#but doing it for a coworker who is supposed to know what they're doing?

[this-love-is-delicate]

having the kind of day where I just want to retreat into someone's arms and sink into them and just let my brain get all fuzzy and slowly shut down

[unproduciblesmackdown]

pinning to the workshop corkboard: you've heard of winston "i'm cassandra" billions clairvoyance concepts for fun & profit, hear also of winston billions sphinx concepts (you must be This understanding of what he means to proceed)

[siderealcity]

The symbology of the Convocation of Fourteen is just... one of my favorite details in ffxiv. And yeah, I know they have zodiac signs because Final Fantasy Tactics had zodiac signs and FF12 had zodiac signs, but 14's spin on them is inspired, and I don't think that gets enough appreciation.

Each of the Ascians is characterized to at least superficially match their sign. Emet-Selch seems like a Gemini, seemingly on both sides of every issue. Fandaniel seems like a Leo who wants to be the center of attention. Lahabrea, The Creator, seems like an artsy Pisces... just...y'know, a horrible one.

And it's not as if "terrible, messed-up version of Zodiac symbol" is new here. Tactics definitely had that already. The thing ffxiv adds to the trope is the presence of the Sun.

Azem's symbol being the sun and not a constellation tells us exactly what their role in the Convocation was supposed to be. The sun's path through the constellations is what gives all those signs their meanings. You can't be a Gemini unless the sun is in Gemini. The sun's passage through the zodiac is supposed to illuminate the best way forward. This is why Emet-Selch calls them both "Shepherd to the stars in the dark," and "Counsellor to the star's people." They're meant to inspire people to become their best selves. This is inadvertently what WoL does in numerous places and times across the game, (and one of the ancients in Elpis even comments on it) because apparently repeatedly dying at the hands of their coworkers and friends for eons did not get them out of having to do their job.

When the sun protested their unspeakbly terrible plan, they went all in on their hubris by casting it down forever. They never replaced Azem. They don't even want to remember they ever had a sun. They don't have the light that illuminates their best selves, their better future. So they can't find it anymore. They don't know how to be themselves anymore, in Azem's absence. In Elidibus' case, literally. He is so desperate for the guiding star he can't even remember having, that he constantly, instinctively, seeks out Azem in different forms. Wearing Ardbert's corpse, and wandering up to WoL for awkward chats, and looking back to the heroes of the past who were definitely Azem shards.

The sun, torn from the heavens, leads to the maker's ruin.

[sp0o0kylights]

We often see Robin focused on her own love life (or lack thereof) while Steve collects more You Suck tallies on the board, but imagine Steve does find a girl he dates that he hits it off with?

He aces dates 1 through 5 and suddenly he's around a little less, his new relationship looking serious, and Robin isn't jealous but--

She is worried.

That's her best friend. Her platonic soulmate!

She doesn't think Steve would ever stop being those things--Her dingus has a soft squishy heart under all that hair.

Problem is, Robin's seen this play out before.

Had band friends drift away because someone's dating someone else and suddenly they're all wrapped up in each other's lives, friends pushed to the wayside.

She doesn't say anything though. Knows how lonely Steve is. How much he wants (and deserves) a relationship.

Then the worst possible fucking thing happens: Steve's new girl telling him she isn't comfortable with Robin.

That she doesn't believe girls and guys can be "just friends" and would Steve please stop seeing Robin so much? Please?

Her friends even saw him taking Robin out to lunch yesterday and thought he was cheating!

Of course she knows Steve isn't cheating. He'll prove it to her, right? By letting Robin know they can only be coworkers? And their friendship?

Robin hears all this at her and Steve's next shared work shift, and she feels the floor of her world give out beneath her.

Fear and hurt crawling up her throat because of course Steve can't tell whatever her name is why Robin will never date him.

Of course this chick clearly isn't taking Steve's regular excuses as an answer, and--oh God, what if Robin is losing him, isn't she?

Then Steve's done talking, clearly expecting Robin to say something, and oops she may have been panicking and not listening there at the end but she manages a very choked up;

"I mean if you think shes like, the one..." because what is she supposed to say!?

And Steve, the only person Robin's met who craves a relationship as much as she does if not more, frowns at her with a bitchy little twist to his face and says: "What part of "so I told her that was ridiculous and we broke up" didn't you hear?"

Robin gasps a breath, the world stable once again. She doesn't know when she started crying but she does register Steve's panic when he clocks it, panicking and pulling her into a hug.

"Oh my God did you think I'd agree with her!?" He says and he sounds a little hurt about it, she'll have to fix that, but presently all Robin can do is cling to her best friend and sink deep into the knowledge that he really won't leave her.

Even for the things he wants in life the most.

[amazinglyashy]

hiii I’d like to make a request for LADS🙏

scenarios for the boys (specifically the original 3) when you meet and you’re already dating someone (maybe eventually you leave them for one of the boys). like. i can imagine raf and xav having a hard time keeping their cool about it and perhaps zayne acting the way he did in neon night since he doesn’t remember but fjdjsksm

You actually sent this a day before I got Neon Night, so I was able to reference it in real time and not look up the card on YT or anything, I'm so happy-- This was actually super fun, thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy <3 (I'm gonna warn you tho, I made it a bit angsty--)

LaDS men when you're already dating someone [for now-]

Rafayel -

Rafayel is... upset.

to say the least.

He'll act rude and obnoxious to whoever it is you're dating at the time, to an uncharacteristically high level of sass and snippy comments. You have to try and ask him what's gotten into him, but he won't answer you.

Further meetings will go just as smoothly, so your current partner will just chalk up to you having an oddly rude friend.

He'll say something that comes across as weird to you at some point- a biting comment during a completely unrelated argument about how he waited so long for you, searching high and low for any trace of you returning again, and you didn't even have the courtesy to wait for him.

He'll leave angry, but he'll stand in the hallway regretting it, because he knows. He knows you don't remember him, and he can't keep faulting you for that. But damn-

It hurts.

It hurts to know that he did everything he could to find you, to protect you- to keep you safe until he could see you again. Talk to you again. Love you again.

But here you were.

Just out of reach again.

Xavier -

You're trying to handle a toddler now, not a grown man.

He's so upset, it's borderline ridiculous.

It's like any comment or conversation starter your current partner tries to toss at Xavier, it doesn't even make it out of the hangar before it's shot down.

Any attempts you make to be friendly with him are also met with snippy remarks.

He did not travel as far as he did, do every single hard thing he had up until this point- just to lose to some average every-day person who was currently enjoying holding your hand.

His jealously is through the roof.

His pouting face is actually pretty cute, though, so there's that.

After sulking for a long time, he'll start inviting you places more frequently, under the guise of wanting to hang out more as coworkers.

His actual motives are trying to make you see just how good of a partner he could be for you.

Yes he's trying to steal you out from under your current partner's feet.

Is it working...?

Sylus -

He's not surprised.

He's also not threatened.

What, was Sylus supposed to suspect that someone with no recollection of him or your previous time knowing each other would hold out for him, until you met again?

He tries his best to be a rational man, as there would be no rationality in getting upset at you for something you have no knowledge of.

He's hurt, but he also has a mild sense of confidence coating his doubts and pain.

He knows you'll come around to him eventually- it's everything that fate had destined, he'll muse jokingly to himself.

Still, he can't help a little doubt itching in his subconscious. He doesn't have any way of outwardly handling it, though.

He isn't the type to flaunt what he has in front of other people in order to appear better. It's gaudy to him, and shows just how little someone actually is worth if they're so desperate to put themselves above another through a dollar amount.

Treats your current partner with the same level of respect he does towards you, and shows them similar levels of care.

They make you happy, and he doesn't want that ever taken from you.

No matter how badly he wants you all to himself.

Zayne -

If it bothers him, you would never be able to tell.

Always the epitome of kindness and civility no matter who he's dealing with as long as they aren't unkind to those who matter to him- namely you- the person you're dating is treated no differently.

That is, as long as they're treating you properly.

He's no overprotective psychopath, but he does have his own concerns given some of the patients he has treated in the past. As long as certain basic criteria are met, he doesn't see any issue with it.

Still he's... a bit sad.

He blames himself wholeheartedly, for going away for so long. For leaving you alone. It's his own fault for missing his chance with you, and while somewhere deep inside of him is praying on your current partner's downfall- it's a very small portion in the back of his mind. Something dark he'll never truly humor.

He wants you to be happy, above anything else. Above personal feelings, his own wishes, anything. And if your current partner is making you happy, then that's all he could ever wish for.

Even through the sting.

He's happy as long as you are.

[jazzyjesse]

working at a grocery store has only made me even angrier about inflation and how food, water, and shelter isnt free

like just looking at groceries (not water or shelter) i see just a few bags (maybe around 5 or so) of food costing over $125 USD regularly. I've seen orders upwards of $600. and sure those have been bigger orders but no food should cost that much.

my coworkers and i shouldn't be complaining about the price of food when we get employee discounts.

a single bag of food for myself (usually containing some small pizzas, crackers, milk, and cereal) regularly costs between $50-60. minimum wage in my state is 15/HR. thats about four hours of work for one bag of food

a coworker who works on the front end of our store prides herself on being able to catch theives. everyone says how good she is at it. and sometimes it makes sense, sometimes people are just stealing to steal. but how do you ever know?

when the card reader we take outside is broken we are supposed to have the customers come inside to pay for their groceries if they're paying with EBT. there's a woman who's a regular who has a few small children and when she comes to pick up groceries they're usually asleep in the car.

am i supposed to make her choose between leaving her children alone in the car or waking them up and taking them inside?

four hours of work for one bag of groceries. is this not also theft?

four hours of work. let that sink in. four hours for one small bag of groceries.

we aren't supposed to accept tips but if we don't accept tips then how else are we supposed to afford our groceries?

i haven't seen a single person stealing food. you cannot steal whats already stolen.

although im no longer a christian, the teachings of my childhood have stuck with me, and in the bible it says "When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and for the foreigner residing among you."

society has reaped right up the the very edge and beyond of its fields, so it's up to us to reap what we can

four hours of work for one bag of food

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

NFWMB (Nothing Fucks With My Baby)

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: you get kidnapped, there's some cannon level violence, nothing to write home about &lt;3

Genre: idk if I should really classify this as angst fr but the ending is fluffy!

Summary: Carnage returns, his mission remains the same; kill Venom. And he plans to use you to do it.

Based on this ask by @weebnotheree (thank you so much for the request, I know it took a while so I appreciate your patience, I hope you like it <3)

***

"Hey y/n!" Your coworker skirts over to your desk with curious excitement.

"Yes?" You glance up from your computer at her.

"Your boyfriend is a reporter isn't he?"

"Correct. Where is this going exactly?"

"Well do you think he'd be able to come cover the charity gala this weekend?" She asks.

"He doesn't really- cover this sort of thing? He'd need to get assigned to it. But I can check with him, he can ask his boss and maybe they'll send someone else down." You concede. It can't hurt, after all, you do need the exposure for the event anyway.

Hours later, after you've both gotten home from work and eaten dinner. You're winding down for the day with Eddie by watching a show together when you propose the question from your coworker.

"Eddie quick question." You say, not lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He's been tracing patterns against your leg for the past ten minutes.

"Do you think you could come cover the charity gala this weekend? My coworker Dani thought it'd be a good idea." You tell him.

"I don't usually write those sorts of pieces." He hums.

"I know I told her, but I also told her I'd ask anyway. It doesn't have to be you, if your boss sends someone else that's fine. We're just aiming to get more eyes on the event." You shrug.

"I'll talk to my boss. He'll probably send someone. Not me though."

"Yeah that's fine, I know these aren't your thing, you don't have to come." You say.

"Say what?" You feel him shift to look at you.

"I drag you to enough work functions. I'll let you skip out on this one." You pat his chest lightly.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Eddie snorts turning back to the TV.

"Technically I already did tell you twice." You chuckle.

"Smartass." He pinches your thigh.

"Always." You sit up just to wink at him.

The following day, you are accosted by Dani pretty much as soon as she walks into the office.

"Did you ask him?"

