#at least I have a job now so I make a little bit of income to actually save for some

[drdemonprince]

Would it make more sense to contribute money to my employers 401k to max out the match contribution or to instead just contribute a small amount and use the rest to pay off high interest debt or building an emergency savings (I have like 1.5 months worth of expenses saved and… $30k of credit card debt….). I was unemployed for a long time but now have a stable salaried job where I make enough to cover my expenses (credit card minimums, loans, groceries, rent, etc) and have a little left over that I divvy up between small treats (a movie ticket, a nice pastry, thrifted clothes), donation posts, and like an extra $50 credit card payment and I’m not fully sure the optimal way to use that small amount of money. I do need a small treat from time to time to not lose it (and socializing often costs money even if it’s a cheap activity) but maybe it’s better saving on getting a $10 movie ticket each month to potentially pay off my debt like a month faster a couple years from now? how do I create financial security without feeling like I’m putting my life on a depressing pause for a debt free future that won’t happen for a couple years (assuming I make the same money and don’t incur additional expenses)?

Yeah, you've hit on a really important piece here, which is motivation and long-term resolve. The Mr Money Mustaches of the world talk up the importance of stoicism and shit and preach reducing living expenses, but it's equally important to keep in mind what actively gives you enough hope, pleasure, and reinforcement to keep you going.

Cutting back on expensive nights out is one thing; removing all joy and socialization from your life and therefore nerfing your long-term ability to remain employed and earning is another matter entirely. Enjoy those movie nights out. Supplement with having friends over to stream something on your laptop and eat snacks, free museum days, you know, do lots of cheap shit in addition to the little treats, but dont deny yourself the treats. those arent extravagances, that's being ALIVE! and the only reason we aspire toward financial independence is so that we can live life as we wish to, rather than being owned by an employer.

Employer matches are pretty much a guaranteed double on your money, which is better than even paying off a loan in terms of earning potential. so I'd recommend socking away that 5% from your paycheck automatically, so that you never even have to think about it, and then budgeting any remaining expendable income on knocking out that credit card debt.

30k is enough to really hurt, especially with interest over time, but not so great that knocking it out is impossible. you can do this! make sure in particular to focus any unexpected income on paying down that debt. birthday money, tax returns, perhaps filling out some class action forms online, any little bit helps -- you may want to check out the Snowball Debt Repayment method, in particular, as a lot of people find it more motivating to have a few shorter-term goals. (Basically, if you have multiple credit card debts, focus on paying off the smallest one first, so you'll get the rush of having vanquished at least one beast).

Good luck!!

[simplyghosting]

Okay, I’ve gotta bite the proverbial bullet. I knew it was coming. Didn’t want to accept it, but the time has come. I’ve gotta…learn to start glazing my sculptures with resin. 😫😰😱😖

[solelifauna]

Oooh i really like that!!! The batfam who possessive,unhelthy protective toward each other except reader (fortunately or unfortunately 😅) I would like to know more about the other members too. What was the trigger who make them like that toward each other?

(Sorry if the english is bad , i'm belgian )

OHHHH, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK!!!

Oof, starting out with Bruce Wayne. This man has been through it. He'd already been a little obsessive, considering his response to his parent's death was to dress up as a bat and beat people up. This, plus how he vies for control so much it becomes an obsession. It starts off with Dick, his first son. He didn't really plan to become as attached as he did tbh, he just didn't want the kid dying out on the streets, seeking the same type of retribution he also once sought. Dick was, to say the least, tough to deal with. He didn't want Bruce as a dad, Dick already had a dad and he was dead. But as days and patrols went on, Bruce became B, and on certain nights when Dick wakes up trembling, B becomes dad. And that cements it. Bruce was now a dad.

Then comes Jason. The kid was a riot, having the balls to jack tires off of the Batmobile and having the audacity to hit him with the tire jack too! Bruce knew Jason would be his son then and there, no question. Sure, Jason was a bit scared now, but once he settled in, it felt like everything was in place. He never stopped being a riot, reading and coming up with quick quips like nobody else. Eventually, Jason came to find out about Bruce's night job, and bada-bing-bada-bang, the second robin was ready to take on the streets. Dick wasn't too happy but its fine, turns out Dick ended up loving the kid just as much as him. Which is why Jason's death completely sent Bruce over the edge. His boy, his, killed by that god awful clown. It takes everything in his body to not rip the joker in two.

"It wouldn't be what Jason wanted", he tells himself as he brutalizes another petty thief. He says as he nurses another glass of brandy. He says as he benches Dick and starts another screaming match. But he doesn't care, he can't lose another son.

Then incomes little Tim Drake. He almost gets whiplash when this tiny little boy enters his office, thick folder in hand with a determined look in his eyes. Tim drake says his piece,

"You're killing Gotham."

"You're killing yourself."

"You need a robin."

"I can be Robin."

Those words set him off. Jason. His precious son-dead because of his crusade. the word "no" leaves his mouth stronger than he intends. He doesn't remember much about the exchange after that, but he remembers Alfred escorting a glaring Tim Drake out of his office. The folder remains on his desk, pictures, and documents askew. He opens it once more half-heartedly, his gaze blurring with tears as he looks down. Pictures. Hundreds of them, ones of him and Dick, of Him and Jason, and dick and Jason. He cries silently in his study that night. But it doesn't stop there, Tim Drake is persistent. He tells him to stop, but there's no quelling Tim. He follows him on patrols, stopping him when he gets too violent, and calling ambulances while Bruce tries to dampen the rage in his body.

Eventually, everything blows up one day, he yells at Drake, telling him to get lost or else he'd end up dying out here, dying like Jason. Tim never does stop. Instead, somehow, he now finds himself spending his nights with another little black-haired, blue-eyed boy. This one smaller than the last. He doesn't grow attached this time, he swears he won't. But it's hard not to love the boy. His witty banter, his long rants, and his insane cognitive skills, making even Bruce marvel at him. He's not Jason, he reminds himself, but it doesn't matter. He finds himself loving Tim Drake all on his own. Dick on the other hand had come around to loving Tim faster than Bruce had. Tim was his bird, just like Jason was. Tim had earned his respect. And now three became four.

Then the Redhood appears, a duffle bag full of heads arriving with him. He takes Gotham by storm, crime lords being killed left and right. He's elusive, obious Leauge training instilled in him and something else. Something familiar. Then Batman gets a warning from Hood,

"Keep an eye on your new Robin. It'd be a shame if he ended up like the last one."

And just like that Tim, Robin, is benched, much to Tims's outrage. Hes sent to Titans Tower, far away from from Gotham, far away from Hood. Its too bad that doesn't stop the Hood from finding the little bird anyway. Green is swimming in his vision when he first enters Drake Manor, he knows his replacement isn't here, but he's hoping somebody else will be. In the end, Hood doesn't find the Replacement's parents, when hacking into their flight logs he finds out they've been in Honduras for the past four months. Puzzle pieces click in Hood's head as he gears up towards Titans Tower. There has been a change of plans, well, not completely. Bruce would learn his lesson, but his plans for Tim have drastically changed. He'd scare the bird, nothing more,

"No more dead Robins." He repeates, a new meaning to those words.

(P.S! I know canonically the Drakes were not abusive, maybe a smidge neglectful, but they loved Tim. And Tim loved them. they were good parents. This is all following fanon.)

He doesn't expect Tim to fight back, sure it's a pathetic try considering the amount of sedative gas he'd pumped into the building. He simply cooed as he stroked Timmy's hair, watching as the bird slumped into him. The last word leaving his mouth was a slurred "Ja'sn." And Hood, Jason is pleasantly surprised. What a smart bird. Some events happen in between, but eventually, Jason finds himself back at the manor, back with his family. Bruce and Dick don't let him or Tim out of their sights their first week back.

This is when Jason meets Stephanie for the first time. She isn't adopted, no, but he could see that she's family nonetheless. As much as Bruce reprimands her, he also urgently ushers her over to Alfred for a check-up, thanks to another one of her reckless stunts. She and Tim get along great, whilst she and Dick are a rambunctious bunch, making it their life's goal to give B grey hairs. She's a feral thing, fighting to prove to herself that she isn't her father. Again, she was a Robin too, if only for a few days, still, she was there. Jason ends up cuddled on a couch with her and Tim on either side of him, watching some shitty ass crime movie. He grumbles, but there's no heat behind his complains.

Then comes Cassandra Cain. Within hours of meeting her, it was a unanimous decision to take her in. With her background, her story, and her lack of speech, it would be difficult to send her off elsewhere. And now Bruce has a Daughter, and his boys have a sister. Its not common knowledge, but Bruce has always wanted a daughter, and Cass was a saint. She was sweet yet lethal, she cared about her brothers, often going out with Dick, and learning how to read with Jason, whilst she and Tim bonded over casework. And just like him and her brothers, she wouldn't dare let a hair on any of their heads be hurt. Once she gets more comfortable talking, she doesn't ever stop reminding Jason that she's the older out of the two of them. She and Dick bond over Ballet and Dancing, his gymnastics, and time spent in the circus making it possible for him to keep up/aid Cass with her newfound hobby. Steph and Cass are even more well off together, usually patrolling together, or Steph ends up dragging Cass along to plot her next scheme. Bruce watches in adoration.

Then you arrive. He's completely blind sided when Alfred says he has a call from CPS, saying he has a biological child. You're a small thing when you arrive at the manor, only eleven years old. But right now, he just can't get over the fact that he has a child, one that was of his actual blood, and you've just been dumped on his doorstep. He doesn't know what to do, so he just gives you an awkward pat before retreating into the cave. He cant deal with this right now, he has one too many high-profile cases going on at the same time, and now, everyone couldn't just walk and talk freely around the manor. He sighs into his hands, your timing really was poor, but he knows it isn't your fault. You're just a kid, a kid who lost her mom. But yet, Bruce can't bring himself to talk to you. Alfred keeps reminding him with a disappointed tone, and Bruce promises that he'll get around to talking to you, but he just never does. It doesn't help that he starts seeing you less and less. Unbeknownst to him, you've taken the hint that nobody really wanted you here, so you just stopped caring. And Bruce doesn't care enough to amend your thoughts.

Lastly comes Damian. His blood-son. The son of him and the woman he once loved, Thalia al Ghul. Sure, there was some love lost over the years but he still had feelings for her. How could he not? All those days spent training in Nanda Parbat, how could he not still love her if even just a little bit? And Damian? He's the living, breathing amalgamation of their love. It doesn't help that the boy is adorably feisty, and dangerous, but it's clear that he's still a kid seeking approval from his father and mother. He knew Tim was going to be ecstatic, finally, he wouldn't be the youngest (though he forgets that technically you were the youngest). It's an immediate catfight when Tim and Damian meet, though Tim doesn't take it to heart, he knows how League influence works. He does, however, put Damian in his place subduing him before everyone else comes down to see what happened. Immediately Jason grabs ahold of Damian, remembering him from his time in the league. He holds Damian in a possessive grip as he looks him in the eyes, green swirling in them.

"baby bat, its good to finally have you back."

"Tch, its good to see you too Akhi."

"Still Dami, you're new here, but we also have rules. No harming family. You touch Timmy or anyone else again, ill keep you locked up in my room." Jason says gently.

Damian only nods his head, familiar with his akhi's protective behavior. Tim was his brother then, and everyone else was family.

"I understand Akhi, no harm will come to Drake. I apologize, I did not know he was family."

Tim only flashes Damian a feral smile.

"No harm done Damian, you're not the fist person in the family thats tried to kill me."

Jason grumbles. Whilst Dick laughs. What a fucked up dynamic, am i right?

Of course, nobody really tells Damian you're a part of the family too. All Damian knows is that you're the only biological daughter of Batman, you are not considered family, and he must kill you to inherit his rightful place. What he didn't know, was that you were just a civilian, someone not even worth the effort. Still, the damage is already done. Damian expects some kind of punishment, however, he only gets a light reprimand and is let off the hook.

"He's still learning." They all say.

He ends up cuddled on the family couch in between his father and Drake, whilst Grayson, Todd, and Cass fight over what movie to pick. He doesn't see you anywhere.

'Good.' He thinks to himself.

You were of inferior breeding, weak and fragile. You had no place amongst them or anywhere else. Still, you were his half-sister, meaning he had some obligation to you. Sure, he hated being related to someone so weak, but hey, according to league customs, you were marked by his sword, meaning it was now his job to be your keeper. So, he'd make sure you'd stay at the manor and stayed out of trouble and out of the way.

Anyways, y'all are going to see more of their dynamics with each other and y/n in later chapters. Just wanted to drop this drabble. Thanks for this ask! I really enjoyed writing this.

[punkitt-is-here]

howdy folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey y'all! I don't do these very often so I hope its apparent how much help would be appreciated. Eli, my dear friend of many years, is going through some extreme financial troubles right now and is at risk of being $700 dollars in the red for rent, and this is after she's had to deal with bronchitis (which worsened his asthma), an abusive workplace environment, and over 500 rejected job applications. He's going to keep fighting to secure an income, but for now him and his partner are just in a really tight spot and I wanted to ask if my audience was willing to throw at least a couple bucks at a wonderfully sweet person in need. She rocks, she's one of the coolest people I know and one of the first ever bigender people I met and she deserves to not be in the financial trouble she's in. They're running pretty low on time to make up this money, so I wanted to get the word out there to see if anyone wanted to assist. The link below is to his paypal.me, and any little bit helps. (apologies, it's using his deadname.)

[vimeddiee]

I'm going on hiatus!

It was a difficult month (few months, really) for me in terms of work. I started an illustration gig in May, with a deadline in June...I ended up finishing in September due to client issues. This job broke me, or at least landed the final blow and I am completely burnt out. Looking at art, thinking about it, makes me feel sick. I've been burnt out over the years, but it's never happened to me at this level before!

I'm no longer posting on twitter, just looking at the platform makes me want to scream and throw up, so I'm mostly on bluesky these days. I've uninstalled most social media apps from my phone and tbh I'm enjoying the silence, even if it's disconcerting.

October is my birthday month, and my gift to myself will be a much-needed (and kind of mandatory) break. I live in a two-income household, but will have to depend on my spouse financially for a while, and I'm fortunate to be in a position to do that. Whatever extra I can contribute, will be from prints and book sales. We were already scraping by, so this burnout comes at a bad time haha.

I will be pausing October billing on Patreon, so paying members will not be charged for the month. (Those of you being charged right now are being charged for September!)

While on break, I'll be travelling to see my family and dealing with various health things. I may be a bit disconnected, but the idea is to use this time to make a plan about what I can do about work in the future...maybe get some inspiration and motivation. I feel like I've been forced into this situation by my own brain, so I need to pamper it for a little bit to say sorry for not listening 😭

If you still want to support me during my break:

My digital comic store: https://payhip.com/Vimeddiee

Print store: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/vimeddiee/

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/vimeddiee

Thank you so much!

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

[aangelinakii]

a possible idea for your soulmates part 2 - maybe reader crosses paths with bruce wayne and has a weirdly similar experience of being unable to lie to him. if reader puts two and two together or one of them manages to get away before realisation hits - it’s up to you.

THE NIGHT SHIFT.

— what's he doing here?

summary : after batman let you off with a warning (of sorts?) you decide to lay low for a bit, lay off the house burglaries for a bit, maybe get a job in the mean time. adhering to capitalist culture and all that. however, you have an encounter with bruce wayne that leaves you just as confused as your encounter with the dark knight.

note : thank you so much for your suggestion it really helped !!!! i'm kind of thinking of continuing this 🤭 but i'd love some suggestions from here !

part one here

it wasn't ideal; getting caught, getting interrogated by the bat, not being able to mask your words with the oppsite of truths, and then getting let out. unlike your usually chaotic lifestyle, it was difficult to get your head around, even a few weeks later.

sky dark, save for the few streetlights that were dotted around the sidewalk, you pressed the button on your keys to lock your car behind you, hearing a beep to let you know it was now locked up tight.

desperate times call for desperate measures; like hitting the grocery store thirty minutes to midnight because you realised you were out of ramen packs. and to clock in to your night shift.

late nights were something you were used to, even now, as you were currently trying to stray away from robbing unsuspecting people. but it was sickening, having to give in and get a job.

fuck capitalism, really. you much preferred getting an income by pawning the goods you stole from the bourgeoisie.

even in the late, late hours of the night, the convenience stores stayed open, and there was always at least one customer in there. so you were never really alone.

you, with your plastic bag of ramen packs lingering by your feet as you stood behind the counter with a name tag pinned to your shirt. you, with almost a million dollars worth in jewellery and riches hiding in a lockbox beneath your bed at home. you, who hadn't been able to lie to the bat.

funny how things work out.

that annoying sound that chimed through the store when the doors open came again, and you glanced up, although unable to make out the figure from behind the shelves and their basebell hat, so your eyes trailed down to the cctv monitor on the till.

the footage was fuzzy, grainy, and did nothing to help you identify the customer, but sometimes it was fun to try and figure out if you've stolen from them before.

squinting to no avail, you took a step back and let out a soft sigh. sure, nights were fun, and you spent most getting up to no good, but this was tiring.

standing around, talking to people who are either high with the munchies, or are buying cigarettes. it takes a lot to not groan and roll your eyes.

as tonight's customer approached, you began to think some flavour would be added to your night shift.

from beneath that cap, you could recognise those eyes anywhere. pale blue beneath dark, mildly furrowed eyebrows, chiseled jaw and angular nose. the face from newspapers, the face from television, the face from billboards you pass each and every day.

the face you tried to steal from that night you got caught.

he placed one of the blue plastic baskets on the till, offering a polite smile, before his eyes met yours, and the expression faltered.

"good evening, sir. how are you?" you smiled, pulling the items from his basket to scan them. it wasn't every day bruce wayne came into your little supermarket. not in this part of town, anyway.

it wasn't like you had any experience being famous, but it probably was better to do your night shops away from where the paps would find you. if your personal assistant was sick.

but bruce wayne didn't give you the assumed automated reply you were expecting.

"i know you," he stated, seemingly shellshocked by what he was seeing.

eyebrows creasing slightly, your scanning paused momentarily, grip on the laundry detergent faltering. "you.. do?"

the way you spoke wasn't starstruck — like anybody would be if bruce wayne told them he knew them, for whatever reason — it was suspicious. after all, you had tried to steal from him only a few weeks ago.

what if he'd found out where you worked, and came all the way here to kill you?

his lips trembled, jaw in place as it hang slightly open, eyes still on you. "uhh..."

this guy was nothing like how he seemed on television.

he looked like he wanted to say no, but he blurted out, "yes."

brows twitching for a second, you looked down to continue scanning, placing the laundry detergent into a plastic bag. he's bruce wayne, he can pay an extra ten cents.

"i'm sorry, i don't recall." you glanced back up at him, reaching for an energy drink. "i think i would remember meeting you, sir."

"right," bruce wayne responded frigidly. if bruce wayne could be nervous, you think that's what he was right now. "of course."

but you were curious now. as you scanned and packed, you asked further. "so, mister wayne. where did we meet?"

the billionaire customer before you seemed to gulp, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head, coming from the rim of his cap. you were making this really difficult for him, and you didn't know why.

finally, you scanned the final product — a block of parmesan — and placed it in the ten-cents plastic bag, and bruce wayne answered your question, causing you to freeze.

"you tried to steal from me."

when you finally looked up, after a moment of the deafening thrum of your racing heart in your ears, the man looked just as out of place as you. his hands were curled into fists, shaking by his sides anxiously, and his jaw was tense as his molars clenched in the back of his mouth.

sorry, i have no idea what you mean.

that's what you were supposed to say, what you'd meant to say. but the words that truly came from your lips were, "i didn't actually take anything, i hope you know."

"i know."

despite the words not being what you meant to say, and the utter horror shared on both of your poor faces, the conversation seemed to flow. you couldn't help the smile of recognition that appeared on your lips, despite yourself, and him.

"i was the one that caught you."

once again, your smile faltered, a crease forming in your forehead. bruce wayne had caught you? no, he wasn't there.

clearly what was going on here, was that he'd been to a party and had too much bubbly, decided to come here for reinforcements (to keep away a hangover). he wasn't in his right mind, and would probably benefit from you not telling anyone about this.

you dragged your eyes away from his form, a hot red flush forming upon his face.

"um.. your total will be $15.25."

wordlessly, he opened his leather wallet and placed a twenty on the counter, before grabbing the handles to the bag and walking off quickly, the doors chiming as he left, leaving you fizzing with confusion.

hey, at least you didn't have to work out the change.

