancée was radiant, even in her moments of exhaustion. Max found himself watching her more than ever, in awe of her strength. At night, they talked in whispers, Emilian nestled between them in a bassinet. For once, the championship felt like a distant dream.

But as the days passed, reality crept back in. The Las Vegas Grand Prix was the next race and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His rival, Lando Norris, was trailing him by just a decent amount of points, but if Max bottled it, it wouldn’t go well for his title. A strong finish could secure Max his fourth championship, but it would be a fight to the very last lap.

The night before his flight to Vegas, Max sat beside her on the couch, Emilian cradled in his arms. He had spent the entire day rehearsing his pitch, trying to strike the perfect balance of persuasion and sensitivity.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “Vegas is going to be a big deal. Probably the biggest race of my career.”

She glanced up from her tea, raising an eyebrow. “I thought every race was the biggest of your career.”

“This is different,” he said, grinning. “If I beat Lando by a certain amount of points, I get the title. My fourth title.”

Her smile softened. “I know. And you will. You always find a way.”

He hesitated, bouncing Emilian gently as the baby dozed. “Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “Max—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cut in quickly, “and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But the doctors said you’re fit to fly, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please,” he said, his voice earnest. “I need you there. Both of you. It’s an important race. The biggest one maybe. And I want to share it with my family.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes, the motherly instinct to keep their baby safe and away from the chaos of the paddock. But then he reached for her hand.

“Win or lose, none of it matters without you. You and Emilian are everything to me. And if I do win... I want you there to celebrate. I want the world to see what really matters.”

After a long pause, she sighed, her resolve softening. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep us far away from the press circus until it’s over.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her. “Deal.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a spectacle like no other. The bright lights, the roaring crowd, and the tension in the paddock made it a night to remember. Max felt his nerves hum as he stepped into the garage, but knowing she and Emilian were somewhere safe in the hospitality suite calmed him.

The race was brutal. Max fought tooth and nail, battling it out with Charles and Lewis in a chaotic, tire-shredding 50 laps. In the end, he crossed the line in fifth place.

For a moment, he thought it wasn’t enough. But then Christian’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Max Verstappen, you are a four-time world champion!”

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he punched the air, his voice shaking with emotion as he shouted his thanks into the radio. The garage erupted in cheers, but Max’s mind was already on her and Emilian.

As the celebrations began, he climbed out of the car, waving to the crowd before pulling off his helmet. He turned toward the pit lane and froze.

There she was, standing at the edge of the barriers, Emilian in her arms. They were both wearing ear defenders, her smile wide and proud. Emilian’s tiny shirt caught his eye, and his heart melted:

My daddy is a 4-time world champion.

He laughed, running over to them as the cameras swarmed. When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a deep kiss. The crowd roared, and the cameras clicked furiously, but he didn’t care.

He looked down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Carefully, Max took him into his arms, holding him close.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Your daddy did it.”

Emilian gurgled in response, and Max’s grin widened.

For the first time, the world saw Max Verstappen not just as a champion, but as a father. The images of him holding his son, his fiancée beside him, spread like wildfire. The press clamoured for details, but Max ignored them, too lost in the moment to care.

“This is your victory too,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile radiant. “We’re so proud of you.”

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers echoed around them, Max knew this was the pinnacle of his career—not the trophy, not the title, but the family he held in his arms.

the end.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do. 

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want. 

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking. 

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut. 

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him. 

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it. 

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine. 

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats. 

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out. 

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.” 

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight. 

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?” 

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.” 

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit. 

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too. 

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused. 

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better. 

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that. 

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door. 

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again. 

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.” 

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it. 

Sirius picks up on the third ring. 

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.” 

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?” 

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?” 

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” 

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.” 

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows. 

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.” 

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?” 

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.” 

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night. 

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.” 

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?” 

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.” 

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on. 

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?” 

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh. 

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.” 

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.” 

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it. 

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.” 

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.” 

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp. 

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways. 

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes. 

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.” 

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it. 

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night. 

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.” 

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius. 

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?” 

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.” 

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons. 

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?” 

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them. 

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper. 

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes. 

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate. 

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?” 

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you. 

Remus’ heart thumps. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?” 

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched. 

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something. 

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it. 

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’. 

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace. 

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat. 

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.” 

“No,” Sirius pleads. 

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.” 

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?” 

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.” 

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?” 

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?” 

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.” 

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.” 

“Last night, I kissed y/n.” 

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though. 

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn. 

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen. 

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

[lovebugism]

Omg bug we need a part two of “mean” Eddie and reader going on their little date 🤭 if you are up for writing it ofc 😌

pt. 2 of this fic

You didn’t show.

Maybe you just got lost. Eddie figures he shouldn’t have expected someone like you to know where The Hideout was. Or maybe you lost track of time. — but he’d told you the doors opened at seven o’clock sharp, and you’d repeated it back to him. He knows you did because you’d said it in that voice you use when you get all shy, as soft and as low as your meek gaze when you peered at him through your lashes.

But you weren’t just late. You weren’t fashionably late, either. You just never showed up.

Eddie wishes he didn’t care as much as he did.

He told himself he didn’t when you weren’t there at seven, but he looked for you in the meager crowd of twenty when eight o’clock rolled around anyway. 

He’d wanted to see you in the front row. He dreamt of putting on the best show The Hideout’s ever seen right before dedicating some cheesy love ballad to you. 

“This is for a really special someone in the crowd tonight,” he would’ve said into the microphone that smelled like beer. “You know who you are. Don’t let this go to your head, either, alright?” 

He even made the band practice Hysteria by Def Leppard so he could play it for you that night — so the lyrics could tell you everything he couldn’t — but you weren’t there to hear them. 

They ended up playing Love Bites instead.

He spends another two hours moonlighting as a rockstar.

Still in his ripped jeans and eyeliner, he slings a towel over his shoulder and ties an apron around his waist — a busboy all over again. He always forgets how sleazy The Hideout is until he’s got to clean it up. 

He mops sticky floors and wipes down grimy tables and tries to ignore the stinging in his chest every time he remembers that you were supposed to keep him company through it all.

A knock sounds at the front door at eleven o’clock. 

It’s Tuesday night — the place is empty now. Eddie’s been around long enough to know when drunks are out looking for a fix.

“We’re closed!” he shouts, more focused on scrapping off the syrupy ringed stain on the table than the relentless inebriate outside.

“C’mon, Eddie, it’s cold!” a familiar voice pleads, muffled through the door. “You’re not mad enough to let me freeze to death out here, are you?”

Eddie nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns to look over his shoulder. 

You stand behind the foggy glass, mostly blurry but still beautiful. The bouquet of purple and red tulips is nearly as pretty as the smile your pair them with. Your floral skirt swishes around your ankles as the wind blows. Eddie winches when he sees you shiver.

He rushes to the door, scrambling with the keyring clipped to his belt loop. His sweaty hands fumble with the chain. It takes him three tries to get it in the lock. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he stammers. “I didn’t think it was you.”

“I figured. It’s okay.” 

You walk through the door he holds open for you, the spring night breeze following close behind. Eddie shuts and locks the door again.

You spin on your heel to face him and hold the flowers out between you. “These are for you,” you tell him — soft and low and timid.

Eddie grins.

“These are very metal, sweetheart,” he teases. The plastic wrapping crinkles as he takes them by the stem.

“I felt bad for being so late,” you grimace. “Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

“What flower shop is even open this time of night?”

“Zippy’s,” you answer curtly, gaze ducking down to your shoes a moment later.

“You went to a gas station all the way across town to get me flowers?”

You nod.

“No wonder you were late,” he scoffs. 

He saunters past you, then spins so he’s walking backward and facing you. His wild hair sways around his face. He clutches the bouquet to his chest. “Here I thought you off seeing some other schmuck.”

You roll your eyes, knowing no other schmuck has ever given you the time of day like Eddie has.

“I was late because of work,” you correct. Before you know it, you’re rambling. “I wasn’t on schedule for closing, but my asshole manager wouldn’t let me clock out. And I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your number, and I couldn’t find The Hideout in the yellow pages because it’s so old and—”

“Hey. It’s okay,” Eddie assures, practically cooing. It’s the softest he’s ever been with you, and he looks at you just the same — chocolate eyes melting as they twinkle at you. You’re left grieving his gaze when he turns to set the flowers on the counter. 

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” 

Through burning cheeks, you tease. “I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna get soft on me.”

“Oh? You thought that meant I cared that you came?” he scoffs, obviously joking. 

He squints down at you when you appear at his side — turns and presses his hip into the counter, and props his elbow along the top of it. “I’m just happy I got you outta the house. You’re like a damn hermit, you never do anything fun.”

Your face scrunches in discontent. “I have fun!” you correct.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie retorts, nudging your shoulder as he walks past you again — this time heading toward the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll make you something to eat.”

You’re grateful when he walks to the back without looking over his shoulder at you, lest he become a witness to the beam on your lips that’s far too bright to hide.

Eddie Munson is totally soft on you. 

It’s a good thing, too. Because you’re all but melting for him now.

You sit at the bar with a sweaty beer in your hand. “It’s obviously cheap, but it goes down sweet enough,” Eddie warned when he’d handed it to you. You sip from it, leaning back in your chair with your feet thrown on the one beside you — totally unable to take your eyes off the boy.

You watch through the partition behind the counter as Eddie makes a haphazard effort of basketing leftover chicken tenders and fries. He sets them beneath an orange lamp to warm again.

“A rockstar, busboy, and chef, huh?” you lilt, hiding your smile behind the beer you bring to your lips. “What else can you do?”

“When there’s a pretty girl in front of me?” he retorts as he swipes the crumbs from his palms. He looks at you with a smug grin and shrugs. “Just about anything, I’d guess.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Flirt with me. It’s gross. We don’t do that.”

Eddie laughs to himself, honey eyes squinting. “I’ve been flirting with you for about a year and a half now, sweetheart, but… Thanks for finally noticing.”

He carries the ruby red baskets in both hands when he comes out to sit next to you. You slide your legs off the stool for him — an invitation to be close to you without either of you having to ask.

“Am I gonna get food poisoning from this?” you joke, holding the greasy chicken strip between your fingers.

“The cook made them today,” he scoffs, already tossing a fry into his mouth. He talks as he chews. “Besides, we’d be getting sick together. What’s more romantic than that?”

God, you even think he’s cute when he talks with his mouth full. You’re so far gone for him, it’s not even funny.

Eddie smiles when you take a bite. Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord, your empty stomach thanking you. 

“Good, huh?”

“Amazing,” you correct.

“Gross bars make the best food, I swear.”

You laugh softly together. Def Leppard croons from the speakers overhead. You wonder if Eddie knew this was your favorite band or if your favorite song is only playing by chance. You’re warmed either way.

“How was, uh… How was the show?” you ask him, as curious as you are desperate to fill the silence.

Eddie wipes his palms on his jeans and nods. “It was okay. Same as usual — the crowd was drunk enough to enjoy anything we did.”

“I’m sure it was great,” you retort at his self-deprecating tone, picking shyly at the fries rather than meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

He figures he doesn’t need to tell you about his bleeding heart that was close to breaking a couple of hours ago. You put a bandage over it the second you showed up at The Hideout — with flowers, no less. He’s just glad that you came at all. He meant it when he said that none of the rest matters.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie shrugs through the food in his cheek. “There’s always next time.”

You grin and knock the leg of his chair with your foot. “Already asking me out on a second date, huh?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he jokes through glowing cheeks. He tilts his head towards his shoulder. “But I’m not paying for your ticket next time, princess.”

Your smile widens. You prop your cheek on your knuckles, unabashedly gazing over at him. “That’s okay. I’ll be in the front row either way.”

“Promise?” Eddie’s lilt edges on teasing and sincerity. He momentarily abandons his own food as he mirrors your positioning, not realizing he’s leaning closer to you until he’s already doing it.

“Promise,” you nod with a smile so bright he thinks it could rival the sun.

He continues to shorten the distance between you — coming closer closer closer. You watch him, amused, and with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You want him to kiss you. No, fuck that, you need him to kiss you. But more than anything, you need him to do it first — a cheeky little something to over his head when you’re kissing him later.

And you don’t mean to laugh, but the thought makes a giggle spill from your lips before you can stop it.

The bubbly sound knocks Eddie from his stupor. 

The tip of his nose just barely brushes your own. His glazed-over eyes fly open. He remains still, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow, as he blinks owlishly at you. The pretty pink mouth he was about to kiss you with falls softly agape. 

His head jerks backward a second later, almost in disgust. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he curses. His body shifts away from yours completely as he turns his attention to his half-eaten basket of fries. “That was— That wasn’t cool of me.”

Still smiling, you reach a hand out for his leather-clad forearm. You caress him soothingly there in reassurance. “No. It’s okay—”

“No, that was really fucking weird,” he says, forcing out a laugh.

“Right?” you scoff. “Why would Eddie Munson, the chef-busboy-rockstar, wanna kiss a girl like me?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, tilting his wild head to his shoulder to look at you. 

He finds you with a gleam in your eye, one that’s not usually there because, most times, he’s too busy making fun of you.  A smile hints at the corners of your mouth, barely there and beautiful. It’s a bit smug — twinkling with the satisfaction of finally having the upper hand.

Eddie figures it might pay off to be soft with you sometimes. He never wants you to stop looking at him like this.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he confesses quietly.

Your smile widens. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, eyes flitting away from yours.

“Don’t be,” you promise. Your nose scrunches softly. “…Wanna give it another go?”

His gaze snaps back up to yours. He has to fight the urge to tease you, lest he ruin the moment he’s been thinking about for months. He’ll be damned if he lets the opportunity slip away from him now.

“Sure you’re not gonna laugh at me this time?” he lilts, looking at you from halfway beneath his lashes.

“I’m not gonna laugh at you,” you promise, though a grin’s already threatening to pull at your mouth.

“Promise?”

“Well, I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You let Eddie lean in first. He exhales a heavy breath from his nose that fans against your skin when your lips collide. The rosy plush of them lock with yours like they were made to do it. His palms rise to your jaw, keeping you tucked neatly against him when the moment threatens to pull you away. 

Your hands migrate to the lapel of his leather jacket. You tug him further to you — a promise that you’re not going anywhere.

You don’t laugh into his kiss this time.

You smile.

[rootedinrevisions]

Jealousy in Motion: Part 2

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Damian is going great. That is until you're put into a storyline where you have to kiss Jey Uso. Damian's reaction to seeing you kissing Jey in the middle of the ring is less than ideal. Later that night he makes sure to remind you who you belong to.

WARNING: Jealousy. Possessiveness. Biting. Leaving marks. P in V Sex.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who requested this! (will refrain from mentioning anyone in case they wish to remain anonymous.) Hope you enjoy it!

TAG LIST: @miss-kuki-nz I @just-another-personal-side-blog I @caramara3 I @yana3sworld I @terrortwinunicorn I @hotwheels1108

The hum of the crowd already gathering outside the arena was palpable as you pulled into the parking lot. You parked your car, exhaling deeply as you took a moment to collect your thoughts before heading inside. The last few months had been a whirlwind of great storylines, and tonight, you were particularly excited. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and slung it over your shoulder, stepping out into the late afternoon light.

As you walked through the side entrance, security gave you a familiar nod, and you couldn’t help but feel the usual buzz of adrenaline that came with show days. Inside, the hustle and bustle of crew members, wrestlers, and staff filled the hallways, but you were quickly intercepted by one of the backstage producers.

"Hey, they need you in the meeting room with creative," he said.

You raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. You weren’t expecting to be pulled into anything major right away. Normally, you'd get time to settle in and catch up with some of the other superstars, but it seemed today was going to be different. You nodded and followed him, your mind already spinning with what could be on the agenda.

As you approached the meeting room, you could see through the open door that a few familiar faces were already seated. Jey was there, his usual confident demeanor slightly subdued, and around him were a handful of writers, along with Triple H at the head of the table. A quick glance from Jey gave you a hint of hesitation, which only made you more curious about what this meeting could be about.

You took a seat, nodding at everyone, and before you could ask what was going on, Triple H jumped right in.

"Alright, let’s get to it," he began, fo+5+lding his hands in front of him. "We’re shaking things up tonight. We’re putting you into the Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan storyline.”

Your heart leaped a little at the mention of Rhea. She was one of your best friends, and working with her was something you’d always looked forward to. Plus, you had great chemistry with Liv, so the idea of being inserted into this feud was exciting.

But the excitement quickly shifted to confusion when Triple H continued. "You're going to turn on Rhea during tonight's segment."

You blinked, processing his words. "Turn on Rhea?" you echoed.

"Yeah," Triple H confirmed, leaning back in his chair. "You’ll go out to save her after Liv attacks, but then the twist—you're going to kiss Jey in front of Rhea and Damian. You’ll take off your shirt to reveal Jey’s underneath, showing that you’ve been aligned with him the whole time. Jey we’re going to spin it that you’ve been getting close to Rhea to get to what you actually want…her best friend."

You glanced at Jey, whose expression mirrored your shock. The idea of turning on Rhea, one of your closest friends, especially in such a public and dramatic way, made your stomach churn. And then the added element of kissing Jey in front of Damian, well… that complicated things even more.

Things between you and Damian had been going great for the past few months since that night in the club, and you knew Jey and Rhea were in a solid place in their developing relationship, too. This on-screen twist felt like it would blur the lines between real life and the storyline in ways that could create all kinds of tension.

"Are you sure?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Triple H gave you a knowing smile, as if sensing your hesitation. "This is going to push the feud to the next level. The audience won’t see it coming."

You could feel your pulse quicken, the weight of the storyline hanging heavily on your shoulders. "And we’re doing this tonight?"

"Yep," he confirmed. "First segment. You, Jey, Rhea, and Damian all in the ring. Liv’s going to attack Rhea. You run in for the save. After the dust settles, you turn on her. Kiss Jey, reveal your loyalty, and we’re off to the races."

Your head was spinning as you tried to absorb the full scope of what was being asked of you. Glancing at Jey again, you could tell he was just as thrown by the sudden twist.

"Any questions?" Triple H asked, looking around the table.

Neither you nor Jey said a word, both of you too stunned to fully process what was about to happen. Triple H took that as a no, standing up and signaling the meeting was over.

"Good luck tonight. This is going to be big."

After the meeting, you left the room, still reeling from what had just been laid out. You made your way down the hall toward your locker room, your mind racing. A storyline shift like this had the potential to be game-changing, but it also came with its fair share of risks. You couldn’t help but worry about how this would play out not just on screen, but backstage as well.

Once you reached your locker room, you set your bag down and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves. The wardrobe team soon arrived, handing you the shirts you’d need for the segment—Rhea’s signature shirt for the first part of the show, and Jey’s to wear underneath for the big reveal.

“Don’t worry, it’ll look great on camera,” one of the wardrobe assistants assured you, sensing your unease.

You nodded, managing a weak smile as you slipped into the outfit. You kept your black jeans and shoes on, not needing full gear for this segment, but the weight of the two shirts felt heavier than any ring attire you’d ever worn.

The plan was simple enough: you’d run out to help Rhea after Liv blindsided her, and the four of you would stand tall in the ring together—until you turned on Rhea in front of everyone. The kiss with Jey, the shirt reveal—it was all designed to shock the crowd and push the storyline into new, dramatic territory.

But as you stared at yourself in the mirror, wearing Rhea’s shirt over Jey’s, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at you. This storyline was about to blur the lines between reality and fiction in ways you hadn’t expected, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would affect your relationships off-screen.