"Ask who, what Dani?" You ask though you know exactly what she's talking about. "Also have you forgotten that the proper way to start a conversation is with a greeting? What happened to hi? What happened to how are you?"

"Hi, how are you? Did you ask your boyfriend about covering the gala?" She says.

"Hi Dani, I'm doin' alright. How are you?" You ask her.

"Y/n!" She huffs.

"Yes Dani I asked. He said he'd talk to his boss. Knowing Eddie, someone will probably be at the gala. It's handled." You finally cave and give her the answers she came for.

"You're the best!" She tells you.

"I know, thanks." You chuckle. You shrug.

The day of the gala is chaos from the minute preparations start. It's not really anything that surprises you and you've been handling everything that comes your way with ease.

"Y/n!" Your coworker Wendy grabs your attention when you're sorting out something with one of the photographers.

"Yes Wendy?" You aks.

"The uh catering staff is here do you know where they're supposed to-"

"They just got here?! They were supposed to be here an hour ago! Who was on that? They should've been checking for- oh never mind! Their tables are over there on that wall and tell them to hurry Wen the event is literally starting." You sigh pointing her in the right direction. The event is just gaining momentum, doors opened about twenty minutes ago and aside from the catering situation that has just been taken care of, as far as you know, everything is precisely as it should be. At least you hope so since you did come here a couple of hours in advance to make sure things were ready. You aren't technically in charge of this event but you are naturally better at organizing chaos and these events tend to be a bit of a frenzy on the day no matter how prepared you are in advance.

Tonight is your company's annual charity gala. Every year the board votes on a cause to raise money for by hosting a huge party. This year's cause is a charity that supports kids getting involved in the arts. There are a bunch of art projects on display, some of which will be up for auction at the end of the evening, but the goal is to shmooze with the community members effectively enough that they want to support the charity. You spend most of these galas working optics; talking to reporters, setting up pictures, and just generally organizing things throughout the night. As part of the company's public relations department events like these are your specialty. Carefully curating the perception of everything that goes on here tonight with the help of the other members of the department here tonight.

You're pleased to say that a couple of hours in, the event is going off without a hitch. Once it's in full swing, you have your hands full giving statements to different press outlets and sending photographers to snap the board of directors with guests of the event. Just as you're preparing the host for his introductory speech, you notice a small crowd gathering by one of the large glass windows overlooking the city.

"What's going on over there?" The host frowns at you.

"I'm- not sure. Probably just some nightlife chaos got people's attention." You shrug but before you can walk up the stage there's a shout from a few of the guests followed by the sound of shattered glass as something crashes through that large window. The room erupts into chaos as red goop shoots out at people. It only takes you a couple of moments to realize the thing currently ruining your gala is Carnage. You didn't meet him or anything last time they faced off, but Eddie gave you enough of a description to come to that conclusion when you spot the bright red tentacles and eyes so like Venom's but different at the same time.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You huff quietly from where you're crouched behind a curtain with the gala host.

"What is that thing?!" He hisses.

"Doesn't matter. Find the nearest exit and run like hell." You tell him.

"What?! You want me to go out there?! What if it sees me?" He shakes his head. You poke your head out just enough to see Carnage. Weirdly enough he just seems to be picking up people and dropping them on the ground again.

"You ever seen that thing before?" You ask.

"God no!"

"He's looking for something. Unless you think it's you, I'd suggest taking the risk before he starts getting snackish!"

"W-what?!"

"We know you're here! We did our RESEARCH!" The man beside you is practically shaking as Carnage's deep voice rings through the room.

"He's coming this way, you have to move now." You say.

"What about you?"

"He's more likely to notice two of us. I'll be out after you." You're so busy directing the guy you don't realize how close Carnage is to you all until the curtain you're behind is ripped off its bar.

"AHA! THERE YOU ARE!"

"GO! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" You shout to the guy as Carnage reaches for- you. He's reaching for you, you realize only when one spindly spider-like appendage wraps around your waist.

"How noble of you. We weren't after him- but if you must be the hero-" Carnage easily reaches the scrambling host before he can get to the door and all you can do is shut your eyes tight when Carnage lifts him up. It's only when his screams stop suddenly and something warm drips onto your arm that you're sure is blood. You don't dare to check what Carnage has done, but if you had to guess, he bit his head off; much like Venom does when you or Eddie allows him to. Your eyes only shoot open when Carnage starts to move again, swinging back out the hole he came in through and taking you through the city. You're in the air for quite some time before eventually, Carnage drops you, rather gently for a kidnapper, on the ground inside a dusty building.

"Hello, little thing." Carnage says to you.

"I could have sworn Venom dealt with you already." You cross your arms.

"Almost. I was lucky to escape."

"Unfortunate for the rest of us." You muse.

"Rude!"

"Let me remind you that you did kidnap me so excuse me if I'm not kind." You roll your eyes. "I take it my role is to lure Venom to you? Right?"

"Correct. He cares for you. So he will come."

"Of course, he will. Though, disrupting my work event was an unnecessary scene just to lure him out to- where are we?"

"An old firehouse!"

"Wow you really are a baby." You scoff realizing he's chosen another location where loud noise is common.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing nothing. I presume you have a different host now right? That other guy, the serial killer, died the last time, didn't he?"

"I am bonded to his blood! I can regenerate!"

"I'm sorry- so you regenerated… an entire head for your last host?"

"Yes!"

"That is- very strange." You frown. "Still, this place doesn't hold sentimental value to Cletus so- how will they find you?"

"Oh just call them." Cletus makes an appearance, finally, and rolls his eyes as he makes his request.

"Call them? You want me to call them and lead them to where you plan to kill them?"

"Yes. Or I'll kill you."

"That would be stupid. Killing me won't get you what you want." You scoff.

"CARNAGE! YOU TOOK MY CHOCOLATE DROP! I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO SHREDS!!"

"Guess we don't need to call him." Carnage says pushing you into the fire engine that's collecting dust in the unused building.

"WAS DYING ONCE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Venom stomps towards Carnage.

"Father. I'm not that easy to get rid of!"

"EVIDENTLY!" Venom charges at Carnage and the two of them are quickly destroying the old brick firehouse you're occupying. From inside the fire truck you're in, it's hard to tell who's winning for most of the fight. It's all too quick and too fluid the way they're throwing each other around. By the time you've gotten a handle on what's going on between the duo, Carnage has Venom pinned to one of the walls that they haven't totally ruined already. Frantically you turn towards the control panel of the fire engine, you can't imagine it's still fully operational but there's a chance you can find some way to make noise with this thing. You need to give Venom the upper hand somehow.

"V!" You shout and cover your ears for only a moment before pressing as much of your weight as you can into the horn of the truck and hoping for the best. You can't explain the relief that you feel when that horrid loud noise fills the small space and Carnage screeches. You let up on the horn once he stumbles away from Venom, his attention on you now that you've gotten involved.

"You!" Carnage snarls. You lay into the horn again before he can get to you and the sound seems to disrupt him enough to almost completely separate him from Cletus. You let up when Eddie has crept up behind them and Venom takes over to fully rip Carnage from Cletus by force. You didn't think that was possible and it is extremely strange to watch. Venom grabs Cletus with an extra appendage and holds him far in the air as he eats the angry red goop that is Carnage.

"EVEN WORSE THE SECOND TIME." Venom grumbles and you can't help but giggle a little. The noise makes Venom wink at you before turning his attention to Cletus. "THIS TIME STAY DEAD!" Venom says before biting his head off, out of your line of sight. You come out of the fire truck just in time to catch him dropping the body.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Venom runs over to you and lifts you into his arms so you're eye level with him as he looks over you for injuries.

"I'm fine V. He didn't actually hurt me. You got here so quickly." You muse.

"EDDIE WAS WATCHING COVERAGE OF YOUR GALA." Venom explains.

"It was going so well until he crashed it." You pout. "You don't have any other errant children we should know about right Venom?"

"NO. NOT THAT I KNOW OF." Venom shrugs lowering you back to the ground.

"Good because this kidnapping thing is very inconvenient." You say. Eddie chooses that moment to reappear and he quickly wraps his arms around you.

"Y/n, baby, thank fuck you're okay. I am so sorry." He breathes out.

"You're sorry? What for?" You frown as you hug him back.

"If I had just come to the damn gala in the first place-" You pull back and hold Eddie's face in your hands to make sure he hears what you say next.

"No. It wouldn't have changed anything. In fact, it would actually have been worse I think. There were hundreds of people in that building and we were on one of the higher floors. The casualties if you had fought him there would have been so not worth it. This was the best outcome. I'm sure there were several injuries but I think there was only one death besides him so- don't apologize. Especially because there was no way you could've predicted him crashing my event. Don't blame yourself because other than a ruined charity gala and the inconveniences that come with a kidnapping, I've barely got some scrapes. You two did well." You tell him.

"We couldn't have done it without you. The fire horn was a great idea."

"Yeah well, you were going to die. And I didn't have any fire." You shrug. "We should get out of here though, I can't imagine it'll take much longer for authorities to get here in search of the red monster that crashed a charity event." You add.

"True. The party looked beautiful by the way. You know, before Carnage trashed it." Eddie says scooping you into his arms.

"Thank you baby." You kiss his cheek just before Venom appears again to take you all home.

"I WANT A KISS TOO! I DID ALL THE WORK."

"You can have as many kisses as you want V." You say kissing his cheek too as he walks out of the trashed fire station with you in his hold.

"I WANT ALL THE KISSES THEN!" He declares as he swings you both up into the air.

"Once we get home I'll kiss you til my lips fall off if you so wish my love." You giggle.

"NOT THAT MANY! IF THEY FALL OFF I WON'T GET ANY MORE IN THE FUTURE!"

"Okay okay. Reasonable amount of kisses, once we get home. Deal?"

"DEAL!" Venom says before taking off from building to building to get you home. There's no such thing as normal when your boyfriend is sharing his body with an alien you suppose, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

***

[postracehair]

say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

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

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

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

---

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

George is immediately there with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm ready."

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

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

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

"I'm just saying, darling."

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

Maybe you can't.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

"George--"

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

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

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

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

"What, no curse for me?"

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

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

BLOODY HELL

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sit on the bench and wait.

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

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

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

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

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

"What can I do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone knocks on the door.

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

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

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

"If you say so."

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you, George," you say.

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

Someone knocks on the door again.

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

[cremedensada]

Copycat Yandere whose obsession with you had led them to trying to embody you - your fashion style, your way of speaking, your routine, even the little quirks that you've never even realized you have. But they do, they're always observing - how else would he be able to copy you?

One might argue they're engaging in some identity theft but is it truly a crime when all they're doing is trying to embody the person they adore?

Copycat Yandere who has happily stepped in for your schedules in times where you are either busy, or sick, etc. Your coworkers/friends seem to recall you being with them in hours where you clearly recall not participating in. But maybe it's due to your faulty memory.

Besides, they're so good at pretending to be you that others would never suspect anything wrong.

Copycat Yandere who has developed a love-hate relationship with how people react when they're pretending to be you. They loath the fact your acquaintances don't seem to realize they're talking to someone who isn't you.

But then again, it makes them feel good. They're so good at copying you down to the littlest detail, they know you so well - it's the highest achievement they will only ever accept.

Copycat Yandere who finds out that someone asked you on a date. Delusional to believe no one else could ever be lucky enough to become your equal when they, themselves, couldn't even be half of what you are - even with all the copying and mimicking they've done.

Copycat Yandere who stages a bunch of inconvenience to stop you from going on the date, so they can go in your stead. Your supposed date's eyes light up when he sees them - and a part of them preens, because of course, you deserve nothing else but to be gazed upon like stars in the sky.

But disappointing. The guy doesn't even seem to realize he's not with the person he thought he'd be with.

Copycat Yandere who kills your date in cold blood. He's pathetic, a disappointment, and a lowlife unworthy of your attention.

No one is, not even themselves.