[detectivestucks]

Home for the Holidays

18+ content, Minors Do NOT Interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: You just broke up with your boyfriend of five years and decided to take an extended stay with your mom and step dad for the holidays. You start to rekindle your high school relationship when your jealous stepfather, Kakashi, steps in.

Warnings: NSFW, Stepcest, Oral male receiving, leg grinding, rough doggy, unprotected penetration.

Word Count: 6.1k

Anon Ask

The last of the packages are piled in the car. Each one wrapped in crisp shiny paper, adorned with red and white bows, and labeled with a sticker in the corner. One last check of your hair in the rearview mirror and you turn over the engine with the push of a button. You back out of your drive, headed to your mom’s house for Christmas. 

You recently broke up with your boyfriend and asked him to move out. Your apartment does nothing but remind you of your lost relationship so your mom and step dad offered to let you stick around during the holidays for an extended stay.

“I’m home!”

“Y/N!” Your mom hurries to the front door and gives you a big hug

“Hi Mom” you hold her tightly, happy to see her.

“Hey Y/N”

You see your step dad stand in the front hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hi Kakashi” you say with a smile. Your mom was so lucky. After she left your dad, your mom got a major upgrade when she married Kakashi. Your dad was a good looking man but that’s all he had going for him. He was lazy and never seemed to be able to hold down a job. You remember the day that broke your mom. She screamed at you when you told her how much it cost to apply to colleges. She was stressed, buckling under the pressure to provide while the person who was supposed to be her partner failed her time and time again. 

The next day you went out and secretly got a job then waited for your first paycheck to apply to schools. When your mom had stopped by your room and offered you the money for your applications you admitted that you already had it taken care of. When she asked you how and you showed her your paystub she sobbed on your bed. Apparently you, a high school student, were able to bring home more income than your lazy good-for-nothing father. In her eyes he ran out of excuses that day and she was tired of him holding her back. Instead of numbers she saw a message. It was time for her to make a change. 

Shortly after you left for school your mom met Kakashi. A man even more handsome than your father and more importantly, a provider. There was a bit of an age gap between them but it never seemed to bother them. Sure he was younger, but he was so accomplished, well mannered, and financially stable that those 10 years seemed to be a lie. They had a perfect relationship, one that you tried to replicate but instead you found yourself with a man just like your dad. 

Recently you found the strength to get out of the cycle of disappointment. To demand he either get a job or move out. When he chose the latter you were crushed. All you were to him after five years was a meal ticket. You weren’t important enough to put in a little effort and get a job. It was crushing but it’s for the better. Now you can find someone like Kakashi. A real man who can provide or at the very least, be an equal partner. 

You bring all the gifts inside and place them under the tree before you go back to your car to get your suitcase. 

“No, no, I got it.” Kakashi says gently pushing you back. 

“Kakashi, you don’t have to.”

“Too late.” he softly jokes.

You feel a small blush cover your face. It could be the cold breeze fluttering through the street but it had been so long since any man had done something kind and well mannered for you that you almost forgot what chivalry looked like. 

****************************************************

The next morning you wake to the smell of breakfast. I’m gonna love staying here if they plan to do this every morning. You think to yourself. You get out of bed and change into some yoga pants and a v-neck sweater along with matching thigh high socks. You toss your hair up into a messy bun and allow some face framing pieces to stick out. 

“Well don’t you paint the picture of comfort”

“Morning Kakashi”

“You look cute”

“Morning Mom”

“What are you getting into today?”

“I was gonna go hang out with Krystal later.”

“That sounds fun. I didn’t know she was in town.”

“Yeah, she moved back to the area for work. Got a job nearby.”

“Good for her. It'll be nice for you to have company while you’re in town.”

“Yeah, I’m really excited to see her.”

You take a seat at the table by your mom when Kakashi brings over the plates, setting one down in front of you.

“Thank you Kakashi. It looks delicious.”

“You’re welcome.”

You whip out your phone and take a picture of your food with your mom in the background. You type Good to be back and share it to your story. Soon after you phone starts buzzing with notifications of your old high school friends saying hi and excited to see you back in town. 

“Sounds like you’re gonna be busy when you’re in town.”

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, possibly.”

You check your phone and notice one name that stands out in particular. Your ex boyfriend from high school, Tyler. 

Hey cutie, glad to see you’re back in town. We should catch up later.

Hey Ty, you in town for the holidays too?

Yeah, how long are you in town for?

Three weeks, you?

Till New Years day.

Wanna meet up tonight?

Our old spot?

Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.

****************************************************

Though you’re not trying to get back together with your ex, a rebound right about now sounds nice. You put a little extra effort into your appearance as you brush out your loose curls and iron out your skirt with your hands. Simple makeup with a rose colored gloss, a dusty pink sweater dress with dusty pink thigh high socks and black knee high boots to go with your long black coat. You grabbed your hat and gloves on your way out the door but as you’re about to leave you catch Kakashi. 

“Someone’s dressed to impress”.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Ty”

For a second you think you see Kakashi’s face flash before returning to its usual smile. You blink a few times, realizing you were imagining things. 

“You kids have a good time, though maybe not too good of a time, if you catch my drift.”

You roll your eyes with an embarrassed giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Night!”

“Night”

****************************************************

“That’s it baby. Just like that. Feels s’good”

You're on your knees on the passenger side of Ty’s car ignoring the Top40 radio station playing in the background. How’d you get in this position, you ask? Well, dinner brought up a lot of old feelings and your recent breakup left you touch starved. Add in a little liquor and you got yourself a quick car blowjob like the two of you used to do back in high school. 

“Fuck you’ve gotten so much better at this.”

“Mhm” you agree, mouth stuffed full. You pull back releasing with a small ribbon of saliva connecting you. “Well it helps that I’m not a virgin anymore” You go back down on him. 

“If you- fuuck-if you don’t m-mind, shit-I’d like to-to keep seeing-ah-you, while you’re b-back”

You loved how you were making him weak and choking over his words. It gave your ego some much needed inflation. 

pop

“Yes, I’d enjoy that quite a bit actually” you purr before licking a stripe up his shaft. You resumed bobbing up and down along his length with hollowed cheeks. At the end of the night you swallowed his load before he pulled you up into a heated and passionate kiss swearing he should’ve never let you go. The entire evening was filled with warmth and you drove home high on endorphins.

****************************************************

You quietly open the front door of your parents house trying not to wake anyone as you come home for the night. You take off your coat and boots in the foyer and turn to slip upstairs. 

“-shit! Kakashi, you scared me!”

When you had turned to go up the stairs you almost ran into your Stepdad. 

“I see you didn’t heed my warning about having too much fun.”

You look at him in surprise. “I-I thought that was a joke” you whisper. A small laugh slips out as you say it. “I’m literally a single adult. Why would you care? What I do is none of your concern so long as it’s not happening in your house.”

Kakashi gets very close to you in the darkness of the house. You take a few steps back but he keeps moving forward. You go to step backwards one more time only for your heel to kick the wall. Kakashi keeps advancing placing one arm on the wall by your face, caging you in when he lowers his face to your ear,

“You’re my daughter. What you do and who you do will always be my concern.”

Your throat bobs as you swallow his words. You feel his lips ghost over your cheek and down your neck, soft kisses pressed against the sensitive skin. 

It was wildly inappropriate. He had no right to tell you who to date and he definitely had no business touching you like this. He is your mom’s husband. But did that stop your eyes from fluttering shut? Did that prevent your heart from missing a beat? Did that change how your breath faltered? No, it did not. You were shamefully turned on by his advance and he knew it. 

“I don’t want you seeing that boy again” he whispers in your ear before giving you one last kiss on the forehead and heading up to bed. 

You stood there leaning against the wall in complete shock. You had always had such a normal relationship with Kakashi. Where did this suddenly come from?

****************************************************

The next day Kakashi greeted you when you came down for breakfast. Your eyes lingered on him a little longer than usual to which he gave you an inquisitive look. So was he really going to pretend like nothing happened last night? Was he going to gaslight you into believing you made it up? 

You feel your phone buzz. It was Ty. 

Had a great time last night. It was really good catching up. Can I see you again tonight?

You pause. Of course you wanted to see him. There was history there. A feeling of familiarity and a major ego boost that proved to be necessary after your recent breakup. …but Kakashi’s warning lingers in your mind. Your eyes pan up to him sitting across from you at the dinner table. You’re being crazy. Well, he’s being crazy. You shake your head to clear your mind. 

Of course. What time?

****************************************************

“Hey sweetie, I’m gonna grab a quick shower. Have fun tonight. Tell Ty I say hi!”

“Thanks mom, I’ll let him know”

“Night Y/N”

“Night mom!”

Your mom walks away from your bathroom to head to hers. You finish applying your mascara and grab some stud earrings. You smile in the mirror remembering all those nights in high school when you’d pain over your hair and makeup before going to Ty’s house. He was your first boyfriend, your first love, your first everything. You didn’t even break up over a fight, you just broke up cause you chose to go to different colleges. There was still love there. Why not indulge yourself while you’re home?

You turn off the light as you walk out of the bathroom when someone grabs you by the wrist. Your arm is lifted above your head as your entire backside thuds against the wall. 

“Going somewhere?”

You feel the wind get knocked out of you, “wha-what?”

“I remember distinctly telling you to not see that boy again” 

“Kakashi’s I’m an adult and you’re not actually my father; I can date whoever I like.”

He props his leg between your own, the skirt of your dress draping over his thigh, and tightened his grip on your wrist before leaning into your ear

“Nice try” he punctuates his words with a kiss to your cheek. “But you’re forgetting who’s house you’re staying at.”

“Kakashi I’m going on this date” you whisper, wind blown but still not taking his possessive behavior laying down. 

“Then let me make sure you go with a clear head”

He rests his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes through his lashes. His gaze was intense. It penetrated your mind, letting him see all the filthy thoughts that surfaced in the compromising position he had you in. Your lids flutter closed, guilt creeping over you till Kakashi’s thigh found its way against your underwear. You shudder from the sudden contact, feeling how warm he was against you. 

“If that’s the case, I gotta make sure you’re satisfied before you get any desperate ideas on your date.”

He presses his thigh harder between your legs, rocking his knee up and down. You bite your lip trying to pretend it doesn’t feel heavenly but it does, it really does. A small moan escapes you. 

“Good girl, say that again”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his deep husky voice. He pushes up against you again, his grip further tightening on your wrist with excitement. You instinctually rut against him, making your lip quiver. A smile stretches his lips. He was watching you with his predator’s gaze, enjoying how you pleasure yourself on his thigh. He applied more pressure between your legs, tugging against your labia just right. Your chest falls as a loud groan slips out. 

“Grind on my leg, pretty girl. I wanna see you make yourself cum.”

You open your eyes and stare into his brown ones, your pupils blown wide. You tentatively start to rut against him. He leans closer and you slowly relax into him with each rock of your hips. He leans the side of his face against your hair. You bring your free hand up to his shoulder for support. Fingers gripping into his shirt, finding your balance as you feel yourself fall into pleasure. 

“Keep going pretty girl. You’re doing a good job, I can feel how wet you are.”

You softly moan. He releases your wrist letting both of your arms drape around his neck. Hands clutching onto him, desperately seeking stability from the dizzying sensation that overwhelms you. Kakashi’s hands reach into your hair, pulling you in closer. 

You drag your folds against his thigh more harshly. The fabric of your underwear providing the much needed friction. Your head is swimming as you lean against Kakashi. 

“Smear those juicy lips all over my pants, baby. I wanna see the wet stain from your cum.”

You bite your lip as your head collapses onto his shoulder. The dirty talk, the taboo, the friction, the closeness, the risk of getting caught. You feel it all build in your core. 

“Cum pretty girl, cum for daddy.”

He kisses your neck in the most sensitive spot as you rut desperately on him, fingers clutching tighter till warmth spreads throughout your body. A rush of pleasure and exhaustion overcomes you as you fall limp against his firm chest. 

“Good job baby, daddy’s proud of you.” 

He turns his head to kiss your cheek. You look at him, eyes falling to his mouth. He pauses before lightly pressing a kiss on your parted lips. 

He pulls you off of him, lifting your face up by your chin. In a sarcastic tone be chides,

“Have fun on your date. This is the last time you’re seeing that boy. You’re forbidden from seeing him again after tonight so say your goodbyes” 

He straightens up and walks away. You’re left standing alone in the hallway feeling used.

Why was he messing with you like this? 

****************************************************

“What are you doing tonight sweetie?” Your mom asks while stabbing the last bites of waffle with her fork and bringing it up to her open mouth.

You look down at your lap blushing

“Oh? A third date. Does this mean you are officially getting back together?”

You glance up at your mom and can’t help but notice Kakashi’s face. He looked livid. Your expression faltered a bit before you fully focused on your mom. You shrug.

“We’re gonna talk it over tonight. We broke up on really good terms and we’re both single and he’s so nice. Plus if I’m gonna be in town for awhile-”

Your sentence is cut off by Kakashi clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his seat. 

“You okay honey?”

Your mom rubs soothing circles on Kakashi’s back while his eyes bore into you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just think why not leave high school in the past where it belongs?”

“I don’t know babe. I think it’s kinda romantic rekindling after all these years. You should’ve seen how cute they were together at prom.”

“Mom stop”

“Yes babe, please stop.”

“Whaaat! I’m just saying! You guys looked like you were getting married in your white prom dress.”

“Yes I remember you crying. It was so embarrassing.”

“Ouch! Babe, are you sure you’re okay?”

Your mom rips her hand out of Kakashi’s grasp, shaking it with a smile on her face.

“Sorry love, I’m a little distracted. I think I’m gonna head to the gym this morning. Clear my head.”

“Yeah, work on those big muscles for me. Maybe next time you break my hand.” Your mom says with a playful elbow to his side. Kakashi half smiles and gives her a peck on the cheek. 

“Here let me clean these up” He reaches over and starts stacking all the plates to bring them over to the sink. Your mom gives you a questioning look. You shrug and pretend to not know what’s wrong but you feel your gut wrench. 

Your head is swirling with questions. Why does he care so much? He’s married…to your mom no less. Does he just want to have claim to you both or does he actually have feelings for you? But it doesn’t matter. He’s married to your mom.

****************************************************

Kakashi heads to the gym and when he comes home he ignores you for the rest of the day. He spends time with your mom till she gets ready to leave to go to her girlfriend's christmas party. 

“Bye sweetie.” she coos as she kisses her husband.

“Bye my love.” He gives her a passionate kiss right in front of you. One so inappropriate that it had you questioning if it was just an act to make you jealous.

“Bye mom, have fun!”

She looks over at you with a knowing look, “You too!” She gives you a wink and walks out the door. You turn to go upstairs and start getting ready to see Ty, this time ignoring Kakashi. Let him see how it feels to be ignored. 

–

You're looking for jewelry to compliment your fitted black leather top and flowy bright red pants when you see him out of the corner of your eye.

“Yes?”

“Are you really going to start dating him again?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I don’t like watching you date loser men.”

“Aww. Sweet.” you say with a bite. 

Kakashi moves in close to you. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“I don’t appreciate you interfering in my love life.”

Kakashi backs you up into the wall, arms pressing into it by each side of your face. 

“I spent five years watching you date that idiot. Five years watching him devour you with his eyes, kiss your soft lips, cling to your side like the unworthy weevil he is. I’m not doing it again”

“It’s almost like you have feelings for me or something,” you chide

Kakashi leans in, closing his eyes and taking a long draft of your scent. He kisses behind your ear. 

“I tried to be respectful of your relationship but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stand by and let you enter into another one.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? You respected my relationship when you’re literally married to my mom?! What about respecting your marriage?!”

“Enough!” he snaps back. “I’ll not have you talk back to me in my own house!”

“And I’ll not have you disrespect my mom. I want answers!”

Kakashi crashes his lips against your ruby ones, painted to match your dress pants. You try to pull back but his hand grabs the back of your head, keeping you still. He doesn’t want to hear any more of your thoughts. He just needs you. Needs to taste you and feel you. Needs to dominate you and claim you. You’re rightfully his and it was time you realized that.

He pushes his tongue past your lips. It’s not a request, it’s a demand. Your resolve quickly unravels as his pink muscle licks its way through your mouth. He pulls you into him, his hand snaking around your waist, fingers gripping your leather top and he crushes you into his chest. 

You feel his swollen muscles, still bulging from his earlier workout, press into your soft stomach. A moan falls past your lips as you study his frame through your clothed bodies. You want to trace it with your fingers and as you imagine it he sucks on your tongue, pulling it out of your mouth. Your shoulders drop, relaxing into him, surrendering to his desires. He releases your tongue and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, pulling the pigment off of it. His desire smearing your perfect powdered face. You teethe on his upper lip giving into your carnal desires right along with him. 

He releases your mouth and cradles your head. You pant into his neck, gripping his shirt in your hands. “That’s my girl. Give in to daddy.”

You let out a small whine in agreement and begin kissing his neck, leaving behind some of your lipstick. His head lolls back in ecstasy, his groan of triumph filling your ear. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Being pursued like this, being viewed as a prize, especially by someone as hot as him. Your morals lapse. You want all of him to yourself. You selfishly crave him, trying to claim him as your mouth works up the column of his throat and along his jaw.

His fingers run along the seams of your top, looking for how to take it off. Searching for the invisible zipper that will free your tits from their cage. His desire to ravage you is clouding his mind. He doesn’t care how it will impact his marriage. He just needs to explore every inch of you as soon as his damned hands can rid your body of your lovely clothing. In his desperation to strip you he begins to scold,

“How dare you dress like this for another man. You little slut. You just wanted to get fucked.”

“I was going on a date. The whole point was to look impressive.”

“Don’t get me started on that date. I was clear that you’re forbidden from seeing that boy again.”

“I already told you, you're not my dad.” you breathe.  Your mind turned to mush from lust as he groped you in search of a way to get off the damned shirt.

However that last comment really got to him. He grasps your hair by your intricate up-do, fisting it and yanking back hard. “How dare you.”

“How dare I what?” You tease. You challenge his authority as you look up at him through lidded eyes.

He gives up on tearing off your clothes and instead forces you to your knees by your hair. He frees his heavy length from his sweatpants and shoves it against your lips. You look up at him still testing his rule over you.

“Open”

Your eyes glare back at him in defiance. He yanks your head back by the hair causing your lips to part as a little whine of pain slips out. He seizes the opportunity and stuffs your mouth with his angry cock, letting it fill you till it hits the back of your closed throat. Your ruby lips looked so beautiful stretched around his girth. It made him twitch. A little cry emitting from you as you feel the movement.

“I’m your daddy” he snaps “No one else, just me.” His fingers tighten in your hair, “Now relax that pretty throat and let me sink all the way in.”

You cave to his demand and nod up at him with doe eyes. Your lids fall shut and you take a deep breath in through your nose, allowing his musk to fill your nostrils and swim around your mind. Your heart fluttered shamefully.

You relax and allow him to glide past your vocal chords. You’re suddenly eager to please him. You’re eager to show him how good you can make him feel. You press your nose flat against his silver happy trail and stick out your tongue to lick his base. You fondle him, encouraging him and letting him know you want him to bust deep in your throat. Both of his hands sink into your scalp. 

“Gods you’re perfect. J-just like that pretty girl. Keep sucking off daddy’s cock.”

He takes full control of your head with both hands still threaded through your hair. 

“Here, lemme help you, baby. Just relax for me.” 

You do as he asks and he begins to thrust wildly into your mouth. Vulgar squelching sounds fill your room as Kakashi freely fucked your face. His pace was brutal. You are all but sure your voice will be suspiciously hoarse tomorrow after tonight’s abuse. You feel your scalp go numb from the strain Kakashi’s hands are putting on your hair and your hands claw at the front of his thighs, bracing yourself so that you don’t fall over from his dizzying strokes. You can’t so much as breathe in this position. You’re dying to tap out. 

Your fingers dig into his thighs even deeper and you can feel the muscle tighten under your fingertips. You can feel the twitching of his cockhead above the overwhelming sensation of his thrusts. A series of moans fall out of his mouth and then you feel the warmth of his seed spilling down the inside of your neck.

You hold your breath just a little longer so that you can milk the rest of him before you finally push him off. Slobber falls down your chin as you greedily gulp down the air you had been deprived of. 

Bathing in victory, Kakashi leans down and grabs you at your bicep, pulling you up to throw you down on your bed. He curls his fingers under your waistband and aggressively rips down your red pants.

“I’m tired-” he punctuates the word with a hard tug of your bottoms “of you hiding my pussy from me.” He throws the pants against the wall leaving you in a black lace thong and your tight leather top.