Glancing in the mirror one last time, you exhale sharply and leave your locker room, your thoughts racing as you head down the corridor in search of Damian. You need to find him before the segment starts, to explain the last-minute storyline twist.

You weave through backstage, checking every corner, but he’s nowhere to be found. Frustration builds as you text and call him, but every attempt goes unanswered. The minutes seem to slip through your fingers. The show’s about to start, and the clock is ticking.

From your spot near the monitor backstage, you watch as Dominik and Liv make their entrance, smug looks plastered on their faces. The crowd greets them with a mix of boos and jeers. They take the ring and start cutting their promo, Liv with a mic in hand, mocking Rhea and Damian.

“Rhea Ripley? Damian Priest? Pathetic. Honestly, it's embarrassing how they think they can stand up to us,” Liv sneers, pacing the ring as Dominik smirks at her words. "At the next Premium Live Event, they’ll finally be put in their place, and we’ll prove once again that we run this show."

The crowd stirs, boos growing louder as Liv continues to berate your friends. You glance toward the Gorilla, just in time to see Damian and Rhea poised to make their entrance. Your heart races as you watch them, knowing the storm that's about to hit.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” you start, grabbing his arm gently.

Damian turns, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Before you can answer, the producer barks, “Rhea, Damian you’re on, go!”

You watch helplessly as Damian and Rhea stride through the curtain, completely unaware of the bombshell you’re about to drop on them. Your stomach tightens as you realize you won’t have time to warn him before the kiss happens.

“Great,” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair. Damian’s not going to take this well—especially not without a heads-up.

Rhea and Damian hit the stage to a wave of cheers from the crowd. As they walk down the ramp, Rhea has a fierce expression on her face, playing up the intensity of the moment, while Damian’s presence is brooding and confident. You can feel the electricity building in the air as they enter the ring.

“You two think you’re untouchable?” Rhea growls into the mic, glaring at Dominik and Liv. “You’ve got another thing coming. At the PLE, we’ll show you exactly why you should’ve never turned your backs on us.”

Damian steps forward, his eyes locked on Dominik. “Scared little kids playing in a grown-up’s world. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Predictably, the promo escalates into chaos. Liv and Dominik waste no time in turning the verbal sparring into a full-blown brawl. Liv throws the first punch at Rhea, and before you know it, fists are flying. Just as planned, JD, Finn,  and Carlito emerge from the crowd to join the fray, jumping into the ring and overwhelming Damian and Rhea.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Jey’s music hits, and the crowd erupts. You spot Jey sprinting down the aisle from somewhere in the audience, slipping into the ring to even the odds. The chaos in the ring intensifies as the three of them—Rhea, Damian, Jey —try to gain control of the situation.

Then, your music blares through the arena, sending a surge of adrenaline through you. The producer waves you toward the curtain, and before you know it, you're sprinting down the ramp. Your heart pounds in your chest as you slide into the ring, jumping straight into the fight.

For what feels like a chaotic blur of moments, fists are flying, bodies are colliding, and the crowd is on fire. You and your thrown-together team manage to push back the new Judgement Day faction, sending them retreating up the ramp as the crowd roars in approval.

Just as you, Jey, Damian, and Rhea stand tall in the ring, victorious for now, you feel the cue from the cameraman at ringside. This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading all night.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Jey is standing just to your left, his breathing still heavy from the fight. You turn toward him, heart hammering in your chest. The crowd is still roaring, but in this moment, everything seems to slow down.

You step closer to Jey, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, there’s a flash of understanding between the two of you—this is about to change everything. Without hesitating, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The reaction from the crowd is instantaneous. Gasps, cheers, and shouts fill the arena as Jey’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than normal, the way Triple H had scripted it to be, the tension between you and Jey was palpable. Neither of you was fully comfortable. When you finally pull back, the heat of the moment is still coursing through you.

You glance over at Rhea and Damian. Rhea, ever the professional, has perfected her expression of betrayal—her wide eyes and clenched fists sell the shock and hurt brilliantly. It’s almost too perfect, and for a moment, you’re grateful that she’s been fully briefed on the angle.

But Damian... Damian is a different story. He’s not acting. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed, and the look he’s giving you and Jey could burn a hole straight through the ring. If looks could kill, you and Jey would both be six feet under by now.

Your stomach drops as you realize the fallout from this moment is going to be far more intense than you ever anticipated.

The segment ends with a chaotic blend of cheers and murmurs as the crowd begins to dissipate. As the ring clears, you and Jey make your way out, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You’re grateful for the moment of quiet, but the heaviness of what just happened weighs on you.

You navigate backstage, Jey’s presence beside you a comforting constant. The backstage activity fades as you spot Rhea, who is headed toward the locker room. She gives you a quick, sympathetic nod before disappearing behind the door. You hope she understands how hard this is for you, despite her well-played betrayal.

Your gaze scans the area, searching for Damian. Your stomach twists in knots as you think about the confrontation you need to have. The minutes tick by slowly, each one stretching into what feels like an eternity.

Finally, you spot Damian walking down the hall, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Your heart races as you call out his name, “Damian!”

He doesn’t turn, his steps steady and deliberate. You quicken your pace, desperation mounting with each step. You reach out and touch his arm gently, trying to catch his attention.

“Babe, please—”

He jerks his arm away from you, his face still averted. “Don’t.”

The single word cuts through you like a knife. It’s sharp and final, the hurt and anger in his voice unmistakable. He continues down the hall, not sparing a glance back, leaving you standing there, heart heavy and eyes stinging.

You watch him disappear around the corner, the space between you feeling impossibly vast. The crushing weight of the night’s events settles on your shoulders, and you feel a wave of sadness that’s almost unbearable.

Jey, noticing your distress, approaches cautiously. “Hey, are you okay?”

You can’t find the words, only shaking your head slightly. Jey’s hand rests on your shoulder, a silent offer of comfort, but it does little to alleviate the ache inside you. You turn back toward the locker room, trying to steady your breath as you prepare for the fallout to come.

Back in the locker room, you sit down heavily on a bench, the adrenaline of the night giving way to a wave of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The door opens and Rhea steps in, her face a mix of concern and understanding.

“I tried to talk to him,” Rhea says quietly, sitting beside you. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to hear it.”

You nod, unable to speak as your emotions bubble up. Rhea reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your back. “You did what you had to do out there. I know it’s hard.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I just wanted... I wanted to be honest with him. I tried to find him before the show–”

Rhea gives you a sympathetic smile. “He just wasn’t expecting it. I was briefed on the segment, but I don’t think he was. It’ll take time, but he’ll come around.”

You hope she’s right, but the uncertainty gnaws at you. As you sit there, surrounded by the remnants of the evening’s chaos, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s actions have set in motion a chain of events that may be impossible to fully unravel.

With a heavy heart, you prepare yourself for the long night ahead, hoping that somehow, things might start to heal before it’s too late.

Once you get back to the hotel after the show, you make your way up to your room on the fourth floor. The hallway feels impossibly long.. The dull hum of the elevator ride lingers in your ears, and your mind races, replaying every moment of the night over and over again. The kiss. Damian’s cold departure. His refusal to even look at you.

You reach your door, fingers trembling as you pull the keycard from your pocket. You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Damian not being there gnawing at you. The two of you were supposed to share this room, but after the way he walked away, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d found a different room—putting even more distance between you.

But still, hope lingers as you slide the keycard into the lock. You take a deep breath as the door clicks open. Stepping into the dimly lit room, you brace yourself for an empty, quiet space, but instead, your breath catches in your throat.

Damian is there. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His head is bowed slightly, and the shadows from the dim light cast across his face, making it hard to read his expression. But you can feel the tension radiating from him—tangible and heavy in the air.

The door clicks shut behind you, and Damian’s eyes flick up to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His jaw is clenched tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. The silence stretches between you, thick with unresolved emotions.

You take a tentative step forward, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest. "Damian…"

He doesn't move. His gaze remains locked on yours, but there’s a storm brewing behind those dark eyes, a mix of hurt and anger swirling beneath the surface.

“Why?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but the pain in that single word cuts deeper than anything he could have yelled.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you search for the right words. “I didn’t want it to go down like that. It was the storyline—creative made the call.”

Damian’s lips twitch into a bitter, almost mocking smile as he finally stands, towering over you. “You think I care about the storyline? About what creative wants?” His voice rises slightly, the frustration bleeding through. “I care about what you did out there—kissing him in front of everyone. In front of me.”

You take a step back, feeling the weight of his words, and the hurt they carry. “It was just for the show, Damian. It didn’t mean anything.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his movements sharp, and agitated. “Didn’t mean anything?” He shakes his head, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “You expect me to believe that after what I saw out there? After how you kissed him?”

Your heart aches at the accusation in his voice. “Damian, I—” You stop, unsure of how to explain, how to make him understand that the kiss, while real, wasn’t what he thought it was.

He takes a deep breath, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You could’ve told me. You should’ve told me before the show, before I had to stand there and watch it happen.”

"I tried," you plead, your voice breaking. "I tried to tell you, but you had to go out for the segment before I could. I didn’t want to hurt you."

Damian lets out a bitter laugh. “Well, you did.”

The air between you feels like it’s thickening, the tension palpable as Damian turns away from you, pacing the room. You stand frozen, unsure of what to say, how to fix this. The weight of the night crashes down on you, and for the first time, you wonder if this is something that can even be fixed.

“Damian,” you whisper, taking a cautious step toward him, “I’m sorry. Please, just talk to me.”

He stops in his tracks, his back still turned to you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, the silence deafening. Then, slowly, he turns around, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice is quiet now, the anger simmering down into something deeper—something raw. “That everything’s fine? That I’m not furious? That I don’t feel like you broke something between us tonight?”

You feel your heart shatter at his words, the weight of them too much to bear. “I didn’t want to break anything,” you say softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “I just… I didn’t know how to make this right.”

Damian’s shoulders slump slightly as if the fight has drained out of him. He stares at you for a long moment, his expression a mixture of hurt and exhaustion. “Maybe you can’t,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Damian sits back down on the bed, his frustration and confusion still thick in the air between you. His jaw clenches as he runs a hand over his face, trying to make sense of everything that happened during the show. 

You take a cautious step toward him, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t say anything, but the unspoken tension between you crackles with intensity. Gently, you place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back just enough that he leans onto his elbows. He looks up at you with a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, his dark eyes searching yours for some kind of explanation, some kind of reason for your actions.

But instead of talking, you swing a leg over him, straddling his lap. You feel the tension ripple through his body the moment you make contact, his muscles tightening beneath you. He knows what you’re doing, and for a second, you can see the conflict flash across his face. 

His hands instinctively come up to your waist, as if to push you away, but he hesitates. “Stop,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, but there’s no real force behind the word. You can tell he’s trying to maintain control, to hold onto the anger that’s keeping him grounded, but you also know that you’re chipping away at his resolve.

Ignoring his half-hearted protest, you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “I want you to show me who I belong to.”

You feel the shudder that runs through him at your words, and a low groan rumbles from his chest. His eyes close for a brief moment as the temptation washes over him, the possessive side of him that you know so well stirring just beneath the surface. But still, he’s fighting it, trying to hold onto the anger that’s been keeping him distant.

He tightens his grip on your waist, trying to lift you off his lap, but before he can, you roll your hips down against him. The motion elicits another involuntary groan from him, his breath catching in his throat as you grind against him, making it clear what you want. His eyes snap open, dark and filled with both desire and frustration.

“Don’t,” he warns, but his voice falters, betraying the struggle within him.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear as you whisper the words you know will push him over the edge. “I want you to have your way with me.”

His grip on your waist tightens as he inhales sharply, the possessive part of him rising to the surface. But there’s still a sliver of hesitation in his movements, as if he’s trying to keep a hold on his self-control, to resist the pull of the temptation you’re offering him. 

You know he’s torn between wanting to claim you and still being angry about what happened tonight. And then, you say the one thing that you know will break him.

“I want you to leave marks.”

The tension in his body shifts instantly. His eyes darken, and the possessiveness that’s always been just beneath the surface finally takes over. You’ve never let him leave marks on you before, always worried about appearances and what people might think if the cameras were to catch any during a match or promo. But now, you’re giving him permission, and that’s something Damian can’t ignore.

He exhales slowly, his hands still gripping your waist, but there’s a new intensity in his touch now. The anger may not be completely gone, but it’s morphed into something else—something darker, more primal. You feel the shift, and it sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice is deeper now, rougher, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is a line you’re both about to cross, one that will blur the boundary between control and release.

You nod, your gaze steady as you meet his eyes. “I’m sure. I want you to.”

Damian’s expression hardens for a split second, the last shred of restraint slipping away. In one swift motion, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His hands roam up your body, and you feel the heat radiating off him as he leans down, his lips brushing against your neck.

“You asked for it,” he murmurs darkly. 

Damian wastes no time once he’s unleashed. His hands move with purpose as he grips the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift, practiced motion. You lift your hips to help, and before you know it, your legs are bare beneath his gaze. He tosses your clothes aside, his eyes dark and unreadable as they trace the lines of your body.

You feel his hands slide down your thighs, rough and warm, before he spreads your legs apart. The vulnerability of the position sends a thrill up your spine, but it’s the look in Damian’s eyes—the possessive hunger—that makes your heart race. 

He leans down, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh. The anticipation of his touch is almost unbearable, and then you feel it—his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard, but enough to leave a mark that will last. The sensation sends a shiver through you, a low moan escaping your lips.

Damian pauses to admire his work, the dark bruise forming under his lips. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts to the other leg, repeating the same rough treatment. His lips press against your thigh before his teeth follow, leaving another mark that will be a reminder of this moment long after tonight.

Once he’s satisfied, he crawls up your body, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of you. His face hovers inches above yours, his breath warm and heavy against your skin. 

You’re still wearing Jey Uso's "Yeet" shirt, and as Damian glances down at it, a dark smirk curls his lips. You expect him to pull it off, to strip it from you in one fluid motion, but instead, Damian grips the fabric in both hands and rips it clean down the middle. The sound of the tear fills the room, and your breath catches as the cool air brushes against your newly exposed skin.

“Oops,” he mutters with a smirk, the smugness in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His hands run down your sides, the pads of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ribs, making you arch up into him. The intensity of his touch, combined with the sharp contrast between his anger and desire, has your mind spinning.

His hands slide around your back, and with one swift motion, he unclasps your bra, pulling it away. Before you can react, Damian leans in, his mouth finding the soft skin of your breast. His lips are soft at first, but then you feel his teeth again, biting down just hard enough to leave a dark bruise behind.

A gasp leaves your throat as Damian continues, alternating between soft kisses and rough bites. He takes his time, marking you as his, leaving evidence of his claim all over your skin. Each mark feels like a promise, one that will stay with you long after the night is over.

You feel the heat rising between you, the desire building to a breaking point. Damian pulls back for a moment, his breath coming fast, his eyes locking with yours. There’s no more hesitation in his gaze now—only pure, possessive hunger.

"You belong to me," he growls, his voice deep and commanding as he captures your lips in a rough, bruising kiss.

Damian’s eyes remain locked on yours as he leans up and swiftly pulls his belt free from the loops of his jeans. The metal buckle clinks against the floor as he drops it carelessly, his fingers already working to unbutton and unzip his pants. He pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, his movements rough and hurried, his need for you palpable in the tension rolling off his body.

You bite your lip in anticipation as Damian positions himself between your legs, the heat of him pressing against your entrance. His large hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, and then with one smooth motion, he slides into you. The sensation of him filling you so completely draws a long moan from your lips, but Damian isn’t satisfied.

“No,” he growls, his voice deep and commanding. “Say my name.”

His thrusts start slow but powerful, each one driving him deeper into you. You comply immediately, moaning his name breathlessly. “Damian…”

But it’s not enough. His grip tightens on your hips, and he begins to move faster, harder, his pace becoming relentless. He’s hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, and your breath quickens as pleasure coils tight in your core.

“Say it louder,” Damian demands, his voice edged with authority. His hips snap against yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You call out his name louder, your voice trembling with the intensity of each thrust.

“Damian!” you cry, your hands grasping at the sheets as your body arches beneath him.

A dark smirk crosses his face as he watches you, clearly satisfied with your response. “That’s my good girl,” he growls, his tone dripping with approval. His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, making your body tremble beneath him.

He continues to pound into you, his pace ruthless, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. Your moans become more desperate, and you can feel yourself unraveling, your climax approaching fast.

“I want to hear you scream my name when you come,” Damian demands, his voice husky and low, his possessive gaze locked on you as his hips slam into yours again and again.

The tension inside you snaps, and with one final thrust, you’re sent over the edge. You scream his name, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through every nerve.

Damian isn’t far behind. He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you still as he pulls out just in time. He finishes on your chest and abdomen, his warm seed painting your skin as he releases a deep, satisfied groan.

Breathing heavily, Damian looks down at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a proud, almost smug smile spreads across his face. He surveys your body, covered in his release, marking you in yet another way.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, but the possessive edge still lingers. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the roughness of the moments before.

As Damian catches his breath, his eyes soften as they sweep over your body, the intensity of moments before melting away. Without a word, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your forehead before standing and making his way into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room, and a few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth in hand.

He kneels beside the bed and gently wipes the cum from your chest and stomach, his touch so tender it makes your heart swell. His gaze meets yours as he leans down and brushes a soft kiss to your lips, so different from the fiery passion you shared earlier. This kiss is slow, comforting, filled with unspoken reassurances.

Once finished, Damian returns to the bathroom to dispose of the washcloth, and when he comes back, he heads straight for his suitcase. Rummaging through it, he pulls out a pair of sweatpants for himself. After slipping them on, he tosses one of his oversized t-shirts to you. You smile, feeling a warmth in your chest, and eagerly slip it on. The familiar scent of him fills your senses as the soft fabric drapes over your body.

Damian climbs into bed beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, his strong body enveloping yours. You nestle into him, resting your head on his bare chest. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat under your ear brings you a sense of calm, and you let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling safe in his embrace.

After a few quiet moments, you tilt your head up to look at him, your voice barely a whisper as you ask, "Are we okay?"

Damian looks down at you, his thumb gently stroking your arm as he meets your gaze. 

"Yeah," he says softly, his voice deep but tender. "We’re okay." He takes a breath, his expression softening further. "I probably could’ve handled it better. I just… seeing that kiss…" He trails off, shaking his head slightly. "I know it’s just a storyline, but it hit me harder than I expected."

You nod, understanding the conflict he must have felt. 

Before the tension can return, Damian gives you a playful smirk and gently nudges your side. "But let’s be real… you look way better in my shirt than Jey’s."

A small laugh escapes your lips, and the playful banter instantly lightens the mood. You snuggle deeper into his chest, feeling the weight of the night slowly lift as you share this intimate moment with him. His arms tighten around you protectively, and you close your eyes, knowing that despite the challenges, everything between you two will be alright.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Three

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Three: Cold Days and Warm Hearts

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) have to fend off the cold in their classroom and fend off Saiki's parents at home.

            “What’s with this deep freeze?!” said Kaidou as his teeth chattered.

            Getting all worked up isn’t going to make you warmer.

            “Today is definitely colder than usual,” said Nendou.

            “The windchill is something,” said (Y/N), wrapping their pink scarf tighter around themself.

            “Total understatement! This is freak weather! It’s an ice age!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “That’s why I have heat packs stuck to my back today,” said Nendou, showing off the patches.

            “Stuck to your uniform,” said Saiki.

            “Hurry up, the heater will be on in the classroom!” Kaidou ran towards the school building. “Let’s go!”

            “Okay!” said Nendou.