[lee-laurent]

Finding A Way - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is smitten with the new media girl for the Devils, the only issue... she has a boyfriend already (and he's a Flyers fan)

Content: angst, fluff, cheating, unhealthy relationship, emotional abuse, mentions of sex but no smut

wc: 6.5k

notes: this fic deals with some serious issues, so if you're not comfortable reading PLEASE do not continue. your mental health is wayyyyy more important than a fic, i promise :) however if you do decide to read, enjoy! i've had this written in my notes app for a while and just decided to finish it and put it on here!

Adelaide giggled as Luke stopped suddenly, letting the ice spray over the girl and her camera. Jack watched from the other side of the ice with Nico, rolling his eyes at the sight. Luke had been flirting with the new media girl since the season started but was still adamant that he didn't like her in a romantic way.

"When is he gonna ask her out?" Nico asked, knocking his should with Jack's.

"He still claims that he doesn't like her," Jack shrugged, narrowing his eyes as Adelaide giggled again.

"Well, he's clearly lying. Because they're definitely flirting."

"I keep telling him to bring her over, but he refuses."

"What's going on?" Dawson asked, joining his teammates.

"My brother is trying to get with the media girl."

"Adelaide? I don't blame him; she's hot."

"We all know she's hot, Mercer. It's just that he's too chicken to actually ask her out."

"Luke, you're supposed to be practicing," Adelaide teased, wiping the ice from her camera lens.

"I was just coming closer so you can get some good shots of me," Luke cheesed.

"I have enough photos of you. Tell your brother to start moving so I can get some of him.

"Oh, I see how it is. You want pictures of Jack, but not me. Should've known. He always gets the girls," he smirked.

Adelaid blushed at Luke's teasing, hiding her face in her hands. She'd be lying if she said she didn't find the rookie cute. He had made her feel welcome since day one, which the media girl thought was strange seeing as Luke was the shyer of the two Hughes boys.

"I didn't say that at all, Luke. Now go practice before you get us both in trouble."

Luke offered her one last smile, before joining the boys in their next drill. He caught Adelaide's eye few more times during practice, but she was busy taking pictures and speaking with her coworkers to pay him much attention. However, he was able to catch her as he was leaving the locker-room.

"Ady! Wait! Do you need a ride home?" he panted.

"Oh, um, I have a ride. Thanks though, Luke."

"Oh, who's your-"

"Babe! Come on!" a man standing near the entrance shouted. Luke felt his heart drop at the other man's words. He had just called the woman that Luke liked "babe." He could have sworn she was flirting back... guess not.

"One second, Matt! I'm just saying goodbye to Luke."

Luke watch the other man, Matt, roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest. Tapping his foot impatiently as Adelaide turned to the rookie one last time.

"Maybe I'll bum a ride off you and Jack another time. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon for the game," she smiled, patting him on the shoulder. Luke watched from afar as Matt interlaced his fingers with Adelaide's, talking to her quickly and quietly.

"Come on, Rusty. Where's Ady? I thought you were offering her a ride?" Jack asked, snapping his brother out his stupor.

"She just left with her... boyfriend?"

"She has a boyfriend? Damn. Could've sworn she was into you. Sorry, bro."

Jack's words just pissed Luke off further. He turned on his heel, storming off to the boys' car.

"Luke, you can't mope around for the rest of the day just because the media girl has a boyfriend. I mean, the whole team thinks she's hot, so I'm not surprised she's taken," Jack tried to cheer up his younger brother.

"You're not helping, Jack."

"Sorry, I'm trying," Jack rolled his eyes.

"Just leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to deal with your dumbass."

"Whatever."

"Matt, it's not like that. He was just being nice."

"Sure, he was, Ady. Because all those horny hockey boys you work with are always just 'being nice.'"

"You're being unreasonable. Luke is new like me. He's just helping me fit in."

"I don't want you talking to him unless it's work related."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Ady sighed, looking down at the floor.

"It's ok, princess. I'm not mad," Matt cooed, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I love you."

"I love you too, Matt," she cracked a small smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Adelaide loved Matt. And Matt loved Adelaide. They'd been together for almost a year. He protected her from the guys she worked with, at least that's what he told her. Without Matt she wouldn't be safe. She needed him.

"Alright, have a good game. I'm out tonight with the boys, so make sure you get a ride with... what's her name? Sandra?"

"Sarah, Matt. Her name is Sarah. I've told you that like ten times today," Ady sighed, opening the car door.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter. I'll be out late, so don't wait up." And with that, Matt had driven off. Addy sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. She just needed to get through the game and ask Sarah for a ride home. Easy enough; she'd be fine. And everything would go as planned and-

"Adelaide!"

Her eyes shot up, locking with no other than Jack Hughes'. She looked around as if he'd be calling on someone else, but she was the only person in the room.

"Um, hi, Jack."

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" he begged.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"So, you know my brother Luke?"

"Yeah? We work together?"

"Right, so... he has a HUGE crush on you and I was wondering if-"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Okay, but-"

"I love my boyfriend."

"But-"

"No 'buts.' This conversation is done. I love Matt."

"Yeah, you said that," Jack furrowed his brow, watching as she sped away to her office. Who was she trying to convince about loving Matt? Jack or herself?

Jack stood there, his mind racing. He watched Adelaide disappear into her office, a part of him still hopeful that maybe there was more to the situation than met the eye. But her words her clear, and it wasn't his place to push any further.

As he walked back to the locker room, he saw Luke waiting by the team's gear. The younger Hughes brother looked like he was trying to shake off a bad mood, but his face was still set in a scowl.

"Hey bro, you alright?" Jack asked, trying his best to sound natural.

Luke shrugged, not meeting his brother's gaze, "Yeah, just... not feeling great."

Jack hesitated before replying, "Look, I know you're bummed about Adelaide. But if she's with Matt and she says she loves him, then... well there's not much you can do."

Luke nodded, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. The team gathered for their pre-game talk, but the tension between the brothers was palpable. Jack glanced over at Luke frequently, wishing he could say something to make things better, but he knew some things were just out of his control.

Meanwhile, Adelaide was back in her office, trying to focus on the game. But the encounter with Jack kept replaying in her mind. She knew Matt could be overprotective, but his jealousy was like a thorn in her side.

As she was preparing to leave for the rink, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Sarah, confirming her ride home. She felt a small sense of relief. At least she wouldn't have to worry about getting home alone.

~~

The game was intense. Adelaide took photos from the sidelines, trying to stay fully focused on her job. But her thoughts just kept drifting back to Luke and her conversation with Jack. She saw Luke on the ice, giving it his all, and she felt a pang of regret.

After the game as the players were filing out, Adelaide was about to leave when Jack approached her again.

"Hey, Ady. Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, his tone softer than before.

"Sure, what's up?" she replied, trying to hide her exhaustion.

"I just wanted to apologize if I pushed too hard earlier. I just thought maybe-"

"I appreciate it, Jack. But it really is just how things are. Matt and I... are committed to each other."

"Yeah, I get that. I just hate seeing my brother like this."

"I understand. It's complicated, and I wish it were easier. But thanks for understanding."

Jack nodded and gave her a small, sympathetic smile, "Alright, well, see you around, Adelaide."

"Bye, Jack."

As she walked out to meet Sarah, she felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. She loved Matt, but the situation with Luke had stirred up emotions she wasn't ready to confront. For now, she needed to get through the night and take things one step at a time.

~~

The days that followed were a blur for Adelaide. Her interactions with Luke were limited to work-related conversations and occasional small talk. She did her best to remain professional, but the chemistry between the two still lingered in her mind.

One evening, after a win against the Rangers, the team was out for drinks to celebrate. Adelaide was there with Sarah, trying to enjoy the night and push away the nagging thoughts of Luke.

Luke, for his part, was trying to keep his distance, but it was clear he was still hung up on Ady. When the group decided to hit up the nearby bar after the game, Adelaide and Sarah were among the last to arrive. And once he saw her in the bar, the alcohol in his system was not going to keep him from talking to her.

"Hey, Ady," he smiled, approaching her and Sarah. "Glad you made it."

"Hi, Luke," she replied, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and hesitation.

They chatted casually at first, but as the night went on, Adelaide found herself increasingly drawn to Luke. They laughed together, shared stories, and for a brief moment, the complications of her life seemed to melt away. The alcohol added a sense of liberation, and she noticed Luke looking at her with an intensity that made her heart race.

Eventually, the group's conversation grew more rowdy, and Sarah got caught up in chatting with some friends of the team. Adelaide, feeling a bit detached, slipped outside for some fresh air. Luke, quickly noting her absence, followed her.

"Ady, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, just needed a breather," she said, looking up at the stars. "It's been a long week."

Luke stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers. "You don't have to put on a brave face all the time, you know. It's okay to feel tired and burnt out."

She smiled faintly, "Thanks, Luke. It's just... everything's been a bit overwhelming lately."

Before she could react, Luke reached out and gently touched her arm. The warmth of his hand sent a shiver down her spine. Adelaide looked up, her heart pounding. Luke's gaze was intense, and she could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

In a moment of impulsive recklessness, Adelaide leaned in, and their lips met. The kiss was electric, filled with a mix of desperation and longing. For a moment, all the complications, the guilt, and the responsibilities faded away.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Adelaide's mind was racing, torn between her love for Matt and the undeniable connection she felt with Luke.

"I shouldn't have-" Adelaide started, but Luke gently placed a finger on her lips.

"It's okay," he said softly. "We don't have to figure anything out right now."

She nodded, feeling a rush of confusion and regret. "I need to get back inside."

Luke watched her walk back into the bar, a mix of hope and apprehension in his eyes. He knew that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated situation.

Back inside, Adelaide's heart was heavy as she rejoined Sarah and the group. The guilt of what had just happened weighed on her, but she couldn't ignore the thrill and the intensity of the moment with Luke. As the night went on, she tried her best to act normal, but her mind was consumer by the memory of kissing Luke.

~~

The argument had started over something small- Matt's habit of not cleaning up after himself- but it quickly escalated. Adelaide and Matt were in the kitchen of their apartment, voices raised.

"Seriously, Matt? I've asked you a million times to clean up your dishes!" Ady's frustration was evident, as she slammed a dish into the sink.

"I'm tired of this, Ady!" Mat retorted, his face flushed with anger. "It's not like I'm trying to ignore you. I've been busy with work and-"

"Busy? You're always busy with work, but you can't even make a little effort here?!" she shouted, her hands on her hips. "It's not just about the dishes; it's about the respect!"

Matt threw his hands up in exasperation. "Respect? You think I don't respect you? I work hard so we can have a good life. I'm tired of you always nitpicking!"

"It's not nitpicking, Matthew! It's about being partners in a relationship. I feel like I'm doing everything on my own," her voice trembled.

Matt's face hardened. "Maybe if you were a little more understanding, you'd see how much I'm trying. But no, you're just focused on what I'm not doing."

Her eyes filled with tears, "I'm not asking for perfection. I'm asking for some consideration. I'm tired of feeling like I'm always the bad guy here."

Matt's anger seemed to shift into frustration. "You know what? Maybe we need some space. I can't keep doing this every day."

The harshness in his voice stung, and Adelaide felt her heart sink. "So what? You want to just walk away?"

"No, I'm just saying maybe we need to take a break from fighting all the time. I need to cool off," Matt said, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going out with the guys tonight. Maybe that'll help."

Adelaide watched as he stormed out, the door slamming behind him. She was left standing in the kitchen, feeling a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration. The apartment felt cold and empty without him.

With no one else to turn to, Ady grabbed her phone and, in a moment of desperation, texted Luke, asking if she coud come over. Her unresolved emotions driving her to seek comfort elsewhere.

When she arrived at Luke and Jack's apartment, her mind was clouded with the aftermath of the fight. Luke opened the door, his concern clear as day as he saw her tear-stained face.

"Ady, what happened?" Luke asked, pulling her into the apartment.

"I just... needed to get away," she replied, her voice breaking as she sunk into the couch.

Luke sat next to her, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I don't even know where to start," she laughed bitterly. "Matt and I had this huge fight. It's like we can't even get along anymore."