 He stands at the foot of your bed, panting in his hunger for you. His eyes resemble those of a feral dog. You knew he was going to ruin you as his eyes drank in your figure. His pants pool  around his ankles while he looks at how the leather stretches over breasts, pushing them up and allowing the tissue to spill out of the neckline. His eyes roamed down your cinched in waist and made its way to the thin lace fabric of your thong that lightly covered your throbbing sex. A hint of cream is dripping out of your folds and soaking the sting that ran its way between the ass cheeks, only strengthening his desire to spread them.

He pulls his shirt off over his head, tossing it into a pile with your discarded pants. He feels his racing heart stop at the look in your eyes. You stare at his chest feeling almost as hungry for him as he was for you. He crawls up over you, your hands gravitating towards his muscles. Your pupils are mesmerized by the topography of his torso.

You pull him down and roll him to his back, straddling his lap, allowing the wet lace to sit directly on top of his hardening length. Your fingers lightly brush his skin, feeling out where your next gentle kiss will be placed. You allow your lips to linger each time they press into him. A ghost of a breath warming his skin as you worship every facet of his body. 

His boner can be felt growing against your warmth. He starts to roll his hips upwards against you, jolting you forward so that your hands fall by his face, catching your weight. 

“I don’t wanna wait anymore, pretty girl. I need to feel you around me.” He hisses as he continues to rut against you. His hands pulled your face down to meet his. 

“Ride it for me baby.”

You bite your lower lip and nod. Staring him in the eye as you lift yourself up and pull your thong to the side. His eyes lower to your heat, watching as he lines up his tip and groaning at the sight of his fat cock disappearing inside of you. 

You sank all the way down on him till your hips were flush against his. Kakashi bites his own lip so hard he makes himself bleed. 

“Fuck, it feels even better than I could’ve dreamed. I’ve fucked my fist so many times thinking about this moment and now here you are. Fuck”

His desperate words stir something in you. On your knees you begin to roll your hips back and forth allowing him to come out of you up to his tip before plunging him back in. Kakashi nearly goes cross eyed at the feeling. You mewl a little as the friction of the motion rubs your clit at the same time that he’s stretching you wide. You close your eyes savoring the way he feels. 

“Yes baby, just like that. Ride me just like that.”

“Yes daddy, anything for you.”

A depraved smile covers Kakashi’s face. It was filthy and wrong and he loved it. You were his. You belong to him. He coveted you, fingers sinking into your waist as he guided you back and forth. 

You lean forward, lowering your face to nest in Kakashi’s neck. Your heavy breaths rush against his sensitive skin. It was heaven to feel the warmth of your labors sweep over him. He pulls you back and forth a little faster. 

“Thank you daddy.”

“You’re welcome pretty girl”

You plant your feet under you and begin to jump up and down on him. One hand planted on his sternum. You could feel him reach his deepest depth as you sat high on your throne and the love sick gaze he gave you when you started lifting your hips, smacking them back down with force was enough to make arousal squelch out of you and run all the way down to your bedsheets. 

He loved the feeling so much but he needed to go faster. He wanted more friction. He grabs you and flips you onto your back, placing himself above you. Your legs wrap around his torso and he uses the position to pound away inside of you. You cry out rhythmically, each thrust raising your voice an octave as your mind struggles to comprehend the pleasure of how Kakashi fills you.

He leans up, giving his arm just enough space to rub his thumb pad over your engorged bud. Sweeping in circular motions at a pace matching his thrusts. 

Your eyebrows knit together in pleasure. Your heart racing from the excitement. Your hands hug around each knee pulling your legs up and apart. Spreading yourself wide for him.

“Daddy! I’m gonna c-cum!” you squeal

He keeps pounding into you. Stroking your nerve bundle in heavenly circles even faster than before. You feel the sweat beading on your brow. 

“Oh fuck daddy! Fuck! I c-can’t handle any m-more.”

You’re crying from the pleasure. It was all you could do to not completely crumble underneath him. You were tensing your core, desperate to keep your body sewn together. If you didn’t you were sure that you would lose all shape and simply melt into the bed. 

He looks down where you connect and sees a creamy ring. His chest swells with pride. 

“You came around daddy’s cock? Then you’re officially mine now baby. You’re not allowed to do that for anyone else.”

“Stop telling me what to do” you breathe, exhausted and exacerbated.

He grabs you and flips you onto your hands and knees, shoving himself inside your sensitive cunt still pulsing from your orgasm. You scream from the sudden and harsh intrusion.

“Stop disrespecting me with that dirty mouth of yours or I’ll take you like a bitch from behind.”

“I fucking dare you to try.” you sneer. 

Your insubordination fuels him. His hips begin to launch into you. He rails you on his cock but you regret nothing. You’ll talk back to him all day if he’s going to ram his fat cock into your quivering hole like this. His hand wraps around your throat pulling back so you can’t run from him. 

“Does the bad girl like daddy’s cock?”

“Yes! Yes, I like daddy’s cock!”

“That’s right. You’re gonna take daddy’s cock the rest of the night now for being a disrespectful little slut.”

He continues slamming into your behind. His heavy balls swinging forward and slapping into your clit. You squirm from the pleasure, your toes curling from how good it felt.

“I fuckin love how tight you’re wrapping around my cock, pretty baby.”

Only whorish moans and cries come out of you. You begin to babble as his pace quickens. You start to tense up, your tail tucking under you from the intensity of his assault. He pushes down on your back, forcing it to arch. 

“Take it like the little slut you are. Always trying to give my pussy away to other boys. Such a bad girl.”

He grabs the back of your head and pushes it down into the pillow. 

“When are you ready to admit you’re mine?” He husks as he bullies deep inside of you. He pounds away at your tight slit. Your eyes going cross from how his tip pushes your cervix out of the way. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass. 

“Admit it” he growls, “Admit your mine.”

“Fuck!” you throw your head back “Yes! I’m yours!” 

You gasp as he thrusts even harder, hearing the words he’s been craving finally come from your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut. His thrusts are so violent that you bounce off his cock. Your admission has him spiraling with lust. His thighs tighten along with his sack. His dick twitches as it’s dragged in and out of you.

Suddenly he loses his pace and empties the entirety of his balls into your stretched out cunt. Holding himself all the way inside of you, forcing his load to stay stuffed deep in your gummy walls. He leans over your back, whispering into your ear, 

“You belong to me baby. Don’t you forget it.”

He pulls out of you letting you fall down exhausted and roll onto your back. Your fucked out face stares back up at him, completely enamored with how good he made you feel. 

Kakashi kneels between your legs and leans down to whisper in your ear, “I’m still very disappointed in you for trying to give my pussy away to Tyler. I think I need to fuck a few more loads into you for good measure. You gonna be daddy’s good girl and let me fuck you full of my cum?”

You respond by pulling him down into a sloppy kiss and rutting your dripping hole against his manhood. He was already growing hard again, ready for another deposit. You wondered how many loads he’d fill you with by Christmas day. Your birth control better be ready to work miracles this month.

You hear a faint buzzing sound when Kakashi reaches over and grabs your phone. It’s Ty

Hey, I’m here where are you?

This is her father, she’s busy rn. 

Kakashi sets down your phone. “Now pretty baby, where were we?”

Masterlist

[erodasfishtacos]

Hurts Like Hell

prompt: first part of the ps au 😗 I hope you all enjoy

warnings: smut & angst, minors dni

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-

YN wasn’t nervous, she had never felt like that while performing in front of an audience or camera. She was confident in her curves and the beauty of her face, her quirky but sweet as honey personality.

She never thought she’d do porn - in all honesty but it was sort of a perfect storm when she broke up with her ex who she swore up and down was her soulmate that she was going to spend the rest of her life with and she got fired from her steady, reliable job that was getting her through graduate school.

The sudden lack of sex and money - well it made the most logical sense to her and once she realized how amazing the income was, she was hooked.

She was completely financially stable now, having paid off her school in full as well as her condominium with a pretty large amount in her savings.

YN mainly did cam work, making boatloads from private virtual shows and doing silly, basic things that got her tips generously.

She rarely did shoots with other actors, she wasn’t against having sex with strangers but she didn’t find that she enjoyed much either. 

She knew she didn’t necessarily have to love it because it was her job but it almost made her stomach turn too much to want to do it.

The thing was, despite how many scenes (which wasn’t many) she’s had with different men and occasionally women, they could never make her come, or even get her wet enough where they wouldn’t have to use lubrication.

Nowhere close.

YN never got that tight burning feeling in the pit of her tummy that signaled she was about to feel a burst of euphoria that she craved.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to, she knew she wasn’t broken, and before this she wouldn’t have said that it was ever necessarily difficult to find release but it just didn’t happen like before.

Instead it always felt like a build-up to nothing, no matter how much they rubbed her clit or teased her nipples - nothing simmered to the surface and every experience had fallen flat.

It was the main reason that she did web shows and OnlyFans because at least she could guarantee that she could get herself off and not rely on anyone to do it for her and fail.

No one had ever made her come but her ex.

-

“You need to give me one more,” He huffed outbetween pants as he rolled his hips in perfectly to hit her spot, his thumb unrelenting in her swollen bud, “One more than I’ll run you a nice bath and cuddle you t’sleep like the lil’ pillow princess you are.”

“S’too much,” YN sniffles with a frustrated whine as she wriggled her hips forward to get more friction than away when it was overwhelming - fat tears down her cheeks and her core was positively pulsing.

He leans down, damp forehead against her as he makes direct eye contact - not slowing his hips one bit before he’s gritting out, she was feeling every inch of how thick he was, “You know your safe word. Either use it or shut the fuck up and come on me again, you little brat.”

YN is embarrassed to admit those words toss her straight over the edge as she lets her final, weak orgasm wrack through her body - thighs twitching and center throbbing as her back arches up into his strong chest.

He follows right after, slowing down to a more manageable speed as he’s pressing his puffy pink lips all over her face, kissing the tears and licking at the salty wetness, humming out soft praises.

“So so sweet, melt right under me, darlin’. Never had someone so perfect for me,” He murmurs against her temple before moving to her jaw, “I’m going t’keep you forever. I’m so in love with you, baby.”

“I love you more,” She manages out weakly, hand coming to brush his damp curls off his forehead as he collapses playfully on top of her and she doesn’t complain, kissing his neck and massaging his back as he groans in a different type of pleasure.

“Impossible,” He titters with a frown, rolling off the bed and pulling her towards the bathroom, “I love you more than anything that has ever existed. I love you the most.”

-

YN wasn’t quite prepared for the scene today but rarely did she need to read a script on the set of a porno, everything was ad-lib anyways and usually there weren’t many words anyways - just obnoxious, exaggerated moans.

Instead she decided to laze around with Niall after she’d gone into hair and makeup, it’s a bedroom scene so it was all minimal with her hair pulled up into a loose messy bun and just a bit of blush to give the appearance of just waking up.

There was a twist of nerves in her stomach, she didn’t do this often and when she did, she usually wanted it to be over as soon as possible - it always crossed her mind multiple times before shooting that she could just go home, she didn’t need the money - OnlyFans was plenty but she was doing her manager a favor.

-

The breakup has been just freshly a year.

It still felt like an open wound, YN tried to go on a few dates but her heart belonged to her soulmate and it wasn’t fair to anyone else so she didn’t bother after multiple ones failed with hurt feelings.

Her heart, mind, and body still ached for him desperately.

It was an unexpected break-up that had flipped her life upside down in the worst ways possible, she wished she could be living in that naive bliss with him, and that they built the life together that they had originally planned.

Before she realized he had cheated.

-

It had started with him snatching his phone out of her hands when she picked it up to check the weather, in the four years they’d been together - he had never done that before and it made her brows furrow.

He had denied that it was anything like that, it was that he was buying a present for her, and he didn’t want her to accidentally see it - she was skeptical but he’d never given her reason before and she’s able to shrug it off.

Then he changed the passcode to his phone.

When she got suspicious, he got defensive and told her there was nothing to worry about - that she needs to relax and let it go before changing the subject like she didn’t just raise a red flag.

She arrives home from classes a bit early as soon as she walks in the door, he’s quickly hanging up his phone call and shoving the cell into his inner suit pocket - when she asks who he’s talking to, he says his mum but then why’d he hang up like he didn’t want her to hear the conversation?

Then the icing on the cake, she had been walking home from the gym one night, passing the front of a restaurant - he had told her that he had to work late at the office because of some type of merger and to not wait for him to go workout with her like he usually did.

Mindlessly, she glances through the window as she walks past but is skidding to a halt when she notices a familiar face in the dimly lit building and does a double-take to make sure her eyes aren’t deceiving her.

It’s her boyfriend.

But he has company.

He’s sitting in a booth with a woman across from him, she’s definitely older than him but not out of the realm of possibility that they could be on a date - secluded in a both to the far left with wine glasses in fron to them.

YN felt it in her bones that this was the woman, the other woman - she somehow felt hurt by the age of the lady, she had to be ten to fifteen years his senior, was that what his type really was?

She manages to get her feet moving before he would have the chance to glance up and notice her - she nearly runs back to their shared apartment with angry tears running down her cheeks as she finds a sticky note on the fridge that says ‘love you darling x’.

It’s his one opportunity to come clean.

And she wasn’t going to forgive him then either but god, she just wanted the truth from him - YN had always, always been honest with him, even when it was hard, even when it was embarrassing. She thought he’d always done that same but it felt like a knife to her heart that this was unraveling.

YN sits her bum on their kitchen island, waits and waits for him to come over from his date with someone who’s not her.

It makes her want to cry when her phone buzzes and his name pops up with an ridiculous amount of emoji hearts after it.

Be home in ten. I love you, sweet girl. Missed you all day x

“Fucking liar,” She hisses through clenched teeth, wiping harshly at the tears that are falling without her permission, and slamming her phone down against the marble hard enough that she would not be surprised if her screen cracked.

She zones out as she ponders the possibilities of how this conversation will turn out, there was a numbness already sweeping through her body, as a protective measure because her body couldn’t even acknowledge the hurt.

She doesn’t even register the front door unlocking and opening.

Not until he’s in the kitchen, dropping his jacket over the barstool, and smiling so fucking fondly at her, “Hi darlin’, your allergies acting up again? I told you that the off brand just doesn’t work for you. Your eyes are swollen.”

It was aching how beautiful he was, his face was soft and open with deep dimples decorating his cheeks, his eyes twinkling and happy, and he’s stepping towards her with his tattooed arms outreached.

YN bats off his hand when he reaches to thumb at her cheek, confusion wrinkling his forehead because she can’t remember a time where she’s every denied his touch like she just did, she seethes out, “Don’t act like you fucking care.”

He’s clearly startled by her hostility, lips turning down when he asks with an offended edge, “Why wouldn’t I care? What’s gotten into you, hm?”

It’s like he’s not sure whether she’s playing or not because sometimes she would be short, act like a brat, just so that it could turn into a fun night of punishment and pleasure but even Harry knew that it wasn’t this - not by how rigid her body language was.

“I know your secret, what you’ve been trying to hide from me, and trying to act like I’m insane when I questioned you about it,” YN responds with her arms crossed, making it clear she doesn’t want any physical interaction, and he struggles to take a step back because it’s obvious how much he wants to embrace her right now.

And well, the look on his face is all the confirmation she needs - the confusion twists into surprise, shock swirling in his eyes, and something else that she wasn’t able to point her finger on but it almost looked like disappointment.

“H-how did you find out?” He stutters on the first syllable, his already deep voice somehow even more gravely, his accent accentuated, and she’s never heard him trip over his words before - his pouty bottom lip quivering a bit.

YN scoffs in disbelief, she regrets it but she chucks the glass next to her on the countertop at him and he manages to duck before it hits him - the facade of shock made her unbearably angry and she’s relieved the glass doesn’t hit him but feels a satisfaction when it shatters against their floor.

“I-Darlin’,” He tries to reason, hands out cautiously, and he swallows hard, “I don’t think we��re talking about the same thing.”

“Five fucking years down the drain,” YN lets the tears fall in a slow dance down her cheeks, letting them form into droplets on her jaw, “You fucking cheater.”

His jaw drops in disbelief, the softness in his face dissipating when he hears her words, “We are definitely not talking about the same thing. That’s for fucking sure. You think I’d cheat on you?”

“I don’t think, I know,” YN slips off the marble counter and avoids the broken glass - shattered into a million pieces on the ground, just like her heart, “Don’t ever, ever speak to me again. You knew what I went through with my parents when I was growing up. I trusted you because I told you how my dad’s cheating affected me.”

“You’re wrong,” He states bluntly, interrupting her and disregarding what she’s saying - his eyes hardening and his back becoming ramrod straight, tense and offended by the words.

“Who were you at dinner tonight with?” YN pressed with an unhappy smirk, “Who was the woman you were with? Is she the reason you’ve been hiding your phone from me?”

His lips draw in a tight line, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he stares her down.

No words though. Not quick enough. She wasn’t giving him more than three seconds to respond.

“That’s all I needed to know. This, this is done,” YN motions with her arms, her chest beginning to heave with the reality that the man she thought she would marry wasn’t going to be hers anymore.

That he was sharing himself with others.

-

YN is mentally hyping herself up for another round of sex that wouldn’t lead to anything, sure it was fine to mess around with someone but it more so filled the loneliness rather than the actual pleasure.

She felt pathetic that she was still so fucking love sick for her ex, that he’d ruined her so sustainably for anyone else in every faucet of the word, love, sex, friendship - it was destroyed.

“Hey, five minutes and we’re starting, let’s go,” Warren, the director, pops in his head with a final warning, meaning she needs to get her bum on set right now.

“Wish me luck,” YN chirps with fake enthusiasm to Niall, pinching his cheek until he bats her hand away and pushes her towards the door - he won’t watch, nor would she want him to.

“Have fun getting dick, I guess,” Her friend mumbles in his a monotone huff, giving her a look because he is supportive but doesn’t necessarily approve as he barely looks up from his phone.

After navigating the hallway to the bedroom set where she’ll be filming, she sees her co-star for the first time - well, the back of him, tall, towering over the others that he’s around.

He was faced towards Warren, most likely preparing, his shoulders were broad, muscles defined on every inch of his body but not obnoxiously, tapering off into narrow hips and lean but strong legs - bum small but still plump.

She would know that body anywhere, the way her heart drops to the floor tells her who it is before it connects with her brain but that doesn’t make sense does it?

She wonders for a brief second if she’s had a break with reality and she’s hallucinating.

YN can clearly, distinctly remember what that skin felt like under her fingers, the way his abdominal muscles twitched when he was close, how those long arms would encompass her, hold her through all the good and bad.

She was split between running for the hills, canceling the shoot, and purely only doing webcam business from here on out - it wasn’t worth the money but it was magnetic and her mind was fuzzy with wanting to just touch him.

Her other option, which her heart is proposing, is running straight into his arms, letting him brush his lips against her forehead as his fingertips dig into her hips but that probably wouldn't happen, would it?

Instead of either choice, her feet are cemented to the floor, she looked like a deer in headlights with wide eyes and trembling lips, shaking down to her fingertips with frozen fear.

“There’s our girl!” Warren announces happily when he sees her past her costar’s shoulder, tugging his headset off one of his ears as he smiles at his star and waves her over towards them.

The other man turns around, their eyes meeting for the first time in a year - the forestry green she loved so much met hers and recognition, confusion, anger crossed them in a span of mere seconds - his lips in a tight line but he doesn’t look angry as much as he looked disapproving.

Who is he to fucking judge?

They both don’t move automatically, staring at each other, and not knowing what to make of it - the tension was palpable between them and YN could feel it all the way to her bones.

Harry budges first, he always has as he takes the familiar long strides - just in a pair of tight briefs that hug him perfectly, hugging his thighs and highlighting the hard cut of muscle leading into the waistband, the familiar trail of sparse hairs that start at his bellybutton and travel down out of sight - she used to love to run her fingers over it and tease that spot before ducking lower.

Her eyes can’t help but dart down to his right upper thigh, her real name (not her stage name) was still inked permanently and dark into his tanned skin - she’d wondered if he had covered it by now but it was still in all of its original glory.

Warren is oblivious to anything out of the norm, he’s slapping Harry on the shoulder and telling YN with a wide smile, “Meet Axel. Axel meet Starlet, your co-star You two are going to make a hot fucking movie.”

It was comical, the faux anonymity, they knew everything about each other down to their blood type, first ever pet, and so they fact that they were being introduced as these corny fake names just makes it even stranger.

Harry puts his hand out to shake, YN hesitates with her chest still rising much too fast to be normal as she shakingly meets his, and she thinks she’s about to have a panic attack because right now, she can’t decipher up from down.

It hurts her, physically, to touch him again.

She loves him so much.

Present tense.