            “I do hope it’s warmer,” said (Y/N). “I like sweaters and scarves, but if it’s not enough to keep my warm—” they shivered “—no thanks.”

            Saiki glanced at them. He had the ability to control his own temperature, so he was always fine. The scarf was for show. Reaching out, he tapped their shoulder.

            (Y/N) blinked as their body grew warmer as they entered PK Academy. They looked at Saiki and smiled. “Thanks, Kusuo!” they chirped.

            Saiki nodded. He wasn’t going to leave them cold.

            “Finally, we’re here,” said Kaidou, opening the door to their classroom. “It’s so—not warm!”

            Everyone in the room was huddling in on themselves to conserve their body heat, shivering in the cold temperature.

            “What is this, a freezer?” said Kaidou.

            “Hey, Shun.” A mass of uniform with purple hair sticking out the top faced them.

            “Who are you?” said Kaidou.

            “It’s me.” Kuboyasu raised his head, having pulled his jacket over his knees to try to create a bit of heat.

            “Oh, Aren,” said Kaidou.

            Oh, that’s nice, they use one another’s first names now, thought (Y/N).

            “This absolutely sucks,” said Kuboyasu. “Look at that.” He pointed at a sign on the blackboard.

            “The heater is broken? Bad luck,” said (Y/N).

            “It’s totally busted,” said Kuboyasu. “It’s been blowing out cold air.”

            “Then turn it off!” said Kaidou.

            “It’s connected to the other classrooms, so we can’t turn it off,” said Kuboyasu.

            “We can’t have a class in this cold!” said Kaidou.

            “You should go warm up by the heater,” said Kuboyasu.

            (Y/N) tilted their head. “So we have one?”

            Kuboyasu gestured to the corner. Kaidou ran towards it, and (Y/N) curiously peeked around the crowd. The “heater” was just Hairo doing a million sit-ups a minute to generate body heat (impressive).

            “Hairo?!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “Kaidou,” greeted Hairo, panting. “Isn’t it a little cold today? How about we do some squats? It will warm us up.”

            “I’m okay,” said Kaidou.

            “Really? I’m a little tired, too. I could use a break,” panted Hairo.

            “Why are you stopping now?” encouraged a classmate.

            “Don’t quit!”

            “Keep going!”

            “Thank you, everyone,” said Hairo, smiling at the encouragement.

            “This heater won’t last long,” said Saiki.

            “This is bad if even Hairo is hitting a limit,” said (Y/N).

            “Hey, Nendou, are those heat packs?” said a classmate.

            “What?” said Nendou.

            “I’m begging you! Let me have one!” said the classmate.

            “Okay,” said Nendou nicely.

            Instantly, a crowd gathered. “I’ll give you a hundred yen! Give it to me!” they clamored. “150! 200! 300!”

            “Really?”

            “They’re desperate,” said (Y/N). They felt a little guilty that they and Saiki were perfectly comfortable.

            “Stop!” said Kuboyasu. “He’s just kidding around. There are no heat packs.”

            “I’m not kidding around,” said Nendou, confused as always.

            “You idiot!” said Kuboyasu. “If you stick on heat packs in a time like this, it’s bound to cause an uproar.”

            “What?” said Nendou.

            “This is not our normal classroom,” said Kuboyasu. “Look over there.”

            (Y/N) shivered as they looked at the people huddled in an icy pile together.

            “It’s the fate of those who were unprepared for the cold,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Why don’t they go home?”

            “There’s no use worrying for the others. In this freezer of a classroom, they won’t even make it until school ends,” said Kuboyasu grimly.

            “So why not just go home?”

            “Obstinacy?” suggested (Y/N).

            “Maybe we should just cut class,” said Nendou.

            “That’s the first time you’ve ever said something smart,” said Saiki.

            “What kind of idea is that?!” said Kaidou.

            “Are you mad?!” said Kuboyasu. “I can’t believe how stupid you are.”

            “That is going a bit far.”

            “Poor Nendou.” (Y/N) shook their head.

            “Did you forget?” said Kaidou.

            “Second period!” said Kuboyasu.

            “Our famous alumnus and entertainer, Peanuts Ueda, is coming to visit!” said Kaidou.

            “If we go home now, we won’t be able to see him!”

            “Who?” Saiki looked at (Y/N).

            They shrugged. “No idea.”

            “There’s no way we’re going home now,” said Kuboyasu.

            “I couldn’t care less, so I’m going home,” said Saiki.

            “Ooh, we should make hot chocolate,” said (Y/N). “Or tea! Something hot for the cold weather.”

            Pleased with the idea, Saiki nodded and turned to leave.

            Crash!

            A window cracked and broke open. A swirling gust of cold air blew into the room.

            “Is anyone hurt?” asked Hairo instantly.

            People shivered and shook their heads. No one had been hurt. Kuboyasu froze, and Hairo frowned.

            “Kuboyasu?” said Hairo.

            “The freezing air is blowing inside!” cried Kaidou.

            “It’s freezing! Oh my god!” A chorus of groans and shouts went up from the students as snow and sleet blew into the room.

            “This truly is freakish weather,” Saiki had to agree at this point.

            “Can you do something, Kusuo?” whispered (Y/N). “We can’t leave them like this.”

            Saiki was fine with that. Or, at least, mostly. But (Y/N) request settled that he would try to. “Whatever I do will seem unnatural.”

            “What’s going on?” A man entered the room. “Oh, my, what’s with this freezing cold?”

            “Peanuts Ueda!” cried the classroom.

            “Everyone step away from the window. That flying glass is dangerous,” said Ueda. He took off his coat and draped it over a girl shivering. “Are you okay? Here, put this on.”

            “Oh, but Mr. Ueda—!”

            “Don’t worry about it.” Ueda handed his scarf to another student. “It’s up to us older folks to look after the youngsters.”

            “The real-life Peanuts is such a nice guy!” whispered a few students. “I’m not cold anymore.”

            (Y/N) smiled at the heartwarming (and literally warming) scene. They looked at Saiki. “What was the trick this time?”

            “I created a heat membrane over the broken window and turned the wind into a warm breeze,” said Saiki.

            “Everyone’s happy. Thank you for helping them,” said (Y/N).

            “I only did it because you asked,” said Saiki.

            “You would have done it either way, Kusuo,” said (Y/N) knowingly. They grinned and took their seat for Ueda’s performance(?) to begin.

            Saiki watched them sit down. Would he have done it either way? Yare yare. It seemed (Y/N) was as observant as ever. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be frustrated. He liked it too much.

            He sat down, and their teacher introduced Ueda.

            “With no further ado, I give you Peanuts Ueda,” said their teacher.

            “Hello, everyone! Good mornuts!” Ueda contorted his face into a weird expression that was supposed to be funny. “I achieved my dream of becoming a famous person. Just kidding. Nuts!”

            This is worse than the cold weather.

            Saiki sighed, knowing he’d have to suffer mental torture for a while more. At least he had hot chocolate and tea with (Y/N) to look forward to.

l

            “Black or green tea?” asked (Y/N) as they poured the hot water into a teapot.

            “Black,” said Saiki. He was a little confused about how easily (Y/N) bustled around his family’s kitchen and knew what they had, but he supposed they had been to his house too many times not to at this point.

            “I’ll do Earl Grey,” said (Y/N), spooning a bit into a packet and then setting it to steap with the water. “It’ll be done in a few minutes.” They smiled. “Let me guess, you take honey or sugar with your tea?”

            “Sugar,” said Saiki.

            “I knew it,” said (Y/N), laughing as they put the sugar down in front of him. “There.”

            “You take honey,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N)’s smile widened. “I do.”

            Saiki’s heart beat a little faster seeing them happy. He always noted the little things about them so that he could make them comfortable (and have them in the house), and honey was one of them. They liked honey in their tea, and since they often made some while they baked, Saiki made sure it was stocked. Saiki wasn’t good at showing affection, but he wanted (Y/N) to know that he cared. He was their boyfriend, and, although he was stoic and reserved, he wasn’t going to let them feel bad.

            (Y/N) took out the tea and put it on the table as the tea finished steeping. Pouring two cups, they hummed as they put honey in a spoon and stirred it into their cup. Saiki put a bit of sugar in his and stirred. Then, together, Saiki and (Y/N) took a sip and let out relaxed breaths. After the chill of the day—even with Saiki’s powers—it was pleasant to be safe at home with a cozy cup of tea.

            “Thank you again for helping everyone out,” said (Y/N) as they set their teacup down again. “I know you try not to get involved in other people’s problems, but it was kind of you to warm up the room.”

            “I didn’t want them to complain,” said Saiki, using his usual “I didn’t want it to become a bother for me” excuse.

            (Y/N) leaned on one hand and looked at him with a mischievous, knowing glint in their eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s all. And you warmed me up because I would’ve frozen and not made you tea.”

            “I would have made the tea for us,” said Saiki. “And you’re my partner. That’s different.”

            “I’m not a bother to you?” said (Y/N).

            “You’re never a bother to me,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed. “Really?”

            “Really,” said Saiki. “I like being around you.”

            (Y/N) moved their hand across the table and turned it upwards. They let Saiki put his hand in theirs before squeezing. “I like being around you, too, Kusuo.”

            Click!

            Saiki and (Y/N) froze. A giant irk mark appeared on Saiki’s forehead. He looked to the doorway and found his mom and dad staring at them. With a camera. And giant smiles. And tears?

            Saiki had been so distracted with (Y/N) that he hadn’t noticed them return home from their errands and work.

            “Kusuo has a partner!” sniffed his mother, dabbing her eyes.

            “I can’t believe it,” said Mr. Saiki. “How did my son get someone so nice?”

            “Hey,” said Saiki indignantly. “What does that mean?”

            (Y/N)’s cheeks had been painted red at the intrusion. Mr. and Mrs. Saiki looked at the photo of the pair holding hands, and (Y/N) buried their head in their hands.

            “Give me the camera,” said Saiki.

            “Oh, you want to see a nice picture of you two? You’re so cute,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            “I’m going to break the camera,” said Saiki.

            “Oh, no you don’t!” said Mrs. Saiki. “I finally get to see one of my sons with a partner! This is staying with me!” A fire lit in Mrs. Saiki’s eyes.

            “Oh, dear.” Saiki decided not to try again.

            “How did Kusuo manage to date you? You’re so nice and kind and polite,” said Mr. Saiki, smiling brightly at (Y/N).

            “I’m just getting insulted.”

            (Y/N) looked nervously between Mr. and Mrs. Saiki. “W-Well, I think Kusuo is nice. He helps people out. And he doesn’t abuse his powers. And he’s nice to be around.” (Y/N) stood and bowed. “I like him very much. I hope you can respect that.”

            “Kusuo, they’re so cool!” Mr. Saiki gave Saiki a thumbs-up.

            Mrs. Saiki had tears flowing down her cheeks. “Oh, Kusuo, I was rooting for you two! When can I start wedding plans?”

            Saiki used all his temperature control to fight back a blush. He glanced at (Y/N) and found them similarly red. Still, they laughed lightly. Saiki’s parents approved of their relationship (why wouldn’t they have?) and the first people outside of the couple knew they were dating. A surprising turn of events during the day, but…nice, nonetheless.

            Yare yare. I can put up with my parents fawning over them if they’re smiling.

            Their smile made all the trouble worth it.

            He was still going to destroy that camera before his mom and dad could show everyone they knew that one of their sons was finally dating.

            …

            But I’ll print the picture for myself first.

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[solar4seekstron]

Transformers One x reader: Awakening Chapter Two

Chapter 2: Map

Chapter One, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!reader

TW/tags: Long chapter, reader’s dragged along, D needs a hug, the reader is safe from Elitas grasp, B and Reader get along very well. You think he funny deal with it lol, I believe that’s all

(Note: Yes chapter 2 lets go! Like chapter one this will be pretty long as well. I also decided to add two characters who I really love, especially MTMTE being Ratchet and Drift. At the time though since it’s before the war Drift is still Deadlock I don’t think he had a different name before becoming a deception so I’ll just be putting Deadlock as a name for the story. I like to think Deadlock in the story has a cog but we don’t see or hear of him. At least I don’t think so I’m going to add him here. If you guys want to imagine him being your favorite bot or cogless that’s totally fine. I’m just having a good time. Ratchet will show up in the medical bay scene later. The two already knowing and have eat Y/N before. Helping give some lore dump of Y/Ns past like hinted earlier in the first chapter. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this long chapter!)

It was the day of the Iacon 5000. Many of the Cybertronians with cogs and not go to the arena to see many races and by far the most exciting thing of the day for them. Y/N is seen walking by their self into the stadium along side other miners and other cybertronians with cogs. They make their way getting a pretty good seat to watch the race. They would seat next to a few miners. Next to Y/N was Deadlock, someone who worked clubs as a bouncer dealing with customers. At first he didn’t notice them since they were so small. They would put their hand on his arm to gently grab his attention causing him to look around confused until he looks down

”Ah. Y/N so glad you could come my dear.” He would put his hand on their back as he continues to talk

”Can’t wait to see the race I see. Must be tiring working all those mines for hours”

”It has it’s moments but just shows how strong I am to do it pretty much everyday.”

”I bet. I can’t imagine how you can do that for so long. Then again I work at a club so I shouldn’t complain. Heh If you had a cog I would be taking you places. A shame really. You cogless bots gotta work all the fragging time. Ain’t fair that I can’t see you all the time.” His arm would then be around their shoulders as he looks forward. Y/N would chuckle to what he said but then look down a little sad. Looking at his hand then forward again as they waited for the race to start. Deadlock continueing to speak to another bot next to him not moving his arm.

*With Orion and D-

D and Orion were walking together as they talked about the race.

“The Iacon 5000 is finally here!”

“I have a surprise for you. Come on.” Orion pats D on the shoulder. Grabbing his attention.

“Where are you going? The stadium is that way.” D says to Orion, turning to look at him.

“Yeah yeah I know. But follow me.” D would sigh and reluctantly follow behind him.

“Great. We’re gonna be late now. I wanted good seats. We came all this way to miss the opening ceremony. This is wonderful.”

“Trust me I know what I’m doing. Hold up. Get caught in one of those. It’ll launch you halfway across the city.”

“Ok where are you taking me?”

“Don't be a glitch, this will be totally worth it. Trust me.”

“Hey you don’t be a glitch. I know this is like fun for you like we joke around but if you make me miss any part of the Iacon 5000 I swear I will smelt your face right off your…”

D soon realizes he and Orion are inside the starter line. Seeing thee crowd and the racers coming in from different directions

“Welcome! To the Iacon 5000. There they are. Put your hands together for todays competitors are taking the field.”

“Look! Look! There’s Thunderglide! And Bahemoth! Unbelievable! I feel like I’m in the race…..You did this..for me?”

“No. I did this…for us.” The two would fist bomb as they looked at eachother

“And now. The moment you all been waiting for. The Icon an Iacon. The Savior of Cybertron. Quintessons fear him but we love him! Our Leader. The One and Only! Sentinel Prime!”

Sentinel Prime would fly down from a tall tower and fly down to the stadium as the lights of the city followed him. Y/N would see him. Deadlock not really caring much rolling his eyes as he removes his arm from around Y/N to check his polish. Y/N would then get the idea and and stand reaching their hand up as high as they can for Sentinel to give them a high five. He will fly close to the the other Cybertronians and give a few high fives as they raised their hands. Sentinel notices them as he flew down seeing them raise thier hand and looking at him. He almost loses focus and makes sure to get to them. Y/N being the last one to get a high five before he goes to his spot in the sky and speaks.

“Yes! It feels so good to be here with you all today! My friends. My Cybertronian family. It has be precisely 50 cycles since the Quintessons attacked our home. 50 cycles since we lost the matrix of leadership and our energon supplied dried up. 50 cycles since the battle that killed the other primes my brothers and sisters in arms. Today we honor the primes who gave their lives for ours and show them that the strength of Cybertron will never be diminished.”

Y/N would watch as the primes appear and start to think to their self as Deadlock cheers wanting the race to start. Deadlock would notice Y/N still standing and chuckles his himself as he looks forward again. Still sitting down.

“Racers! On your marks!” The racers start to transform

“I can’t believe we get to watch from the starting line! At the best seats of the house! Why'd you bring jet packs?”

“Get Set!”

“Its time we show them we are more than meets the eye.”

“Oh no..”

From there Sentinel shoots his blaster and the racers soon start. Deadlock now standing as he cheers for his favorite racer. Y/N watches but then notices two bots flying with jet packs. Them soon looking familiar. They would gasp after the realization of who they are.

“And they’re off!”

From there the two would fall down and Orion would catch D as D was upside down. Him screaming as Orion looked forward with a smile plastered on his face.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Sure feels like it.”

“The Iacon 5000 has begun.”

“Sorry. Are those miners in the race?”

“Miners! Those are miners! Like us!”

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing here. There are miners trying to run in the Iacon 5000!”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“This is insane!”

“There’s miners in the race!”

“Miners?!”

“Where?!”

“They can’t even transform!”

“It’s Orion Pax and D-16!”

“This is a first in Iacon 5000 history! How are they going to survive?”

“If we survive this I’m going to kill you!”

“I accept those terms!”

“Going into the led down the main strip. Followed by scape and skyfire!”

“Hey look out!”

The two would then have to start running continuing the race

“I owe you one!”

“More like a 1000!”

Sentinel was watching the two run with his hands behind is back in almost disbelief

“I can’t believe we’re not in last place!-“

“Beat it, Miner!”

“Darkwing delivers a devastating blow.”

“We’re not fast enough!”

“Improvise!”

The two say to each other running into a tunnel with the other racers. One by one the two would jump on another Cybertronian. D continuing to be polite to the others being a big fan while Orion was sort of having fun at that moment. Soon D would save Orion and the two continue to run joining together to jump out

“Time this right! And. Now!”

“Move!”

One of the racers say trying to warn D. But it was too late and D was hit. Soon D was over the edge but Orion was able to catch him just in time and pull him up. The two ran again before stopping.

“And the miners have fallen way behind. We can now focus on the real contenders on this race.”

The two would then get an idea

“I don’t believe it! The miners take down Darkwing!”

“Ugh! Miners!!”

“Great effort Darkwing!”

“It's all worth it. It actually worked!”

“Is this the dumbest thing we’ve ever done?”

“Oh yeah it’s up there!”

“Wait. Go go go.”

“Four blocks pile up in the magnetic tunnel that the miners are now in first position! This is unbelievable.”

“D!”

“Go! Go! Leave me!”

“No! We do this together!”

“One miner is now carrying the other! Mere steps from the finish line. The most amazing sensational, dramatic, hard working, exciting, thrilling finish in the history of-“

“Yeah!!”

“We have a winner. Chromia comes to take the price! Talk about an Iacon 5000 for the ages.”

“Well second place is still pretty good.”

Then other racers would past them

*After the Race and Orion and D are taken to the Med Bay

Y/N stands up and starts heading to the exits . Deadlock noticed and walks after them.

”Woah hey where are you going?”

“Those two are my friends. I have to make sure they’re all right!”

Deadlock would grab their arm stopping them as other bots walk past the two and he stands next to them

”Don’t worry I’’m sure the doctors and nurses will take good care of them. Come on let me take you out and grab a drink before your shifts.” He puts a hand on their back as they looked up at him

”Maybe next time Lock but I care about my friends. I’ll see you at the next race yeah? I should really go.” They would pat his arm gently as they then leave. Deadlock putting his hands on his hips as he watches them ;eave. Seeming almost disappointed and upset before walking away with the other bots.