As Adelaide opened up about her frustrations, the conversation slowly shifted from comforting to more personal. The tension between the two grew palpable, and before they knew it, their emotions overwhelmed them. The lines between comfort and intimacy were blurred, leading them to kiss passionately.

~~

The next morning, Adelaide woke up with a jolt, her head pounding. She turned to find Luke beside her, a mixture of confusion and guilt washing over her.

"Luke, I... we shouldn't have," Adelaide began, her voice trembling. "This was a mistake."

Luke's face hardened. "A mistake? You think this was just a mistake?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "I love Matt. I shouldn't have let this happen."

Luke sat up, frustration evident in his voice. "So, what are you saying? That I'm just some rebound? That this meant nothing?"

"No, it's not like that," she said, reaching for his hand. "It's just-"

"Just what?" Luke snapped, pulling away. "Just that you're confused? Or that you don't know what you want?"

"It's not about you, Luke!" she exclaimed, her voice rising. "It's about me and my choices. I'm committed to Matt. I need to figure out what I want."

Luke was seething. "Well, maybe you should've figured it out before coming here. This is exactly what I was afraid of- being used and then thrown away when it's convenient."

Adelaide recoiled, hurt by his words. "I never meant to hurt you."

Luke looked away, frustration and pain written on his face. "I thought we had something real, but now I see I was just a distraction."

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Adelaide said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

Luke's expression softened slightly, but it was clear he was still hurt. "I get it. But I need time to process this. I can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"I understand," she replied, her voice just above a whisper. "I need to go."

As she gathered her things, the awkwardness and emotional distance between them was almost tangible. She glanced back at Luke, who stood silently by the door, a mix of anger and sadness in his gaze.

"I'll give you some space. I'm really sorry, Luke."

With that, she left his apartment, the weight of her actions heavy on her shoulders. As she drove away, the gravity of what had happened began to settle in, and she knew that repairing the damage she had caused would be an arduous journey.

~~

Adelaide's hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel, her mind racing with the burden of what had just happened. Her thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt and confusion. She took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking garage, trying to steady herself before heading inside.

When she entered the apartment, the living room was dark, the only light coming from the sun filtering through the blinds. Matt was sitting on the couch, his posture tense and his face partially hidden in the shadows.

Her heart sank at the sight of him. "Matt, you didn't stay with the guys," she said, her voice shaky as she closed the door behind her.

Matt's gaze met hers, his eyes sharp and questioning. "Yeah. I decided to come home after all. I've been thinking."

"Oh, um, okay," she replied, trying to keep her composure as she walked further into the room.

Matt stood up and approached her, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. "So where were you? I tried calling, but you didn't answer."

Adelaide's heart raced. "I was out for a bit... I needed some fresh air. It was a rough day, ya know?"

Matt's eyes narrowed. "A bit? You were gone for hours. Did something happen?"

She hesitated, scrambling to come up with a believable excuse. "I just went for a drive to clear my head. Fell asleep in a parking lot. It's been stressful with everything going on."

Matt studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced but unsure of what to say. "You didn't go see Luke, did you?"

The question hit her like a ton of bricks. She forced a nonchalant laugh, trying to mask her nervousness. "No, of course not. I haven't seen him. Why would you think that?"

His expression softened, but he still looked troubled. "I don't know, I guess I just... I felt like something was off. I didn't want to jump to conclusions."

Ady stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Matt, I promise you, nothing happened. I was just out trying to process everything. I needed some space, and I didn't think to tell you because I thought you were also out."

Matt weighed her words, the tension in his shoulder easing. "Okay. I just- I don't want us to keep fighting. I care about you, Ady. I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

"I don't want that either," she said, her voice filled with sincerity she hoped would convince him. "I'm sorry for not being more communicative. I'll do better."

Matt nodded slowly, "Alright. Let's just try to move forward and work on things. I don't want to lose you."

Her heart ached, but she forced a smile. "I don't want to lose you either. We'll figure this out. I love you."

"I love you too."

They embraced, and Adelaide held him tightly, feeling both relief and guilt. As Matt settled back onto the couch, Ady joined him, trying to push away the lingering feelings from the night with Luke.

The weight of her deception was heavy, and as she sat beside Matt, the realization that she was living a lie began to settle in. She knew that maintaining the facade would be difficult, and the consequences of her actions were far from over. For now, though, she focused on keeping up the appearance of normalcy, hoping that time would help heal the rift she had created.

~~

Luke felt like he was in a fog. The events of the previous night and that morning replayed in his mind. He knew he needed to talk to someone, but he wasn't ready to fully disclose what had happened. He decided to seek comfort in his brother, hoping for a little bit of guidance in his situation.

Jack met Luke at the rink, finding his brother sitting alone in the locker room. He approached him, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, Rusty. You've been awfully quiet this morning. Everything okay?" Jack asked, sitting down beside him.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not really, man. I'm feelin' pretty messed up."

Jack cocked an eyebrow, sensing the seriousness of the situation. "You wanna talk about it or..."

"Sort of. It's... complicated," Luke said, avoiding eye contact. "I had a rough night, and I'm trying to make sense of things, I guess."

Jack frowned, "You sure you don't wanna spill the beans? Sometimes talking helps, ya know?"

Luke hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's not really something I can just talk about. I made some... choices that I'm regretting, and I feel like I've fucked things up, royally."

The older Hughes studied him carefully. "I get it. But you know, if you're feeling like you screwed up, you should at least be able to talk to someone you know won't judge you. I'm your brother, it's what I'm here for."

"Not that simple. I just don't wanna drag you into this. I just need to figure out what to do next."

"Are you like in serious trouble?"

"No, Jack... not serious trouble."

"I don't need to call the cops?"

"No, Jack," he laughed bitterly.

"Alright, well, don't bottle it up. You've got people who care about you, and we're all in this together."

Luke nodded, grateful for Jack’s support but still feeling the weight of his decisions. As they got ready for practice, Luke tried to focus on the task at hand, though his mind was still troubled by the consequences of the previous night.

~~

Adelaide avoided Luke like he was the plague the next few days. She poured herself into work, using the camera as a shield to hide behind her. She kept her interactions with the team strictly professional, but her heart began to ache the first time her eyes met Luke's.

Jack noticed the change in his brother and the photographer. Their friendship had vanished, replaced by a strained silence. One day after pratice, Jack cornered Adelaide in the hallway outside the media room.

"Hey, Ady, got a minute?" he asked, casually leaning against the wall.

"Sure, Jack. What's going on?"

"I noticed that you and Luke have been... off lately. Did something happen?"

Her heart raced, but she forced a large smile. "No, nothing happened. We've just been busy with work and all!"

"Come on, Ady. I know you better than that. You two were inseperable when he started here, and now I don't think I've seen you talk to him in days. Did you guys have an argument or something?"

She sighed, the guilt weighing down her shoulders. "It's complicated. I don't want to get into it."

"Oh. Look, I get it if you don't wanna share. But just know that I'm here if you wanna talk. I care about you, so seeing you both like this is kinda hard."

"Thanks, Jack," her voice barely above a whisper. "Appreciate it."

"See you on the ice!"

"Yup."

God, what had she gotten herself into?

~~

The rink was filled with sounds- the sharp scrape of skates on ice, the hollow thud of the puck hitting the boards, the shouted command of coaches, and the occasional shutter of Adelaide's camera lense. Luke Hughes moved with a ferocity that caught the attention of everyone on the ice. His usual smooth, calculated movements had been replaced by agressiveness. Every stride was powerful, every check delivered with a force that echoed through the arena.

"What's up with Rusty?" Jack muttered to Nico, who was stretching nearby.

Nico followed Jack's gaze. "Not sure, but he's been playing like he's possessed. Did something happen?"

Jack shrugged, keeping his eyes on Luke. "Don't know. He's been... off lately. Keeps to himself a lot more."

As practice continued, Luke's focus remained unbroken. He intercepted passes, delivered bone-rattling checks, and fired shots with pinpoint accuracy. His teammates began to whisper among themselves in the locker room, buzz building about the youngest Hughes.

"Hey, Lukey, what's going on with you?" Nico approached him.

Luke shrugged, "Focusing on my game. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you're playing like you're trying to prove something. Or like you're trying to forget something."

Luke clenched his jaws, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his towel. "Drop it, Nico. I'm just trying to play better."

"Alright, man. But if you need me, I'm here. Don't shut out the team."

Luke didn't respond, instead shoving his gear into his bag with a force that spoke for itself. Whatever was eating at him was serious, and the team feared it would affect more than just his game.

~~

Adelaide was at her desk, her fingers flying against her keyboard as she edited photos from their last game. She was immersing herself in her work, hoping it would distract her from her inner turmoil. She was focusing on her job and spending as much time with Matt as possible.

The door to her office swung open, and Luke stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the small space. Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening at the determined look on his face.

"We need to talk," his voice barely concealing his anger.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Luke, I'm busy right now. Can it wait?"

"No," he said firmly, closing the door behind him. "We're not leaving this room until we sort this out."

"What is there to sort out? We made a mistake, and we need to move on."

"A mistake?" his voice rose. "Is that all it was to you?"

Adelaide flinched at his tone, "It's not that simple, Luke. You know it's not."

"Then make it simple for me," he demanded, stepping closer. "Do you have feelings for me or not?"

She looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze. "It doesn't matter what I feel. I'm with Matt. I've made a commitment to him."

Luke's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "So, you're just going to ignore what's between us? Pretend it doesn't exist?"

"What choice do I have?" she voice shook. "I love Matt. I can't just throw that away because I slept with you one time."

"Is that all you think this is? A fling?" his voice was filled with heart.

Adelaide felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "No, but it can't be more than that. It's too complicated."

Luke took a step back, "You're scared. You're scared to admit that you want something different. That you might actually care about me. That you aren't happy with Matt."

"That's not true," she whispered, her resolve crumbling. "I do care about you, but it's not fair to anyone if I act on it."

"Fair?" Luke scoffed. "Life isn't fair, Adelaide. You can't just ignore your feelings because it's inconvenient."

She shook her head, the tears spilling over. "I'm trying to do the right thing. I can't hurt Matt like this."

"And what about me?" his voice cracked. "Do I not matter?"

"Of course you matter," she cried, reaching out to him. "But I can't do this. I can't be with you."

Luke stared at her a moment, his breathing heavy. Then, without warning, he crossed the distance between them in two quick strides and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could react, his lips were on hers, kissing her with a desperation that took her breath away.

She was stunned at first, but then melted into it, her hands gripping his shirt to ground herself. For a moment, all her feelings of guilt and doubt vanished, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of being with him. Of being with Luke.

But reality crashed back in and she pulled away, panting. "Luke, we can't."

"Don't tell me you didn't feel that. Don't tell me you don't want this."

"I do want it. But I can't. I have to think about Matt. I have to think about everyone else."

Luke's shoulders fell, the fight leaving his body. "Fine. If that's how you feel, I'll back off. But don't expect me to just forget out this. About... us."

Adelaide sat back down, staring blankly at her computer screen. The photos she was supposed to be editing blurred together, her mind far too preoccupied. She sighed, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to clear her mind. They kiss that they had just shared haunted her, the memory replaying over and over again, making it impossible to do any work.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Matt: "Dinner tonight? Been missing you lately <3"

Guilt twisted her stomach as she typed back her response. "Sure, sounds great. I miss you too."

She hit send and put her phone down. She felt like a fraud. Everything felt tainted by her feelings for Luke. She decided to take a break from working, grabbing her coat and leaving the office. She was craving some fresh air. As she walked, she called Sarah. The one person she knew she could talk to about anything, and right now, she really needed her advice.

"Hey, Ady! What's up?"

"Hey, Sarah. Can you meet up? I really need to talk."

"Of course. How about the coffee shop near the area in fifteen?"

"Perfect. See you soon."

Adelaide arrived quickly and ordered herself a latte. When Sarah walked in, she felt a wave of relief. Sarah took one good look at her and knew something was wrong.

"What's going on, Ads?"

"I've messed up, Sarah. Big time."

Sarah reached across the table and held her hand. "Tell me everything."