It isn’t fair that this is happening, she has always been loyal and good to him, and it feels like a punishment that she’s in this situation right now.

Warren gets distracted by another staff calling his name as they mess around with a tripod for one of the bigger cameras - there was a decent amount of people around for this shoot.

“Breathe,” Harry murmurs, hand still holding hers as he notices how elevated her breathing, his gaze is intimidatingly intense as he observes her, he knows that she’s panicking, “It’s okay, I promise I didn’t know. I can back out right now.”

YN for some reason doesn’t let go either, her eyes watering as she whispers, “Why are you here? Why are you doing…this?”

She couldn’t say what they were really doing, she wasn’t ashamed but it was boggling that he was here too - it wasn’t like either of them had a history of doing porn before their relationship.

Harry sighs, his free hand pushing his curls off his forehead, “The start-up I was working for went bankrupt and didn’t pay out my last three months worth of work as well as my commission. I had to figure out something to pay my bills until I can find a new job and a friend suggested this.”

“Then you need this just as much as I do. Clover Tech laid me and three hundred other employees off,” She replies, finally dropping his hand and awkwardly wringing her wrists - her nerves were tingling and she wanted to keep holding his hand.

Harry looks torn before he settles, “I know you don’t want to do this with me. I…I can do the shoot with the backup girl and split half of the check with you so you’re not out money.”

It’s so genuine that it makes her stomach churn, how could someone this sweet ruin everything by cheating.

“That’s…no. It’s fine unless you don’t want to,” YN trails off with a twinge of embarrassment at the thought he wouldn’t want to have sex with her because she obviously hadn’t been enough for him.

It had never been a concern when they were together, they were magnetic, and he was obsessed with getting his mouth, hands, anything on her whenever she would let him which had been often.

“Unless I don’t want to?” Harry prompts, not catching what she’s hinting at, fuck, he was so handsome she couldn’t think straight - his brow was furrowed and she could tell by his body language that he was stressed out.

“You know…have sex with me,” She mumbles lowly, eyes darting down to her feet for a moment but she soon realizes that Harrys waiting for her eye contact to speak because he doesn’t say anything until she sheepishly meets his gaze.

“Until you broke up with me. I was planning on only having sex with you for the rest of my life,” Harry rasps much too bluntly and without any regret in his eyes as he watches her, “I will never turn you down.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” YN scolds because it’s getting too emotional for a porn set and she shouldn’t feel like he’s telling the truth but because of how firm his tone is -  the worst part is that she believes him and she shouldn’t.

Harry’s hand twitches like he’s about to reach out and grasp her jaw like he’d always done when he felt she wasn’t listening and she needed to, he’d bring her into his chest and whisper the words against her temple as he rubbed her hips.

“I’m telling the truth,” He states sincerely, hand moving instead to scratch at his bare stomach, “I’m only doing this on one condition. After we shoot, we need to talk. If not then I’m backing out and we’ll both be fucked for money.”

YN feels a bit of bitterness rise in her tone, who is he to make demands?

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

“Oh but there is. This time you're going to listen and not storm out of my life again,” His tone has anger behind it, an unusual occurrence because he was much better at staying calm then her.

“Fine, we can talk,” YN relents because deep down she really really wants to be intimate again and despite her mild protesting, her body is wired because sex with Harry means orgasm, good orgasms.

Not the ones by a vibrating massager or her fingers, he’s the only person who knows how to work her body like a fiddle until she’s a teary mess that doesn’t know if she wants more or not.

-

We - oh, fuck. H, we shouldn’t,” YN gasps into his mouth, she was panting already and he takes her plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his hand works under her dress with direct purpose.

“Tell me to stop then,” Harry challenged cockily, two fingers making her feel full as he curled them up to pet her spot that made her legs quiver against the countertop, his body keeping her upright.

She needs to tell him but she can’t find it in her because she doesn’t want him to stop, they were at his parent’s house for an anniversary dinner.

He had said he wanted to show her something upstairs but what really happened was he crowded her into a bathroom and yanked her dress down until her tits spilled out and his hand pushed her underwear to the side.

“Gonna tell me?” Harry prompts as his mouth ducks down to nip at her hard nipples, switching back and forth quickly, taking his time to move lower and suck bruises into the supple curve of her breast.

YN shakes her head, giving in to the pleasure, and letting her legs splay open against him, “Don’t want you to stop. You make me feel so good, baby.”

It was a bit too sweet for the situation they’re in but it makes Harry crack a fond, boyish smile as he stands straighter to kiss her again but it’s intimate and loving before whispering, “You’re my whole world, sweet girl. Always going to make you feel good. Now come on my fingers, baby.”

-

She’s snapped out of the memory by the director coming back over to where they’re standing tensely with a good amount of distance between them.

“Alright, now that you’ve met!” Warren claps his hands together, oblivious of anything out of the ordinary, “Time to get this show on the road. An easy scene, more romantic than raunchy. You’re a couple who are waking up for some morning sex. It’s that easy.”

YN honestly liked how Warren directed his films, there weren’t a million scene cuts or positions, he let the actors follow the natural rhythm and rarely had to redirect a shot - almost giving off a homemade vibe with studio quality.

She feels a sick mixture of anticipation and an oncoming panic attack, her palms are sweaty as she shucks her robe - leaving her in a oversize tee that falls to her mid thighs with a sheer pair of bikini cut panties under.

“Alright, YN right side. Slip under the duvet but make sure to turn on your side, left thigh out of the blanket,” Warren directed, once she’s laid down, he messes with the blankets until the curve of her bum and leg are on display - easy to shove off once they get started.

Harry follows as well, turning on his side so he’s spooned up right behind her, bum right in the cradle of his pelvis, and he’s already hard against her - it made her flashback to their mornings when they woke up together and had slow, giggly morning sex.

“Hard up for it?” YN murmurs quietly, she wasn’t sure if she was joking or if it was a jab at him - maybe both at this point because most men needed more to get hard to film than this.

“Considering I have dreams about your cunt nearly every night, can you blame me?” Harry whispers in her ear, ignoring the bustle of the people setting up, his hand splayed on her tummy, “You’ve lost weight. I don’t like it, missed grabbing on to you. Miss you filling my hands.”

“Everything’s been shit since we’ve broken up,” She admits shakily when his hand naturally starts to pet at the skin near the band only her panties - he was right, she had lost weight, not intentionally, but eating made her stomach churn most days.

“I know. It’s been hell,” Harry agrees with no judgment, it felt too comfortable to have him like this again, and she felt no discomfort as he traced her skin - thumbing at a scar she had on her hip that he always kissed.

It’s like they forget that they're here for a reason as Harry already tries to move the process along before they’re even rolling - he had always been impatient when he was horny and had no shame in his body during it.

YN gently grips his wrist when he tucks his fingers under the soft silk of her underwear to tease at her mound and shakes her head, “Not yet.”

“This goes against every instinct I have to let anyone watch you get fucked. The only way I can manage is to know that it’s going to me owning this body again. Has anyone made you come like I have, sweet girl?”

YN also missed this part too, he was by far the best talker during sex, everything he said sent an electric zip through her, and he had a mouth filthier than any sailor when he was on her.

“I’m-, yeah,” YN lies lamely, she can hear his warm chuckle as he palms her tummy once again and pulls her impossibly closer - she didn’t want him to have the power that he truly had over her.

“Are you telling me nobody’s made you come since we broke up?” Harry asks but he already knows the answer, “Know your cunt’s aching for me. You smell so good, m’mouth is watering. This is my first scene with another person, I’ve just been doing solo shit. You’re the last person I’ve touched.”

She shouldn’t feel satisfied at that but she does.

“You already know,” YN huffs out with an annoyed edge, she knows he has a cocky grin that makes his dimples pop boyishly - one of the first things she fell in love with and one of the things she missed the most.

“Quiet on set!” Warren announces to all the staff who are making small talk or any type of noise, he has a marker in his hand and starts now that all the noise has disappeared, “Mark. And Axel, Starlet, you're on.”

The lights are dimmed, to give the illusion of the sun barely kissing over the horizon, the bedrooms styled in a modern farmhouse vibe making it cozy and realistic, and the bed was surprisingly plush and comfortable.

YN closes her eyes to feign sleep as does Harry for a good minute before he begins to rouse with a deep inhale and a low groan as he stretches, his arms rustling above his head.

She can’t obviously see what he’s doing but instead feels when he leans forward to kiss the nape of her neck - it’s a jolt of shock because she’s missed it so much and it feels nice.

This all just seems like a fucked up fever dream.

“Sweetheart,” He murmurs softly, his hand moving up to tug the collar of her shirt off her shoulder so that his lips could make line from her ear to shoulder blade, “Wake up for me, baby.”

YN fakes a whiny grumble as she wriggles back into him, feeling his sharp intake of breath with the friction on his center, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more room to roam his lips along.

“Tired,” She complains brattily but it warps into a squeak when he nips the cap of her shoulder before soothing it with his tongue, back up to her jaw to suck a spot into her skin as he pulls her harder back into his groin.

“Please, darling,” Harry drawls against her skin, he kicks off the duvet to display their bodies, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt before slipping in and upwards against her warm skin, “I need you.”

His fingers raise goosebumps against her tummy before he’s cupping both of her breasts, hidden under her shirt but his thumbs come to her nipples - they’re already hard for him as he rubs them in lazy circles as his lips don’t stay still for a moment against her skin.

YN lets out a hurt mewl when he pinches at them before thumbing over the acute pain and easing it with softer touches - it was something intimate that he was hiding this from the camera, it was just them for a brief moment, “So desperate for me. Let’s get your shirt off, need to see these pretty tits.”

It scared her because it didn’t sound like acting, it sounded like how he talked when they were living together, when they were in their bed.

“Stop teasing,” She mumbles as she lets him tug the shirt over her head, his right hand moves to her mouth, tapping at her plush lips.

YN opens automatically and he presses two fingers inside her mouth, stroking at her tongue before taking them out to rub the sheen of spit on her nipples - he watches curiously as they pebble even more before pinching at them again.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning,” Harry hums with a hint of humor because it was actually true, she was not a morning bird at all.

“M’not grumpy,” YN disagrees, her voice hitching at the end when he gives a particularly hard tweak as they become more sensitive and taut, “Just want you to do something.”

“Do something,” Harry mocks in that deep, gravel accent before he’s kissing the hinge of her jaw and rasps, “Just remember, you asked for it. So desperate for my cock, it’s cute.”

Before she can bite back, Harry’s hand moves into the front of her panties, thick fingers sliding down her folds before two are tucking up right inside and curl against her velvet, warm walls.

He knew her body like the back of his hand because he’s petting her spot with precision like he remembered right where it was and how much pressure she preferred.

YN let out a loud, surprised moan.

It was authentic, really one of the first she’s ever let out that was real on set as her toes already begin to curl and she was struggling to keep her eyes open as electricity zipped through her.

“Did I find your spot, baby?” Harry asks innocently despite his actions, he’s grinding himself into her bum to get some relief as his thumb moves up to swirl on her clit with harsh movements.

“There, s’good,” YN gasps kittenishly, spreading her legs further to give him more room and beginning to roll her hips down onto his fingers, riding them without another thought, she wasn’t even registering the cameras anymore.

“Yeah, darlin’. I know all your sweet spots, hm? Hit ‘em just right to have you dripping down my hand like a good girl,” He praises before nipping at her jaw and twisting his fingers with a harsh, steady rhythm - he smelled so fucking good, like pumpkin spice and cedar, strong and heady - it made her dizzy with want.

“I-I’m cl-close, baby,” The pet name slips out as her muscles begin to tense, walls contracting against him, she doesn’t know if she’s ever come this fast, definitely not in a long time because it took her aback.

She missed it so much.

She missed him so much.

It felt like a sick joke to her to have to act out what used to be, what she missed, what she craved.

It was like groundhogs day but amplified by a million.

“Then fuckin’ give it to me. I’ve earned it yet? Soak my fingers, pet,” He encourages as he speeds up and presses down harder on her button - his bicep flexing deliciously, straining all of his strong muscles.

It has her tipping over the edge, it’s the first mind-numbing orgasm she’s had in a year and it’s with her cheating ex-boyfriend who she thought she was going to settle down with, house with a white picket fence, babies running around, and this was what she got instead.

Her eyes are squeezed shut as her body tremors through it, his hand slowing but not all together stopping either.

Her body was conditioned to respond to him and it gave in to him so sweetly that people watching this would be blind not to see - no one could act this well.

“Perfect, did just what I asked,” He hums as she comes down, he’s pulling the shirt off her head and tossing it to the floor before doing the same with her underwear.

His hand moved up her belly, leaving a damp trail in its wake from her wetness until he cups her breast, lips back to her neck with slow, wet kisses.

“Plea-please, H,” YN mewls as he pinches at her nipple but he punishes her with a nip, whispering in her ear, “No names, pet.”

It takes her a moment to realize her slip because she wasn’t fucking acting - she couldn’t even find it in her to be embarrassed.

She wanted to get her mouth on him before they got to the main event and so she’s wriggling out of his grip to turn and face him.

YN straddles his thighs, his big hands automatically coming to grip her hips - indenting enough to bruise and Harry looks vulnerable for the first time today.

His eyes are wider than usual, his lips parted, and his stomach was sucking in and out revealing his ribs before disappearing back into the strong muscle.

YN goes to shimmy down, he shoots up and grips her jaw hard, bringing their mouths back together in a hard kiss - her breasts pressing against his bare chest.

When she finally has a moment to pull back for a breath, Harry murmurs too low for the microphones to catch on, “Missed your perfect little mouth so much. If you even wrap those lips around me, I’ll come. Let me fuck you, darling.”

YN can do anything but nod, trying not to preen from the compliment - he squirms around for a moment as he shoves his briefs down his thighs and kicks them off his ankle.

God, she missed everything about him.

He was as pretty, thick, long as she remembers.

Her heart flutters when she spots the soft pinkish scar on his pubic bone a few inches up and to the left of his base - she’d forgotten about that.

-

“Bloody hell!” Harry yelps out in surprise, sitting up from the bed and looking down at his groin, “S’definitely not supposed to hurt that much.”

“You made sure this was meant for wax play right?” YN asks as she puts the candle back on the bedside table before examining the little blob of lavender wax on his pubic bone.

“I didn’t know there were specific candles!” Harry whines out as YN picks the wax off, a small bubbling blister already forming on his delicate skin.

“Baby,” YN chastised with a giggle and a shake of her head, “We better put some neosporin and a bandaid on this so it doesn’t get infected.”

“It hurts so bad, need you to take care of me,” Harry’s pouts as she disappears to get the supplies from their bathroom.

“How are you still hard?” YN laughs as he winces in pain as she gently dabs the medication on the wound and unwraps the bandaid.

“Don’t make fun of me,” He grumbles as he tries to hide a smile, his hand moving to rub her plushy hip, and his nose nudging at her cheek, “You constantly make me hard. S’gonna nearly be impossible for me to lose a stiffy around you.”

“Who said romance is dead,” She rolls her eyes but it’s fond and she can’t stop giggling because he just makes her so happy.

“Never going t’be,” Harry murmurs, sex voice one hundred perfect back in motion, now that he has a purple bandaid on his burn, and he’s leans forward to begin kissing her belly and his hands coming to knead at her bum.

The candle long forgotten.

-

She runs her fingers over the puffy skin where she had accidentally burnt him - she didn’t know why it made her eyes prick with emotion.

When YN glances up at him, Harry is watching her so intently as she traces over the memory - the moment doesn’t last for more than a minute but it moves in slow motion for her.

YN snaps out of it when she remembers exactly where she’s at and what she’s supposed to be doing right now - in front of cameras because this wasn’t an intimate moment, it was all for the cameras.

At least, that’s she’s telling herself to save her sanity.

Harry could always sense her mood, her emotion, and now is no different, and so he helps her get back on track, asking, “C’mon, darling. You want my cock? S’aching for you.”

“Please, want it,” YN agrees as Harry adjusts their position, his length sliding between her folds and it has him tilting his head back and moaning - it was loud and beautiful, deep but at the same time desperate as his hips twitch up.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry hisses as he grips his base to paint the tip through her folds, teasing at her entrance before moving up to smack the weight of it against her swollen clit - repeating that cycle a few times as he mouths at her nipples.

“Stop teasing,” She huffs out in frustration because she wants him in, she wants to come again, but at the same time, she never wants this to end  - this right here is what she thought she would get for the rest of her life.

“Spoiled thing,” Harry chastises as he guides himself in, hands moving to her hips and pulling her down all the way onto him until she’s settled, it makes her feel so full, Harry must agrees because he’s groaning, “Darling, s’tight. Fuck, you feel good. Best thing I’ve ever had.”

It didn’t feel like he was lying.

“Ride me, baby,” Harry encourages as he leans back against the headboard, his strings hands moving her hips back and forth in a grinding motion, harsh circles that made her stomach tense, “Show me what a good girl you are.”

She wanted to show him what he fucked up, what he gave up.

YN rises up on her knees, pulling herself nearly off of him until his tip is just kissing at her core before sliding on the way back down, slow and purposeful as her hands move to cup her breasts.

“Stop tha’,” Harry scolds possessively, knocking her hands away and moving to grab them himself, fingers pinching at her nipples in the exact way she liked it, “Am I not doing good enough or are you just too greedy for your own good?”

YN lets out a wet mewl, falling forward until her chest is pressed against his, her forehead resting on his shoulder, “S’good, you’re so good. H, you’re so good, baby.”

Harry shushes her softly, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her into his chest as close as possible before he’s thrusting up into her with full force, the sound of skin meeting echoing through the room as he kisses the side of her face.

“God, I’ve fucking missed you,” Harry whispers in her ear, just for her, he’s panting as he exerts energy into fucking her, kissing her, hugging her, and YN falls off the edge for another orgasm, sobbing in pleasure into his neck, “That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, pet.”

He only thrusts up a few more times before he’s coming, keeping her still, deep in his lap as he works through it, lips moving to just press against her temple as he slows his hips and relaxes back more.

YN kept her head tucked against him, her cheeks were wet from tears, from a mixture of her multiple orgasms and heartbreak - she was sniffling and didn’t want the cameras to see this.

Harry hears the sniffle, the way her breathing is stuttered from trying to hold it back, and he’s looking up at the room of people, “Cut it. We’re done.”

The camera crew apparently doesn’t halt filming as quickly as Harry has asked and so he’s raising his voice loudly, “I said fucking cut it. Turn off the goddamn cameras. The scene’s over.”

Warren is coming over, a genuine concern on his face, “What’s going on? Is she hurt?”

The question offends Harry, he barks out, “I didn’t fucking hurt her. She’s okay. I got this.”

YN nods, muttering “I’m fine.” And wanting everyone else in the room to disappear.

Harry’s rustling them around a bit, having pulled out by now, and is shoving her big tee shirt back over her head to cover her up before moving them until he can wriggle her underwear and his back on.

“YN,” Harry’s voice is softer than when he was ordering everyone around a minute ago, “Baby, I need you to breathe. Everything’s okay. You’re okay.”

-

“You’re okay,” Harry coos as he holds her to his bare chest, “Everything’s okay.”

The water was cascading down on them, hot and steaming up the bathroom, as they stood under it - just embracing, unsure of how long they’ve been in there.

“I miss her,” YN cries into his chest, her chest hurt from how much she’d been crying - her eyes were swollen and sore, “It doesn’t get easier. I can’t believe it’s been two years. It feels like yesterday.”

“It does,” Harry agrees solemnly, he still remembers the day her mother was diagnosised with cancer, “I miss her too. She was an amazing woman. And she gave me you, the love of my life.”

“I couldn’t do this without you,” She says honestly, goosebumps prickling her skin even despite the temperature.

“Never have to do it without me,” Harry replies as he reaches to turn the water a little hotter, “S’a promise baby.”

-

“I’m fine,” YN spits out a bit harshly, shoving his hands off of her - he doesn’t get to comfort her like this when he fucking cheated on her.

She wishes she regret what she just did but she didn’t, however she needed a minute to breath and so she’s sliding off the bed and straightening out the shirt.

YN knows she’s running away but she doesn’t get far before Harry’s fingers are curling around her wrist and stopping her.

“Hey. We had a deal,” He reminds her firmly, his lips in a tight line - she has to ignore the blossoming hickeys she left all over his neck and chest, “We’re gonna talk.”

“Yeah,” YN lies breathlessly, “I really need to pee. Come to my dressing room in fifteen minutes?”

“Okay, m’going to shower real quick then,” Harry agrees, squeezing her wrist once more before he’s turning to go back to his dressing room.

YN is whipping open the door in a panic, “For fucks sake, Niall. We have to leave now.”