*The Medical Bay-

“Reaching Dr. Ratchet. Dr. Ratchet to-“

“Do not worry you’ll be fixed up in no time.”

“Did I win?”

“You- participated.”

“Yaaaay.”

The two past the room with Orion and D. D looking very mad as Orion tries to think of what to say to kill the silence.

“So. How long do you think we'll be here?”

“I’m not talking to you………You know what, I can’t believe you made me do that! We are so screwed!”

“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

“Hey! I know it’s all a big joke to you! But not me! I was paying my dues. I was going places and now they’re going to bust me down I-I don't even know how many tiers.”

“I’m sorry D. Come on, didn't you feel it? Even for just a second? Didn’t you feel liberated? Didn’t you feel like you were something else? Like you could be more than what they say you are?”

“Yeah I felt it. I did. But it doesn’t matter, we’re going to get punished and demoted. Ugh, Sentinel Prime saw everything! This is so embarrassing!”

From there this tall spider woman walks into the room using her eyes on the side of her to scan the two as they look at her confused and a bit scared.

“It’s clear.”

Sentinel would then walk in. Hands on hips as heeled down at the two.

“Orion Pax. D-16. What you two did today was one of the craziest things I have ever seen.”

“Sir, this is all my idea and we’re so sorry-“

”YOU TWO!!!” The three in the room besides Airachnid were startled by someone yelling as they then hear someone running towards them almost panting. Y/N then appears gong around Sentinel then standing in front of him not really processing he’s there as they look at the two angry and worried. Sentinel look down at them surprised, regonzing them from the crowd as he had his hand up to stop Airachnid from approaching. He then has an intrigued look on his face as he listens to them speak

“Orion what were you thinking putting yourself and D in that situation?! It was awesome but you could’ve died!!”

”Uh Y/N-“ Orion would say

”And D why didn’t you just stop him. What in the forever spark of Primus could have convinced you that-“

D would stops them grabbing their hand and pointed at Sentinel.

”Oh hey Sentine- Sentinel?! OH! Sir I am so sorry. Mostly for these two. I’m sure something like this will never hap-“

“I loved it!”

The three woukld look as him confused and shocked

“You did?”

“How can anyone not love it? You gave my best racers a real run for their money!”

Y/N would walk back a bit to stand next to D. Putting a hand on his shoulder as they listen to Sentinel

“So we’re not getting demoted?”

“Demoted?” They would start laughing. D and Orion laugh nerviously as Y/N only chuckled a bit

“The fact of the matter is. We are halfway into the first shift since the race ended. And that mining crew has already reached one hundred-fifty percent quota. You inspired them to work harder!”

“Sentinel Prime, Sir. We joined the race to show everyone our potential. That we bots can do more then just mine-“

“Outstanding. I love a bot that can think for himself! Perhaps you two could tour the mines. Speak to your brethren and help them see their potential.”

“Wow. Great. That- that sounds incredible! I-i would love to be-“

“Sir. It’s time.”

“Ba. Yes. I’m sorry friends. We’re preparing our next travel to the surface. But in the meantime, I got a treat for you. Hang tight. Airachnid have someone escort these heroes to my personal service facilities. Best care in Iacon. Ah, and Y/N I believe was it? Maybe you can join me up until my depart seeing you’re a good friend of these two and you can help me figure-out how we can make the city with the miners a better place with these two.”

“Oh sir that would be wonderful but I believe I should start heading to the mines before my superior gets mad at me for being late. I can always join later though as these two finish getting their special care.” D chuckled a bit and Orion hummed. Sentinel looked a bit disappointed his eye brows farrowed as he looks at Y/N then at the two. His smile retuning

“Well that’s just fine. I look forward to seeing you join us for a little meeting for the miners of Iacon. Until next time legends!”

He especially winked at Y/N who looked a bit confused as the other two didn’t notice

“Sentinel Prime. Ahh Thee Sentinel Prime!”

“You still mad at me?”

“I am less mad at you.”

“I’m telli-“ The two are then grabbed by the their shoulders. Orion on his right and D on has left as Y/N stood in front of them again and shook them a little

”You two ain’t off the hook yet! It is still stupid and you two were idiots!….But you’re alive and seems like you aren’t that harmed from racing luckily. So when we return from Sentinels quarters after you two better have a really. Really good apology! You got that?!”

The two nod saying yes to make them happy. They would turn to walk out but then look back at them and gives them a quick hug. Their arms around the both of them so their heads are close to theirs

”Just try to not scare me like that ok all right?” They would pull back their hands on their shoulders again then smiles with also worry in thier eyes. Then turns around and walks out. Right at the door then pointing at the two

”Good apologies.” Causing the two to chuckle watching as they left

“I’m telling you D I got a feeling that everything is going to change wer- we’re going to go-“

From there Darkwing walks in very upset

“Miners!”

“Ahh..Darkwing.”

*With Y/N-

They walk out of the medical bay and passes Ratchet. He waves at his patient saying he’ll only step out for a moment and walks to speak to Y/N outside the room and go for a little walk.

”Ah Y/N good to see you’re well and healthy. How’s the new team? Are they treating you well? Was there an injury that cause you the need to come here?”

”Yes Ratchet they’re a lot nicer then my last team. But I can’t really say the same with the surpiors. But I like it. Just came to check up on a couple friends. Going to the mines right now to see a friend at waste management.”

”That’s good to hear. At least it’s safer and I don’t have to see you in my hospital much anymore.”

Y/N only chuckles a bit embarrassed and almost looks sad. Once at the front Ratchet look turn to look at them

”You take care now and get plenty of rest”

”I will. Good seeing you Ratchet.”

*Orion and D during that time-

Darkwing then flies the two down the sub levels

“No! No! Wait wait! You don't understand we were suppose to Sentinel Primes service pods-“

“You two dots aren’t going to see anyone ever again! I’ll make sure of that!”

“You’re making a mistake! Ask Sentinel!”

“Hate that guy.”

They then see a yellow bot. Soon the bot is walking to them pointing at them.

“You! How did you get down here? There’s no access. There is no one else here but me! N one- You’re real?! You- you- you- you’re others! You’re not me! You’re here! And you’re not me!”

“Uh yeah?”

“Awesome! I am so sorry that must’ve been so weird for you. I-i just haven’t had a lot of company since they put me down here in sub level 50.”

“50? But there are only 40 sub levels.”

“That’s what I thought. Turns out there are 10 more. And they are not pleasant. Probably why no one ever really talks about them.”

“How long have you been down here?”

“How long have I been here? Ha! Lets see, uh. Somewhere between a long time and forever. I mean I had other jobs but I kept getting reassigned ‘cause I’m so good at what I do. Oh! I’m B-127 by the way. But you can call me B. I’m actually working on some nicknames the one I’m floating right now it’s badassatron which is actually pronounce. “Badassatron” But if you have any critiques.”

“Yeah uh. Great great. How- how do we get out of here?”

“Great question. You don’t.”

“We don’t?!”

“Nope. We have limited access to the waste management area but the new shift manager there does not like distractions. No, they prefer we stay here on the task at hand.”

“Which is?”

“Oh, The scrap comes in from the shoot there onto the coveyor velt our job is to look for anything that might be worth salvaging before it hits the furnace and gets smelted.”

“So you just watch garbage burn?”

“Yes! It is so great that you are here now! I can’t wait to learn everything about you, and then tell you everything about me! I have a lot of hopes and dreams that I am just dying to share with one or two new best friends!”

“Uh yeah we- we love to.”

“Where are my manners? Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew. Hey guys!! We got company! This is EP508. This is A-A-tron. And this fella here is Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah. He’s foreign.”

“Question. Do they talk back to you?”

“Um. They’re not real. What- jeez. They think I’m that crazy?”

“No no. It’s just you been down here for-“

“I was talking to Steve.”

“Classic Steve!”

“What is that?”

“Look at this guy”

“Its coming from the side-“

“Steve! Noooooooo!”

“I am so sorry.”

“Steve! Nooooo! My Steve!”

“Uh we can fix it! Don't worry! We uhh-“

“Quintesson ambush! Calling the high guard for immediate support. Immediate support!!”

“That’s Alpha Trion.”

“One of the Primes?”

“Repeat. Zeta prime has fallen.”

“It’s an SOS message.”

“Protect the matrix! Sending location coordinates. Sending location coordinates.”

“Holy Primus.”

“Those are coordinates to a location on the surface. This could be where the primes died in the Quintessons war. Which means this is where we can find the matrix of leadership.”

“What are you talking about? It’s an old beacon inside a statue made of garbage.”

“Or it's a clue of how we can find matrix of leadership.”

“No. No way. Absolutely not.”

“Hey D. Come on. This could be our chance to show everyone that we’re not-“

“You already tried to show everyone in the race you tricked me into running which got us stuck down here in this waste hole with this- uhh really cool guy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I’m just saying-“

“There’s a reason why no one goes to the surface; it's dangerous! I’m waiting right here until Sentinel Prime finds us.”

“Oh Okay. Yeah well we’ll just stay here forever. That's cool with you B?”

“Forever? This is great! New coworkers and roommates! There’s plenty of room now that Steve is dead. I usually sleep on the conveyor velt but you can totally have it. I’ll just sleep in the corner next to A-A-Tron. Plenty of room for you guys to stretch out too because you guys are taller and I am you know what I mean? You know what I mean?”

“Hey D what do you think Sentinels reaction will e if you personally handed him the Matrix of Leadership that You found-“

“Ok stop. I know what you’re trying to do. And it's definitely working. I’m in!”

“Haha! Yeah buddy!”

“How do we get to the surface?”

“You're kidding me. The surface? Easy. I know a way. But it won't be easy.”

The three will then proceed to climb the trash shoot.

“Why is there so much trash?”

“Warning next time please. My mouth was open.”

“Only 49 sub levels to go.”

“Waste disposal trains are the only vehicles that go all the way to the surface.”

“Yeah but they don’t allow passengers ‘cause the trains are autonomous.”

“Yeah that’s the “won’t be easy part.”

“That’s perfect. We’ll be safe inside the train.”

*Meanwhile with Y/N-

Y/N continues to head to waste management. Where Elita was still working at. They would pass by the surpiors as they are their way over tho Elita. They see Elita picking up a box and making her way to the train. They would follow her. After she put the box down she would go to a bigger box and look to see who’s closer. That’s when Y/N waved and stood on the other side of the box.

”Hey Elita, how you holding up?”

”Only the best I can Y/N. Though I can be of more use else where.”

”Hey at least you have a pretty good job and you know Orion didn’t mean to do what he did. He really is sorry.” Y/N says as Elita looked at them then down a upset

”It’s whatever. At least I wont have to see that scrapping face again. Mind helping”

”Not at all”

The two pick up the box together and start to carry it into the train. The two walk out as another two bots with a big box go in then put theirs down in the middle of the room

“That's the last one. Start her up.”

The three would land on the train sneakily and get through one of the small doors on top of the train. Getting in quietly after seeing two other bots leave. Y/N old walk to the other miners until she notices there’s one more box. She’ll pick it up and walk back into the train. Y/N would wait staying close by thre trai while the other miners just talked.

“Hold up. One more. I’ll lock it down.”

She would then see the open door on the ceiling. Scoffing and even chuckling as she walked back in.

“Heh thanks for being an idiot whoever you are.Turning you in will definitely get me promoted back a rank or two.” Y/N would notice her still in the train. They then walk standing a little pass the doors inside the train about to speak until they witnessed what happens next

“Got her!”

“Wait wait wait.”

“Elita stop!”

“Orion??” Y/N and Elita say at the same time

“Hold on let me-“

“Security! Sound the alar-“

The doors would close and the train would start moving forward to its destination. Elita will grow annoyed and start running towards the front of the train.

“Elita wait- Orion. D-16 what in primus is going on?!”

“I’ll tell you later but right now I need to stop her!”

”What?!”

“She’s headed towards the entry.”

The three start chasing Elita and Y/N just groans then starts chasing them. Staying behind D

“Don’t worry I got this! Hold on, let me explain we’re on a mission!”

“So am I! To ruin your life!”

The train would then go up. Elita getting on a box as the others would fall back because of the gravity. Y/N was able to hold on to a box where they watch the others fall back

“Elita, wait we found a message. We know-“

Elita would then kick the box down and keep climbing up the train as the box would almost land on Orion until B pushed Orion before getting hit

“This bot is crazy! Who is she??”

“Deadend Elita! There’s no way uhh..Well she’s gone.”

Elita was able to make it out of the train. climbing you as the others follow behind. Orion soon on her tail as B comes out next and then D.

“Why! Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this?”

“Climb Faster!”

Y/N continues to follow behind going up the train ladder after D as they climbed up. As the four continue to follow her the train soon goes in a straight line once more and then down before going forward once more again causing the four to hit the train after holding on. Orion then sees his opportunity and grabs her leg.

“Gotcha!

Elita would then turn to punch him but seeing the surface for the first time soon stops her. The five stand up as they look ath the same direction. Y/N would step a bit closer to D. Being both fasciated but scared of they are currently witnessing. D noticed this and sets his hand on their left shoulder to bring them a sort of comfort

“The surface.”

“It’s beautiful..” Orion would look at her

“It’s incredible…”

“I am…speechless.”

“Elita, listen to me, we know where the Matrix of Leadership is.”

“Oh sure, and I’m really a prime. I just prefer loading crates in toxic waste- woah where I’d you get this?”

“From my friend Steve. Orion killed him.”

“I did not kill Steve.”

“He was never alive.”

“What?” Elita and Y/N both say. As Orion and Elita spoke D puts his hand back on their shoulder

”It’s a long story. Also this is B.”

”Hi!”

“Oh uh hello B.”

“Sentinel told us he was going to the surface and then we found this message. We figured that we can hand deliver it to him or scout the location ourselves. Whichever comes first.”

Elita would stare at the map for a good second before looking at Orion

“This was too important to wait. It will change all of our lives.”

“No no no no. I’m not going to get demoted again because of you. I’m turning this rig around and I’m notifying the o-“

Elita starts walking to the head of the train once more Orion watching her along with B and Y/N but D would speak.

“Hey hey guys? What is that? Is it getting bigger?”

“Or closer?”

As the five watched, B would start running. The others soon joining him running back the open door.

“No no no no no no no-“

“Don't close. Stop closing. Don't close! It’s closed!”

The five will start trying to open the door. But the giant transformation is soon closer and the five turn their head and look at the now mountain. Fear on their faces they all grab the railes and hang on tightly

“Come on!”

“Oh now I know why no one comes to the surface!”

Soon the transformation causes the train to shake and at times loses its gravity. This causes the five to let go without meaning to. Causing them to fly and soon hit the ground. Elita would then open her optics

“Elita…..Elita….You ok?”

Elita would punch him on reflex and trys to stand up while Orion was still on the floor as he touched his jaw. B in the back upside down as his legs stay outside moving. D then comes up grabbing Bs leg and starts pulling to help. Y/N was on the floor between the four mostly their head and upper back on the floor as their legs are over their head and seems to not be moving. But can be heard groaning a bit

“Please stop punching me in the face!”

“Iacon. The trai- Where’s the train?!”

“Relax! Ok here it comes. Aaaaand there it goes. Ok I was wrong about that it was going the other way-“

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

Oh yeah Chapter 2! Next chapter will be released on Tuesday so in 4 days

[kkeidawrites]

The Teacher

Welcome to Day 5 of Blacktober!

Part 2: Parent Get Together

Various streamers littered the ceiling of the classroom as staff members set up small tables around the room and followed them with tablecloths.

Teachers busied themselves with the festivities, Y/n even played her part putting lemonade in the iced cups. It was going to be a little warm today and the best way to keep cool was some ice cold lemonade.

“Y/n can you bring those drinks over to this table?” Another staff member calls.

“Coming!” Y/n says and picks up the tray of drinks, bringing them over to the table that sat in the middle of the room. The drink tray sat next to the small snack trays.

Y/n looked at the clock above the door and saw the time was 12:54PM. Less than 6 minutes before they started, Y/n hurriedly walked out of the classroom and into the one next door to find the eight toddlers playing with toys. They were all dressed as their favorite animal.

“Okay everyone, one, two, three, eyes on me!” Clapping her hands, Y/n crouched down to the children’s level as all eight boys and girls came running up to her.

Megumi is in the front row, wearing a dog costume with the a hoodie and a grin on his face and Y/n smiles at him and the other children behind him.

“In just a few minutes we’re going to go and meet everyone’s mom and dad, now I just need you to be on your best behavior and have fun!”

The children all cheer and go back to playing. Y/n chuckles and stands back up. She turns her head to see some of the parents already begin to start crowding around in the hallway.

Making her way to the front of the crowd, Y/n gives them a large smile and folds her hands together.

“Hello parents! Thank you all for coming out today, our little ones are more than happy to show off what they have been working for the last couple of months! So, if you would all come inside and take a seat, the little ones will be in soon.” Y/n guides the parents in bowing in greeting to each one that passed by her.

Once the parents were settled, Y/n collects the children and they all come in a line into the classroom. Y/n watches as all the children rush off in different directions to hug their parents but notices one toddler walk to the window, using his tiptoes to look outside.

Y/n placed a hand on her cheek and sighed sadly. She hated seeing children so sad and it made it even more painful to watch when it came to the first event of the party.

Each child would bring their mom or dad a cup of lemonade on a tray as a way of showing how independent they can be.

As the event went on, Megumi had sat in the corner, away from everyone with his head tucked in his knees. Y/n walked over to Megumi and crouched in front of him, a smile on her lips.

“Megumi, do you want a snack?” She asked. He shook his head and pressed his head further into his knees. Frowning sadly, Y/n caresses his black hair and decides to sit by him.

Looking on, Y/n watches as the other toddlers were happily interacting with their families, some being encouraged to carefully bring the cup of lemonade to them while others praised their little one on a job well done.

Her eyes then find the doorway when a new figure enters the classroom, a smile blossoming onto her lips as she pats Megumi on his shoulder.

“Megumi, look who’s here.” She says excitedly.

Megumi peeked an eye out from his knees and almost jumped into the air at who he saw.

“Dad!” He squeals as he bounds over to him.

Toji stood at the doorway, awkwardly looking around the small area until they finally landed on Y/n and then to his son, who was already running as fast as his little legs would allow him, towards him. Toji gets down on a bent knee and catches his son in his arms.

Y/n gets up as well and walks over to Toji. She bows in greeting to him and invites him inside the classroom.

“I’m so happy that you came, Megumi here was worried you wouldn’t be able to come.” Y/n says pleased. Toji smirks awkwardly and uses his free hand to rub his neck.

“I ran into traffic on the way.” He says.

“Dad, look!” Megumi squirms out of his father’s arms and rushes over to the table with the tray of lemonade cups.

Y/n brings Toji over to sit in an open space on the floor and sits next to him. Carefully balancing the tray, Megumi takes precise steps towards his father.

Toji claps in amazement at his son and encourages him as he comes closer to him. Once Megumi presented the tray to his father, Toji takes it and pats his son on the head, praising him.

Megumi is all smiles for the rest of the time, going off to play with his friend Yuji and Nobara leaving Toji and Y/n to themselves.

“I’m glad that you were able to come.” Y/n speaks with him in a quieter tone and Toji smiles at his son playing.

“Me too. I’m glad he’s happy.” Toji says.

“So,” he turns to Y/n who hums in response.

“There’s this new yakisoba place that opened up…would you like to go? With me?” Toji asks. Y/n smiles in his direction and raises a brow.

“As friends?”

“As friends.” Toji grins and Y/n giggles.