Over the next hour, Adelaide spilled her guts to her confidante. Telling Sarah all about her feelings for Luke, the kiss, the night they spent together, and the guilt that was tearing her apart.

"Ady, it sounds like you're in a really tough spot. But you have to honest with yourself and with Matt. This isn't fair to anyone, especially not to you."

"I know. But I don't know how to choose. I care about them both so much."

"Maybe you need some time to figure things out. Take a step back, give yourself some space to think about what you really want."

"You're right I just need to clear my head. Thanks, Sar."

"No worries, Ads. That's what I'm here for."

~~

"Luke, we need to talk."

"Not now, Jack," Luke muttered, not even looking away from the TV.

"Yeah, now," Jack insisted. "You've been acting insane. What's going on?"

"I can't, Jack. Just... drop it."

"Nope. Not happening," Jack sat next to him, turning off the TV. "Whatever this is, it's eating you alive. Talk to me."

Luke's frustration boiled over. "It's Adelaide, alright? We... we kissed. We... slept together. And then things got out of hand."

"You and Adelaide? Seriously?" Jack's eyes widened in shock.

"She said it was a mistake, that she loves Matt. But... I can't get her out of my head."

"Holy shit, Luke. That's... a lot. But you can't keep it bottled up. It's tearing you apart."

"I know... but I don't know what to do."

"Look, you need to talk to her. Clear the air. This tension is gonna kill ya both. And if she really loves Matt, you need to try to respect that and move on."

"Yeah. I know. But it's so damn hard."

"I get it, bro. But just take it one step at a time. And remember I'm here for you. Even when you royally fuck up like this."

~~

That evening when Adelaide walked in the door, she could already feel Matt's anger. He was pacing back and forth in the living room.

"Adelaide. We need to talk," his voice was taut with anger.

"What about, Matt?"

"About us! About how distant you've been. It's like you're here, but you're not really here," he snapped, his eyes searching hers for an explanation.

"I've been under a lot of pressure with work. You know that."

"This isn't just about work, Ady! You've been avoiding me. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, it's about the team or the game. When was the last time we slept together? When was the last time you were focused on us? What happened to us?"

She felt a pang of guilt, but also a rush of anger. "Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your career, we wouldn't be having this problem! You're never around, Matt. And when you are, you don't speak to me!"

"That's not fair. You knew how important work was to me when we got together. I thought you supported me."

"I do support you, but I can't be the only one making sacrifices. This is a partnership, not a one-way street."

"A partnership? That's rich coming from you! You used to be my biggest cheerleader, and now I don't even recognize you!"

"Maybe I changed because you never made me feel like I mattered!" she spat back. "It's always been about you and your career, your dreams. What about mine, Matt? What about mine?"

"I never stopped you from chasing your dreams! You can't just blame all our problems on me! You made choices too."

Ady tried her best to think of a response, but Matt continued before she could.

"I can't do this anymore, Ady. I don't even know who you are anymore," his voice breaking with resignation.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we both need to figure out what we really want," she looked down at her feet.

"I thought we wanted the same thing. But I guess not. Maybe we've grown too far apart."

"I wish things were different, Matthew. I really do."

"Yeah, me too."

For a moment, it seemed like they were about to part ways without another word. But then Adelaide made a gut-wrenching decision. "Matt, there's something I need to tell you. I.... I cheated on you. With Luke."

The confession hit Matt like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with rage. "What did you just say?"

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was a mistake-"

"A mistake?" Matt exploded. "You think that's just a mistake? You've been lying to me, hiding things from me while I thought we were trying to fix things!"

Adelaide tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, his anger turning into something darker. "I didn't want to hurt you. I was confused, and I made a terrible choice."

His face turned red with fury, "You've betrayed me, Adelaide. You've crossed a line. I can't just let this go. You've been living a lie while I've been trying to make thing work."

"I'm so sorry, Matt. Just let me explain."

"No!" his voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls. "I don't want to hear it. You've shattered everything we had. I'm done. I can't even look at you right now."

~~

Adelaide sat in her dimly lit apartment, feeling the weight of the last few days pressing down on her. The space felt unusually empty, and the silence was almost deafening. She had spent the entire day reflecting on everything that had transpired and was now preparing for an important conversation.

Her phone buzzed, signaling Luke's arrival. She took a deep breath and went to open the door.

Luke stood there, his expression a mixture of resolve and concern. "Hey," he said softly as he stepped inside.

"Hey," Adelaide replied, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "Thanks for coming over."

They moved to the living room, sitting across from each other. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words. Adelaide broke the silence first.

"I wanted to talk about everything that's happened. I know I've hurt you. And I've hurt Matt. And I need to take responsibility for that."

Luke nodded, his gaze was steady but pained. "I appreciate you saying that. I was hurt, and it's been hard trying to understand like... why everything went down the way it did."

"I never meant to hurt you. I was confused. Stuck in a relationship that had been loveless for a while. I was avoiding issues instead of talking about them."

"I get that. I was confused too. We both made mistakes, but we can acknowledge that."

"I think... no, I know that I want to be with you, Luke. I just... can we take things slow? Like super slow? I think I need to process everything that just happened," she giggled lowly.

"Yeah, of course. I'd like that a lot, Ady. Let's take this one day at a time.

"Sounds perfect."

Luke smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Now, why don't you tell me why I'm your favourite Hughes brother," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes, "If I must..."

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 ⟡ 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜' 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.3k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, slightly anxious!reader, not proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: i hate seafood but i keep putting it on my fictional restaurants menu ? kept this one pretty simple so i could get it out there <3

"Crab cakes, go." James says, eyes darting up from the menu he's holding to look at you from across the rickety staff room table.

You don't miss a beat, describing the dish as you would to a customer, "The crab cakes are one of our most popular appetizers. They're pan seared and served with sofrito escabeche, a zesty blend of onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes—so I highly recommend them if you're looking for something tangy—and they have a to die for berbere aioli drizzle."

"Tell me more about the berbere aioli. What is that?" James questions, playing the part of a curious customer.

"The berbere aioli is a spicy-chili sauce that I'd say is just shy of medium in terms of spice level. It complements the crab cakes really well, but you could always order it on the side if you're not too sure about it."

"That's my girl," James praises, "You're a quick learner, you know that?"

"I don't know about that," you protest, looking down at your hands that lay politely folded on the table in front of you. You try to mentally will yourself not to blush at James' approval.

"It's barely over a week since you started and you know this thing like the back of your hand," James argues, gently tossing the menu down as he leans back in his chair, "And there's so little time to sit and study here."

You have a funny look on your face when you meet James' eyes again, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You've been studying the menu outside of work, haven't you?" he squints, speaking in an accusatory tone.

"Shouldn't I?" you ask, and the fact that it's a genuine question has James clutching his chest over his heart.

"No! You never think about work unless you're getting paid!"

"How else am I supposed to learn this whole menu in a timely manner?" you cross your arms defensively.

"Who said anything about a timely manner, Love. I was weeks out of training before I had the whole thing down."

"Yeah, well you're more..." you trail off, trying to find the words.

"More what?" James is quick to sound defensive.

You put your hands up as a sign of innocence, "Just laid back. You're a go with the flow kind of guy. As opposed to me, who's more-"

James interjects, "Stuck in your head," nodding along without a doubt that that's what you were going to say.

You look at James, a bit of surprise and alarm swirling around in the pit of your stomach. He was spot on, but how could he possibly be? He barely knows you, after all.

"What?" James seems to sense your confusion, "I've noticed the turmoil in those eyes of yours. You're doing it right now."

You look bashful, so James graciously changes the subject.

"Whatever, just promise me you won't ever think about this place when you're off the clock again!"

"Promise," you agree, despite his request being impossible.

For whatever reason, your mind seems to always be on work. Not even in a stressed, overthinking way like you'd expect from yourself. It seemed to be little random tidbits from work infiltrating your mind throughout your days. Like sometimes, you randomly think of a joke James said once. Or you see something funny and want to show it to him. Or you think about how nice James is when you mess something up.

Okay, maybe they're not so random after all.

"What're you thinking about?" James interrupts your thoughts.

Just as you're about to start stammering through an excuse, Mary pops her head into the room.

"There you guys are!" she says, "I just sat you guys. Table six."

"Thanks, Mary. We'll be right there." James responds.

"I had Peter bring them some waters because I couldn't find you guys for a while—oh, he's back today by the way, did you know?" Mary asks, but doesn't stick around for James to answer, "I have to get back. Table six, guys!" Her voice echoes the reminder as she's already disappeared from your sights.

James shakes his head at her, amused by the way she jumps from one thing to the next without taking a breath.

"Peter?" you question as you and James begin to stand from the table.

"Yeah, he does bussing and some food running, a helping hand for us servers, really. He was on vacation." James explains as you follow him out into the dining room.

Your eyes fall on table six, a table for two that beholds two kind looking older ladies.

"You think you can handle this?" James juts his chin in their direction.

"Yeah," you say confidently. You have already taken the lead on some tables while James supervised. So far, it's been going well. Your first table you had to ask James to help answer some questions—maybe that's why you wanted to learn the menu so quick, it made you feel sheepish—but after that one time, James hasn't had any notes.

"Alright, I'm gonna check on our other tables then."

"Wait," you gave yourself whiplash with the way you craned your neck swiftly to look at him, "You meant handle it alone?"

"Yeah," James looks down at you reassuringly, his eyes filled with warmth, "You can do it."

"Uhh-? No, what if I-"

"Get out of that pretty little head of yours," he interrupts, "You've got this."

The sincerity in his tone incited a bit of confidence in you.

"Okay, okay. Okay sure," your shaky voice became a little more steady with each word, and you started walking to the table.

"Wait!" James carefully takes hold of your wrist. The progress you had made in easing your nerves is out the window.

"You'll need this," James slides his server book out from his apron and held it out to you.

"Right," you say quietly, smiling as you took it from him.

His hand fell from your wrist as he bid you good luck. He watches you for a moment as you greet the table, a proud gleam in his eyes.

Marlene appears beside James, a tray of waters and soft drinks balancing on her palm, "Your girl's taking orders on her own now?"

"Just the one table for today," James replies.

Marlene hums approvingly and saunters off to deliver the drinks.

James registers her words only when she's already left, "Wait, my who now?" he asks the wall.

His furrowed brows relax as he decides he kind of likes the sound of it.

After checking on your other tables, getting refills and putting new food orders in, James notices a congregation of his coworkers at the host stand so he decides to join in.

"Who's that?" Peter asks, swinging a rag over his shoulder.

Lily follows Peter's gaze to you, who's delivering some bread and butter to table six.

"James' girl?" Lily questions, "She started last week, she's been doing pretty well so far I think."

"Any reason in particular we're calling her that?" James decides to ask on his approach, having heard that phrase twice in under ten minutes.

"Ah, well, she hardly talks to anyone else." Marlene drawls.

"Eh, she's just a bit skittish," James provides an excuse for you, "it's kind of cute."

Lily and Mary share a look.

James continues, "She'll get used to you guys soon enough, just be nice." He really only says the last part to Marlene.

"I am nice," she defends.

"Well, you're not mean," Mary offers and Marlene scowls at her.

James chuckles, and turns to Peter, "How 'ave you been, mate?"

Peter opens his mouth to share details of his vacation, but he's interrupted.

"What are you all doing up here?" Nate hisses, appearing suddenly as if out of thin air, "You know how bad it looks for nearly my entire staff to be slacking off in the front of the restaurant?"

Before anyone can disperse or defend themselves, Nate continues, "And you're supposed to be training, Potter. Where's your girl?"

"Me?" your choked voice rings from behind him.

Everyone peers over at you, standing there shellshocked and blushing with a pitcher of water in your hands.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)

word count ✭ 2.5k

note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.

anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀

that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.

like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗

warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)

✭✭✭✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. 

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take. 

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours. 

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n? 

| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar. 

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time. 

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand. 

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line. 

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food. 

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you. 

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head. 

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed. 

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you. 

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm. 

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat. 

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom. 

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged. 