“Everything okay?” He asks from where he’s still lounged on the couch, “Do I need to kick someone’s arse?”

“I just did a scene with Harry,” YN whisper-shouts, tugging on her leggings and jamming her feet in her tennis shoes, “Let’s go.”

“Bloody hell,” Niall’s eyes go wide, he has so many questions but finally gets some urgency, shoving her shit into her duffle before swinging it over her shoulder and guiding them out the emergency exit.

-

Harry can’t seem to catch his breath on the shower, hard choking sobs wracking through his body as his forehead rests against the ceramic.

And he can’t stay in here much longer because she’s waiting to talk, he doesn’t know where to begin, how to apologize.

He’s tugging on a tee and running shorts before making his way back to her dressing room, his hands shaking with nerves - the confident pornstar long gone.

When he knocks, he doesn’t hear anything, and so he twists the knob, the room empty of anything beside the furniture - making it clear she was long gone.

“Fuck,” Harry hisses before punching his fist against the wall.

He wasn’t going to let her get away twice.

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful response to the first chapter, I really appreciate it!

Enjoy Chapter 2!

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

Home for Delilah was a small, aging modular house tucked away in an urban suburb in eastern Pensacola. It previously belonged to Andre’s father, and it served as a fairly decent abode for the young couple ever since they got engaged nearly two years ago. Andre had been living there for a decade, moving in to work at his uncle’s auto shop immediately after graduating from high school. It wasn't the most luxurious of dwellings, but it beat the miniscule space she’d been crammed in with her father, mother and older sister for years, so Delilah really couldn't complain.

Rolling her eyes at her mother’s wedding-laden text message, she pulled her keys from her pocket, guided it into the lock and pushed open the door. Closing it firmly behind her, she leaned back against it, shutting out the rest of the world for the rest of the day. Hanging her hooded jacket on the hook by the door, she kicked off her sneakers and dumped them in the corner along with her gym bag, knowing she put them in their proper place, but was too tired and hungry to worry about that right then.

She wandered into the kitchen, ignoring the small stack of unopened bills on the countertop, and opened the refrigerator. The three pieces of leftover chicken and half-full bottle of red wine wasn’t going to cut it. Sadly, ordering takeout was a bit of a luxury right now, so she had to make do with whatever she could find in the refrigerator and the pantry. Luckily, her mother had ensured that both of her daughters became creative enough cooks to see through any food shortage, which, these days, occurred more often than Delilah liked to admit. So, retrieving as many ingredients as she could find, she set about making dinner for herself and Andre, a peace offering of sorts after their turbulent morning.

It had been a stressful last few months, combining her wrestling classes with numerous double shifts at both her jobs to make ends meet. Adding the equally demanding task of planning her wedding was not helping. More frustrating, at least, according to Andre, was the fact that their nuptial plans were being delayed by her so-called ambitions, chipping away at what little income they both earned. Delilah truly wished he could see the big picture, or at the very least, show a little more support. He, of all people, should have her back. That the rest of the townspeople thought she was out of her mind didn’t mean that he had to agree with them.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the front door open. Knowing who it was, her insides clenched a little with apprehension, wondering, perhaps hopeful even, that her fiancé would be in a reconciliatory mood. The footsteps coming from the living area got louder as they got nearer. Delilah diverted her focus from the saucepan to watch Andre stroll into the kitchen. and despite the tension that had been brewing between them all day, her heart couldn’t help but welcome the affection that rushed over her for him.

Andre Gibson had been every girl’s fantasy once upon a time. Still was, if Delilah was being honest. He was yet to lose any of the physical traits that made him so desirable back in high school. Just hitting six feet, his body was lean and toned from years of doing most of the heavy lifting at his father’s landscaping business. They were inseparable when they were younger; the best thing about school for her was sneaking out to hang out with him, making out with him in the bleachers after basketball games. It was like Heaven for Delilah, elated to be in a spot so many girls were dying to be in. The romance continued after high school, to Delilah’s pleasant surprise, culminating in his proposal two years ago on her twenty-second birthday. And now here they were, living together as soon-to-be man and wife.

“Hey,” he mumbled, rubbing a dirt-streaked hand over his tired face. His worn shirt was unbuttoned with his toned abs on display, and he dumped his backpack on the ground against the wall by the back door.

“Hey,” Delilah returned his greeting. “You’re home early. How did your day go?”

His tired sigh preceded his reply. “Same old, same old. We had one breakthrough though. Pops and I finally completed Mrs. Whelan’s garden.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you talking about that,” she said, stirring the contents in the skillet. “That’s great. I’m glad to know you finally pulled it off.”

“Same here, babe.” He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder. “What’cha got cookin’?”

“Improvising a little with the leftover chicken,” she started, pausing when his hands cupped her hips and his lips met her shoulder. And right away, she knew what this was. This was his way of apologizing about this morning; showing her affection without saying a word. That was the thing about her relationship with Andre. There was something special about the way that they didn't have to speak to know what the other was thinking. They fought, then acted like nothing had ever happened when they got back together. She felt he was in the wrong for this argument, but she wasn’t expecting an apology…no apologies were ever really exchanged afterwards…Everything just went back to normal, seemingly papering over the cracks, in Delilah’s humble opinion. But it kept the peace, so it was better if she kept that little discrepancy to herself.

“Now that we know how your day went, you wanna hear about mine?” she asked.

Chuckling to himself, Andre pushed gently away from her. “Sure, babe,” he said, “How was training today?”

“Tough as fuck,” Delilah grumbled, as Andre grabbed a glass and held it underneath the kitchen faucet. “Tank’s not letting up, even with two days to go till my match. But you’ll never believe who showed up at the warehouse today.”

“You really want me to guess?”

“Maybe not,” she conceded with a giggle, her eyes brightening with excitement as she recalled their brief meeting. “Jey Uso! Jey Uso of all people, Dre!”

Andre raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“He’s a big shot in the WWE. One of the top guys in the entire company,” she explained, even though it would most likely fall on deaf ears. “And the coolest part is he’s from right here. Raised in Pensacola just like we were.”

“That’s nice,” Andre responded with a nonchalant, almost bored tone as he settled down at the kitchen table. Delilah was well aware that Andre didn’t watch wrestling. He always called it fake and childish, but that opinion changed slightly when Delilah returned home from her very first class with bruises all over her body. She’d hoped he’d take interest in it, if only for her sake, but that didn’t look like it was happening anytime soon.

She finished making dinner and set a plate in front of him, shredded caramelized chicken with white rice and fresh tomato salad. It wasn’t gourmet, but Delilah had done what she could with what little they had. “Mm, smells good,” Andre complimented, grabbing his cutlery to dig in. Delilah sat beside him, casting pensive glances at him as she ate, pondering the right time to ask him a burning question. It was a few bites into her meal when she decided now was the right time.

“You know, you still ain’t told me if you’re coming to see my match or not,” she spoke up.

Andre’s cutlery ceased their skittering across his plate, and he averted his gaze. Delilah detected his answer right away, and her shoulders dropped. “You’re not,” she sighed, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say that,” he said quickly, “But you do understand why I won’t be able to make it, babe. You know what work is like for me these days.”

“I’ve been talking about this for weeks, Dre! You know how important this is to me! It’s my very first match! It’s in two days. Or did you forget that too?” Angrily, she stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken, trying not to imagine it was her fiancé’s eyeball. “You know what? Forget it. You don’t gotta come if you don’t want to.”

Andre started to counter her, but stopped, thinking twice about it. The last thing he wanted was yet another fight, because this was exactly how it always started. They’d been arguing a lot lately, and honestly? He was already over it. “Look…I’ll do my best to make it to your match,” he said.

“Yeah right,” Delilah rolled her eyes, ignoring the glimmer of hope that bloomed within her. “I ain’t holdin’ my breath, that’s for sure.”

“Come on, babe, I’m for real. I’ll clear out my schedule. I’ll set a reminder on my phone and stuff. I promise. Just gimme the details and I’m on it.” He stared at her with pleading eyes, determined to keep the peace between them. It had been a long, tense day, and in-house tension was the last thing he needed.

Delilah smiled, finally. “Fine. I can work with that,” she agreed. “Now finish up. Your mom sent me a few ideas on places we can have the reception. And after that…If you’re a good boy, maybe later, I’ll show you a new move I learned today.” She leaned closer to him, whispering in his ear, “In bed.”

The hand she’d placed on his thigh suggested volumes, and the tantalizing prospect made Andre smile, “Sounds like a plan, babe.” And with that, things were back to normal.

Or so they both wanted to believe.

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

The next morning…

Good thing she didn’t hold her breath in the end.

As Delilah dumped the heavy weights on the ground, she let out a loud growl, trying to release the tension surging through her body. She paced back and forth frantically as she glanced around the small gym, looking for what else to take out her anger on. Every muscle in her body was begging for mercy, but she couldn't stop. She had to take her frustrations out on something, otherwise she would take it out on someone, preferably Andre. Luckily, the gym was relatively empty, sparing some poor soul from her unwarranted wrath.

Fucking coward. He couldn’t even tell her to her face that he’d changed his mind about coming to her show. If that was even his intention in the first place. He’d scribbled some lame ass excuse on a piece of paper while she slept, and left it on his side of the bed before scurrying off to work. He was long gone by the time she woke up, presenting her with fewer reasons to trust her future husband.

The music blaring in her ears made it impossible for Delilah to hear or see anyone around her. And the anger she was feeling made her essentially ignore her surroundings. So it took her completely aback when she turned towards the direction of the punching bags only to run smack into a brick wall. "What the fuck!"

Josh smirked slightly as he took a step back, watching her yank the buds out of her ears. "Ay, my bad, on me," he apologized, chuckling at the discombobulated look on her face. "Thought you saw me comin’."

"Clearly not. You ain’t that hard to miss," Delilah snapped, tearing the fingerless gloves off her hands. "What are you even doing here?" she shot, noting vaguely that he didn’t look dressed for a workout. The man who had, just the day before, seemed imposing and breath-taking, was now just another testosterone-filled asshole standing in her way, like her fiancé.

Josh crossed his tattooed arms and stared at her. "Relax," he smiled. "Thought I would stop by and see how you were feelin' about tomorrow night, but I guess that's pretty obvious," he said, eyeing her up and down. He’d been on the mark about her body…bangin’ was an understatement. He forced himself to maintain eye contact to avoid staring at her nipples protruding through her sports bra.

Delilah grabbed the bottle of water sat on the nearby bench, unscrewing the cap and taking a few gulps. There was more than one reason she was feeling the way she was, and none of them put the butterflies in her stomach at ease. "I don’t even know why I’m trippin’," she shrugged. "I'm only jobbin' out anyway. Why would I want him to see me lose?"

“Want who to see you lose?” Josh inquired.

Delilah pursed her lips, contemplating whether she should answer or not. “My fiancé.”

He regretted asking. “Oh. Right. Tank said something like that,” he mumbled.

Delilah stared up at the huge man with narrowed eyes. “You and Tank talked about me?”

“Not the way you think,” Josh quickly clarified at her suspicious expression. “He has a lot of faith in you, which is why you ain’t gotta worry so much about tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”

"You make it sound so easy-breezy,” Delilah groaned, shoving her sweaty hair away from her equally sweaty face. “Maybe if one of us got hurt, the fans will have something to remember the match by."

Now it was Josh's turn to roll his eyes. Damn rookies. "Yeah, then you’ll be the fragile weakling nobody wanna work with. I know Tank taught you better than that," he countered. "Look, it ain’t all about winning and losing, not right now anyway. It’s about making an impression on your audience. The fans need a reason to keep watching you, and the suits need a reason they should hire you to wrestle. So everything you do in that ring matters. As long as your match is entertaining as fuck and you don’t kill anyone, that’s all they’ll care about."

Raising an eyebrow, Delilah chuckled. "Right. I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow," she said. Biting her lip in contemplation, she met his eyes again and fought the urge to swoon.

"Ay, it’s okay to be nervous. You gotta phase that out, though,” he added. “And whatever you got going on at home, put that shit aside until after the match." 

It was a little unnerving how well he’d read her. “Easier said than done,” she scoffed.

For a second, Josh thought about prying, but decided against it. "Wanna know what I was like the morning of my very first match?" He watched her countenance perk up, giving him a curious half-smile that he thought was insanely attractive. "I got so nervous, thinkin’ and worryin’ about the match and shit, that I forgot my bag with my wrestling gear in it. Boots and all. I didn’t realize it until I got to the arena," he explained. “I had to rush back home, and the traffic was so crazy, I didn’t get back to the arena until about ten minutes before my match. That shit sucked ass, man.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip again, Delilah eyed Josh with awe as he spoke, his understanding words and softer eyes putting her more at ease than before. To think that the great Jey Uso had felt this jittery before his first match made her feel like they had a little more in common now.

"I really want this, ya know?" she said, relaxing some more as she confided in him. "I've always wanted this. I had a later start than most, I’ll admit, and I’m playing catch-up. That’s why I'm busting my ass so hard," she admitted. "There’s no room for error, Jey. I gotta be perfect."

Licking his lips subconsciously, Josh watched her take another sip of her water, some of it escaping her lips and trickling down the valley between her breasts, and felt a tightness deep in his gut. "Perfection don’t exist, baby girl, not in pro wrestling," he pointed out, his eyes reactively sweeping down the curves of her body before he spoke again. "Look, if Tank thinks you ready for this, then you ready," he said.

Delilah sighed heavily. She could only hope Tank was right. As she picked up her towel and bag off of the floor, she stopped short, and then turned to face him again. “Wait…Did you just call me baby girl?” she asked him.

A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. “Sorry. Bad habit. I meant no disrespect. If I offended you, I'm sorry.” He stepped closer to her. “Forgive me?”

Delilah swallowed, taking a few steps of her own backwards. She noticed his lips twitch again in amusement. “Uh…yeah. Sure.” 

Josh smiled. “Preciate that, Delilah.” He backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Think about what I said, a’ight?”

She watched him walk away from her and out of the gym, so many questions on the tip of her tongue. Her hand tightened over her water bottle, and she suddenly felt the need to take a cold shower, or two.

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

Thoughts?

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[unnerving-presence]

Hi, i just read the coochie unhooking and im in love omg 🥲💕 could we have another part with the huntress, pyra and a third one of your choice? Thank you, you're the best 👀💕

GAGAGAGGH YESSSS I LOVE THESE 😭 TARHOS HAS BEEN INFESTING MY BRAIN SO HE WILL BE THE LUCKY THIRD !!

ooc shit incoming this is literally abt them loving them thighs i do not gaf i tried to make them in character somewhat anyways hehe

could you tell i’m utterly obsessed w tarhos right now i wished i could’ve written more dear lord

i had already written this for huntress initially but i did want to revise it a bit to be more in character. still sort of experimenting with it all. enjoy though :)

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Anna:

Straight confusion and a.. little bit of panic? She’s never had her prey attempt something like what you did. It catches her so off guard she practically thrashes around as much as you do to get you off of her. She doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable and very much does not appreciate it when you manage to escape the hook and her alike. She can’t shake that ghostly feeling of your thighs around her. It’s like you’re still there. She can’t discern whether she likes the feeling or not.

You’re interesting prey, prey that she enjoys hunting. She mostly does it for necessity and to please the Entity, but she likes you. She likes that. She especially likes your drive to survive. It amuses her, makes her curious about you. Anna would be angry about the ordeal thinking about it, but it simply makes her intrigued now. She simply can’t brush aside the concept of your thighs around her. It was like a warm embrace she hadn’t felt since she was a child. She likes it.

She decides she will observe you more. Watch as you speak in a language she doesn’t understand and interact with those she sees as nothing more than human animals. You’re afraid, but you’re also determined. It’s cute. Perhaps she’ll conveniently place herself near the hook she puts you on next time, just to feel you fight to survive, just to feel those thighs around her again.

Pyramid Head:

Pyramid Head would have absolutely never expected this to happen.. ever? Considering his absolute fridge of a head he’s.. startled to say the least that you managed to both effectively wrap your thighs around him AND have enough leg strength to take him down AND unhook yourself. It doesn’t all come to mind at first but he’s definitely a bit aroused. Unfortunately, that is an emotion that fades quite quickly. He has a job to do, he would very much like to get back to that. If he could get back up from the ground from his big ass helmet holding him down 😭

Pyramid Head is simply indifferent about the situation. A tiny bit excited at the though, but would quickly move on. It would certainly stay in his mind if you had done it several times over though. Some part of him is glad he has this unbearable helmet over his head, he might have had a full system shutdown had your thighs gotten too close to his face, though your thighs being around him in the first place is more than enough to turn him on a bit, not that he acts on it of course. He prioritizes his role in this realm more than anything else.

Though he won’t pass up the opportunity to listen to your cries of pain if given the chance. They didn’t mean much to him before. But now he rather likes the sound. He’d even say he rather likes you more than anything else. Maybe he should stick extra close to you from now on. Perhaps you’ll try other suggestive methods of trying to escape him. Either way, it feeds into his desire to punish and his desire for you.

Tarhos Kovács:

Tarhos is trained for moments like this, when the enemy has the upper hand. He cut through hundreds of swordsmen far more experienced than you could ever wish to be. He wields his imposing claymore and knows he strikes fear into those that dare cross him. He is anything but one to be so easily defeated. It should’ve been impossible for him to be taken down by someone in such a pathetic position as yourself. It has to be the Entity’s assistance. It has to be. He can barely get himself together again before you dash up the stairs and out of his reach. He grumbles and pushes himself up off the ground, more determined than ever to put you in your place.

You don’t survive the trial, but it’s very clear you did something to him. He’s angry, but there’s some other emotion, like a smoldering fire that was once not even worth a passing glance had suddenly burst into a wildfire. It could be confused with bloodlust. He can barely tell the difference between the two until he sees you again by the campfire next to those worthless maggots. He watches only for a moment and in that moment he wants more. He wants more of whatever you did to him.

He will never come to terms with these feelings. He believes it’s your fault. Your existence shouldn’t even be welcomed in this place. You can so easily disrupt the balance of death, sacrifice, bloodshed. He wants nothing to do with you if you think you can deter him from his rightful privilege of endlessly butchering such peasants as yourself. He hates you more than he hates Vittorio, he thinks. Vittorio was an imbecile who thought he had the answers to peace. But you? God, you actually do something to him and you don’t even have to try.

[thepixelelf]

Oh Baby, You Part 25 - Completely Surrounded

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You wonder, absently, if hearing the word "dividends" for the fifth time in ten minutes constitutes an emergency signal. Certainly, Jeonghan has heard the word an uncountable amount of times in his years as Mingyu's assistant, but to you, it's nothing rousing.

Choi Seungcheol seems like a nice enough person— well, if you were someone who didn't know he's asked someone out purely to squeeze information out of them. (Which he's doing a terrible job of, by the way, seeing as he's done 90% of the talking since you sat down.) He's good looking, in the guy you'd ask to chop wood for you kind of way (although the three piece suit detracts from that a bit and adds a more you can't afford me aura to his whole thing), plus he offered to buy your drink before he realized you'd already ordered.

But it's just so… awkward. You already know he's not actually interested in you, and you're so tense trying to keep all your secrets under wraps that you can only focus on what not to say rather than what to say.

At least part of what you're going to tell Seungcheol is true. You really do think you're not ready to get back into the dating game. It's not just that you need to keep everyone at arm's length — you're already skirting the rules enough with Vernon and Co. You've also thrown yourself so deep into raising your son that no one has even remotely caught your romantic eye. Or maybe that part of you is broken now. Retired.

You keep telling yourself that you're over Wonwoo and the unfortunate circumstances that tore you apart.

Sometimes it's not a lie.

It's not very nice, you know, to compare Seungcheol to Wonwoo. To think about how you miss the easy way you could always speak to each other; how Wonwoo used to let out these nerdy yet adorable chuckles; how he could make you laugh with just a side eye.

Then again, it's not very nice of Seungcheol to do this to you, either. Both the not-so-subtle interrogation tactic and the stocks talk.

As soon as your phone vibrates with an incoming call, though, you instantly regret wishing for an out.

No news is good news when it comes to babysitting, and a call from Vernon with no precursory text—?

Your heartbeat picks up.

"I'm sorry," you say, completely cutting off whatever Seungcheol was going on about. "I need to take this." Without a second more of hesitation, you bring your phone up to your ear. "Vernon? What's going on?"

He speaks quickly. "Have you talked to Chan?"

"No." You frown, one of your fingers tapping nervously against your leg. "Why?"

"Fuck…"

"Vernon," you repeat. "What is going on?"