“I would love to.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If you haven’t read Part 1 click here:

Read Part 3:

[fluentmoviequoter]

Popstar Protection Program

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x singer!fem!reader

Summary: As a young popstar performing in LA for the first time, you don't expect to need police protection. A very reluctant and grumpy sergeant keeps you safe and gives you inspiration.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, vague mention of heavier topics (nothing specific)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (from such a good episode, too)

Los Angeles can be scary. The aerial shots in movies and TV shows make it look inviting, and the focus on the glamorous aspects tends to hide the dangerous underbelly of the City of Angels. Even scarier, you think, is walking through Los Angeles when a large percentage of the population knows your name.

When you started singing, you never expected to become a “star” or be on the covers of magazines, and you absolutely never thought you’d be playing a sold-out show in Staples Center. While you should be focused on practicing and ensuring the show goes well, you can’t think of anything else except the incident in the airport when you landed.

✯✯ 2 Hours Ago ✯✯

Getting off the plane in LAX, you first notice the lack of fresh air. After playing on the East Coast and opening in smaller venues in towns on the other side of the country, you expected this to be similar. Los Angeles is nothing like Charlotte, Boston, or even Nashville. Taking a deep breath, you grow excited to see Staples Center and all the other sights of Los Angeles.

But you don’t even exit the airport before your hopes and plans are shattered. A large crowd of paparazzi are blocking the area outside your gate. You try to navigate through them with your head down, but one of them knocks his camera into your arm, tilting you off balance and making pain radiate down to your wrist.

“Alright, back up! LAPD, move back!” somebody yells on the other side of the crowd.

Slowly, you notice that no one is pressing up against you now, and when you see a man in a police uniform, you release a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you say.

He says your name, glancing over your shoulder. “Where’s your protection detail?”

“My what?”

“Oh boy. I think you should probably come with me; there’s some people that can keep this from happening again.”

“Why- why did it happen?”

“Paparazzi are practically vultures. They get paid by the picture to take advantage of people, invade their personal lives, and the closer the better. My guess would be one of the smaller papers or magazines heard you were coming and wanted to get a feature out before your show.”

“So, where are we going?”

“LAPD. Mid-Wilshire station is your best bet to get good cops and stay far enough from the center to avoid the cameras that seem to live there.”

“And then what?”

✯✯ Present ✯✯

“Absolutely not!”

Sitting outside an office with glass walls, you try not to look over as you eavesdrop. Your arm has been iced and wrapped, but the pain is now the least of your concerns. Three groups of officers entered the room after the cop who saved you explained the situation to the watch commander. At least one of them seems opposed to being your protection detail for a few days.

“We’re cops, not bodyguards! There are dozens of places in this city that cater to people like her!”

“Um, excuse me,” you interject, knocking on the open door. “I’m sorry to have caused all the upset, but I will find another way. Thanks for your time.”

Sergeant Grey says your name, gesturing for you to stay. “We’re going to take care of you. It’s your first time performing here and after your less-than-ideal welcome, you deserve someone to show you that LA isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not all good either though,” one of the officers adds.

“I don’t…” you begin.

“Why does this require three teams?” Bradford asks. You recognize his voice as the one that was wholly against the idea a moment ago.

“Bradford, this is your assignment. If you have a problem with it, take it up with IA,” Grey answers.

Bradford’s jaw clenches harshly, and his eyes flit to you before shaking his head and looking away.

“This is your protection team until after your show,” Grey explains, “Harper and Thorsen, Nolan and Juarez, Chen, and Bradford works with Metro so he knows this city inside and out.”

You nod along with the names, and a few of them offer their first names as well. After introducing yourself to the five officers who seem to care, you’re directed to an unmarked SUV.

“Aaron and I will be your mobile detail. You don’t go anywhere unless we take you there. Nolan and Juarez are more peripheral, unseen, protection. Lucy will stay with you as close to 24/7 as possible, and Bradford- well, Bradford’s here,” Nyla explains.

Chuckling, you thank her for the clear explanation and climb into the passenger seat after Aaron opens the door for you.

“I love your music, by the way,” he whispers.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, and all that you’re doing for me,” you reply.

Aaron nods, closing the door and climbing into the backseat behind you. Your hotel reservation has been changed, booked under someone else’s name, and located farther from Staples Center. Watching the streets of Los Angeles from a police car window is, at the least, safer than the alternative, but it’s certainly nothing special.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Any idea as to why Bradford hates me without meeting me?” you ask Lucy.

“Tim is grumpy. He’s protective and loyal but he’s- he’s like a dog that wasn’t socialized enough as a puppy. Vicious until he gets to know you and then he’s the best friend you could ever ask for,” she answers, holding up one of your dresses.

“You’d look great in that color,” you muse. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Bradford wants to get to know me.”

“You think so? About the color? Because I need a new dress,” she replies.

“Take that one. Get it altered or just use the fabric, whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” As she hugs you, she lowers her voice to add, “You’re also young and beautiful and famous… Tim doesn’t always deal well with people who are different than him.”

You nod, but you don’t believe her. You’ll only be with Tim Bradford for a few days anyway. It shouldn’t bother you… but it does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’re changing things around,” Nyla announces as she enters your room. “Lobby’s swarming with paps, but there’s also a crowd of men screaming your name.”

“So, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bradford is taking point. He’s got some big plan that, and I quote, ‘no will catch on to.’ I won’t repeat the rest of it for your sake, though.”

“Grey is making him do it?” you guess.

Nyla hums, neither a yes nor no, but you know the answer. When he barges in a moment later, you stop talking, preferring not to give him another reason to hate you.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving,” he demands.

You nod, walking into the suite's bedroom to gather your things. Part of you wants to know what Nyla and Bradford will say behind your back, but you’re also terrified that Nyla is just better about hiding her true feelings.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is your problem?” Aaron demands. “She’s in danger and you’re not helping any!”

“This isn’t the job I signed up for. I am a Metro Sergeant but I’m stuck on- on princess protection duty! She’s just a kid who sings,” Tim answers.

“It’s about her age then,” Nyla repeats.

“No! Well, yes, but she- what makes her special enough for a team like this? Why does she get a real protection detail?”

“Tim,” Lucy says quietly. “Have you listened to her music?”

“Why would I?”

“Her specific genre, what she sings about has made a lot of people angry,” Aaron explains. “Those paparazzi weren’t there for a ‘Taylor Swift is in LA’; they were looking for a much bigger story.”

“Spit it out, Thorsen.”

“Plenty of people have reason to try to kill her.”

Tim falls silent, looking at Nyla. She tilts her head in a ‘we can’t prove it but it’s probably true’ gesture. He looks back toward the bedroom.

“Look, I’m doing my job. I’ll be civil and that is it,” Tim concedes.

“That’s all we’re asking,” Lucy replies. “We’ll be in the neighborhood. Nothing can happen to her with our protection, right?”

“Right,” Aaron and Nyla answer, looking at Tim.

“Right. Because it is our job, nothing more.”

You come out with your single suitcase, waiting until Tim takes it from you to speak. Thanking him softly, you listen to his quick explanation that you’ll be staying with him rather than Lucy, and the rest of the team will be patrolling nearby in case of an emergency.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy promises. “And thank you again for the dress. I can’t imagine how much that cost and I can’t thank you enough.”

Tim’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Wondering why someone in your position would be willing to give away an expensive dress days before a concert confuses him. Tim reminds himself that he can’t start caring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s house is incredibly comfortable. You can tell that he doesn’t want you here, and when he disappears into a back room with his phone and earbuds, you assume it’s his way of getting as much space as he can. Pulling your songwriting journal from your bag, you start writing, disappearing into the emotions and the story you want to share. Time falls away when you’re writing, and you don’t hear Tim reemerge or walk to the doorway before you.

Tim clears his throat, and you look up from your place on the floor. You look small and as young as you are, sitting on the carpet and leaning against the bed with a journal in your lap. Tim has something to say but nearly forgets what it is when you look up at him through your lashes.

“I will admit that I judged you prematurely, and I’m sorry,” he begins.

“It’s okay,” you offer.

“No, just, let me finish. Please?” You nod, and Tim continues, “I thought you were just an entitled kid who found a way to convince the cop from the airport that you needed special attention. Craved it, whatever. And you’re just, you’re young and famous and that confuses me. I don’t know what life is like for you, I can’t relate to any part of that fame.”

“I can’t relate to your life either, but I didn’t shut you out because of that,” you whisper.

Tim licks his lips before speaking again. “I’m sorry. Aaron told me that you sing about- that you- uh-“

“Write songs for people who will never relate to the love songs or the ‘thank God for my parents’… who will never relate to a song on the Billboard 100 or feel protected by a song? Yeah.”

“And I diminished that. I listened to your last album-“

“That’s what you were doing back there?”

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me,” Tim replies, finally smiling. “It was really good. And I truly am sorry.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

You raise your hand, and Tim chuckles as he shakes it. He sees the nearly full page of your notebook and leans down. You slam it closed, and he shakes his head at your sudden movement.

“They’re private until they’re available on iTunes and all major streaming platforms.”

“Got it,” he replies, mock-saluting. “And, just so you know, I needed songs like this as a kid. Still do, so thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the next 48 hours, Tim ebbs and flows. One moment, he’ll talk to you for an hour straight, but by that afternoon, he won’t even look in your direction. It’s dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’re thinking about it, about him, until you reach the last page of your notebook.

“Ready for the show?” Lucy asks, dressed in an event security uniform.

Shrugging, you run your finger over the edge of your journal.

“Songs?”

Lucy sits beside you, offering a hand. You lay your hand over hers, taking a deep breath.

“I thought I was making progress with Tim. He apologized and he was being nice to me and then it all stopped. Like we backslid. And, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to,” Lucy says softly. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Then maybe you should sing to him.”

Laughing, you argue, “That would be even worse.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is humming while he and Aaron stand outside your dressing room door. 

“You listened to her music,” Aaron accuses, placing the song.

“Yeah. Even apologized,” Tim answers.

“You haven’t talked to her at all today. Did something- oh my- did you kiss her?”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss her, and keep your voice down! I had to pull back.”

“Why?”

Tim doesn’t answer but glances over his shoulder to your door.

“You like her.”

“No- maybe.”

“You need to tell her. We don’t know when or if she’s leaving.”

“That’s why I can’t tell her. If she’s leaving tomorrow there is no point, and if she doesn’t know, telling her could influence her decision.”

“What about the effects of not telling her?”

✯✯✯✯✯

You open the door suddenly, and Tim and Aaron turn toward you quickly.

“Whoa!” Aaron exclaims.

“You look beautiful,” Tim says, sending you a small smile.

“Thank you. All of you, for everything these last few days.”

“Break a leg,” Lucy says, waving as you walk toward the stage entrance.

“Everybody in position? This job isn’t over yet,” Tim radios.

✯✯✯✯✯

You notice Tim standing in the wings during your second song. As if your energy has been zapped from you, you fight not to collapse. Tim’s eyes narrow as he watches you.

“Instrumental,” you tell your bassist, who communicates it to the rest of the band.

Rushing toward Tim, his eyes search your face. His hands raise to your sides as he waits for you to speak.

“I-“ you stop, turning off your microphone. “I thought something was happening.”

“When?”

“No. Between us. I thought maybe there could be something there but then you stopped talking to me. What happened?”

“You’re supposed to be singing right now.”

“I have a journal full of songs about you, Tim!” you exclaim. “I can’t come out here and sing without knowing if those ideas have a chance of coming to life!”

“You wrote songs about me?”

“Tim,” you beg. “Just answer the question.”

“Nothing happened. We’re too different and I didn’t want to push too hard.”

“Who gets to decide if we’re too different? Because I disagree.”

“Don’t tell me you have a song about it, I’ve heard that one.”

You sigh, beginning to accept that Tim is skirting around a rejection.

“You can do better,” Tim says quietly. “No point in me showing you how I feel when you could have any man you wanted.”

“I don’t want any other man!” you yell over the music.

Tim’s eyes widen, and his hand leaps to your waist to your mic pack, turning it off and tugging your microphone down.

“Thorsen, your badge is mine,” he grumbles.

Tossing the microphone onto a nearby chair, Tim raises his hands to cup your face.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since you said you didn’t want to deal with me.”

“That’s- I don’t think I put it like that.”

“No, you said you were a cop not a bodyguard. But I think you’re a pretty good bodyguard too.”

“I tried not to,” Tim admits. “Tried not to feel this way, I mean. But every time I see you, it’s like I see another part of you. You’re beautiful, and your music is beautiful, and I’m sorry for pushing you away and being-“

“Worthy of a breakup song?”

Tim sighs, leaning toward you. “You need to finish your concert.”

“Promise to be here when I’m done?”

“I promise.”

You grab your microphone, hooking it on quickly before waving at Tim and returning to the stage.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Aaron,” Tim radios, “Did you turn her mic back on?”

“Those things are tricky,” Aaron replies.

“Then maybe you should go talk to the tech department and stay out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The lights dim, and as the crowd applauds, you run to Tim, crashing into him as you hug him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist, smiling as he congratulates you for your first sold-out show.

“You’ll come to the next one?” you ask.

“Only if you sing one of those songs you wrote about me.”

“I’ll sing them all. Even if you’re the only one in the audience.”

Tim cups your cheek, pressing his palm against your cheek as he pulls you in. His kiss is the opposite of earlier; a look that sucked the energy from you has become a kiss that breathes life and love into your very being. You pull back before leaning against Tim and can’t hear anything except your shared heartbeat.

“I think they’re calling for you,” Tim whispers.

The muddled yells of “Encore! Encore!” greet you, but you’re warm and happy in Tim’s arms.

“I don’t want you in my audience,” you correct. “I want you at my side.”

“Then I should be easy to find. Knock ‘em dead. Again.”

Tim kisses you again, and you credit that as the reason your encore was better than your performance (LA Times’ words, not yours).

[b3ach-bunn7]

LEATHER COATS AND PIZZA PART 2

You and Touya’s unspoken feelings come to head on the hood of his car

No quirks AU, a bit nsfw but nothing too bad

—————————————————————————

You don’t care how much you miss Hawks. Nothing is worth being at this party.

Too many people all crowded in the hallways and the living room. The stench of alcohol, the stupid music that you can feel thumping in your chest. The only blessing is Hawks is loaded beyond belief, evident by the fact his hallway was probably the size of your living room. This means there is ample room for you to hide away from all the noise and chaos.

You’re nursing a cup of coke mixed with what you think is probably vodka. You weren’t paying much attention when Toga had poured it for you. You’re sitting on the stairs just close enough to the front door that when your social battery is drained you have a quick getaway. You're sure Toga is bugging some guy on the dancefloor with Twice at her side, and Shigaraki doesn’t even show up to these things. He’s probably at home watching TV, and you can’t help but feel jealous. You think Spinner’s in the kitchen, and Dabi. You haven't seen him all night.

Or Touya, you should say. It’s been about a week since that day, since he asked you to call him Touya. Which you have been. Nobody’s commented on it and you’ve chosen to ignore the smug looks Toga is so insistent on sending you every time you use it. She’d asked about the kiss, too. According to her, it had looked just as passionate and intense as it had felt. You told her it was just a game and she told you that she wasn’t stupid.

The leather of Touya’s coat warms you even though you're sure you don’t need it. You still can’t help but wear it wherever you go. You keep telling him that you’ll give it back and he keeps giving you a hard time about it. But he doesn’t actually mind, you think. Because he’s had ample opportunity to take it back. Two days ago when it had been hung up on the back of your chair at lunch, or when you’d left it in Spinner’s car.

You think he likes it, honestly. You know you do. You’d caught the eye of some girl you knew he used to hook up with last lunch period. You saw the way her eyes had darted to you, to the coat, and then to where Touya had been sitting next to you. You had to admit you liked the jealousy on her face a little.

You wonder where he is now. You decide to just scroll on your phone for a bit. Maybe your Twitter feed is more entertaining than this. If not, an Uber was calling your name.

“Someone’s not having fun.” You follow the voice and look up, quickly enveloping Hawks in a hug.

You could definitely have a crush on Hawks. You think everyone does, just a little. His hair was always so perfectly windswept and dirty blonde, tan skin shining even in the winter months. He was training to be a pilot and so you’re sure the promise of future plane rides is enticing to anyone. He’s charming, charismatic. You’re yet to meet someone who doesn’t like him.

And yet, even with his arms wrapped around your waist, feeling the hard line of his lean muscle under his shirt, you just can’t seem to break that barrier.

“No offence, Hawks, but parties aren’t my thing. Especially ones as loud as yours.” You smile bashfully, and he laughs.

“Don’t worry about it, birdie. I take no offence.” He nudges you and you shuffle so the two of you are sat side by side on the stairs.

“So. Why the long face?” He asks.

“Not sure. Not feeling up to it today.”

“Are you sure it’s not because we’re missing a certain emo at my little party?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, looking away. “Shush, you. And I wouldn’t call this little.” You huff as you watch another few people walk into the house with a case of beer.

“I’m only teasing, but. I’m not entirely wrong though.”

“Well…” You trail off, unable to even lie to him.

“Yeah. I’m never wrong. It’s one of the greater curses of life.” He hangs his head and you snort.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know. We’re just friends.”

Hawks lifts his head up. He shuffles further back on the stair. “Didn’t you guys kiss?”

You feel your face heat immediately. “How do you know that?”

“Toga told me.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “That girl. Look, we were playing truth or dare. It didn’t mean anything.”

Hawks frowns. “I disagree.”

“Were you there? No. I’m telling you, it was. It was fine.”

Hawks studies you for a moment. He suddenly says,“If i asked you out on a date would you say yes?”

You choke on the sip of coke you take. “What?” You splutter.

Hawks taps your back. “It’s okay, birdie i'm not actually asking you out. If i were, would you say yes?

You think for a moment. “I. No, I don’t think I would.”

He hums. “Why not? I’m good looking, I’m smart.”

“Modest, too.”

“I’m being serious. We get along well. You like me and I like you. It would be fun. What reason do you have to say no, other than the fact that you like someone else?”

You’re speechless. Hawks grabs your cup and downs the rest of it. You tut, but don’t make much of an effort to take it back.

“Now, if say, Dabi asked you out, would you say yes?”

“God. I think I would.” You rest your face in your hands.

Hawks rubs your shoulder sympathetically. “It’s not all bad. He’ll ask you out one day.”

“I doubt that”

“He will. Maybe he’ll even be all romantic with it.”

You giggle as Hawks pulls his hair over his face, drops his grin to brood at you. He grabs your face and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh, Y/N, please do my cold dark heart the honour and go out with me.” He deepens his voice to the low gravelly tone Touya speaks in and you shove him away.

“Fuck off, weirdo.” You grin. But it doesn’t last long before you knock your head on his shoulder, your face falling.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s more emotionally stunted than I am. I doubt he’d admit it to himself, let alone to me. It’s hopeless.”

“Well, you- Oh hey, Touya!”

You shoot up from your seat on the steps. Touya is standing by the front door, looking very good in a black top and joggers. It seems Hawks forcing you to admit that you might like him has upped Touya’s attractiveness level, and you very purposefully look at anything but him.

“You two look close. Having fun without me?” He drawls.

You stammer, “I- We weren’t, I wasn’t-“

“It’s okay, baby, I’m not jealous.” He grins.

There he goes again with the ‘baby’. That nickname had seemed to be in his vocabulary much more the last couple days.

Him and Hawks do some weird boyish handshake and you watch from the foot of the stairs, arms wrapped around your waist. You ignore Hawks as he makes a kissy face behind Touya’s shoulder.

“So what are you two up to?” Touya asks.