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).

also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it

again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗

mwah~

[moon-mage]

LEOJAMI DETECTIVE AU

Oh whut I mustered up the strength to doodle for this oh my gooooosh. :O But yes, like I said earlier I have this whole twst magical detective/law type AU swimming in my brains and I need to let it out real quick. I'll go for bulletpoints since I think that would be the easiest to write out my thoughts without going on and on xD

Everyone would be like mid to late 20's adults here. I would say Jamil is 24, so following everyone's canonical age ranges Leona would be 27.

This would be a drama-comedy so the tone would fluctuate but when it's serious it's serious when it's not it's funny. uwu

I just totally imagine a scene where they're chasing a perpetrator through a fucking McDonalds and they climb into the kids play tubes to give chase and Jamil just flies in all nimbly and Leona tries it and gets his ass legit stuck while 3 year olds are fucking laughing at him.

On the opposite tone, in this world UM's are classified by how powerful and dangerous they are to the public...so it's mandatory for mages with high threat UM's to work in magical law enforcement. Punishment is basically they hand you over to STYX forever so uh...ruh-oh.

So Jamil is actually wearing glasses preventing him from using his UM. He has to take them off to use them. Leona is supposed to be wearing gloves but like come on it's Leona lmao he do what he want.

A lot of backstory elements will be somewhat the same, like Leona being a prince and Jamil being the property of the Al-Asim's but just like different. Night Raven College did not happen.

So basically Leona and Jamil were born and raised in their respective countries. Leona chose to leave home to come to Sage Island to work for their magical police force because he surely wasn't gonna stay with his brother and nephew. Jamil was transferred to Sage Island by his previous boss, Police Chief Al-Asim...because he had served his purpose in making his son a decent enough detective.

Sage Island's magical police force is...honestly the TRENCHES. All the weird and horrible things happen there magically and it's truly not for the faint of heart to work so close with high risk cases that occur there.

Basically you get sent to work there as a mage if someone is purposely trying to get rid of you...or you are really seeking them thrills.

Yes, Crowley is the guy in charge here so you know you're in the trenches. He still takes like 48 vacations a calendar year.

Jamil and Leona get partnered up and it's basically just Leona being grumpy old and jaded while Jamil is trying to prove himself to the max and thinks he knows it all. But they eventually come to an understanding and find a mutual respect for one another.

As soon as that happens Leona is basically like "you wanna sleep with me, Jamil. I know you dooo...i know you doooooooooo"

Jamil is in denial rewatches that "YOU BETTER NOT BANG YOUR COWORKERS" tiktok over and over and over...

He wakes up in Leona's bed anyway.

Jamil is thriving in the thrill and danger of the job that keeps his mind and body sharp and feeling some sense of freedom.

Leona finally feels a deep connection with someone again who he can be on the same level with and finds some purpose to wake up in the mornings.

Jamil and Leona are fucking happy with their second place lives because they have each other in it...in the good and the bad. The highs and the lows. They're there for each other.

They are both just as equally horrified about the fact they're falling in love and being all vulnerable and mushy with one another and actually enjoying life.

Seriously they are waiting for life to realize they're so happy and destroy their happiness as it always does.

Oh and the major bad guy is gonna be a TWST OF CLAYTON FROM TARZAN.

I have always wanted to twst him as an antag but it never felt right for him to be a student but an actual threat like Rollo or Fellow.

That's what I have so far uwu <3

[2-dsimp]

Hi hi hiii! Omg i binge read about ur yandere ovs and now yhey're running around in my mind like little hamsters.

What if darling somehow managed to see/hear Moros torture someone? And as a result, they're quite scared of Moros now, thinking he could snap on them at any moment? Thatd be so cool :o

Ur such a good writer!!! Keep writing, youre terrific! Have a good day n night :D

Cw: MDNI, NSFW, Heavy Angst, heavy Gore, yandere tendencies.

Yandere Torturer! Who forgot to lock the fun basement room, that you’ve always been curious of seeing. Whenever you come by to hangout at the agency he lived at with his other colleagues of Hitmen.

“N-no! Y-you can’t go in there, the basement is not really f-fun at all. It’s scary and d-dark… Not a p-place meant for you to see little one.”

Yandere Torturer! Would always plead for you to heed his warnings. He really hated keeping things from you but, it was for your own good. The burden he had to carry was his and his alone. And he planned on keeping it that way until he couldn’t.

Didn’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?

The stench of metallic blood hit your nostrils like a freight train. The jars of decapitated limbs, appendages, organs, littered the worn down shelves. You then choked a gasp seeing the state of your manager.

Hollow empty eye sockets, that dribbled tears of blood. He was still alive mouth breathing like a fish out of water. Though missing a whole bottom and top row of his teeth.

You remembered, briefly having an argument with him. About how he was always giving you creepy looks. Checking you out like you were a piece of meat and catcalling you.

But you never imagined that on his weeks notice about taking days off. Would you ever imagine seeing him strapped to a chair in tight chains like a dog. Teetering on the brink of death but unable to get true relief.

All because of the man who you thought to be the gentlest giant. One who’d never hurt a fly since he was oh so cutely timid and jittery. The same man in front of you donning a bloodied bunny mask and wearing his signature latex gloves to cover his huge hands.

“Moros… What the hell is this? Why is my manager here? Just what have you been doing in here?!”

“S-Sunshine?!”

Yandere Torturer! Who was so startled from your outburst that his butcher knife sliced through your coworker’s tongue. Making the latter thrash and choke on his own blood. The sight repulsed you and made you feel like hurling as you stumbled back away from the entrance.

“Oh n-no, you’re not s-supposed to be h-here. It’s d-dangerous I said. You’ll get sick! P-please wear t-this mask it’ll help you—“

Yandere Torturer! Who panicked over your wellbeing as He jerked off one of his bloodied gloves to search for a spare mask. To cover you from the carnage, but the damage was already done.

“No, no, no, stay away from me! Y-you murderer!”

You practically slapped away his trembling hand feeling all sorts of things ranging from loss, disgust, and denial. You couldn’t believe what you had seen, and wanted to escape this nightmare you believed that you had to be trapped in.

Yandere Torturer! Who let out a terrified noise at feeling you reject him for the first time and from seeing you suddenly flee from his sight. Almost as if you were afraid of him…

Yandere Torturer! Who became sick to his stomach and it was the due to the gore. Were you truly afraid of him? All he wanted was to be your caregiver, shield you from harm, take care of you the best way he could. So when he saw you getting harassed by your manager, he had to do it.

He wasn’t in the wrong! You were just shocked. You’d come back to him right? Right? If not then… He’d crumble.

“Sunshine… please don’t be afraid of me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

Yandere Torturer! Who slumped down into a ball like a lifeless husk in the corner. His fat tear drops falling from the holes in the rabbit mask.

——————-/——-

A/n: Here is the angst you’ve been wanting dear anon, I hope you’re satisfied _(:3 」∠)_

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

One piece modern au, Mama Rouge :)

Happy Mother’s Day :)

Here’s some mama Rouge for the occasion!

Additional info about her 👇(there's a lot.)

Rouge is a bit sickly. Throughout Ace’s formative years, she was in a hospital, sick. Its honestly a miracle she got through child birth alive, but she’s a very very strong woman.

Garp was there when Ace was born because I like to imagine that Garp was Gol D. Roger’s Parole Officer, and so of course he became a family friend. But since he was there for Ace's birth, he was also there when Rouge held her newborn and cried because she knew she couldn't take care of him in her condition.

And look, I don't know how child handling works, but I think it would be really funny if Garp was like "you're okay, girlie, I got the perfect idea." And then he held out a sheet of paper with all the people on his parole list and said like "pick one, this could be part of their community service sentence."

And Rouge was like "might as well, I guess, I don't want to put him in an adoption center or foster home so I guess I'm doing this". Then she picked out Dadan because 'dad' is already in her name, and she's not really given anymore qualifications other than that, so Dadan it is.

Plot twist though because all these convicts just all live with each other so it really wouldn't have mattered, it just meant that now Dadan would be the main guardian of Ace.

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

Because she was in the hospital for so long when ace was growing up, she’s a bit of a mystery to him. Sometimes (like 3 times a year) she would come to visit him at The House Of Dadan and bring homemade large stuffed animals for him made with Ace's old clothes she's patched together. Ace loves them and they're on a high up shelf in his room, practically untouched in fears of potentially breaking them.

Whenever Ace has a day with Rouge, it's usually a bit awkward. Like Ace doesn't know how to have a mother and Rouge doesn't know how to have a son, but she is trying her best to have fun with him whenever she gets the chance to.

I kinda envision these vibes. Not exactly but adjacent.

Very like "what do you wanna do, sweetie :)"

Ace never gets to visit her at the hospital because Rouge doesn't want him to see her in that kind of setting. He tried to once when he became an adult but he was turned away at the door. He may or may not have tried to then find her through the outside of the building through windows and he may or may not have been kicked off the premises by security.

---------

The first day on the job after Ace completes his tattoo artist apprenticeship, he gets a customer who called the day before requesting him specifically, which is a little weird since he had just started that day, normal patrons wouldn't know him.

When it's time for the appointment, he goes to the floor from the back of the shop, and the person sitting in his appointment seat,

Is.. is his mom.

Shes talking to his coworkers and laughing with them! Ahh no nononono. His mom is not supposed to see this part of his life. What is she doing here????

He rushes over to her and asks her what she's doing here for??

"I'm getting a tattoo from my son :) can I get this flower please? :)"

So he starts the tattoo process and Rouge is very cooperative and receptive to when he needs her to move or anything like that.

He's.. he's never actually been this close to her for so long...

He glances up one and he sees her smiling so softly at him.

Ace looks away quickly, hoping she doesn't see him blushing.

For all wondering, the tattoo that she has is very much on her ass and it is very much Roger's name.

That's all I got. I got a couple of people asking about Ace's family situation, so here ya go :)

Oh additionally, Roger died before Ace's birth from Cancer

Thanks for reading if you got this far :)

[anjelicawrites]

The one looking out for you

Paring: dark!Michael Gavey x fem!reader Synopsis: fill for this ask: “Hii can I request a dark Michael gavey x fem reader smut where they're coworkers and reader don't really know Michael because he works in IT and they only pass each other here and there but Michael is obsess with reader and one day he overhears reader telling a coworker that she's ovulating but her fiancé (who's been cheating on her without her knowledge) is out of town and they've been trying for a baby. Michael digs up dirt on her fiance and leaks the info anonymously and then he "coincidently" finds her crying and kinda drunk and he "comforts" reader”. Warnings: NONCON (reader is drunk while having sex), rape, rape drugs, stalking, obsession, sexist language, fatphobia, pictures and videos taken without reader’s consent, vomiting, alcohol usage, reader being drunk, p in v sex, chocking, titty sucking, fingering, creampie, baby trapping, breeding kink, lactation kink, talk of reader reduced to a basement wife, talk of pregnancy sex. A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, she/her pronouns used.

Michael knows how special you are, how gentle you heart is; he sees you in all the ways other people don’t. Some might call his behavior obsessive, stalkerish even, but the world doesn’t understand that, when you finally find your person, you need to take all the necessary steps to keep that person safe. Take today, for example. You had worked overtime, your team leader needing your expertise for the latest company project, and are going home just now, after 9 pm on a cold winter night. You should wait for the bus, or hail a cab, but you’re too tired to wait and just want to go home thus cutting through the city park. Michael knows because he’s following the GPS of your phone, to make sure nothing happens to you, and is using the speakers of your phone to hear what’s happening around you and call the cops if someone tries to approach you.

He shouldn’t have cloned your phone, he knows it’s frowned upon, but you pull shit like this: how is he supposed to keep you safe? You are too gentle, too trusting of the world and in need of a protector, someone who will really look after you, not like your useless fiancé, who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, nor he loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t be having an affair with the girl living in the next door apartment. The discovery had been casual, the Trojan he used to clone your phone had infected your fiancé’s as well and Michael had been the unwilling witness to his sexual escapades with that whore. He had been so disgusted by the way the asshole talked about you, that he would have disconnected from the phone, if he wasn’t digging for dirt on him.