"Okay—" Vernon takes a deep breath, and the words flow out of him so fast, you struggle to keep up. "So I had to go pick up my little sister because she found herself in a bad spot so I left Chan with Orion because he's a fully capable human being most of the time except when I picked Sofia up I texted him that I was coming back and he didn't answer at all and didn't pick up the phone when Seungkwan and I tried to call and now I just made it back to your apartment and Chan's car is gone and neither of them are in the room and I don't know what the fuck is—"

"They're gone?" you whisper. Your fingers have wrapped around a napkin, gripping onto it much too tight. Across the table, Seungcheol furrows his thick brows as he observes you, but you can't find it in yourself to keep up any sort of facade right now.

Vernon groans, and you can picture him running a nervous hand through his hair. "I don't know— I don't… wait."

"What?"

"Seungkwan said he might've found Chan's phone GPS location?"

You make a confused noise. "How?"

"I don't know," Vernon says, "but he said they're at the hospital?"

You stand abruptly, the legs of your chair screeching as they scrape against the floor. "The hospital?!"

"I'm gonna head there now." Vernon's starting to sound out of breath, not far off from how you feel despite not moving anywhere. "Do you want me to pick you up? But wait— that café is on the other side of town—"

"You go," you tell him, more concerned with finding Orion and Chan faster than you needing to be the one to find them. "I'll find my own—" You glance outside at the traffic flooding by. "Maybe a bus, or—"

"I'll drive you."

Turning back to Seungcheol, you see nothing in his expression except for concern. Your first thought is that he shouldn't look concerned. He should be smug. An opportunity to see your son in person has fallen right into his lap.

But you're anxious. And scared.

So you take him up on his offer.

You say nothing for the duration of the ride to the hospital, silently stewing over the idiotic choice to bring CEO Choi with you. It wasn't like you had many options, but still…

You ignore all of Jeonghan's frantic texts.

When Seungcheol pulls up in front of the building, you step out of the car so quickly that you almost trip. Before you swing the fancy car door shut, you lean down and give him a genuine smile. This is the perfect opportunity to leave him behind. "Thank you," you say. "For the ride."

The fact that there's a line to the front counter of the emergency room makes your heart clench painfully in your chest, but no sooner do you run up to the queue than you hear your son calling out to you. Frantically, you turn this way and that, until you see Orion sitting, perfectly unharmed, on Wonwoo's lap in the waiting area.

"Orion!" You hurry over to them, your hands immediately cupping Orion's face and brushing through his hair to check for anything amiss. He looks completely fine, as opposed to Wonwoo, whom you refuse to make eye contact with.

His eyes are watering at the edges, and he looks at you like you took his world and crushed it between your evil fingers.

You did, once upon a time.

Gathering Orion in your arms and standing up straight, you press a kiss to his forehead and pat his hair. "You okay, baby?"

He nods, attempting to fit half of his fist in his mouth. You can't help but laugh, relief flooding your veins as it settles in that your son is alright.

Which means…

You look at Wonwoo, despite every cell in your body begging you not to. "What happened?" you ask. "Where's Chan?"

And why are you here? But you don't say that.

Slowly, Wonwoo stands, his eyes never leaving yours. He's trying to read you, his lips pressed in a thin line, his arms limp at his sides as he stands right in front of you.

It's unnerving, and it makes you take half a step backwards.

Wonwoo takes one sideways glance at Orion before his eyes return to yours. "Tell me it's not him," he whispers, voice strained.

You try to brush it off with a breathy laugh. "What? What do you mean?"

This is why you didn't want Wonwoo to see Orion again. You know exactly what he means.

Wonwoo whispers your name like it hurts him to pronounce. It hurts you, too, but you push it all deep, deep down.

"Please," he says. "Please, just… If it was anyone else…"

"Is everything alright?" Seungcheol's voice appears behind you, and you instinctively hug Orion closer, hiding his face against your shoulder. He snuggles up without complaint, completely unaware of the turmoil happening around him.

You break away from Wonwoo's unwavering gaze, only slightly thankful for the reprieve considering the other option is a power-hungry CEO vying for your friend's position in their company.

"When did you—"

"Orion!" Vernon bursts into the waiting room, out of breath and sweating. He jogs right up to you and your son, and he pats his hand on Orion's head. "You okay little buddy?"

Orion shifts in your arms, moving to lift his head and answer, but in your panic, you gently hold him in place. Seungcheol is too close for comfort, and frankly, you don't want Wonwoo seeing Orion's face either.

Wonwoo says your name again, beckoning your attention, just as Seungcheol asks, "What happened?"

Vernon looks between the two men, and pauses on Seungcheol. "Wait, aren't you—?"

"Guys?" Chan emerges from somewhere. You're too disoriented at this point to tell. "What's going on?"

He joins the group, and you can't even chastise him for the dumb shit he did to land you in this situation because your blood is pumping so hard you can hear it in your eardrums. You're completely surrounded, all by people who don't know—

Once again, Wonwoo says your name, but this time he speaks clearly, loud enough for the three other men to go quiet and look at him even though the only one he's looking at is you. He reaches a hand up, and you're frozen in place as he places it gently on your cheek. The touch alone makes you want to cry.

"Tell me," he begs. "Tell me it's not Mingyu."

The silence that fills the space between you is solid and thick. It threatens to drown you.

"I…" You open your mouth, but it's suddenly dry. "I…"

You hear Seungcheol breathe out behind you.

"I have to go."

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oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @kachren @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @1ntaktak @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @dorrysstuff @ckline35 @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @sugacookees @royal9 @doodlelibrary @myjaeyunn @yksthings @jundundun @amosmortese @jaeskz @seungmintree @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @capsiclesworld @hellodefthings @sunshineshouchan @calumsfringe @caratinluv @pinkysinnerbaby @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @wondering-out-loud

[schrijverr]

Please, I Got a Family at Home

Divergence from chapter 7, where instead of not getting to finish, Buck gets to tell Bobby he has a family that relies on him and his income.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (percieved one sided)