“Nothing much. Y/N was just about to leave.”

“I was?”

“She was. She thinks my party’s not good enough.” Hawks pouts.

“I- Hawks.” You frown. “I didn’t-“

“It’s okay, I know they’re not your thing. And I know Dabi hates them too, so why don’t you guys go do something you’ll enjoy more?” He grins innocently.

You know what he’s doing. You know exactly what he’s doing and it’s so painfully obvious that you’re sure the weird way Touya is eyeing you means it’s obvious to him too. You curse under your breath and wish that you had something in your hand you could throw at Hawks.

“Cool. We can go get food if you want.” Touya says, eyes moving from the jacket around your shoulders to your eyes.

“Uh, yeah. I could eat.” You nod.

“Perfect! You two go have fun, I’ll stay here and make sure nobody breaks any more of my mums china.”

Hawks hugs you, ignoring the threats you whisper in his ear, and disappears into his house. Touya turns to you and the two of you walk out.

He showed up in his car so you quickly climb in the passenger seat. Touya told you once the only positive to having the father he did was he had money, and his love language was throwing it at him and his siblings. The seats of his Audi are warm and you fall back into the soft leather.

“So what are you feeling?”

You hum, thinking. “Something greasy and cheap that’s probably going to give us food poisoning.”

Touya grins. He’s driving with one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the open window. It’s only eight in the evening, so the sky is just light enough you can make out everyone walking around outside. You can also make out how good Touya looks.

“Alright, Wallies it is.”

Wallies was the local chicken shop every person under the age of twenty inhabited. It was cheap, fast, and the easiest food for you guys to stop by. Touya parks quickly, bringing one hand up to rest on the back of your seat as he reversed into a parking spot. You look out the window for something to do that isn’t ogling him.

You wait while he orders food, cheering when he comes out of the shop with a bag of burgers and fries. He’s dumps them in your lap through the open window and you reach in and grab a fry. Once he’s sat back down, Touya holds out his hand and you drop one in his hand.

Once Touya starts driving, the wind from the open window tussles your hair, blows over your face. You shiver slightly, pulling the coat closer against your body.

“My coat not warm enough for you?” Touya says.

You huff a laugh. “Nah, it’s awful. Might throw it out.”

“I’d hope not. It’s looking like I’ll never get it back.”

“Oh shit, sorry.” You wince. “I’ll give it back to you tonight.”

“No!” He says suddenly.

You look at him, confused at his sudden reaction. He averts his gaze. The tips of his ears turn red, and you think this is Touya nervous.

“No, it’s fine you can- You can keep wearing it. Looks good on you.” He clears his throat.

You smile softly. “Thanks, Touya.”

He has the look on his face again, the soft one you find yourself doing anything you can to make it appear. He doesn’t reply, just nods his head once.

Touya ends up driving you two the field you seem to be frequenting a lot recently. He parks just on the top of a hill, the hood of the car facing the setting sun and expanse of grass. You both prop yourselves up on the hood, spreading the food out in front of you.

No

It’s a messy, impromptu picnic that you decide might be the best meal you’ve ever had. Conversation with Touya comes easy. It always has from the very first moment the two of you met. Part of you wonders why nothing happened between the two of you before. Why your first kiss had been at the hand of truth or dare, of all things.

You wonder if Touya still thinks about it. You know you do. His hand in your face, the feel of his shirt curled around your fingers. You wish it had gone on for just a second longer, that you could’ve tasted him for a breath more.

“You alright there?” Touya asks suddenly.

You look up at him. He’s tilting his head slightly, a chip hanging out his mouth.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About me?” He flutters his lashes at you.

You snort. “Why, of course. What else?”

You hope he doesn’t realise nothing about what you just said was sarcastic.

“That’s alright. I’m doing the same.”

Your eyes widen. He cleans up the remaining wrappers and crumbs away from you two. He gets up and chucks the rubbish away. He grabs his packet of cigarettes from his back pocket. You wrinkle your nose at the sight but say nothing. It’s an useless argument you’re not bothered to have right now.

“You are?”

Touya nods. Leans against the car right next to you. You move to the front of the hood so that you’re closer to him. The smell of fast food still lingers in the air.

“Have been since last week.”

You swallow shakily. “Last week?”

“Mhm. When we kissed.”

He says it so easily. Like it means nothing. You laugh nervously. He puts out the cigarette, tossing it on the floor and trodding on it with his shoe. He turns so that he’s facing you. Even on the hood of the car, you're shorter than him, and he looks down at you, placing his hands either side of you.

“You. You think about it?”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about. Every time I see you. Or every time I think about where my jacket’s gone.” His fingers fiddle with the zipper, right where it’s closed against your throat.

“When else?” You whisper.

“Every time I see Toga. She keeps bringing it up, you know. Hawks, too. He thinks I should ask you out.”

You feel your face heat. He’s close enough that you think he might be able to feel it. Blue eyes trail up your body, up your chest and over your lips and back to your eyes.

“It’s why he was acting so weird. At the party.”

“What do you think about that? Asking me out?”

Touya smiles slightly. A hand comes up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand stays there, resting against the side of your cheek.

“I was going to. I am going to, if those two stay out of it.”

God. You think he’s trying to kill you. He just stays there for a moment. You swallow roughly, impatience spiking in you.

“Touya?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to kiss me or shall I do it?”

He grins, eyes shining with something much more heated then the soft way he usually looks at you.

“No dare this time?”

“No. No, just-“

You can’t really finish that thought because Touya uses the hand resting against your face to pull you impossibly closer, pressing his lips against yours. Your arms immediately snake around his neck, a noise erupting in your throat. Your lips move against each other fiercely, his tongue licking into your mouth. After a while he breaks apart, the both of you gasping for air, and he groans.

“So beautiful. Did you know that? Gorgeous, baby.”

He clumsily unzips your jacket, hands immediately descending on your body. His hands trail up your waist, over your chest. You sigh, leaning your head back, and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your face, down your neck. He sucks a dark spot right by your collarbones and you moan, hand running through his dark hair.

“Touya, don’t- My parents will see.” You say, breathless.

“Don’t care. Need everyone to know your mine.”

He continues kissing down your body, down your collar bones, the valley of your breasts and right over the hem of your dress. His fingers slip beneath your dress, but you stop him. Despite the fact it takes very single ounce of self control to do so, you are in public. You tell him as much and he frowns, placing another lasting kiss on your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he breaks apart. He frowns, hands refusing to leave your body.

“You’re killing me, Y/N. I’ve waited forever for this.”

“Forever? Why didn’t you ask me out before, then?” You giggle. You trace your fingers across his face, following the lines of his smile.

He pauses for a moment, pondering. He kisses your lips, your jaw. “I had to be sure you liked me.”

“And how did you become sure?”

He leans back. Touya looks at you again so full of feeling you feel like you might burst.

“That kiss at Shiggy’s. It sounds fucking stupid, but. I don’t know. There’s no way you can kiss someone like that without having any feelings for them.”

So it wasn't just you who felt it. He did too.

“Alright. I guess that’s a good excuse.”

He rolls his eyes and you laugh. “So now what?”

Touya thinks for a moment. He lets his hands fall to your waist, dragging you closer, until you're practically sitting between his legs. He leans forward, his mouth right against your ear.

“How about I go show you what I would’ve done to you here if you hadn’t stopped me?”

—————————————————————————-

the highly anticipated part two 😱 I think I might try write some established relationship stuff, because I always write how they get together but never after? We will see. Hope you enjoyed!

[davinashifts333]

DATING SONG MINGI PT.1:

⚫️summary; once again, first part to MINGI’s section in the new ATEEZ fics or requests i am taking. this one’s for my new friend @ateezatinyfan 🩷! this is basically what dating idol!mingi would be like as a famous person yourself. STREAM ATEEZ!! STREAM CRAZY FORM!! STREAM THE WHOLE DAMN ALBUM BECAUSE IT SLAPS!!

⚠️warnings; iNsAnE fLuFf, Mingi being Mingi (aka HOT & baby at the same time), smutty topics, swearing, idk tbh, whatever else is in here but if you’re not 18+ YOU SHOULDNT BE HERE ANYWAYS. STREAM CRAZY FORM!!

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-Dating THE BEST RAPPER OF 4th GEN KPOP, the King himself, S O N G M I N G I, the killa of ATEEZ, was something you never expected.

-He always needed attention, whether it be texting updates every 1-2 hours (sometimes even every half hour) because he just missed being around you? Or whether it be you ending up at his dorm & accidentally falling asleep.

-We’re getting ahead of ourselves here, let’s go back to the moment you met. At the yearly [insert award show name here] when you introduced them before their performance & he was insanely flustered going on stage until he remembered he had to put on his stage face & absolutely sent it.

-He had been a longtime Ideal Type for you so, your fans knew from the moment you were asked to announce, that you were super excited to announce ATEEZ as performers. What you didn’t know was that all of ATEEZ already knew who you were, were huge fans of your work & would constantly here updates about you from their little Princess Mingki.

-Mingi legit had NOTIFICATIONS on for your instagram, tiktok, twitter, vlive, etc.

-Yunho had reached out on his personal IG once to ask you to collab but, you didn’t know they had secret personal pages so you simply ignored it, being afraid of it being a bot.

-after ATEEZ gave their usual show stopping performance, you went back out to thank them & one by one they shook your hand & bowed in a sign of respect & acknowledgement of your admiration for them.

-Mingi, being last he held your hand softly & evidently gained a bit of courage since he had placed a soft kiss to your hand which just made the crowd erupt in applause.

-backstage he was being scolded by HongJoong for doing that without notifying you or anyone for that matter until you stepped in.

-“Ani! It’s okay! I found it very sweet. No need to scold him HongJoong Hyung.”

-“Ah! Y/N-ssi, I’m so sorry about that, I don’t know why I did it, I just saw you there & thought it was the perfect moment. I’m so sorry.” Mingi hurriedly apologized.

-You stopped him by kissing his already flustered cheek. A huge ear to ear smile forming on his face as you came down from your tippy toes & the rest of ATEEZ standing there in shock at the event unfolding in front of them.

-safe to say from then on, you exchanged numbers with all OT8 & had a group chat within a week of the award show.

-Mingi would ask you only days later to go on a date & you obviously agreed. He took you to the beach, you had an adorable candlelit picnic & then ended up going to the street market & meeting up with the boys for karaoke.

-after karaoke he drove you home & ended the night with an actual kiss after he had been embarrassed by his members exposing his attraction for you from a long time ago.

-on the drive back to your house you took hum the long way just to talk more & sat out in the car for another 2 hours just chatting & getting to know one another more.

-you were very similar but had keen differences that just made it even more perfect. you were an extrovert & he was obviously an introvert who became extroverted around those he felt most comfortable with, you liked things he didn’t & he respected that & the other way around. but what made him go in for that real first kiss was hearing how passionate & admirable you were about your job, how hard you fought to be in the place you were now & how you would do anything for the people you loved.

-he saw you as a completely different person from what he imagined, better even.

-& he simply blurted out his confession.

-“Well, even though you already heard it from the members, I wanted to say it myself. Yes I have liked you for a long time, how couldn’t I? You are so beautiful Y/N-ssi. So talented, so amazing & I would love to keep seeing you like this, no matter what comes our way. I feel so comfortable around you & I like it & when I like or believe in something I am honest about it.”

-you froze, it was all happening so fast but it didn’t feel wrong, it felt like it was going the way it was meant to go.

-so as he stood with your hands in his, admitting his attraction to you, you decided to do the same.

“Mingi-ssi. I completely agree. I appreciate you telling me yourself too & I want to admit my side as well. It feels right, whatever is going on between us & I have liked you as well for a while. My fans all hear it in interviews & such. You are always who I name as my Ideal Type & I constantly get told why don’t I tell you. Well, I guess I was just afraid of it being a schoolgirl crush. But now, talking to you openly & comfortably, I like you even more. I would love to keep seeing you like this & potentially more.”

-this boys eyes SHONE. you couldn’t tell if it was tears or sheer happiness in them but he was just so precious & handsome & caring how could you say no? plus you had to admit seeing him smile at you with such care made your heart almost burst out of your chest.

-you finally say your goodbyes, even though it was killing you both inside & he drives back to his dorm only for an hour or so later you see a notification on the group chat.

-‘TEEZERS & Y/N-SSI’

-it read “this is how your boyfriend came home.” with a video of him gushing about how perfect & how much better you were now than in his head or just from videos he had seen of you in the past. San sent it, teasing the both of you, which he loved.

-you saved the video & kept re reading the text. ‘boyfriend’ made you giddy. your Idol, your Ideal Type WAS yours. it was crazy how a simply little kiss on the hand had evolved into this.

-from then on, you two were inseparable, always in the news being captured together, or on Dispatch, Enews, etc.

-he constantly has flowers sent to your house to remind you he’s always thinking of you.

-has to ALWAYS have you close by.

-WILL fall asleep on you even if he is damn near 2X your size.

-is always gifting you small things that remind him of you or that he knows you like.

-leave his jackets & baggy shirts over at your place “by accident” but really on purpose because he loves seeing you post instagram stories wearing them.

-posts you on his ‘#FIXON_stagram’ posts but it’s mainly candida or cropped pics where your tattoos (if you have any, nails, shoes, silhouette, shadow, etc. Which both your fans LIVE for.

-you always end up meeting him & the boys at the studio, dorms, bars, or for dinner because the boys love you just as much but definitely not more than Mingi because he’d kill them.

-HongJoong & Yeosang being your closest members aside from Mingi but you loving them all equally.

-Mingi being the definition of “Golden Retriever Boyfriend” & you being his “Black Cat Girlfriend”.

-fans LOVING your relationship & how open & honest you both are in interviews & everything but how private you keep certain things as well.

-MINGI WRITING SONGS ABOUT YOU. YES, THE SONG MINGI, writing about you because he is so head over heels he is already planning baby names 6 months into the relationship.

-you meeting his family 1-2 months in because he just HAS to show you off to them.

-“Y/N-ssi! Mingi-ah has told us to much about you! Welcome come in please! You can call me Eomma Song, please sit, tell us about yourself.” with the biggest most warm smile on her cute little face. You see where Mingi gets his loving heart from.

-Mingis dad pulling him aside to tell him he picked a good one, which Mingi tells you later. (because he can’t hide ANYTHING from you… no literally, he asked you to check a cut on his big toe because he thought it was infected…)

-Eomma Song loving you & being a fan of you herself so much that she asks to take a picture with you so she can frame it. You gladly agree & laugh at Mingi’s 😲 face when he hears her already planning to frame your photo.

-“Eomma! You don’t have a photo with me or my members! I will get you one!” Everyone bursts into a fit of laughter at his subtly jealous remark but he is only joking.

-in conclusion for this part, dating this Princess is a full time job on top of your full time job BUT, you love him so much you can’t help but feel like you’re on cloud 9 anytime you’re with him just like he surely feels with you!

-he is YOUR Princess Mingki & your only.

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A/N; HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS ARE ENJOYING MY ATEEZ DRABBLES SO FAR! WE MADE IT TO 19.4MILLION VIEWS IN 24 HOURS FOR CRAZY FORM!! LETS KEEP STREAMING ATINY!! LETS MAKE OUR BOYS PROUD!!

[ravcns]

Runaway

Batfam x batsis!reader

summary: at the gala regular shenanigans with friends ensue and after bruce confronts the reader about their antics threatening to take away the mantle of batgirl

part 1 2 3 4

The manor was quiet when you woke up, Cass was also gone from the spot next to you. Retreating to your bedroom you checked your phone to see what you had missed; a few good morning texts and just a random conversation they were having in the group chat. Technically you didn’t have to do anything today until four when you had to start getting ready for the gala, going back to sleep was the best choice.

When you woke up again you decided to get ready; the black dress you were going to wear already on display, hanging on your closet door. You took your time getting ready since there was no rush and it would benefit you to be meticulous with your appearance for this event; after all it would reflect on your family. Speaking of family things looked quite tense in the moment; the group chat was dry, you couldn’t hear any noise in the manor which was uncommon since someone was almost always screaming, peeking out the window you noticed Cass’ car was gone, and most importantly you felt like you were on eggshells since Bruce would be speaking to you after the gala.

Later the ride to said event was quiet; you and Dick just sat in his car neither of you uttering a single word. This would be your first time seeing Bruce and the nerves were practically eating away at your soul like it was the last meal. Finally when you arrived your brother spoke, “Loosen up we’re about to go through the paparazzi.” As if that would do anything to help, but you knew if there was a slight insight that something was off in your expression they would have a field day. Like many times before you stepped out of the vehicle with a fake smile plastered across your face, following behind the other members of the family who had arrived. You deliberately chose to stand by Cassandra for pictures also she happened to be further away from Bruce so it was a win win situation.

It was a long line of people approaching you, pretending to be interested in your life and well-being. By the time the whole ordeal was done a bad idea had blossomed into your head to help ease the nerves and boredom. One hit wouldn’t hurt plus what’s the point of sitting through a gala if your not on something. You retreated to the safety of one of the bathrooms at the furthest end of the hall, knowing that most people didn’t bother walking this far and even if there was a line at the other ones they would still wait. Your phone buzzed and when you opened it you realized that Marie, Kim, and Jake were here. “meet in the girls bathroom at the far end.” You texted. “Should I even be in here?” Came the voice of Jake a few minutes later. “Hurry up and go in before someone notices.” Kim scolded him. “Love open up.” Marie said knocking on the stall door. The four of you crowded into the medium sized stall, thankful that there was no crack at the bottom of the door.

The thing is being with friends causing you to lose track of many things like time, the sounds of your phone, how many hits you each took, or how much you all drank out of Jakes alcohol stash. You stood in front of Marie as she had her arms around you, engulfing you in the smell of her floral perfume as you looked at Kim. She was currently arguing on how even though these events suck you all still had to be careful. Kimberly James always came prepared because she had perfume on hand and had a bottle of water. “We should have just skipped and hung out somewhere.” You said. “Y/n, your family would have your head if you didn’t show up.” Marie reminded. “Oh shit don’t you still have to talk to your dad after this?” Jake asked. You went to take another hit when Marie stopped you. “No more let’s just spray the perfume and walk back. We can just sit at a table.” She said. You obliged to your friends request and once everyone was presentable the group left, snagging a table in the corner.

As time went on eventually the night was coming to an end; even snotty business men couldn’t brag about how rich they were forever. You all conversed but also watched how the size of the crowd slowly shrunk. “Eunwoo asked if we wanted to go on his parents yacht tomorrow since it’s a sunday.” Jake mentioned. Everyone agreed that it was a sound plan and they would be down to go. “Are you sure Y/n, isn’t your dad super mad?” Kim questioned you. “Since when has that stopped me. He probably won’t even be around to say no.” You responded. “She could take a weekend vacation to Italy and that man still wouldn’t notice.” Jake said, causing you to laugh. Finally it was time for you to leave and say your goodbyes. You knew not to hug Jake so you guys just did your handshake; people gossip it’s an activity of most Gothamites. Kim and you shared a quick hug, “Make sure to update us.” She said. Then it came to Marie and when you guys hugged she patted your back, “Please don’t say anything stupid when he talks to you. I know your upset but don’t worsen whatever punishment he may dish out.” She whispered. You thanked her in return. “Stay safe out there pookie.” Kim said as you walked away.