Michael knows he’s invisible, he’s always been: no friends, no girlfriend, only him and his brilliant mind; when he was younger he had suffered because no one acknowledged him, now he understands he has a superpower that helps him navigate corporate life, absorbing all the relevant information, without anyone realizing what he’s doing.

You greet him whenever you stumble upon him in the corridors, still grateful he solved a computer issue you had the day of a big presentation, the reason why he’s met you in the first place and every gentle smile you direct his way, adds fuel to the fire of his obsession. He’s racked his own brains for days, after that first fateful encounter, wondering how he could start a conversation with you, cloning your phone had been the only way he thought he could find something you two had in common. It saved him a gaffe, when he saw all the photos with your fiancé, and gave him so much insight inside your brain, to understand you were the woman for him; of course you are far more creative that he’ll ever be, your soul gentler than his, but you are smart and being so different will only add to you two’s relationship, once he’s gotten rid of your boyfriend.

Michael is working on the new firewall, hidden in his own basement office. He’s thankful that the other IT people are misanthropes as he is and don’t mind that he’s working with his headphones on, on the contrary, everyone is wearing headgear to focus better on their task, the difference being, he’s listening to you. Your day is slow, with the big project finished, you and your team can kick back a bit, have a chat while ironing the last wrinkles.

Michael has been listening while you were chatting with that stupid cow, Marissa, about the last movie you’ve watched at that theater that shows mostly old black and white flicks; Michael has managed to garner quite the knowledge about old time Hollywood and Cinecittà and has discovered a fondness for old Hammer movies himself, even though the movies he prefers the most star you while you’re pleasuring yourself (something you’re doing quite frequently, since the asshole doesn’t seem to be that interested in you anymore), the theater? Your webcam and your apartment.

His focuses his attention when you go to have a coffee with your ‘work wife’ Jenny; through your phone he hears that you two are going downstairs, to the cafeteria of the building: one day you and him will do the same, pick a place to call your own, just to have a break. You have only bought your phone with you, it’s easy for him to listen to the inane chat, even though the cafeteria is packed; he’s not truly focusing on the conversation, just to the sound of your lovely voice as you wait for your coffee (espresso, a splash of oat milk and half sugar) and your favorite pastry (pain au chocolat, vegan); it’s when the asshole’s name drops that he stops working and focus only on you.

“You know we’ve been trying truly hard, at least we used to.” You say with a defeated tone he doesn’t like. “Then we stopped for his big project, I understand that he couldn’t follow that and my hormonal cycle.”

Michael grits his teeth; he’s been looking out for you for the better part of the year, before? He wasn’t your guardian angel and it had been difficult for him to put together the pieces, since you don’t use that many apps to store your personal life and information.

“Wait.” Jenny stops you. “Wasn’t he the one who wanted to start trying again?” “Yes.” From your tone only Michael can imagine you pinching the bridge of your nose. “He’s been repeating me to check my ovulation, write everything down or use those pregnancy like sticks, and what does he do the weekend I am at my peak? Leaves for work!”

Michael has to clench his fists when he understands what you and Jenny are talking about: children. You and the asshole having a baby!

Michael has to leave his small office and storms to the bathroom where he can pace around like a caged beast: that son of a bitch wants to knock you up, while he’s having an affair with the whore next door?

Calm, he tells himself, you need to stay calm and focused.

“What kind of trip is that?” He hears Jenny ask. “Work. His firm is trying to promote a new kind of prosthesis during this orthopedics conference; he has to be there.” “Why can’t you go with him? Take the weekend off? You wouldn’t be the only partner to go, I think”. “There have been some issues.” Your voice lowers conspiratorially. “Some of his colleagues had gone with their mistresses, on firm expenses and now all family members are banned from going.” “Hmm.” Jenny doesn’t seem too convinced. “Are you sure he wants to truly try?

Michael hears you sigh and wished he was there, not in this stupid bathroom!

“We are more distant. I keep telling myself that we had to both work on big projects at the same time, that we were forced to focus on work more than we would have liked and that, after the storm, things would go back to normal.”

Michael hears you sniff and the soft sound of Jenny’s hand on yours.

“What’s your gut feeling, love?” She asks, with a quiet voice. “That is not a storm and that he’s asked to try for a baby again because he doesn’t know how to handle all of this.” “Perhaps him going away for the weekend isn’t such a bad thing.”

Michael likes Jenny, she’s smart, calls IT only when she has a real issue and treats all of them like they are people, not the weird nerds hiding in the basement; he reckons Jenny is a bit of a nerd as well, based on the Star Trek knickknacks on her desk. Yes, when you and him are together, she’s one of the friends he’ll advise you to stick with: you’ll have to drop many of them, too stupid for you, and for him, but not Jenny, she can stay.

Michael hides in one of the stalls and opens the secret app on his phone where he keeps all your photos and videos. Some are racy, you pleasuring yourself using your favorite dildo and clit sucker, your sobs of pleasure going straight to his cock every time, but that’s not what he is looking for as his thumb swipes through all the pics he has, until he’s found the one he loves the most: you on the sofa, dressed in an oversized jumper, as you read your book. You look homely, the picture of what he wants your lives to be: quiet and filled with each other’s presence, you two don’t need anyone else, Or perhaps...

His mind goes back to the conversation he’s just heard. Michael doesn’t truly care for children but for you? He’ll give you a soccer team of babies if only you asked, fuck you full of his cum until he’s sure he’s bred you, only to fuck you some more once you’re full. His finger slides through the photos until he finds one of you in your bathing suit, just to imagine your tummy full of his child and your breast swollen with milk, begging to be sucked: yeah, the idea of knocking you up becomes more and more appealing as the minutes pass. He just needs to make sure the asshole doesn’t manage before he does.

Michael goes back to his cubicle with a lighter heart, now that he knows what the stakes are; he even whistles his favorite song as he orders a bouquet of the flowers you love (white callas and light pink lilies), to have them sent to your workstation: this has been his only outward way to express his feelings for you and today you need something nice to look at, after your heartfelt conversation with Jenny. As he focuses again on the firewall, Michael mentally pats himself on the back for having cloned the asshole's phone by mistake: you will have to know what is going on, it will hurt you, but he’s going to be there for you, unlike your fiancé.

Later that night, Michael is storing all he has on the asshole on the USB pen he’s bought on the way back to his small apartment; as one of the computers is working on the background, out of curiosity he checks if what the asshole has told you about the ban on partners going to conventions is true or not: if he’s lying, he’s going to add to the mountain of proofs he has, if not, well, it means that even him plays fair sometimes.

He stares at the desktop, before clicking on his browser icon: obviously is a picture of you, a selfie you’ve taken on holiday; you look so relaxed and happy, the shadows the straw hat you’re wearing paint on the skin of your cleavage are so elegant: he’s never met a woman who can be classy even when wearing a skimpy bikini. You are truly a Goddess among your kind, the best and the smartest, created just for him. He hopes you’ll let him snap racy pictures of you, once you two are together; nothing obscene or pornographic, just to celebrate your beauty and grace. Michael thinks he will be able to convince you, otherwise something in your water to make sure you’re pliant will make do.

You don’t want to be at this stupid office party. Yes, your last project was a success, all your colleagues want to celebrate, but you are in no mood, thanks to your cheating, asshole of a boyfriend.

You don’t know who sent you the USB pen, you’re not sure you’ll ever thank them for opening your eyes, but the truth is in front of you and you have no way to stop knowing what has been happening behind your back; given the chance, would you rather not have received the envelope and the USB? Nursing your umpteenth cocktail you’re not sure of the answer.

The envelope was white and lacked a return address, which was unusual but not overly so: the local Catholic Church leaves leaflets when Christmas and Easter are near, to promote the activities during these periods of time, never envelopes but you thought they were changing their strategies and opened it once you were home, alone as usual. The USB had surprised you, the printout of the reservation made of your fiancé and the girl next door, for the conference, propelled you to the bathroom, where you threw up your lunch and afternoon snack.

There was another message, smaller, that invited you to check the USB pen in your hand, if you wanted to know the truth; you stayed rooted on the spot for the longest time, torn between wanting to ignore everything, or let the bomb explode. Time passed, punctuated by the old clock in the kitchen, until you made up your mind, and choose the latter, you’re a daughter of Pandora after all, and plugged the USB in your computer: a barrage of text, photos and audio messages attacked you, you managed to go through a small percentage of them, before you had to run to the bathroom to throw up again, your stomach churning bile until you had nothing left to give. After this onslaught you cried with your knees tight against your chest, until you felt so tired you’d sleep on the cold bathroom floor, but you forced yourself to go back to the living room and went through all the proofs of your fiancé’s infidelity with the whore next door.

You didin’t know your personal guardian angel was listening to everything and looking using the smart TV you’ve bought last year. Michael’s heart hurt with your pain, he wished he was there to comfort you; if only you had waited for him, instead of being with the asshole, he wouldn’t have to make you go through all of this. It was your fault for not having faith that your true love was waiting for you: you’ll go through this cathartic experience and then be free to start your new life, the one Michael will tailor for you, and for himself.

With gritted teeth he watched the fight you have with the asshole, all the excuses he spewed, and then the insults against you, before he left slamming the door. He saw you angrily drink and cry until you passed out on the couch and he stayed up all night, watching you through the TV to make sure you were still breathing. It hurt him that you were hurt, but it was the price to pay for a better future.

You have been on autopilot for the rest of the week: went to work, where you used a mere fraction of your attention on the last details of the finished project, and then returned home to cry. You fiancé, better, former fiancé at this point, didn’t even try to patch things up with you, on Thursday, after you returned from work, all his stuff had disappeared and he hadn’t even left a note or sent you a message. You truly spiraled after that, called your best friend and wept on the phone for hours, until you head hurt; on a whim you had even thought about not going to work on Friday, but you couldn’t, not with the presentation of the bloody project and the celebration party afterwards. You decided to settle with finishing the alcohol at home and sent disparaging texts to your ex, who never answered them (little you knew that your own guardian angel had to do with that, and with the fact that he had disappeared with all his belongings; that was not something Michael thought you needed to worry your pretty head with).

You played your part on Friday, said your little spiel and shook hands on command, wore a fake smile for everyone to see, until you could hide in the conference room, nursing glasses after glasses of cheap alcohol, until you felt like enough time had passed to return home.

You’re sitting at the big desk, facing morosely the incredible view from such a high floor, with a glass and bottle you’ve taken from the open bar. You’re drunk, it's so easy to ignore the little voice in your head that’s telling you to stop, call a Uber and go home when your tummy is sloshing with alcohol. You’re so detached from your body that the door opening with a small creak doesn’t scare you.

“I thought nobody was here.”

You turn your head slowly and feel the strain of your eyes as they focus on the intruder. On first sight you don’t recognize him, then his name comes back to you Michael, one of the IT guys who solves all your technical issues. You’ve met him a couple of times, once when Marissa had some issued with her computer. You had felt bad for the guy, who had to come upstairs to simply turn the switch Marissa had swore was already on the right position. He had said something nasty about your colleague under his breath, ‘vapid cunt’, or something among those lines, as he was leaving. You didn’t approve of his language, but understood his frustration: he probably had to deal with stupid accidents like that all the time, his patience must have slipped; you had stopped him before he entered the lift and said you were sorry on your colleague’s behalf. You could have sworn his eyes had focused on you, behind his tick glasses, as if he was assessing you, judging you, but it was just a moment, then his blue eyes seemed to clear and you had repeated yourself that you have been consuming too much true crime, if such an innocuous man could cause weird thoughts in your head.

You had seen him around, he had saved your arse when your computer stopped working the day of a big presentation, tall and gangly, and always greeted him with a smile and a wave, which he would awkwardly respond to: he was one of the many people you knew, but weren’t truly friends with.

“Hi.” You try to sound sober. “Far from the madding crowd as well?”

Ok, you tell yourself, that’s not too bad.

Michael gently closes the door, you don’t see it but he locks it as well, before he walks towards you.

“Something like that.”