Warnings: referenced addiction

~~~

Bobby is angry. Angry at himself, because he didn’t put his foot down soon enough and angry at Buck, because Bobby is trying to help him, mentor him, but he’s acting out and now he’s pushed too far.

He doesn’t like it, but he can’t keep being kind. First it was the fire engine, then refusing the teen mom entrance to the ambulance and now it’s the fire engine again. Clearly, Buck doesn’t do well with a kind hand, clearly he doesn’t take this seriously enough. Bobby can’t have a liability like that on his team, can’t keep covering for Buck, not when he still has so much to make up for.

“You’re fired,” he tells him, watching how Buck’s face drops.

“What?” he chokes out with a high voice. Shock and disbelief, as if he never considered such a thing could happen to him. “Wait, that’s not fair. You said I got three strikes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bobby says, because it shouldn’t. Buck didn’t officially get three strikes, but there are three strikes against him and he clearly didn’t learn. His decision on this is final. Even if Buck looks a little like a kicked puppy. “You’ve made this choice yourself, and you rubbed it in my face. The same exact infraction two days after I wrote you up. You’re out of line and you’re not taking this job seriously. So you’re out.”

With those final words, Bobby starts to walk away. Buck is an adult, he can figure out that he needs to sort himself out and bring the fire engine back.

Before he can get very far, Buck has tucked his dick back in and has caught up with him. He looks to be near tears as he pleads: “Wait, Bobby! Bobby, I- I need this job. Please, don’t do this to me. I have people that rely on me and my income, I need this job. At least until the end of my probie year.”

God, he looks absolutely devastated and it takes everything in Bobby to not give him another free pass, but to stay firm on his decision. He needs to keep his resolve. Besides, what or who could he possibly be funding?

So, he shakes his head firmly: “No, I don’t care that you can’t fund your little frat house parties anymore, you can find another job. You can disrespect yourself like this, but but you are done disrespecting our firehouse and this fire department.”

“That’s not what I’m funding,” Buck frowns, he looks hurt, though resigned. Bobby is just wonder what that is about when Buck suddenly drops a bombshell. “Please, I got a family at home.”

“What?”

“I got a family at home,” Buck repeats, sounding almost surprised that Bobby isn’t cutting him off, but letting him explain. “Chris, our kid, he has CP, he needs this insurance. And Eddie is recovering from an injury he got in the service, I need to support him until he can get back on his feet and find a job.”

The only reason he lets Buck talk, is because he’s too shocked by and still processing the new information he has just received. Buck isn’t some frat boy funding his parties, he’s a father and a husband. Suddenly the flashes of inexplicable maturity make more sense to Bobby, however, that goes hand in hand with a revulsion at what he caught Buck doing. He thought this was a good kid, a bit lost, maybe, but with his heart in the right place.

“You telling me you’re not just fucking some girl on the job, but cheating on your husband isn’t making your case better, Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby manages to spit out.

Realization dawns on Buck face and he flails his hands around as he trips over himself to assure Bobby: “That’s not what this is, I swear. It’s not like that. We’re-” he cuts himself off, suddenly looking heartbroken, “We’re gonna divorce soon.”

That sends Bobby reeling once more, Buck has gone from single frat boy, to father and husband, to cheater, to divorcee in the making in a minute and Bobby needs a second. He holds up a hand, as he says: “Wait. Just wait. Gimme a moment.” Buck diligently does, anxiously awaiting his next word. “Chris and Eddie, start there.”

“Uh, yeah, so Eddie’s my husband, technically, and I adopted Chris last year,” Buck says. “Eddie is Chris’s actual dad, you know, biologically. Shannon, Chris’s mom walked out on… us, I suppose, two years ago. God, has it been two years? Yeah, two years, Chris was four. He’s six now.”

A six year old. Fuck, that’s three years younger than Brooke had been when she died. And Chris has already had one parent walk out and now his parents are getting divorced. Bobby can’t imagine doing that to a kid, let alone your own. “And you two can’t work it out?”

Again Buck gets that surprised look on his face and Bobby wants to strangle him a little, because why are you surprised at the notion of trying to work it out with your husband? That should be the first thing you’re trying.

“Oh, no. No. It’s- uhm, it’s not like that. We were never together. We’ve always had an open marriage, since it wasn’t romantic, but I don’t know if you know that term,” Buck says, with a tone that implies he is explaining something, but like Buck guessed, he doesn’t know the term.

“An open marriage?”

“Yeah, that sleeping or dating other people is fine,” Buck explains. “It depends on what you communicate about, but me and Eddie always said we’d find other people. It’s a marriage of convenience, not-” he swallows, “not love. We knew we were gonna get divorced the day we got married.”

This whole this is only getting more confusing. Bobby rubs his brow and says: “Wait, explain that to me again.”

“We got married for Chris. I’ve been in his life since he was three, only met Eddie a year later when Shannon left. I babysat, kinda turned into a co-parent to fill the gaps when she fell away. But then Chris needed two surgeries and bills piled up, so Eddie had to re-enlist, but he didn’t want to his parents to take them – they’re kind of horrible sometimes – so instead we got married, so I could watch Chris while he was away and divorce when he got back.”

“So you’re now in the process of getting divorced?” Bobby asks, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. At least the mom walking out on a kid backstory explains his behavior at the call with the baby in the pipe.

“Oh, no, not yet,” Buck shakes his head, complicating it further. “Eddie got hurt on his tour, so Chris still needed insurance and he needed time to recover, so we switched Chris over to my insurance and I am providing financially right now until Eddie can go look for a job of his own again.”

“But it’s okay to sleep with people, because you have an open marriage,” Bobby says to check if he got it all correct.

“Yeah,” Buck nods enthusiastically. “You got it.”

That- That still is a lot. Firing Buck for being an irresponsible kid without a care of consequences is one thing, firing a man who has a kid, who needs medical attention, and husband, who can’t work right now, both of which are dependent on him, is a whole other story.

Still, one thing bugs him about the whole thing. Buck has proven, he is capable of stepping up. He’s seemingly raised Chris by himself for a good while when Eddie was on his tour and Bobby knows he can be mature when it counts. He obviously cares about these people and what happens to them with how devastated he looked at the news of his firing. So why do it?

“Why do it?”

“What?”

“If you have a family to provide for, people that rely on you, what are you sleeping with girls on the job for? You say you have an open marriage, then you don’t have to sneak around in your free time, right? Or am I still misunderstanding the situation?”

Buck gets a resigned look on his face, remembering what had caused him to explain his whole situation in the first place. He drops on the seat Bobby had caught him only a little while earlier and rubs his face as he sighs.

There is a moment of silence, then he says: “Because I’m helplessly in love with Eddie and he’s never going to love me back, because he’s straight and soon he’ll divorce me and find someone he does love and I have to stand there and watch as the family I’ve loved and fought for these last few years is ripped away from me and I get replaced.”

And that is a lot. Even more than Bobby was anticipating after the first few wild cards had been put on the table. He has no clue what to say to that.

Buck doesn’t seem to mind his silence as he continues: “So, I’ve been pathetically clinging to the time I do still have with them off the clock and trying to cope on the side. Which I do with sex. I, uh- I don’t have the healthiest relationship with sex. Might even be an addiction at this point.”

Bobby might know nothing about how to handle anything about this whole situation, but he does know addiction. He sits down next to Buck, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he tries not to think too hard about the fact that Buck was fucking the snake lady on that very same seat moments ago.

“Hm?” Buck makes a confused little noise as he looks up at Bobby, appear surprised at the show of support, but also so desperate and hopeless.

“You did a good thing, admitting that. But you have to quit if you want to keep your life together. It’s not healthy, Buck. I’m not going to let you throw your life away like that.”

“A little too late, huh,” Buck laughs humorlessly. “I already got myself fired.” He looks over the city with dead eyes. “God, Eddie’s gonna hate me. I don’t know how I’m going to explain to him that I lost our son his insurance and our family its income.”

“You’re not fired yet,” Bobby says determinedly. “No one knows I said that, it’s not on the record.”

“Are you for real?” Buck asks, dull eyes lit up by a little sparkle. Hope.

“Yes, I am for real,” Bobby uses Buck’s words clumsily. “Can your family handle a week suspension with no pay?”

Buck’s expression gets a little tight and his voice sounds a little strained, but it’s still mixed with an utter and complete gratitude. “Yeah, yes. Yes. Uh, we can definitely swing that.” Then as if to assure Bobby he’s not lying, he adds: “I do the budget.”

Bobby can guess that Buck still dreads having to explain to Eddie why he’s home for the week, but he can’t not act. He’s already been way too soft on Buck, it feels unfair to let this slide too. If he wants to remain credible as Captain he needs to give Buck some sort of punishment.

So, he says: “Then I’m not firing you, just suspending you. For one week. Go home, get your head on straight, figure yourself out. You can’t keep going like this, you need to find a better outlet. Go to a meeting, if you think it’ll help. I can recommend you some, if you’d like.”

“Thanks. Truly, thank you, Bobby, this- this means the world to me. Not just me,” Buck says, gripping Bobby’s hand in a sort pseudo-handshake-prayer-thing.

Bobby places his hand on top of Buck’s in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “Of course. I’m here for you, if you want to talk.” Then he clears his throat. “Now, let’s return the equipment to the firehouse so it’ll be there when there’s an emergency.”

Buck becomes a little pink at the reminder of what Bobby caught him doing and he clears his throat too, letting go of Bobby as he says: “Uh, yeah, let’s- let’s go do that.”

They arrive back at the firehouse together and Bobby leaves Buck next to the engine with a clap of the back, before going to his office. He’ll start on the paperwork now and leave this mess behind him. Plus, if he is honest with himself, he doesn’t want to see Buck’s pinched face as he packs his stuff up. It’s not permanent and Bobby knows he made the right choice. He won’t soften his stance again, he’s done that enough already.

He never gets to finish the paperwork, because they’re interrupted by the alarm ringing. He finds Buck in the locker room with Hen, he gives him a pointed look, before he can get any ideas. “Go home, Buck.”

“Yes, Cap,” Buck says, a little resigned and maybe a little resentful, however, he doesn’t move to get up or follow.

Bobby doesn’t let it get to him. Being out on the emergency serves the same purpose as doing the paperwork would have; not seeing Buck leave with that defeated slump in his shoulders.

Though, it’s a little harder to dodge the questions of the others on the call than in his office, but he avoids them nonetheless. It’s not his business to share. It’s clear Buck hasn’t wanted to, him never mentioning any of this since he started says that much.

Still, despite telling himself he’s made the right call with suspending Buck, he can’t deny that he’s a little relieved when Hen tells him about the second chance she gave him. Buck has enough trouble at home, Bobby didn’t want to add stress to it, but he had to do something.

When they get back to the firehouse, Buck isn’t there yet, so they all wait for him to return. He gets out of the engine and immediately says: “I know what this looks like and I know you told me to go home, but I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

“I know, Buck,” Bobby assures him with a smile.

“You do?” Buck asks surprised.

“Hen already filled me in,” he says nodding to Hen, who gives a quick wave. “And Sargent Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are. Told her she was half right.” He lets him sweat for a second, then breaks character: “You did good, kid.”

A relieved smile breaks out on Buck’s face, he probably couldn’t stomach the thought of more punishment.

“In fact, you made up for the stunt you pulled earlier today. Go get changed into your uniform again, you’re back on the shift,” Bobby says, quite pleased with himself.

“Really?” Buck practically sparkles. “Thank you so much, I won’t forget this,” he calls out, skipping back to the locker room.

“Are you sure that’s the right call, Cap?” Chimney asks as they watch Buck go.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Bobby answers. “The fear of what could have happened was enough of a wake up call for him. He won’t do it again.”

“If you’re sure,” Chimney shrugs, willing to trust Bobby’s judgment. “Come on, Hen. Let’s see if there are left overs.”

“You’re hungry after that call?” Hen asks as she starts to follow Chim. “That guy’s leg looked like minced meat. Don’t we only have shepherds pie?”

“I can compartmentalize,” Chimney retorts as their voices disappear up the steps.

Bobby waits until Buck comes out of the locker room again, once more in uniform. Buck spots him and joins him, softly saying: “I am really thankful for what you did today. I meant it when I said I won’t forget it. If you ever need anything – and I mean, anything – I’m here. I’ll show up with a shovel, no questions asked.”

“Thank you, Buck,” Bobby says with amusement. “Just take the time to be with your family when we’re done with this shift. Remember what almost happened today. Eddie doesn’t have to know, but promise me you’ll remember?”

“I promise,” Buck says immediately. He shudders: “I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting that moment. I never want to let Chris down like that.”

“Good,” Bobby nods. He knew he made the right call. However, there is no use in lingering in the moment longer, so he asks: “Want to help me get started on dinner? I’m pretty sure we’re eating something vegetarian.”

“Oh, gnarly accident?” Buck asks as he joins Bobby as they follow the same path Chimney and Hen took a minute earlier.

Bobby nods and Buck starts rambling about how he’s got a pretty iron stomach, but he’s been cooking with less meat more often recently, before speculating why brains do that.

If he’s honest, Bobby only half listens, but it’s comforting anyway. He still has so much to make up for, so much to make right. However, he doesn’t feel like Buck is jeopardizing that mission anymore, he’s not angry with him anymore either. He made a difference in Buck’s life today. That’s what he’s meant to do. It’s not a name off the list, but it’s a good deed to put on his slate to make it ever slightly more clean.

~~

A/N:

Poor Bobby trying to follow the whole mess of a relationship Buck has gotten himself caught up in lmao, he’s trying so hard xp

Also wouldn’t it be hilarious if he does end up hiring Eddie in this universe, not realizing who it is and then he finds out and goes to Buck like “uhh, are you ok working with ur ex?” and then has to have a crisis as Buck replies: “oh, he’s not my ex.” like I think that will be the final straw for him lol

[ofthehands]

Been thinking about the childhoods of the Sawyers again, this time in particular Drayton, and wondering about how the time period he grew up in might have shaped who he became. Generally I base his age on his actor, Jim Siedow, which just makes sense, we’ve never been given any reason to doubt he’s the same age as his actor. Which would mean Drayton was born in 1920 sometime, and would’ve grown up in part during the Great Depression and Dust Bowl. 

Now, of course the Sawyers would’ve been too poor to have a stake in the stock market, and whether or not the Dust Bowl would’ve hit them exactly depends on where Newt, Texas actually is, but for this little piece of analysis I’m going to make the leap and assume Newt would’ve been impacted by the Dust Bowl, and that the Sawyers were impacted by the job loss and industry cutbacks (via the slaughterhouse, most likely) of  the Great Depression, both because it’s interesting and because I think it makes sense. 

We know Drayton was born in 1920, and the twins were likely next, or at least the next surviving Sawyer children, born in 1945 (if you base their age on Edwin Neal’s age). Which is a big age gap, and we’ve discussed lots of reasons for this age gap, but one that isn’t talked about much that I think makes sense is the economic impacts of the times leading the Sawyers to be too afraid to have more children. They had Drayton when things were looking up- the Great War just ended and while many farmers were burdened with debt, the roaring twenties were beginning, and along with that came a boom in industrial production- it could be possible this is when the slaughterhouse came to Newt.  Only for all that to be yanked away when their son is about nine years old. The Great Depression comes first- wages are cut, many people lose their jobs, folks are going hungry. But the Sawyers seem to have at some point lived off the land somewhat, maybe they could raise livestock or grow food. For about a year, until the Dust Bowl starts, nearly a full decade of dust storms so intense they choked the life out of the land and left the Sawyers and many people like them not only in abject poverty, but absolutely starving. Of course they wouldn’t want another child- they probably only barely managed to clothe and feed Drayton. But, eventually the Dust Bowl does end, and the economy of the United States is boosted by the second World War, leading many Americans to feel secure enough to start having lots of kids, causing the Baby Boom. Which started around 1945, birth year of the twins. The birth order and timeline of the Sawyer family makes a lot of sense with these historical events taken into account, and the Texas Chainsaw universe is never shown to be different to ours historically beyond the existence of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so I believe it’s entirely reasonable to assume these events did happen and did impact the Sawyer family in this way. 

So, with that out of the way, how did these events impact Drayton? As an adult Drayton seems to be a very anxious and money-conscious man. Which in the first film makes a lot of sense- he and his family are very poor, and he’s their only source of real income that we see. However, at the same time, the family is shown to have a collection of victims’ previous cars. Which is a bit odd. There could be a good bit of money there, which you would think would cross Drayton’s mind.  Of course, it would be important to make sure these cars aren’t traced back to them, so selling them outright would be risky, but selling parts of them as scrap or the whole cars to be scrapped could be a fairly easy way to make some more money. It would’ve been easier to get away with then, without cameras everywhere especially in the middle of nowhere Texas, and with the law caring/ believing as little about the Sawyers as TCM2 showed us they did.  But, the cars are collected anyway. Since Drayton is the head of the household and these cars wouldn’t be easy to hide, it’s reasonable to assume that Drayton allowed these cars to be kept. It could be argued that the Sawyers just aren’t smart enough to figure out how to safely dispose of their victim’s cars, and so they keep them in order to avoid suspicion. However, I would like to posit that these cars are an early sign of Drayton’s tendency to hoard. 

Hoarding is a fairly common behavior in people who lived through the Great Depression, and it can be handed down generationally as well- the children of (or in our case, children raised by) those who lived through the Great Depression often struggle with hoarding too. Hoarding behaviors are commonly associated with anxiety- the fear of not having enough, the fear of needing something and not having it- there is an anxiety around need. Which, of course, is an anxiety that was greatly exacerbated by the Great Depression and Dust Bowl- people in mass didn’t have what they needed, and like many traumas, these events left people with the unending fear of it happening again. Additionally, and notably,  hoarding can also be related to a number of mental health conditions, like severe depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and psychotic disorders. So how exactly does this relate back to Drayton Sawyer? 

To assume Drayton is a hoarder, or takes part in hoarding behaviors, based only on the car graveyard would be quite the stretch. However, this is far from the only time we see hoarding-type behaviors  in the Sawyers that must either be done by him or allowed by him. In the first film the Sawyers don’t seem to have too much of a hoarding problem. They use absolutely everything they get their hands on, which could again be a Great Depression/Dust Bowl influence, but their home seems rather sparsely furnished, and while they have a lot of animal bones laying about, its still easy to move through their home- it’s not particularly cluttered, just filthy. In the second film, however, with greater access to money, the Sawyers have started to collect things. The massive cave system they live in is full of strange items, all throughout the walls, and bodies are kept throughout their ‘home’ even when they aren’t being used- the giblets being stuffed into the walls, where Lefty finds them. They could burn something like that, or find some use for it, or get rid of it in some other way, but Drayton, who is in charge of their cooking operations undoubtedly, does none of this- he keeps all of it. He additionally is still very worried about money- he refuses to take a break or miss out on money for even one night, in spite of his advanced age, the fact that they have enough food to be selling food in mass, and that his business is stable enough for the woman at the chili contest to call him “Dallas’ favorite caterer”. Dallas is a big area- if he’s one of the most popular caterers in Dallas, his family isn’t going to go hungry. But Drayton expresses constant money anxiety anyways, and he keeps or allows the keeping of tons of strange and borderline useless items in their home- Christmas lights, skeletons, giblets, a stop light for some reason. If they lived still in the old farmhouse and not the cave system, their house likely would be full wall to wall. And, with the blood and guts in the very walls of their house, which is a cave and thus a fantastic place to grow all kinds of deadly molds, this behavior is definitely putting the Sawyers at a significant health risk. The Sawyer family, and Drayton specifically, show hoarding behaviors to the extent that it’s putting their health at risk. It may also seem like an odd thing, to keep mentioning the collection of bodies on the Sawyer property as a form of hoarding, but I think for Drayton it very much is. Meat is life for the Sawyers- they were raised in meat- and having it is all they have, often. So a massive collection of bodies and body parts, even when they’re not really being used and are likely rotting their home, soothes Drayton’s fear of needing and not having. If hard times come again, like they did during the Depression, or when the Sawyers could no longer work at the slaughterhouse, they’ve still got something, even if that something is nothing more than viscera in the walls. 

Now, of course, other mental health conditions could be impacting Drayton and causing his hoarding behavior. While Drayton doesn’t display a lot of obvious symptoms, we know psychotic disorders run in the family- Nubbins is heavily coded as schizophrenic, Edwin Neal based his performance off his schizophrenic nephew. Additionally, Drayton could have some type of severe depression. Throughout the end of the second film, Drayton talks about ‘quitting’, and how he’s been thinking about ‘quitting’ lately. Reasonably, it could be assumed he means retirement- he’s 66 after all. However, at the very end of the film, he refers to killing himself and his family in the same terms- “Maybe it’s time to just shut down. Time to shut down the show, yeah.” It’s possible that he did mean retirement originally. And it’s also possible he was always thinking of suicide. Drayton Sawyer may not seem like someone who is depressed, especially with business booming as it is, but depression doesn’t yield to success, and Drayton displays and follows through on suicidal intensions. It’s not a sure thing, but certainly not impossible. Additionally, Drayton could have OCD. Compulsive hoarding was considered a type of OCD, and 1/4th of people with OCD also display compulsive hoarding, and 1/5th of hoarders also display other traits of OCD. 

However, I still think one could argue these hoarding behaviors present in Drayton and his money anxiety are inextricably linked to trauma related to the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl. Especially since in disorders like depression and OCD, trauma- while not necessarily causative of the disorder- is a risk factor for the development of these disorders. So I do believe it could be said that Drayton is a hoarder, or at least shows signs of hoarding behaviors, and that this behavior stems from the impacts of the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl on him. 

I think, additionally, Drayton’s sadism and antisocial behaviors could stem partially from his experiences with the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl as well. I do believe there are other factors at play, ranging from potential generational abuse in the Sawyer family, to Drayton’s own desire for power and control leading him to exert that power as violence over anybody he can hurt and get away with hurting- namely his vulnerable and reliant younger brothers and the victims of his family. However, I think the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl could still have played a substantial part in shaping the way he’s sadistic, and forming within him a need for power and control. 

One of the more prominent ways I think that the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl shaped Drayton’s antisocial behaviors, is the way that it altered his view of people outside his family and the nature of human interaction. One of his snappier lines in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 was “It’s a dog eat dog world and from where I sit there just ain’t enough damn dogs!” which gives a pretty solid view into Drayton’s mindset. People can and will tear each other apart, and it’s important to him to be the one doing the hurting instead of being the one getting hurt. Of course, ignoring the cannibalistic implications of this sentence from the mouth of a cannibal would be silly, but taken literally the meaning is much the same. Drayton believes that the people he and his family kills and eats would at least harm and take advantage of him and his family if the shoe were on the other foot- maybe he even thinks its a matter of cannibalize or be cannibalized. And, of course, now that Drayton is on top- now that he’s scrapped out some deal of security by slaughtering others, he only wants more. Which makes sense if he grew up with barely any food on his plate, in a time period where others could pose a real danger, as they’re hungry too. Their neighbors realistically weren’t going to cannibalize the Sawyers in turn, but it was possible they might try to steal from them, or that desperate people might try to hurt them in order to take resources from them. It’s possible this could’ve happened to the Sawyers in Drayton’s lifetime, and it’s possible it never did but Drayton was raised with the idea in his head that it could happen- that the anxieties of older Sawyers before him imparted on him that he couldn’t trust people other than his family and that he should take what he can from other people before they take from him, regardless of whether the Sawyers were even cannibalistic during this time or not. I think that this anxiety around being hurt, baked into Drayton from a young age, manifested in his adulthood as an inward justification for his extreme and violent behavior, and in the way that he raised his younger brothers to continue this cycle- Drayton never breaks the cycle and imposes his beliefs and traumas onto his younger brothers, causing them to become even more isolationist and antisocial than him. 

Another way I think the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl would’ve impacted Drayton as an adult is by impacting how and why he expresses sadism. I believe that Drayton likely expresses sadism the way he does due to feeling helpless or out of control. This is an odd sentiment to apply to Drayton- he’s a very cruel and controlling man when he’s present in the films, and helplessness isn’t particularly befitting of him from the outside. However, despite what Drayton might admit or be willing to believe, he has control over almost nothing. He’s dirt poor, and likely disabled, trying to keep a gas station running in a tiny town when he can’t even always count on having gas. According to signs on the station, he sells barbeque and fishing worms as well, the barbeque sourced from their victims, and the worms likely just dug up out of the ground. He’s doing all he can to make ends meet, but whether or not he makes it really isn’t in his control. Additionally, he can’t keep his brothers under control. It’s not a particularly reasonable thing for him to want- the level of control he wants over his brothers, who are grown men, could certainly be argued to be unhealthy, he treats them quite like children. But it is still something Drayton clearly wants- he punishes them severely for disobeying him, and “I told you and I told you” is a pretty common sentence out of his mouth- he’s always vying for control of his brothers, even to the extent to not teach them about sex and to try and sway them away from ever having connections to people outside of the family, especially of a romantic variety, going so far as to try to make Bubba kill a woman Drayton assumed he had some kind of connection with. But, for all he does, he can’t keep Nubbins in the house, or Chop Top from getting into trouble and messing with Nubbins’ body, or Bubba from developing an interest in women. He wants control of them, desperately, but he can’t have that either. The only time Drayton Sawyer has complete control is when he’s tormenting a victim. It could be argued he torments them for the sake of tormenting them, not to have control, but to hurt someone for the simple enjoyment of causing pain. However, I don’t think this lines up with much of what we know about Drayton. While he is very cruel, he also shies away from violence at odd times. He enjoys poking Sally with the stick when she’s in his truck, but he also doesn’t like hearing her cry. He enjoys watching Grandpa bash her head in with a hammer, but also scolds his brothers for “torturing the poor girl”. Drayton clearly does enjoy violence to some degree, but I don’t think he enjoys violence for the sake of it. I think Drayton enjoys violence as a means to feel in control, and desires that feeling both because of his lack of control in his everyday life, and because of the way his life was suddenly upended by forces beyond his control or his family’s control at a young age.  

Ultimately, I’m not entirely certain that the creators of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre would’ve put much thought into the ways that the politics and economics of the time period the characters were born in would affect how the old scary guy who takes a chainsaw up the ass in the second movie thinks and behaves, so take this analysis with a grain of salt, lol, but it was a lot of fun to write, and I think that these factors are certainly something fans could take into account when thinking about and creating content of these characters. I greatly enjoy trying to unravel some of the mystery around the Sawyers with what little information we have, especially since these questions will never be answered in canon. Feel free to add on anything you think I might have missed with this topic, or any other thoughts that come to your mind! I love hearing other people’s theories and thoughts and such.

[mechanoize]

First of all, I love your most recent post, he looks so elegant

Second of all, I am very much intrigued, and would enjoy a ramble, if you are up to it :)

copy pasted from my other ask.. :P

BUT.. so basically what I had in mind was…

(big fat big ramble incoming…)

prowl is a sorta crime boss,, big guy, big name, big money yk. and so there’s this big ol’ masquerade getting hosted… not by him, he doesn’t care for them, but in his name. whole buncha other big name guys are there too, ‘nd OUUUU jazz is an enforcer who specializes in undercover work. he recently got transferred to praxus yk. and this is his first real dangerous assignment.

hes done lotsa research, he’s a smart guy. and so they set it up so he’s working as a lead singer for a little live music/entertainment sector of the masquerade. he was meant to be in the least compromising position, whereas Mirage was actively invisible and snooping around the premises, and Tracks was meant to act as a distraction more than anything, keep the attention more so on her. (I need to design her so bad for this,, and ‘raj :P )

but worst comes to worst, Jazz ends up being a little bit TOO good at his job and many mecha are attracted to the music he and others are providing. causes complications, of course, but jazz is quick to reassure they’ll be fine. and they can’t really withdraw, because Jazz is too far cemented into the scene at that point.