It was stupid to think you could embrace the comfort of your room when you arrived back at the manor. “My office, now.” Bruce said with an even tone. You followed behind him, heels clicking on the floor. He took a seat in his big chair and you stood in front of him. The silence wrapped it’s hand around your throat, causing every breath you took to feel strained. “Are you gonna tell me why you were smoking on school property?” All the air rushed to your lungs and you almost felt dizzy. “I have no excuse and I’m sorry.” Came your response, remembering Marie’s words from earlier. “Not only have you embarrassed yourself you made this family and me look bad Y/n.” He stated. You didn’t know why but the way he worded it pissed you off. “This family?” You scoffed out then continued, “What about our family or what’s even left of it?” Bruce took a sip of a drink he poured himself, “You are apart of this family and I don’t know what you’re trying to get at here Y/n but get your act together.”

You should have left it at that you know you should have. “I fight the most dangerous criminals in Gotham day and night but you draw the line at me getting caught smoking. You guys are acting like I committed some heinous crime when I did something that I’m sure other people in our family have done.” Bruce was visibly showing that he was upset now, “That doesn’t matter you’re supposed to be setting an example as an eighteen year old I shouldn’t be hearing about stuff like this.” You wanted to crawl out of your skin and go anywhere but here. “You only care because I got caught not that I’m smoking weed in general because you’re absent but you aren’t that absent to the point where you can’t smell it on me. You just choose not to say anything and only care when it’s convenient for you or I’m putting your so called reputation in jeopardy.” You grit out. He slammed his hands on the desk, “Gotham doesn’t need a hero who acts irrationally and irresponsibly.” That one stung and you couldn’t bite your tongue any longer, “Well news flash that’s majority of all vigilantes and the Justice League.” “Keep this up and I’ll have Stephanie be Batgirl again.” He taunted. Oh but he had to have known that was a sour spot he knew how much you loved being Batgirl and included in the family’s night job. “And there won’t be a new mantle for you to pick up if I do so. Do you hear me?” He asked. You didn’t think you had paused for even a minute before he said it again, “Do you hear me?” “Yes, loud and clear Bruce.” You answered. “Go to bed it’s late.” He instructed you.

Being the petty person you were you slammed the door on the way out. “Shit!” You jumped when you were met with Dick, Tim, Damian, Jason, and even Cass eavesdropping outside the door. You didn’t even want to bother picking apart the emotions displayed on their features. So you just pushed past them, ignoring the multiple shouts of your name. When you got to your room you locked the door not bothering to move an inch from your bed after you got changed and multiple knocks sounded.

a/n not my best work although i do appreciate how many people have been interested so here we are i hope you enjoy and i will release the next chapter soon hopefully also i wanted to tag other people but for some reason it wouldn’t let me and i don’t know how to fix it

tags

@agent-nobody-knows

[moodymelanist]

Let’s Talk About You And Me

happy day 2 of @nessianweek everyone! today’s contribution is spice spice and more spice so I hope you have a glass of water nearby 😏

Summary: After their friends tease them for being relentless horndogs, Nesta and Cassian make a bet about how long the other can last without any sex.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Smut full-steam ahead. Edging, dirty talk, degradation, dominant!Nesta

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Nesta

It was the first Friday of the month, and that could only mean one thing: game night at Gwyn and Azriel’s place.

Once a month, everyone who was available gathered at Gwyn and Azriel’s for game night. For once everyone they invited actually showed up, so the living room was a little more crowded than usual, but that was alright. Nesta liked being able to see all the people she cared about at once, and this certainly made it easier. 

As usual, Nesta and Cassian had been the last to arrive, much to the assembled group’s amusement.

“Jesus, what took you two so long?” Feyre asked once they got inside. She and Rhys were cuddled up on the armchair, Rhys’ armed curled casually around her waist. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Ha ha,” Nesta replied sarcastically, slipping off her shoes so she could claim her usual spot on the sectional. Elain helpfully moved out of the way so she could have some more room, though Nesta suspected being able to snuggle further into Lucien’s body was a strong motivator. “You’re so funny.”

“Feyre darling’s a real comedian,” Rhys jumped to her defense immediately.

“Maybe she should try better material,” Cassian replied, taking off his jacket before plopping down next to Nesta. “If you’re so concerned, there was a fuckton of traffic on our way here.”

“Traffic, he says,” Mor chimed in with a laugh. She exchanged a knowing look with Emerie before adding, “That excuse only works when there’s actually traffic on the road.”

“There was a huge accident on 395,” Nesta protested. Driving in DC wasn’t for the faint of heart, especially on a Friday night. “Turn on the news right now if you don’t believe me.”

“And even if we were fucking,” Cassian added, “it’s not like we’re the only ones that have run a little late because of it.”

“Respectfully, no,” Azriel replied over the others’ laughter. “You two are the worst.”

“What?” Cassian responded, playfully affronted. “We’re not that bad!”

“As someone who’s lived with you, I have to aggressively disagree,” Azriel answered. “No offense, but you’re the worst.”

“It’s true,” Gwyn chimed in, giggling as she came back into the living room with a fresh bowl of chips. “As someone who’s also lived with you, I can confirm.”

“So much for loyalty,” Nesta responded with a playful roll of her eyes.

“The truth is more important,” Gwyn told her primly, though she made sure to walk in front of Nesta so she could get first dibs on the snacks. 

“Our friends are such assholes,” Cassian muttered.

Nesta snorted. “I’ve been telling you that for years .”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Elain said with a laugh. “Let’s pick a game now that everyone’s here. Luce, pass me the cards?”

The sex-related teasing died down once they started playing, though that certainly didn’t stop the game-related teasing as the night wore on. They’d assembled enough Uno cards for everyone to play even with a group as large as them, and once they’d sorted through the usual arguing about whether a draw two could go on top of a draw four and if they had to say uno out, Emerie and Lucien ended up winning the most rounds. 

By the time Nesta and Cassian made it back home, Nesta was more than ready to get ready for bed and hunker down with the next chapter of the latest Sellyn Drake release, but it seemed Cassian had other plans.

“Does it bother you?” Cassian asked as they stood next to one another in the bathroom getting ready for bed. He was gently pulling his curls into his usual pineapple while she washed her face, and the sheer domesticity of it all made something warm bloom in her chest.

Nesta finished rinsing and reached for a washcloth to pat her face dry. “Does what bother me?” 

“That our friends think we’re such horndogs,” he told her.

“Not really,” she answered as she swiped toner across her clean skin. If she was being honest, even though she was a private person, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that everyone knew they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “Does it bother you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. He reached for the silk scarf he used to protect his curls and leaned his head down so he could wrap it around his head, gently tucking the ends in to protect his hair. “I don’t know. Do they think we’re just fucking all the time and don’t actually talk?”

“That’s idiotic,” Nesta said, reaching for her moisturizer. “We don’t need to have sex all the time to have a solid relationship.”

“Of course not,” Cassian said back. He stood back up and swiped her micellar water with a grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having sex with you, but…”

“But we don’t need it,” she finished his sentence. She reached out and grabbed her toothbrush, adding some toothpaste before rinsing it and starting to brush her teeth. “Exactly.”

“I mean, I think you get a little cranky if you’re not getting it on the regular,” he added, smirking, “but you’re dating me, so that’s to be expected.”

“Excuse me?” she replied, pausing her brushing to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “ I get cranky?”

“The evidence doesn’t lie, sweetheart,” he answered cockily. “You get all huffy if it’s been too long. It’s adorable.”

“Says the man who woke me up last night to have sex with me,” she fired back, scoffing. He thought she got cranky if they didn’t have enough sex? If there was one thing men never ran out of, it was audacity. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That was an emergency,” he retorted. He reached for his own toothbrush and quickly began brushing his own teeth, waggling his eyebrows at her via the mirror. “Doesn’t change what I said.”

If her boyfriend had stopped talking approximately thirty seconds sooner, maybe they could’ve gone to bed in peace. But instead, he had to open his big mouth and add, “I’m not the problem here.”

“If you really think I’m the problem,” Nesta began haughtily, briefly pausing to spit and rinse the toothpaste out of her mouth, “then it definitely won’t be a problem if I stop giving it up altogether.”

“You can’t be serious,” Cassian replied after a second of stunned silence, reaching out to try and wrap an arm around her waist. His mouth dropped open a little bit when she deftly avoided him and started walking back to their bedroom so she could put on her pajamas. “Nes. Come on.”

“Don’t ‘Nes’ me,” she tossed over her shoulder. He followed her into their closet and she pointedly ignored the way he leaned against the doorframe to watch her change into a tank and loose shorts. “If I’m the problem, then it won’t be difficult for you. Right?”

“Of course not,” he said, challenge gleaming in his eyes. “And when you come back begging me to fuck you, I promise I won’t be mean about it.”

“That’s adorable.” She tossed her worn clothes in the hamper and walked into their bedroom, not even giving him a spare glance once he started stripping. “I can’t say I’ll do the same for you.”

“Fine,” Cassian answered. He sauntered into their bedroom only wearing boxers, and while normally she would’ve shamelessly ogled him, she wasn’t going down easy. Instead of reaching for him, she loosely braided her hair for sleep and busied herself with making sure all her devices were plugged in. “If that’s how you want to play it, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Nesta echoed. She pulled down the comforter and got under the sheets, taking an immense amount of satisfaction from the disbelieving look on his face. “Good night, Cassian.”

Cassian turned off the light before sliding under the covers, too. “Good night, Nesta.”

The next morning, Nesta woke up to Cassian plastered across her back as usual. She could tell he was awake from the way he was gently rubbing circles into her stomach, and while on any other morning she would’ve ground back into his morning wood, this wasn’t any other morning. 

“Good morning,” Cassian murmured into her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. 

“Good morning,” Nesta whispered back. Her body was already responding to his hands and his lips and his voice – Jesus, he wasn’t even trying, she needed to pull herself together – but she wasn’t going down without a fight. “Are you going to shower first?”

“Shower?” he asked, clearly confused. It was a Sunday, so they didn’t have anywhere to be, and they usually spent them lounging around and catching up on chores after a few rounds of morning sex. “What do you mean?”

“To take care of that,” she answered, pushing back into him just enough to be a tease. “Unless you want to take back what you said, of course.”

“I don’t have to take it back when I was right,” he replied with a low chuckle. His morning voice should be illegal, she thought to herself. “But whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Then I hope your hand feels better than mine,” she fired back. She wiggled out of his grip with a little more body contact than necessary, taking her time to stand up, turn to face him, and stretch in a way she knew emphasized her chest. “I’m going to eat something.”

Nesta made sure Cassian saw her smirk before she turned and made her way to the kitchen, feeling more than confident that she was winning this war as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. Her good mood only got better as she heard her boyfriend grumble all the way to the bathroom, and she was practically whistling by the time she finished eating and took her dishes to the sink so she could wash everything. 

She was washing her bowl out when Cassian finally emerged, dressed in a low-cut green tank top and a pair of black shorts. He’d pulled his curls back into a loose bun, a few strands escaping toward the front, and damn if the sight of him almost made her want to reconsider their competition. “Are you going to the gym?”

“Yup,” Cassian answered. Even though their kitchen had more than enough room, as he passed her he put his hands on her waist and made a show of grinding his front to her back. “Excuse me.”

“The protein powder’s in the other cabinet, idiot,” she told him, thoroughly ignoring how much he’d set her ablaze with just that one touch. 

“Oops,” he said sarcastically. He pressed himself against her again as he went to the right cabinet, taking his time to really make sure she felt every inch of his muscled body against hers before he grabbed the protein powder. “My mistake.”

She just rolled her eyes as she dried her now-clean bowl, moving to put it away on the second shelf of the cabinet where they kept their plates and bowls. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Need some help with that?” he asked from behind her, crowding her between his body and the counter. He reached out and plucked the bowl from her fingers, rocking his hips up as he put it with the rest of the clean dishes, and she had to bite back a moan at how good it felt. 

At this angle, it would be so easy for her to lean her head back on his shoulder and let him have his way with her. To let him hoist one leg up, pull her loose shorts to the side, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. To let him—

Nesta mentally shook herself before she let her fantasies go any further. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and she was already losing her cool like this? She needed to get a goddamn grip. 

“Thank you,” Nesta managed to get out without her voice giving her away. It was a relief when he backed away from her with a little chuckle, like he knew exactly what direction her thoughts had traveled in without her saying a word. “Have a good workout.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Cassian replied, still amused. He gave her a quick kiss on the temple before he finished shaking up his drink, grabbed a handful of snacks to hold him over, and moved toward the door. “Don’t break your vibrator trying to replace me!”

“Fuck you,” she called out. He laughed before shutting the door behind him, leaving her alone and thankfully distraction-free.

With Cassian out of the apartment for a bit, Nesta found it wasn’t nearly as difficult to keep her focus. She did her usual weekly cleaning, updated their grocery list, and started a load of laundry. By the time he made it back home, she’d done some yoga, showered, gotten dressed, and was in the middle of moving their laundry to the right place.

At the sound of Cassian’s keys opening the door, Nesta yelled her greeting from where she was bent over fishing clothes out of the washing machine so she could throw them into the dryer. “Hey baby!”

“Now that’s a sight for sore ears,” Cassian replied. She turned and rolled her eyes at the sight of him openly ogling her. “Don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.”

“There’s no more clothes to move,” she told him dryly. She tossed some dryer balls in with the wet clothes and started the drying cycle, already moving to fold the dry clothes from the first load that she’d tossed on their bed a few minutes prior. “How was the gym?”

“Good,” he answered, following her into the bedroom. “Sweaty. I’m gonna shower.”

“Have fun without me,” she told him with a smirk.

He winked at her before yanking his shirt over his head. “Oh, I intend to.”

Cassian’s shower didn’t even last ten minutes, so Nesta was still folding clothes when he emerged from the bathroom. She looked up from where she was folding one of his shirts and immediately did a double take when she realized he was completely naked, his usual oversized towel nowhere to be seen, and she swallowed thickly at the sight of him still glistening from his shower. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nesta asked, trying and failing to keep her eyes on something appropriate. 

“My favorite towel is in the hamper,” Cassian answered with a smirk. It only grew as he watched her follow a droplet of water trailing down his abs and toward his rapidly hardening cock. “Not my fault, sweetheart.”

Damn. She hated that he wasn’t actually wrong, but she knew there were plenty of clean towels in their linen closet. “There’s still lots of towels in there, baby.”

“And use an inferior towel?” he replied with a heavy, put-upon sigh. “You know I have sensitive skin.”

“Yep,” she responded tightly. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to strangle him or sink to her knees and let the hard length of his cock in her throat strangle her instead, but she had to stay strong. “Which is why all our towels are Turkish cotton.”

“Hmm,” he said with false thoughtfulness. She nearly ripped through the lace underwear she was folding when he leaned against the doorframe and his cock shifted with the motion, leaking arousal and practically begging her to put her mouth on it. “You’re so good to me, Nes.”

That was playing dirty, and he knew it. Her body was practically conditioned to respond to his praise, her breath coming faster as she pressed her thighs together to try and ignore her arousal. It only got stronger as he took himself in hand, the obscene sounds of him stroking his hard cock threatening to break her like nothing had before. 

“Fuck off,” Nesta eventually snapped, forcing herself to break out of her trance. She grabbed as many clothes as she could carry and practically ran into the closet to start putting them away, knowing if she didn’t leave now, Cassian would never stop bragging about how he’d won. Even through the door, she could hear the sound of his laughter. 

But she wasn’t going down that easily. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

After Nesta got a chance to calm down — and finish putting away their laundry — the rest of their Saturday night went quietly enough. They ordered Indian for dinner and spent the night in front of their TV, catching up on Heartstopper while they munched on naan and butter chicken, and Cassian only tried to get a rise out of her once. He only pouted a little when it didn’t work, but that didn’t stop him from cuddling up to her as usual when it was time for bed. 

In the end, it wasn’t the skimpy clothes or the innuendos or the sudden increase in bending over that did it. In fact, it happened when Nesta wasn’t even putting in any extra effort – which, in hindsight, she supposed was as wholesome as the two of them could get. 

When Sunday morning rolled around, Nesta woke up before Cassian for once, and she quietly slipped out of bed to make herself some tea so she could curl up with her book for a little while. Maybe it was playing with fire to read such filthy material when she couldn’t put all that restless energy to good use, but she’d been so preoccupied with messing with her boyfriend that she was falling behind with her book club.

Once she had a steaming cup of Earl Grey ready, it was easy to get cozy and lose herself in the morning light and the sounds of her pages turning. She was so immersed in her book that she didn’t even notice that she was being watched for a solid couple of minutes, and once that awareness slowly trickled in, she looked up to see Cassian leaning against their bedroom doorframe watching her.

“Good morning,” Nesta said pleasantly, reaching for her cup of tea and taking a large sip. From the way he was looking at her, she had a good feeling about how this morning was going to go, but she had to let him come to that conclusion on his own. “What did you want to do for breakfast?”

Cassian crossed the room in a few long strides, his eyes dark and intent on her. “You.”

“Not on the menu,” she replied. She reached out with her foot and stopped him in his tracks, doing her best to keep her composure as he grabbed her ankle and started rubbing circles into her skin. “Did you need something, baby?”

“Please, Nesta,” Cassian said, his eyes a little wild. “I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Nesta said back, doing her best to seem unimpressed. She knew nothing drove him crazier than when she acted like this, so it was only a matter of time before he completely caved. “Pathetic.”

“Sweetheart, please,” he replied. He gently let go of her foot and sank to his knees in front of her, crawling the last bit of the way until his hands were resting on her thighs. “I am so, so, so, sorry.”

“And?” she prompted. She made sure to slide her bookmark into place before looking down her nose at him, setting her book on the nightstand and out of the way. “What are you sorry for?”

“For acting like you were the problem,” he answered in a rush, his words almost running together he was so eager to get them out. “When it was me who couldn’t handle it.”

She leaned forward and sank a hand into his hair, thoroughly enjoying the way his breath hitched at the movement. “So what does that make you?” 

“…Very sorry?” he guessed hesitantly. God, she loved seeing him this way, all eager to please her and just desperate enough to do whatever she wanted. “Nesta, please . I need you.”

“Wrong answer,” Nesta said, pulling on the curls she had gathered between her fingers. “It makes you a needy little slut.”

Cassian inhaled sharply and tried to nod his agreement as best he could with her hand still pulling at his hair. “Yeah. Yes. Uh huh.”

“Why don’t we try that again, hmm?” she asked, though they both knew it wasn’t really a request. “What does that make you, Cassian?”

“A needy little slut,” he repeated quickly. He was breathing so quickly it was a miracle he was still able to talk. “Your needy little slut.”

“There’s a good boy,” she told him, deeply satisfied at the way his eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the words. “Why don’t you show me how good you are?”

“Anything,” he panted. “Anything you want.”

Nesta spread her legs and fixed him with an expectant look. “Do I have to spell it out for you, or are you smarter than you look?”

Cassian didn’t waste any time, thankfully understanding exactly what she was asking for. He reached for her pajama shorts and helped her wiggle out of them — and her underwear — before diving in with a vengeance. She dug her hands into his hair as he got to work, using the flat of his tongue just the way he knew she liked it and not wasting his time with too much foreplay.

Nesta moaned and leaned back against the couch, more than happy to relax and let him do all the work. She’d been so on edge that it only took a few minutes to push her over it. She came with a loud cry, arching her back and tightening her grip on his hair to get closer to his tongue. It had only been a few days since her last orgasm, but that was seemingly enough to make this one more intense than she was used to. 

More intense than the usual intense, anyway. 

“Bedroom,” she demanded once she’d caught her breath. “Now.”

Cassian nodded and scrambled to his feet, giving her a quick look at the way his hard cock was tenting the front of his pajama pants before practically sprinting to their room. 