You stare at him, truly taking his appearance in for the first time. He’s awkward, standing the way he does a couple of chairs away from you, but not ugly: he should dress better and wear more stylish glasses, but he is handsome, in a nerd kind of way; his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue, and he is tall, not imposing but with large shoulders.

“Come.” You say, patting the chair next to you. “Don’t stand where you are. Fancy a drink?”

Almost knocking a chair over, Michael walks where you are and stiffly sits.

“I think I am full for the night.” He answers, when you offer him your own glass. “Are you sure? I’d loathe to drink by myself.” “Sure.” He answers. “Uhm, congratulation with the project.” He adds.

You pour yourself a generous amount of alcohol and drink it down in one go.

“That? Child’s play.” “Still, a great amount of money coming this way.” “Yeah.” You’re suddenly more morose than before. “All I am good for.”

You sway on the chair and distantly feel Michael’s hands, his very large hands, grab you by your shoulders before you can fall.

“I’m fine Mickey boy.” You slur with your face dangerously close to his. “I’m nothing but trash worth kicking anyway!”

You shrug him off and try to keep an upright position.

“Don’t say that about yourself!”

Something in his tone forces your drunken mind to focus on him.

“What do you know?” You bare your teeth at him and he has to keep you upright again. “I’m with this guy for years, years! I turn down the position in the USA office for him! Lose weight! Learn how to cook like his sodden mama and what does he do? He fucks the next door neighbor, that fat cow! I have to starve myself and be shamed when I can’t be a bloody size 8 and he fucks her! Sends her dick picks! Talks shit about me!”

The same way rage had possessed you, it disappears, leaving you a shaking handful of nerves; before you even realize it, you fall against Michael and start crying, fat, inconsolable sobs against his ugly sweater.

Michael holds you tight, reveling in the fact that you are in his arms, never mind the reason: you’ve opened up your heart to him, you’re seeking him for consolation! Not Jenny, not your best friend, but him! Because you know, in your heart of hearts, that Michael is the one for you!

He knows he’s awkward as he caresses your back and tries to murmur soothing words against your hair, but it doesn’t matter, not when all his hard work has come into fruition!

“I’m so sorry.” He hears from the general direction of his chest. “I don’t know what happened.” “That’s fine.” He answers, his arms still caging you. “Truly Michael, I don’t know what possessed me.”

When you finally manage to lift your head from his chest, you stare into his eyes, now dark pools your drunken brain can’t read.

Michael loses himself in your beautiful face and in the pain still marring your features: you need consolation and not the kind that words offer. He hadn’t planned all of this when he had followed you in the conference room, but you are in his arms, needy and sad and his cock is rock hard. You are causing all of this, he tells himself, because you need this and him. And he can’t say no to you.

His big hand sneaks into your hair to pull you closer to him; in your drunken state you don’t realize what’s happening, if not when his lips crash on yours, uncoordinated and dry. You try to push him away, to beg him to stop, but he uses your parted lips to slip his tongue in to deepen the kiss, his free hand grabs your hips and he pulls you on the table, slotting himself between your parted legs, his erection shocking you. When he starts kissing your neck, you try to push him away again, too drunk and weak to manage and he grabs your wrist in his big hand, to push you against the cold glass of the table; his free hand slips under your skirt and his fingers sneak under your panties.

“If you don’t want me, why are you so wet?”

He towers over you, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses and you can’t help but sob again: your drunken brain can’t find an adequate response, your body on fire after such a long time without another person’s touch.

Your body arches when his fingers slip inside your cunt, warm and wet, to fuck your hole hard and fast: he’s seen you masturbate so many times he knows how you like it, how you want his thumb on your clit, how to curl them to find your G spot and bully it, while you trash and cry, your muscles impossibly tight around him. He knows the sounds you’re making, those high pitched sobs that mean you’re close.

“Nooo…” You moan when his fingers leave your body.

Michael’s stare his cold and burns you at the same time, you have to hide your face because you can’t stand it deep into your soul; roughly he forces you to look at him.

“Look at me when I fuck you.” His palm cups your cunt cruelly. “You don’t get to come if you stop staring at me.”

Your drunken mind wants to come, wants an orgasm to take the pain away, it doesn’t matter who gives it to you, as long as your heart stops hurting. Then you will forget all about it.

A scared sound escapes your mouth when his big cock is revealed to you: you’ve never had anything so tick inside of you, you’re scared. Michael seems to revel in the fear he sees in your eyes, he can feel his erection grow with it, the knowledge that you’re finally at his mercy fueling his desire: you’re going to take all of him and be grateful that his seed will grow inside your belly, he’s going to give you all the time to adjust, but he’s coming inside of you and you with him.

Impatient he pulls your shirt and bra out of the way to free your beautiful breasts and he jacks himself faster at the sight of your tits. He bats your hands away when you try to cover yourself and curls one hand around a breast, until you cry out in pain.

“You’re all mine to see.” The vise on your breast is so tight he’s going to leave imprints. “Say it!”

You’re drunk and petrified, you don’t understand where this violence comes from, you just want to come and be done with all of this.

“I’m… I’m all yours to see.” You manage to say with tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “It wasn’t so hard.” Michael’s hand travels from your abused tit to your cheek to dry the tears already there. “I want to make you feel good, but you have to behave. Will you be my good girl?”

If you weren’t this drunk you’d fight him off you, scream bloody murder until someone comes to your rescue, but you’re drunk and desperately need all the human connection that you can scrape. You’d never sleep with Michael, not in a million years, but you’re not in your right mind and you just slump against the cool glass, incapable of stopping him.

Michael’s bulbous head nudges your wet entrance, slowly he slides in and groans at how wet you are; he hasn’t had many partners but no cunt has felt as perfect as yours, the ripple of your muscles as your body desperately tries to adjust to his size makes his blood boil, your pained moans and keens spur him on and his pushes become faster and faster, the more your cunt opens up for him. Desperate you try to relax, the pain of his intrusion mixes with pleasure, your drunken mind is confused, your body arches when he bottoms out and your eyes roll in their sockets: you’ve never been so full in your entire life.

Michael has to stop once he is sitting fully inside of you, your hole strangles his cock in ways no other cunt has ever managed, your nipples are erect with the pleasure he’s giving you and you’re making those small sounds that have him want to fuck you hard and fast, but he’s promised you pleasure, and he is no liar. Your tearful eyes are on him as he bends his back to envelope one nipple in his mouth to suck, gently, the other is getting pinched by his long fingers; slowly the pleasure mounts over the pain you’ve been feeling, your drunken body responds to his ministration and you moan, eyes on his as he switches between nipples with satisfied groans, your hips even lift to invite him to move, and he follows your movements, picking up speed when he feels your muscles give up to his ownership of your body.

You moan and keen when he picks up speed and he pulls your legs over his arms to fold you and fuck you faster, your wet cut squelches with every push, his cockhead bullies your G spot mercilessly and you try to squirm away, the pleasure too much and not enough. Michael bends against your body again and kisses you, tongue proprietary in your mouth he snuffs your scream when you come, your cunt so tight around his cock that he follows, copious in your hungry hole, and keeps fucking you, his erection still at full mast, fueled by your desperate sounds of overstimulation: he’s dreamed about this for too long to stop now.

You try to beg, to scream, but his hand around your throat cuts off your desperate prayers, your scratch his wrist and he simply fucks you harder, grinds against your poor clit tighter and your legs kick against his back, spurring him on: he knows you like it hard and even if you don’t? It’s what you’re getting now.

With a groan he pulls out and turns you face first on the table, fast he enters you again and grabs your tits to use your body as leverage to fuck your hole savagely, his hold the only reason your body is still up, your hands try to grab uselessly at the glass, his heavy balls slap against you and pleasure burns through you, painful it courses through your body and you squirm with it, tears falling from your eyes as his cock rapes your hole deeper and deeper, until he comes, panting your insides again, triggering your own orgasm.

You pant, the cold of the table nice against your over heated skin. Distantly you feel Michael’s lips on your nape, he’s leaving small kisses and nibbles on the soft skin, when you try to move you moan, your cunt curling around his still erect cock.

“Michael, please.” You beg, so sore already. “If you didn’t want me, why is your cunt strangling my cock?” He whispers cruelly in your ear.

Michael can’t believe his body can still be in need of yours, but he’s not going to say no, not when your cunt is massaging his erection so deliciously. Fast he removes his cock and plugs your cunt closed with his fingers, he can’t risk his seed to go to waste, not when he’s trying to knock you up; one handed he turns you on your back again and enters your hole with a groan: he’s found his home and he’s not going to leave it.

“Please Michael.” You sob. “I’m so sore!”

He cups your cheek and kisses you again. You submit to his ownership, afraid of triggering his rage; distantly a part of your brain is screaming that you don’t want this, that you should fight him, but you don’t have the strength to, not when you just want to forget your ex for a while ans are so scared of his rage: you will feel dirty afterwards and will drunk yourself in a stupor to forget, but that’s problems for future you, now you can't do anything else, you just want the pain to stop.

“I was too forceful, was I?” Michael caresses your body, already getting used to the feel of your skin under his. “I’ll go slow this time, love. Give me your last one and we’ll stop.”

For now, he thinks. He’s not done with marking all your holes as his.

“Don’t hurt me.” You sob, small and pathetic. “Never.”

His hips move slowly against yours, long and deep pushes that you feel everywhere in your body. His hands are at your breasts again, massaging them in tandem with his pushes inside of you; you squirm, your muscles sore with the abuse he’s subjected you to, your clit inflamed with the way he grinds against it, still sparks of pleasure explode in your muddled brain, your cunt clenches around him, pulling him in tighter and tighter, that he can’t help but grind against you, the image of the ring of his come and yours around his base and the squelch of your hungry hole spurring him on. He’s not going to last long and you’re coming with him again, sucking all your seed inside of you, until it takes. He’s going to fuck you through your pregnancy as well, his hips grind faster when he imagines the added pressure of your full belly and your tits, leaking milk he’s going to be all the happier to suck.

“No Michael please!” You beg when he starts fingering your clit. “Be my good girl.” He groans, punishing you with hard thrusts. “You’re going to come and drain my cock dry, or I’m not going to stop until you do.”

Your body arches at his words, the part of your mind that’s still coherent reels at the realization that he’s been fucking you bareback, your cunt clenches at the thought, tighter and tighter as he fucks your deeper and faster, until you come with a pained sob and he follows you, emptying his balls fully inside of you.

He stays rooted inside of you, willing his seed to take as your muscles massage his soft cock to the point of overstimulation; you’re a mess of tears and ruined make up under him, still too shook after so many orgasms, and he uses your fragility to enact the last part of his plan.

He grabs the glass and bottle still intact after your coupling and fishes for the small packet of drugs he’s bought on less than savory websites (the wonders of the deep web, if one knows where to look) and dissolves one capsule in the remaining alcohol. Gently he raises your head and forces you to drink everything: you need to be pliant for this part, he can’t risk you acting silly if you two meet some coworkers on the way out.

Once you’ve drunk everything, he stays inside of you, just enjoying your body as the drug takes effect, only then he’s going to dress you and help you back to your apartment, where he’s going to fuck you for the whole weekend. Hopefully his purchase will not be needed, but if you misbehave he’ll have to give some more of it, he needs you to be pliant, ready to follow his breeding project. As you stare at him with glassy eyes, Michael decides he’s going to drug you anyway and once the effects drain off your system, hopefully you’ll buy his story, that you two went on a weekend binge of alcohol and sex. If things will go as he’s planned, come Sunday you’ll be embarrassed and he will buy you breakfast and ask you out on a proper date, if you start complaining, then he has to use plan B, the one he had devised when he had found out you had a fiancé. You don’t know it, but if you are going to be a silly goose, he’s going to hide you away in the small farm out in the country he’s bought under a false name (he is a man who needs little to survive and has managed to put away a big sum easily), until he can break you and remake you into his perfect little wife. He will have to lock you in the basement for a time and use the fake posts he’s prepared in advance to justify you disappearing from your life, but he’s positive that’s not going to be needed: you are his other half, after all.