the night draws to a close and there’s a sort of (probably traditional) dance that Prowl is kinda forced into. Not really, there isn’t many people who can force him to do anything, but a little but of persuasion from bluestreak and he crumbled. He didn’t have anyone TO dance with, and though not an inherently romantic performance, it’s still.. demeaning, in his eyes. Too much so to do it with anyone familiar.

so he chooses a partner at random, and as per protocol, many if not all the mechanisms present at least loosely knew the choreography. jazzs commlink is on fire, they think oh crap, our guys cooked. we didn’t know OR cover this. but surprise,, Jazz loves culture, loves learning. he loves dancing, music and all that stuff, and though he didn’t learn it to benefit his mission, he knew it. HOORAY!

so that’s settled, and it goes better than anyone (mainly prowl) could have imagined.

this is getting too long but Prowl is also smart. He actually is very much aware of Jazz and Track’s position, and he’s ran into his cities law enforcement many a time. he’s started threatening, yk, trying to shake them off. not because Prowl is hiding some big twisted secret, but because their enforcers are being met with increasingly harsher repercussions when caught within his vicinity. hes trying to spare them the trouble. they’ve also never even gotten close to uncovering anything beneath prowls jurisdiction so 😭 but they keep trying. And prowl is genuinely baffled that they keep sending their agents directly into danger, and this was their dumbest idea to date.

Because Prowl had known from the moment they stepped ped in the venue, and the bots present were not all dumb. And to be uncovered would result in things that not even he could stop, lest he shatter his own reputation. And that is something he’s unwilling to do; he has mechanisms of his own to protect.

so Prowls actions are all calculated, and he sorta has an idea to fake a liking towards Jazz and book him again, the following orn. Implications get twisted, yeah, but he just wants to speak to him one on one so he can relay a message to his superiors, tell them to back off cus though he is merciful many others are not.

Jazz sees this as an opportunity. and with little input, he accepts. of course, immediately reprimanded, but not discouraged. the mechs overseeing his mission see this as a needed win. a chance to finally crack down on the crime empires or whatever, starting at the heart of it all, Prowl.

ILL CUT IT SHORT NOW but !!! Prowl makes Jazz aware of it all, Jazz is like holy moly. And at that point Jazz is too involved for Prowl to send him on his way and forget so he sorta keeps an eye on him, something Jazz is more than aware of.

yaddah yaddah more interaction that i do have ideas for but are not major enough to send here 😭

+ a bonus wip sketch! very messy rn but I’ll actually render this one when i get the time LMFAO

[fandomwritingbit]

Battered & bruised

nightclub owner/William Afton x (fem)reader

synop: You've struggled getting employment because of your shady past, but the tides finally turn in your favour when a club owner called Henry gives you a job. And you're ready to work your arse off, not only in your security role but also with the other owner, William.

warning: swearing, violence. (reader is described as small)

A/n: Hello! This was my first ever au for William, so the ideas are genuinely 5 or 6 years old but the writing is today's lol. This is gonna be a series because I think the slow burn will work best this way.

A bloke called Henry Emily had given you a job. A security gig. Without an interview, without discussion of your role and without an induction. Just bam. He’d taken one look at you - then looked you up and down again for his own personal enjoyment - then listened to your whole speech about ‘wanting a chance to work hard’ and just gone: okay.

No CV. No experience. Nada. And that was exactly what you were looking for. Rent was due and to be honest you were in great need of some money. Plus it was hard for you to find work, especially given your... history. 

He’s hired you because you’re brazen and easy on the eyes, it’s all a bit sleazy really, you’d thought so at the time too. But at least sleazy men are easy to manage.

He’d grinned at you. “Yeah alright, we’ll give you a try. You seem like a nice girl. Uh why don’t you rock up on Friday and we’ll show you the ropes?” 

“Yeah that’s great, thank you so much.” You smiled at him, offering your hand for him to shake it. God if this fella had looked into you this would never have happened, he’s a sucker in that respect. But you wouldn’t make him regret it. You were after nothing but a regular income and it’d been fucking hard to find acceptance, to jeopardise it would be a fool’s errand.

His use of the word 'we' hadn't crossed your mind, you assumed he was the owner, after all you asked for the owner and he was brought to you. But maybe that’s some just desserts for not applying properly. 

~ 

On that Friday, you arrived early, really using all that punctuality shit that had been drilled into you since secondary school. But a little prickle of anxiety settled in when you didn’t see any cars in the car park. You were only 10 minutes early; your start time at 20:00 ready for doors to open an hour later. But How will you get in if no one is there, for fuck’s sake? Your thoughts manifested in your head tilting the whole way back, a hefty sigh accompanying it.

Doubting yourself all the way, you go to the front doors and mercifully, they are unlocked and you walk into the nightclub you’d now call your home from home.

The lights were on, so someone must be there. Yet no one came to meet you at the door, even though you said hello fairly loudly. You smirked to yourself, walking inside uninvited and musing at how some cleaner was probably going to tell you off. They must be hidden away and now you’d have to tiptoe around trying to find them. Not too bad though, at least you can have a look around.

Moving further inside, you walk down a grey corridor with garish black and white dado rail the whole way down. It was peculiar décor to say the least, though obviously, it would look completely different with people inside. 

Your footsteps were foreign in the quiet building, but you tried to keep a bit of confidence as you began your exploration. It took a while to find your way around - a few doors opened to cupboards stuffed with mops and loo roll, spilling out while you tried to shove all the shite back in. Surprisingly, you’d found a kind of lounge area, a few grey and red sofas, some big arse speakers lining the walls: a lot of money in that room, you thought. A past impulse echoing through you.

Eventually, you make your way to the ‘main area’, if you like. The part with the huge floor for people to dance, a small stage before it, with old looking lights and stuff, maybe you’d get to see a few local bands perform during your tenure, could be nice. You walk over to it, the back of the stage pitch black, so dark you couldn't tell if it was a curtain or not and stood on your tippy-toes like an idiot trying to decide. 

Rustling from behind you, makes you turn to see a brightly coloured poster flitting to the floor after clearly having fallen from a board on the wall. You’ll pick it up, but before moving to do so you glance back to the stage offhandedly; the sight of a huge figure standing in the middle makes the skin leave your bones.

You can’t even help yourself, raising your hands almost immediately, “What the fuck are you doing, mate? You scared the shit out of me!” The figure moved further forward so that you could see him, it wasn’t Henry. This man was overly tall and slender with dark greying hair. Your anger quickly subsides at the expression on his face and you chuckle, the shock catching up to you. “Jesus...” 

The man standing on the stage looked... fuming, to say the least. His brows narrowed and jaw stuck forward. He looked so pissed that you panicked for a minute, ready to backtrack a fair bit. But that feeling didn’t last long, the figure stepped down off the stage and walked towards you. As he stood in front of you, you found yourself stepping backwards, tilting your head to meet the eyes of this ridiculously tall and broad bloke. 

“I scared you?” The man spoke slowly, voice deep and raspy. He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t need to. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing in my club?”  

Well. Oh. Dear. It appears that you’d just been rather rude to someone important. Who’s first impression of you as an employee was now you effing and jeffing at him. Shit.

“Look... I’m sorry, mate. You scared me is all.” You speak quickly, trying to claw back a semblance of civility. Searching his face for some emotion other than boredom/anger, but nope there was nothing.

You think you see a flicker of amusement cross his face but it doesn't last two seconds. “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh uh, I’m y/n.” You look at him for a look of recognition but he appeared none the wiser. “Mr Emily hired me... told me to come in today.” 

You notice the pinch between his brows got more severe and you pick up on the hostility between this fella and your boss. He looked at you blankly, making no effort to fill increasingly brutal silence. You’re just about regretting ever being born, thinking about walking out and knocking on doors ‘til you find another idiot willing to hire you. But to your surprise a demeaning smirk appears on the man’s face as he looks down at you, and you breathe out slightly. 

“Henry hired you?” He scoffs, moving his hand up and down in front of you to illustrate your height, “To do what? Sit on a pot of gold?” You get the feeling that he was trying to annoy you, make you want to storm out or some shit but you can only smirk at that terrible joke. 

“Security, innit.” You say shortly, smiling back because... yeah you weren’t exactly the typical bouncer. “Uh who are you then?” You ask, half a shrug awkward on your shoulders.

He did not look best pleased by that question and folded his arms, eyes daggers at you. “Henry hasn’t told you shit, has he?” A scoff of a laugh came from this bloke but it looked coated in resentment. 

“No, made me look a fuc.... mug.” You mumble.

“We’re co-owners, for some fucking reason.” He looked you up and down but not in the way that his counterpart had, if anything, it looked like he was sizing you up. And after a moment he just said, “William.” With a curt gesture to himself.

Once such an introduction had been made, he continued to complain, pissed that Henry hadn’t even told you what to do or where to get your uniform. You were thrusted upon him like a shitty diagnosis and he was left to sort you out? Always sorting out Henry’s shit he was.  

And he did sort you out, giving you orders to your responsibilities, going into a store room to get you a uniform, a room you weren’t allowed to enter because of asbestos in the walls. A really comforting thing to hear on your first day, though you'd come to learn that that summed up the whole of this shitty club. 

The whole thing was falling apart, left in this William's hands to sort out. And he was clearly working hard, but it was like trying to piss a fire out.

 ~

You’d thought that the frosty reception from William could have been just because you were new, that he’d probably warm up to you as you got a few weeks under your belt. Well, that wasn’t the case.

From the first day it became abundantly clear that he was just as snippy and unreceptive with everyone else. Be it ignorance, arrogance or plain uninterest, no one really knew, but he went about his role and gave you shit if you dared to overstep into his path. Which was enough motivation for you to put some graft in with the bastard. Fuck’s sake, everyone else was getting on well with you, from security to bar staff, Henry was damn-near obsessed! You’d get him on side, by hook or by fucking crook.

It started with a simple ‘good afternoon’ spoken loudly at him through his office door, letting him know your presence in the building, which was nearly always much earlier than everyone else. Then a smile any time you encountered him, not a suck-up kind of sweet smile but the kind that had raised eyebrows, self-deprecating and the like. 

Yet it still felt like he bloody hated you. Not even a passionate hate, like you’d done something to genuinely offend him or run him over on the way there. A bored kind of vague dislike that he held for everyone else.

That won’t stand though. And you’re determined to fix it.

~

You’d come to learn over your short tenure there that Friday nights were fucking brutal. It seemed fuckers from all over would crawl out of the gutter to get pissed with their mates here. Course, it was good for business but as an employee not an owner you got all the hassle and none of the tassel. You were on duty in the main area and stood a post near the back corridors, watching for any odd behaviour and making sure everyone was as happy as you can be in a crumbling nightclub.

You find yourself clock-watching about half-way in and cross your fingers that the night will go mercifully quickly. Your counting of the minutes ‘til you could clock off is interrupted by a youngish lass coming up to you. Instantly your eyebrows are high, the person on the door dropped the ball on this one, this lass barely looked 18. 

“Hey, do you uh work here?” The girl asks, looking over her shoulder for a second, before returning to you. You almost want to roll your eyes, of course you fucking work there, no one would do patrol for fun, would they? Carry a radio around for the craic of it? But her wide eyes make you bite your tongue and assess the situation more levelly. 

“Yeah, is everything alright?” You smile wryly, hoping it comes across encouragingly, but your tiredness might have prevented that. 

“I uh... there’s this guy, he won’t leave me and my friends alone.” She rubs her arm, “You know, just being real creepy...” You nod, what a joy and sadly not an uncommon one. 

“Where are your friends?” You ask, looking at the young lass in front of you in increasing doubt that she should be here. 

She looked over her shoulder, “Over there, in the red.” she said, and you spotted the two girls she meant instantly, and nod, able to pick out the guy she was talking about who was hanging around these girls much too closely. “We’re uh...” she looked down, shame flickering on her face. “We’re minors, please don’t be mad at me, I just... we don’t want to be harassed.” 

You smile, remembering your similar youth, musing that fake IDs must be fairly fucking hard to find nowadays. And decided to take pity on the lass, it wasn’t nice to turf them out when the problem hadn't been their doing at all and to be frank, it’s above your pay grade, isn’t it? “I’m not going to throw you out, don’t worry... though you shouldn’t be here if you’re not 18.” 

You sigh, “I’ll get him to leave but promise me you’ll stick together with your mates, ay?” She nods and thanks you extensively before you wish her well and go to fulfil your promise. Silently noting to tell Ste the doorman that he needs to get a pissing eye test.

The problem man was a heavy-set guy with a beard and a clearly designer shirt. A complete stereotype that you knew already, would be trouble. You take a breath before going over, mentally doing the sign of the cross over yourself, not that you thought it would do anything, it was more for your own comedic enjoyment, but if a higher power should see it, that’d be nice. 

“Excuse me, sir.” You say, loud enough for the people around him to slowly start drifting away. As if sensing the unfolding scene the man looks at you with pre-emptive annoyance. 

“Yeah?” He says as rudely as you expected.

You sigh, trying to remain as diplomatic as possible. “Your behaviour towards the young girls here is untoward and we won’t tolerate that here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” 

'Ask’ is the customer service way of telling him to get the fuck out and his reaction suggests that he knew that. 

“Leave? I ain’t done nothing.” The question was asked loudly, trying to alert people around as to the perceived ridiculousness of what you were saying. Though the double negative hinted at him having done something, to say the least.

“That’s not what I’ve been told. Please leave, sir.” You repeat yourself, more authoritarian this time, your tone firm and leaning towards annoyance. It was embarrassing having to do this, but you knew that it was worth it to keep the girl you’d spoken to safe. The look on her face was enough to make you despise this man. 

“And what if I say no?” He stepped forward after he spoke, squaring up to you, trying his hand at the old intimidation game. And despite his height over you, you keep rooted, looking at him with daggers.  

“Sir. You’re embarrassing yourself.” You scoff, shaking your head. By this point that second-hand shame had caused the others nearby to either watch intently or move away. “A grown man having to be told to leave young lasses alone, for fuck sake.” Stepping forward yourself, you make your disgust visible. It had the opposite effect than intended and the man before you bubbled with rage. 

“What the fuck did you say to me, you little bitch?” 

“Stop being pathetic-” Your words of disbelief and amounting hatred were cut short when the huge bloke grabbed your arm bruisingly, wrenching you towards him. His larger stature allows him to manipulate your frame fairly easily.

William had a nose for trouble and as he stalked out from his office he caught sight of people leaving the main room. He shakes his head already annoyed at whatever he was to discover. Of all the things that he could have seen, an accident, injury etc... he didn't expect a man to be manhandling one of his employees. Least of all you. You who always smiled at him, even though it got nothing in return. You who shouted ‘afternoon!’ at him through his office door, often making him slosh coffee in surprise. You, who talked to him and engaged with him, unbothered by his reputation or generally unpleasant demeanour. How fucking dare someone put their hands on you. 

“Stupid fucking slag.” The man spat, it landed on your skin. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” You manage, your teeth clenched as you clasped at straws to try and de-escalate this borderline assault, hoping he’d realise how far out of proportion he’d blown this. He didn’t. Instead, your words were petrol on a fire and the sharp ringing of a slap could be heard over the music. 

It was so harsh and crisp, for a moment you were dazed. The attack launches you into the difficult decision of fight or flight. It wasn’t the heat of the print on your face that made you react, however; it was the piggish sneer on his fucking face. 

Punching him hard, square in the nose, you feel the old familiar sensation of pain blooming through your hand. From the point of contact it fizzled like static down your knuckles and up your arm, though it barely hurt over the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

Your attack didn't deter him though, his grip on your arm not faltering even as the other rose to his face in shock. Taking your window of opportunity you strike him again, blood now pouring down his face, it provokes him to yank your arm straight, the grip blue pain on your flesh.

Powerless to do much else, you had to take his revenge, a punch that made you vision flicker, landing hard below your eye. Then another. You were reeling, your standing knocked with the strikes, it hurt but you burned with indignation that you were unable to hit this fucker again.

Straining to get away from the assault of raining blows, you grab his hair, pulling hard, the sensation of it lifting under your grip apparent in his grunt. It was then with a fist full of this cunt's hair that his grip on you failed. You look through blurred eyes to see your boss taking hold of him, pulling him by the shoulder into a balled fist.

The man wasn't going down easy, even though Afton got a strong hit on him, the man retaliated, striking back and you see the impact on your boss and his slight stumble, but it motivated him to take it to a new level. 

He grabbed the man's head, pulling his stance in half, doubled over and raised his knee repeatedly into his face. Not stopping until he was satisfied, then shoving the larger man to the floor, and kicking him hard in the stomach and teeth, to the point where the attackers' whimpers were beginning to subside. You watched pretty horrified whilst other staff tried to herd patrons away.

Yanking the man up by his collar hissed something inaudible for you to his ear, before punching him again, letting him fall back down.

He was pulled outside by William, the bouncers too shocked to intervene and you just followed the display stupidly. You had no idea this man was capable of such... violence. Cause that was no fight, it was violence.

Afton left the man flicking in and about of consciousness on the curb outside, spitting on him when he mumbled a lisped "fuck you" in his direction.

You were watching in awe, when all of a sudden he turned to you, his face bloody and a hesitation for pain in his jaw.

"Are you alright?" He questions.

You blink. "Yeah..."

"You're bleeding?" He points out as though you were much stupider than you are.

"I'm banged up, but alright." You say quickly, searching his eyes for any acknowledgement of what had just happened. You had a nagging feeling that he was about to shout at you, ask what the fuck that was about. Hell maybe even sack you for the beating he just took.

"Nowhere near as bad as you are." You follow up. And that was putting it lightly, it looked like his nose was broken and his jaw must hurt in some way for how he slowly shuffled it, waiting to find where the pain was.

He scoffs at you, instantly regretting it as blood begins trickling over his lip, you wince alongside him as he wipes it on the back of his hand. With a grunt he turns his back and heads back inside.

Taken aback at his nonchalance, you struggle to get the words out. "Where's the first aid?" You call after him, your question stopping him in his tracks.

“There’s one in my office if you need it.” He replies from over his shoulder, continuing to walk away. You throw a shrug and slightly surprised sigh in the direction of his retreating form, before hurrying to catch up with him. You’d laugh if your head wasn't fucking banging. 

Finally managing to reach him, you force your frame next to him on the corridor, walking side by side towards the back. 

“I don’t know if I need it... you need stitches or something though, mat- William.” 

“Says who?” His response is typically gruff and at this point you’re more than used to it. 

Managing a smirk through the high-pitched pain behind your eyes, you don't let his uncaring attitude deter you. “The cut above your brow. Practically screaming it.”

Letting you follow him, he pauses briefly. To be honest, the strike to the brow had wiped itself from his memory, which was not at all a good sign, but the second you pointed it out he became very aware of the crispening blood hindering any movement of his face. Fucking stitches? And what, you were gonna do that, were you? Just what he needed, a headache on top of the one he already had.

“Seriously, this is my fault. Let me help you out, least I can do.” 

“I’m fine, just need a drink... maybe a co-codamol.” He said not another word to you but made no effort to get you away from him and so you followed, half uncertain like a lost dog, all the way to his office at the back. 

The way he moved it was hard to keep up with him, his huge height gave him a stride and a half. But you get there finally, and he doesn't bother to hold his office door open for you, letting it nearly hit you as it swung closed. 

You survive and slip inside the office, just in time to see him slap the first aid kit on a table at the far side of the room. You go over to it and open it up, delighted to see that what once was a bottle of antiseptic was now half a thing of Dettol with a sewing kit beside it. Not a medical one, just your standard hotel one, with different coloured pieces of thread and a blunt looking needle. 

“I see why you said no to the stitches.” You grin, watching the man sit down heavily at the table. He attempted to rub the space between his eyebrows but had to abandon the gesture as it interfered with his injuries.  

“I told you.” He mumbles.

“Yeah well... Dettol will do something I guess.” You sit as well and start pouring the disinfectant on a cotton pad that you hope hadn’t been used before. 

Just as you move to dab it over the hardened gash, he pulls away suddenly, a pissed off look about him that you should have probably been intimidated by, but your reaction time is fucked by your headache.. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He speaks through his teeth, not at all happy with the sudden movement.

“Sorting out your split brow. I have said it a fair few times now, you’re starting to worry me.” You wait for him to start going in on you, shouting or whatever the fuck he’d normally do to anyone trying to be nice. But he doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you, the annoyed expression unmoving.

Over the past month or so he’d become quite used to your... demeanour. You didn’t offer any tact towards him, or just keep your head down like others. You took the opposite route, always had something to fucking say, some comment to make. It had grated on him, but he didn’t mind it really, though you weren’t going to get special treatment just because you don't know when to shut your damn mouth. 

“So...” You prompt, shaking the cotton bud in front of him.

He didn’t dignify you with a response, just a swift nod.

“This is gonna sting, just don’t move so I don’t get it in your eye.” You warn whilst getting closer, it was quite unnerving to be this close to him, god’s sake you could hear him breathing.

As you pressed the fabric against his cut, he didn’t flinch like you would have expected, just remained reticent and staring forward. Though he let himself glance at you, noting how far you had to lean to reach him. God you were small, much too small to have been wailed on by a massive fuck like that. Being honest, he was surprised you were still standing. 

He surprises himself by breaking the silence. “... Dettol doesn’t sting... better than antiseptic.” 

A smirk finds itself on your face, “Had a lot of experience then?” That isn’t shocking news, there was something practised about the way he took down that man.

A small sound leaves him and you almost stop your action. This man can laugh? Could have fooled you. “You could say that. Don’t often get the shit beaten out of me though.” 

Disbelief washes over you. “The shit beaten outta you?” You scoff. “You’re fine.” You blink a little. This was the textbook definition of ‘you should see the other guy’. Seriously, he couldn’t walk and was barely conscious. This cunt? Pretty much fine, minus a few scratches. 

Once you’re done with disinfectant you rifle through the box looking for something better than the sewing kit. A plaster probably wouldn’t cut it, in an ideal world he should probably be in A&E. But eventually you get your hands on a pack of steri strips and right now they look better than gold. “Here, I don’t even have to mutilate you with the needle.” You grin and it earns a small lip twitch from your would-be pin cushion. 

As you lean forward with the strips in hand, he doesn’t flinch from you even though it hurts to fuck when you push the cut closed to seal it. He notices as you're patching him up that your hand is covered in blood, it could be the bloke's at first glance but your knuckles look bust and there's a stiffness to your movement. 

You finish up with the gash and step back a bit, smirking, it’s a fine job you’ve done there. 

“Thanks.” He offers, just as plainly as you’ve come to expect. It makes you halt a second though, his pronunciation was off, so maybe he wasn’t as fine as you initially thought. Leaning forward, you go to investigate but he pulls himself from your grip. 

“Leave it, it's fine...” It started sharp, but softened a bit as he caught sight of your arm. Holy shit. That was a number alright. Clearly already bruised from that dickhead’s hold, there were three distinct scratches down the length of your forearm where the man had evidently tried to hold on to you as he’d yanked him away, that explains the stiffness. 

Looking at him you try to figure out what isn't right and eventually you settle on: "I think your nose is broken."

He reaches up himself, feeling along the bridge of his nose, the scowl on his face telling. "It isn’t." He concludes, briefly thinking ‘somehow’. With that, you start putting the medical stuff back in the box, just ignoring his curtness. You'd done your bit and patched him up, clearly your kindness was too much for him, so off you fucking pop, sheesh.

You hardly even get the equipment back in the box before Afton reaches forward and slides everything out of your grasp. Instinctively your brows raise, unsure of why he did that. “Are we not done?” You ask, uncertainly, maybe this is the part where he bollocks you. 

“Sit down. Your arm needs sorting.” His words aren’t a suggestion. You look down to see what he’s talking about and wince at the sight; how hadn’t you noticed the scratches? They look awful, not that deep but plain ugly and sore now you come to think of it. 

“Shit.” You say in your observation, slowly sitting whilst still watching your arm. So wrapped up in this new discovery that you jump when he reaches forward to grab your wrist, his big hands wrap all the way around it easily, man, this is a scary bloke. He pulls your arm slowly in front of him, not gently but certainly more understanding than you would have expected. 

“I don’t even know how he done that.” You fill the silence, thinking aloud. 

“Rings.” He answers, with a but too much knowledge, “Must have a fair bit of your arm stuck under them.” You almost laugh, but the visual is too grim and likely accurate. Looking up at him you see clear amusement on his face. 

The Dettol is again brought out and when he dabs it too your scratches a cold pain reaches all the way up your arm, making you suck in through your teeth. He glances up at you and all you can say is. “You’re a fucking liar. That stings like hell.” 

The man in front of you grins then, a starling crooked smirk that almost makes him look like a different bloke. It’s a handsome expression that’s made slightly menacing by a missing tooth after his canine above two silver ones. You think to yourself that this man has taken a lot of fucking beatings.

Through his grin, William says, “It’s not that bad.” 

“Yeah alright, tough guy.” You dismiss him, trying to ignore that ache in your arm that makes you want to grind your teeth. 

He looks back down to his task and the unusual expression remains on his face somewhat involuntarily. You notice and soon you’re smiling too, unable to help it, maybe the whole shitshow was catching up to you now, fisticuffs with a man well outside your weight class, only to be ‘rescued’ by your stoic, unnerving boss; and to top off the day of the unexpected, you made the fucker smile. Quite the day.

“So you can smile then?” You ask coyly, it’s a little victory that shows you’re successful chipping away at his frosty exterior, he’ll be a mate eventually. 

He looks up at you quickly, his eyes narrow in that scrutinising way everyone who works here is accustomed to. But where an icy glare would usually have been a cocky, “Must be the head injury.” was. 

~

You’re patched up pretty quickly, the cleaning of the wound taking half as much time as the debate about whether or not you need a bandage. You said it would be fine. He argues it’s necessity. And despite your assurance you’re now standing at his office door with a bandage tightly wrapped around your arm. You notice that the second the door was opened you could hear the dull thud of music, escaping the club and plaguing the managers too; good, you think. 

He follows you out of the room, the two of you must look like a right pair, both beaten to shit. Looking in the reflection of the window to the office confirms as much, you’ve a nasty bruise under your eye, and a swelling that would probably make it difficult to open your eye in the morning. You’ve been in this situation before. As has he. 

There in the narrow hallway you look up at him, feeling confronted by the height difference, now so obvious when you’re both standing. “Thank you for that.” You give him a genuine expression, really meaning it, even though your arm hurts more now than it did before. 

“I only returned the favour.” He answers, pausing for a moment whilst he checks his watch. “You should go home. Obviously you’ll be paid for the whole shift.” He adds the last part as if he thought you’d object, there must have been something about your face that said you might. 

“Yeah, okay.” You smile a little, before you remember that he’s well more banged up than you, his shirt is covered in the blood to prove it, if you get leave surely he should as well. “Are you going-” You begin to ask, but the door to the club opens and a man bursting through it cuts you off. 

“What the fuck?!” Henry’s voice was bordering on hysterical, cutting shrill above the buzz of music and you don’t have to look to see eye rolling of your other boss. “William, tell me why the hell I’ve got 14 missed calls and a voicemail saying all shit has hit the fan?!” You stand awkwardly as Henry comes up to the both of you, there’s daggers in his eyes that are reserved purely for Afton. 

“Easy, you’re a bit late with all this cavalry shit.” William snaps, his head is throbbing too much to deal with the headache that is his co-worker. “There was an incident, some silly fucker got violent. He’s been sorted.” You try not to grin at that, ‘sorted’, that’s one way to put it. 

“So have you, by the looks of it. I swear to God, William, if this bites me in the arse, you’ll look worse than that.” Everyone standing there knows that that’s an empty threat, not that Henry wasn't capable of it, but rather that William towers over him. That seems to resonate with the instigator when he locks eyes with William’s uncaring and hard expression, so Henry moves on. 

“Are you alright, darling?” He asks his voice now sugary, all his attention is on you, as well as a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah. Just a few scrapes, I’ll live.” You keep all traces of amusement from your face, even as he begins to walk you out of the club in the direction of the car he thought you had, talking to you like you're a kid the whole way.