Nesta took her time even though her body was screaming for more. She knew the anticipation would drive him even more wild, so what was the rush? She made sure to put her mug in the sink and grab her clothes before she casually walked toward their bedroom.

“Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed,” Nesta ordered after she’d stepped into the room. “Face up.”

“Okay,” Cassian agreed. He whipped off his pajamas and underwear, throwing himself onto the bed so fast it was a miracle nothing broke under him. “I’m ready.”

“Mhmm.” She pulled off her shirt and tossed her clothes toward the hamper, eyeing his hard cock with disdain as she walked toward the bed. “I can see that.”

The meaner she was to him, the more it turned him on. He was hard enough to pound nails, and while she normally might’ve savored the feeling of it in her mouth, she wasn’t feeling particularly generous right now. Instead of lowering her mouth, she got on the bed and straddled him, his hands automatically settling on her hips to keep her steady.

“You’re not coming until I say so,” Nesta said, slowly grinding against Cassian’s hard cock just to tease him. “You understand?”

“Y-yeah,” Cassian said back. They’d played this game before, and they both knew she’d stop if and when he said the word. “I understand.”

“Good,” she replied. She didn’t give him any warning before lifting up, grabbing his cock, and sinking down onto it in one long slide. “Fuck, I missed this.”

The sound of his whimper was like music to her ears. “God, Nesta—”

“You almost got me yesterday,” she admitted as she slowly rocked back and forth on his cock. She couldn’t believe she’d gone days without him stretching her out like this. “Walking around with your dick out like — fuck, yes, that’s it — like a fucking whore.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he panted. He bucked his hips up to meet her thrust for thrust and they both groaned. “Needed you so bad.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been so goddamn stupid,” she retorted, starting to speed up now. “But maybe you just like being stupid.”

“I’m an idiot,” he agreed. He groaned after a particularly well-timed thrust and his grip got that much tighter on her hips. “A needy idiot.”

Their pace sped up even more after that, Nesta leaning all the way forward so Cassian could get his knees under her and thrust upwards in earnest. She couldn’t help but kiss him then, moaning into his mouth as he really let her have it, their headboard slamming into the wall over and over again with every thrust. 

“Jesus, you feel so good,” Cassian moaned, shifting his grip so he could grab her ass and thrust that much harder and faster. “So fucking perfect.”

“You close?” Nesta asked. At his frantic nod, she pulled all the way off his cock so she could reach down and squeeze the base of it tightly. 

He hissed loudly. “ Ah — fuck, Nesta!”

“Just making sure you keep your promise,” she told him. When he’d calmed down enough, she let go and gave him a mean smirk. “Thanks for telling me, baby.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” he groaned. 

“I told you I’d be mean about it,” she replied sweetly, “so I don’t know why you’re surprised about that now.”

“I didn’t think you actually meant it,” he responded, only a little exasperated.  

“If only I cared what you thought,” she fired back. “Fuck toys don’t get to have opinions.”

Sitting as close as they were, Nesta could feel the moment Cassian’s cock twitched at the words. “You like that, hmm?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Love it.”

“Maybe next time I’ll gag you,” Nesta mused aloud, shifting to sit next to him so she could take his cock in her hand. “Then you really wouldn’t get to have any opinions.”

“Oh, shit,” Cassian gasped. His gaze flicked back and forth between her face and her hand stroking his cock, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to look at more. “Nesta, please .”

“Maybe I’ll tie you up, too,” she continued, tightening her grip on him almost to the point of pain. He moaned and thrusted up into her hand, arousal leaking steadily from the tip and showing her just how much he liked this. “Use you like my personal dildo.”

At his full-body shiver, she let go of him completely and laughed at his look of utter betrayal. “What are we, fourteen? You’re not coming in my hand.”

“Of course not,” he answered through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, only opening them when he could handle looking at her again. “Now what?”

Nesta chose to take pity on him and ignore his mouthiness. “Come here.”

Cassian sat up and let her tug him on top of her, settling between her legs where he belonged. Nesta reached down and guided his cock between her legs, both of them moaning when he thrusted inside her, and it didn’t take long before they were going at it like rabbits. It was all she could do to dig her nails into his back, wrap her legs around his waist, and hold on for dear life.

God. How had she survived going without this for so long? 

“Nesta, I’m so close,” Cassian panted into her ear. He pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to her jaw and her neck that made her run even hotter than she already was. “Please, please— ”

“You can come whenever you need to,” Nesta finally told him. She figured she’d dangled his orgasm in front of him for long enough. “You earned it.” 

The words had barely left her mouth before Cassian was coming. He slammed into her one last time and stayed deep, his entire body trembling from the force of his orgasm as he moaned her name and rode it out. 

“Fuck, that was good,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re so good to me.” 

After they’d both caught their breath, Nesta found herself lying half on top of Cassian while he gently ran his fingers across her freckled shoulders. Their sheets were a mess and they both needed to shower, but she wasn’t going to move for anything. Now that she wasn’t practically vibrating out of her skin with how badly she wanted him, being in his arms was far more comforting than it had been compared to the last few days.

“So maybe we do need it,” Cassian eventually said.

Nesta just dug her face more aggressively into his chest, intent on enjoying her sleepy afterglow for as long as possible. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, next time it’ll be two weeks.”

“Shutting up now,” he replied, pulling a huff of laughter from her. He’d admitted how wrong he was many, many times already, so she didn’t even bother correcting him; they both knew how right she’d been. “I was an idiot. Let’s never do this again.”

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too,” she answered automatically. “But I really do need you to stop talking. That was exhausting and I need to nap.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, leaning down to press a kiss into her hair. “But after we nap, how do you feel about round two?”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[tenaciousjalapeno]

Testing the Cat Lady, Part 2

2/?

Pairing: LA Buggy the Clown x Reader

Summary: Captain Buggy drags you back to his ship to show you around your new home

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1,600

A/N: Tried to match the energy of the emotionally drained character, so hopefully that shines through

The door that Buggy takes you through leads straight back to his colorful ship, where the crew leisurely sprawls across the main deck. “Listen up, freaks,” he shouts, instantly drawing the attention of his crew. “This little looker and the furball are the newest members of the show. We’re going to show them a warm welcome, got it?” Cabaji and Bear-boy arrive, rolling a barrel of whiskey to their captain’s side. “Why don’t you introduce yourself,” Buggy quietly urges you with a nudge forward. As much as you don’t want to, the emotional blows the man has put you through has wrung any and all fight out of you. At least for today. You nervously stutter out both your and Mango’s names to the crowd. It looks to be about twenty people, give or take. They give a collective welcoming shout in return.

Several pairs of hungry eyes scan your body up and down. Being ogled at is nothing new to you, but something about so many people – pirates, at that – doing it at once sends a shiver down your spine. Luckily, this doesn’t go unnoticed by your new captain. “Touch either of them, and you lose your hands,” he coldly states to the crew. All of their gazes immediately drop. Buggy tells you that he’ll give you a tour after he gets some other work done, then disappears back into the tent.

Everyone seems friendly enough and bombards you with questions throughout the afternoon. The whole situation is a bit overwhelming, but nothing you can’t handle. Mango stays settled in your lap the entire time, which helps ease your tension. Not much, but enough. From listening in on some nearby conversations you learn that Bear-boy is the Mohji that Buggy spoke of earlier. If it weren’t for him, you could very well be sitting here with a cat-sized hole in your heart. A wave of guilt washes over you, and you decide that apologizing to the poor guy is the least you could do to make up for his bandaged arms. “Hey! Mohji, right?” you ask after striding over to him.

He nervously eyes Mango, but smiles warmly at you nonetheless. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Uh, so Captain Buggy said you’re kind of responsible for keeping Mango safe. I wanted to say thanks, and sorry on behalf of this guy.” Mango crawls his way up your shoulder as you speak and stares at Mohji with distrust.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says, brushing the matter off with a wave of his hand. “I would’ve done the same if I was in his boots. I’m actually glad to have him around! Now Richie finally has another cat to keep him company.”

You perk up at his words. “You’ve got a cat too?” No matter how many cats you’ve seen in your days, you’re always excited to meet a new one.

“Yeah, he’s my best buddy! Come on, I’ll show you.” With that, Mohji leads you back to the tent. Pulling back the curtain to a side room, your heart hits the floor. Holy shit! It wasn’t a cat. It was a lion. A big one. He lays comfortably on a blanket and barely acknowledges your entrance. To your shock, Mohji seems completely at ease around Richie and goes as far as rubbing the massive beast’s exposed belly. Even more to your shock, Mango is also unfazed. He leaps down from your shoulders and confidently struts over to the lion that is, no joke, easily a hundred times his size. After a minute of sniffing each other, Mango curls up against Richie for a nap. That cat of yours has always been brave, but sometimes he leaves you truly gob smacked.

You sigh and shake your head at the little orange cat. Once your heart settles, you pelt Mohji with dozens of questions about his, ehh, strange choice of pet. He seems ecstatic to finally have a new person to show Richie off to. Gods know that it isn’t often that they get a new member to the crew. Engrossed in the conversation, you don’t notice that with each question, he inches closer and closer, until a voice shouts behind you.

“Back off, Mohji. Remember what I said about losing your hands?” Buggy enters the tent, surprising the both of you. His face bares a wide smile, but his voice is edging on hostile. The combination is frightening, but at least he seems to be looking out for you. Kind of. Maybe?

“Y-yes captain! I was j-just introducing these two to Richie,” Mohji stutters out fearfully.

Your captain circles the cowering man. “That better be all it was. You,” he says, turning back and setting his watercolor eyes on you, “Grab the furball. I’m going to show you around.” You nod and hoist Mango into your arms. Buggy leads you back toward the ship and yells behind him to Mohji, “Not everyone who likes cats wants to see your dick!” The statement leaves you flustered. Being able to tell if people were flirting with you or not was a gift that you weren’t exactly graced with. In fact, it’s gotten you into a lot of trouble in the past, but it looks like the captain has saved you this time around. You almost consider thanking him, but you’re still too caught up on the whole “capturing you and forcing you to join his crew” thing to show any gratitude.

He takes you to the lower deck of the ship, pointing out the kitchen, laundry, storage rooms, and other main areas before stopping abruptly at a door. You nearly stumble into him, but he catches you by the shoulder and steadies you. The contact makes you blush, but you dismiss it as a weird fear response. After all, he did threaten to kill your cat just this morning. Though you pegged him as an idiot before, the ordeal really drove home that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. “This’ll be your room,” Buggy states, opening the door and motioning for you to step in. It’s small, but surprisingly clean and even has its own bathroom. You survey the room from its center, taking a minute to fully soak it in.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Buggy huffs, snapping you back to reality. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an expectant look in his picturesque eyes. Try as you might not to notice, the position does a great job of framing his biceps. The sight makes your stomach flip. As cruel and intimidating as he is, it’s impossible to deny that he’s, well, nice to look at. Even with the clown nose.

“Oh, no. It’s nice,” you hurriedly say. “I guess I was just expecting a shared quarters or something.”

He looks away and shifts his weight. “Well, there is, but I figured since you’ve got that guy, you might need your own space so he doesn’t bother anyone. That and I don’t trust some of those other shitheads around you.”

With a puzzled look, you try to ask, “What do you-,” before he cuts you off.

“Anyway, we’ll talk about my plans for you in the morning. My room is next door if you need me. Don’t bother me unless it’s important,” he says gruffly before heading to his own room. Rude. That blue-haired clown’s mood swings today are really leaving you in a daze.

Closing the door, you see that two little bowls and a large bag of cat food rest on the floor behind it. Once again, you blush, though you don’t know what to dismiss this one as. You set Mango down and fill his bowl with food, which he eagerly starts crunching on.

Familiarizing yourself with your new home, you take another look over everything. A dresser against the wall reminds you that you’re going to be in need of some new clothes, seeing as everything in your house is probably trashed. Still, you decide to open it up and check out the drawers. To your pleasant surprise, it’s filled with your clothes as well as a few of your other personal belongings. A smile spreads widely across your face and you let out a small fit of giggles. Never in a hundred years did you think you’d be so happy to see your clothes, books, and dinged-up old lute. It clicks that this is probably what he was referring to when he said that he had other work. Maybe he’s not as evil as I thought.

In the room next door, Buggy leans over the counter in his own personal bathroom, washing grease paint from his face. He’s lost in his own thoughts. Uncharacteristically, he actually felt guilty about his show earlier. Countless people had been tortured by his own two hands and malicious methods over the years, but never before did he show an ounce of remorse. In fact, it had become something of a hobby at this point. The screams and tears he’d elicit typically brought him satisfaction, but something about yours stirred a foreign feeling in him. Maybe it was just how small you looked standing there, or maybe it was the desperation in your watery doe eyes. Maybe it was any number of things. Fucked if he knew.

 Through the wall, he can hear your giggles, to which he responds with a low groan. “Damn shidiot,” he mumbles to his reflection.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 26)

Alexia Putellas x Character (2)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Five months. She hadn’t seen her for five months. At first she thought they’d been going to the bar on different days, but after speaking to a few regulars, she realised that Ridley hadn’t been back to the bar.

“She does this.” Javier shrugged. “She’s a busy woman, especially with her job.  She travels a lot and parties a lot when she’s not working. She especially loves Ibiza.” He laughed. “I party with her often, but it’s hard to keep up. We’re lucky to have her here. She draws a crowd.”

Alexia looked around. The bar was not chaotic, but it was still bustling. She caught eyes with one of the dancers again, though she was no longer performing, and was making her needs known as she looked at Alexia, her lips wrapping around the straw in her drink. After the first two months, she’d given up and fallen into the same habit since her injury. Partying. Fucking. It helped her to forget.

“Do you still have a room available?” Alexia asked Javier behind the bar as he brushed the little moustache he was so proud of.

He nodded. “Girl, I’ve had eleven prepped and ready for you since you got here.” He passed her the keys with a cute little wink. “Go get her.”

Javier was also gay, obviously so. Since that night five months ago, they’d become friends. He was so relaxed and casual, never too emotional. The most emotion he’d ever show was bitter disappointment, especially when straight men decided they needed to be heard or get some testosterone out.

Alexia caught the eye of the dancer again and stood, room key spinning on her finger as she walked up the stairs. Javier knew room eleven was her favourite, being her playing number. She unlocked the door and entered, leaving it open for her fuck of the night. The rooms always smelt good. Clean. Javier was a proud business owner and his attention to detail was immaculate. She wondered if that’s why he and Ridley got on so well.

She scoffed at herself, shaking her head to rid it of the women she’d probably never see again. As she entered the room, it was simple. Large. The colours black and red dominating the room. There was a large king double canopy, its frame black, with an array of hooks and holes for all sorts of fun toys and bondage. The sheets and pillows were silk, the blanket velvet, and all were a deep maroon. She looked at the dark, lone, three-seater modular couch which sat at the other end of the room, opposite the bed. She’d fucked on that multiple times, and watched from it, multiple times. Had Ridley fucked someone on it also?

She shook her head with a groan. Stop. The door clicked closed behind her and she turned to the dancer who wandered into the room, biting down on her lip.

“Spanish?” Alexia demanded in the language.

She shook her head.

“English?” Alexia asked, this time in English, her accent thick.

She held her thumb and forefinger a part just a little. “Little..” She said with a strong Korean accent.

Alexia stepped forward to her. “You… want this?” Her English wasn’t the best, but it was going to have to do for the night. She needed approval. The dancer nodded and moved closer, looking up at her with big eyes, full of need. “Yes.”

Alexia knew as soon as they first saw each other in the bar who she was. What she was. What she wanted. She took another step forward so Alexia had to look even further down now. Alexia’s eyes darkened as the dancer maintained eye contact and began lowering herself to her knees. Alexia caught her by the throat.

“No.” Even with that one word, her accent was strong. She walked her back to the bed and pushed her onto it and just like all of the other nights, it gave her the distraction she needed.. for a least the first hour.

Alexia didn’t orgasm, as hard as she tried. She gave up after that hour and changed tactics, pulling her underwear back on and trying to distract herself in other ways by tasting her and railing the absolute fuck out of her. Multiple times. Javier had made sure the room was ‘set up’ just right, the music distracting and her favourite type of strap-on in the little shelving unit, brand new and ready to go. Regardless of her dominance, her brain was still overwhelming her with thoughts. Ridley. Her ACL. Ridley. The abusive management of her team. Ridley. She was on her mind as her fingers were inside her. On her mind as her tongue was sucking around her swollen clit and her fingers were playing with her nipples. On her mind as she railed her missionary. Sideways. From behind. From below. It angered her and pushed her to her limits. She closed her eyes and kept thrusting, trying to focus on the moaning and pleasurable cries from the woman she was fucking. Alexia went into that place she went to during extreme physical training. She was focused, sweat dripping from her body, and just getting on with it. This shouldn't be what sex is, but it was, because it was the only thing to keep her thoughts at bay. But not tonight.

She slammed the woman into her sixth orgasm of the night and then left her there as she withdrew and dressed herself, putting the strap into the bin. Javier never re-used toys.

She knew it was harsh, but she couldn’t even look at the woman. After she was dressed, she went into the bathroom to tidy up, fixing her hair and making herself look more presentable. She locked onto her own hazel eyes in the mirror, disappointed at what she saw there. Alexia wasn’t an emotional person, she was strong and authoritive. A leader. But right now, she wanted to cry at the woman she saw reflected back at her.

She washed her face and wiped the taste of the woman from her slightly swollen lips, eager to go home and shower the night off. She never showered in the room; it was too… personal.

She left the room; the woman was now up and holding her clothes to her body as she made her way to the bathroom. She looked a little shy as Alexia exited and mustered up a polite smile in return as she left the room without another thought about her.

Ridley. Ridley. Ridley. What would Ridley have done after sex with her? Is that what she usually does? Would she have left Alexia like that?

She was eyes down and thinking too much as she rounded the corner and smacked into a body. She fell backwards into the wall, the breath knocked out of her lungs slightly with a little moan. That’s exactly what she needed. She felt herself getting a little upset until she saw who it was.

“La Reina.” Ridley said huskily in Spanish. “That was my fault, forgive me?”

Alexia knew that they both knew it was definitely not her fault. Alexia was the one who wasn’t looking. She looked up at Ridley who was slightly taller and one of the first things she noticed was her smell. It was more masculine than feminine, though barely. Fresh and raw. Woody, spicy and sweet with a hint of musk. She was obsessed with that smell. Her mouth opened to find something to say as she found herself looking at those lips, that scar, those eyes. Alexia was a strong woman and was always the leader, the voice of reason, and the dominant character in 99.99% of situations. Ridley was that 0.01%.

“Don’t do it again.” She’d managed to say. That seemed to amuse her, the gold flecks in her eyes dancing as she stood so close that Alexia could feel her body heat.

“I can’t promise that.” She admitted and then her eyes flicked over her shoulder and darkened as the dancer exited room eleven and shyly ducked past them. “Ah. I wouldn’t have picked that as your type, la Reina.”

Alexia didn’t say anything, a little embarrassed that she’d been caught.

A stunningly sexy woman came up behind Ridley then, her hands finding her waist and her teeth nipping her earlobe teasingly. “I’ll be waiting for you.” She murmured in her ear as she gave Alexia a flirty look and left, walking into room ten. Ridley hadn’t taken her eyes from Alexia during the whole exchange. It were as if she were studying her body language, her reactions.

She tilted her head again, eyes now teasing. “Would you like to watch?”

Alexia found herself unable to form words, and Ridley waited patiently until she chuckled. She leant down, her lips brushing her ear just softly enough to register as Alexia stopped breathing.

“Next time, then.”