#but he even though he didn’t know she wasn’t fully herself he knew she was suffering or at least GOING to cause of the family ‘curse’

[shedoessoshedoes]

Never Let Me Go, Chapter Two

here it is, @inkedinshadows!!! hope you like where we're going <3

in case you missed, it read part one here or on ao3

wc: ~2400

cw: angst, mentions of canon-typical violence

read this chapter on ao3

As soon as Elain got the words out, the room erupted into chaos. Rhys, she could tell, was watching her vision through Feyre’s eyes, and Cassian was halfway out of the swinging kitchen door to arm himself with some of the various weapons the family kept around the townhouse before she could blink. Nesta tilted Elain’s face up to look at her. “What do you mean, he’s gone?” she asked, that silver fire that Elain knew so well creeping up into her eyes. 

Elain’s breath shuttered out, and she wiped at her face while she sat fully up to face her sister. “He was flying back–it seemed like he was almost close enough to use his shadows to come back home–and someone came crashing into him. He tried to pull him out of the sky, and when that didn’t work immediately, it looked like–like–” she broke off, chest heaving back into sobs. 

“It looked like the Illyrian attempted stabbing Azriel to bring him back down to the ground,” Feyre finished quietly, meeting no one’s eyes. 

“Those mountains look like the ones he would have been over today.” Rhys said quietly. “With his ring on, as well, I think odds are high that the vision is from this trip. I also can’t–I can’t get into contact with him. I tried just now. I haven’t talked to him since last night. Elain, is the bond–” 

Elain felt for it frantically, but her panic had overridden any sense she had of whether the tug she could give it was stronger or weaker than it had been before. “I don’t–I can’t tell,” she said, voice coming out desperate. “He’s still there but if I’m too panicked to feel it and he’s not sending anything back..” 

Nesta finished the sentence for her. “He’s probably just as panicked as you are if you aren’t feeling anything different.” 

Silence fell over the kitchen, and then chaos broke out again. Cassian left the door swinging behind him to sit down at the table and started strategizing with Feyre before Elain could blink, and Rhys’s and Nesta’s faces slowly became fit over with twin cruel masks. Rhys prowled to the head of the table, waving his hand so that a map of the Night Court was spread out in front of the four of them. Elain watched it all happen in a daze, pressing herself back against the cabinets. How they were all able to organize their thoughts like that immediately after hearing the news, she had no idea. She felt as though her entire life was spinning away from her, entirely out of her control. 

“I’m just–I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and bolted from the room, not checking to see if any of the members of her family had even heard her. Elain raced up the richly carpeted stairs and crashed through the door of her and Azriel’s room, gasping as she went to her knees on the floor. She tried to focus her eyes on her wedding band as the room spun, and she fought to catch her breath. 

Was it truly from today? Where was he? Was he safe? Could she feel him as she usually could through through the bond?Did he know that they knew he had been taken? Could his shadows get him out? How would they find him? Did he know that she was ready to tear the world apart to bring him back, ready to bargain away her own life to save his? Gods, he must be in so much pain. What if they couldn’t find him? What if he wasn’t able to heal quickly enough? What if–she cut herself off. 

“You cannot think like that, Elain,” she told herself. “You cannot even begin to think like that. He will be back safe and well before you know it.” She pushed herself up to sitting, back against their bed, staring at the paintings they had up on the wall. Absent-mindedly, she reached up to her nightstand, for the packet of seeds she kept there. They had been a gift from Azriel years ago, and she’d never been able to bring herself to use them. It had been a wonder when the two of them realized they both kept each other’s gifts on their bedside tables and stared at them when they couldn’t sleep. Azriel’s headache powder remained near his pillow even now, for the rare days when Elain was gone or out late with her sisters and he was left to fall asleep alone. Elain rubbed the seam of the packet back and forth between her fingers, trying to decide what to do next. 

It was non-negotiable that she was going to get him back. Elain wasn’t nearly as skilled as Nesta and Feyre in combat, but she would be damned before she let someone else save her husband. Strong, mighty, shadowsinging fae he might be, but he was still hers, and that meant that it was her responsibility to make sure that he was safe. Always. After all, she had been the one to See his attack. She would need to go with her family to make sure they were in the right place, to identify the attacker, to do all of it. If she couldn’t fight, maybe she could be the one to grab Azriel and winnow him out. Her shadow-walking abilities were limited, as far as she and Azriel could tell, to moments of intense need, and this felt like one of the most intense moments they’d had together, even considering their dramatic history. She could do it. She knew that she could. If not through his shadows, she would do it through pure will, would winnow them straight back to Velaris and never let him leave her sight again. Maybe this had been why Azriel was so reluctant to leave–maybe he had a feeling that something was going to go horribly, awfully wrong. Why had she ever let him leave?

Elain steeled herself, then, for what she was going to do. Decision made, she hauled herself up off of the floor and wiped at her face. She turned to check her reflection in the mirror, and what she saw made her lips twitch up in sick amusement. She didn’t look anything like a grieving widow, terrified for her husband and unable to do anything about it. No, she looked like a female wronged, all dried tear tracks and mussed hair, eyes glinting dangerously. She opened the door and made her way back downstairs. 

“I’m getting him back,” she announced, as she arrived back in the kitchen doorway, not waiting for a break in her siblings’ conversation. 

Rhys’s head snapped up. “Then you will die.”

Elain only responded, “I’m getting him back.” The rest of her family looked at her, pondering. She sighed. “I don’t mean that I’m going there alone and fighting my way out. But you will not leave me here alone while you go to rescue my husband from a situation that you only know about because of me. You can bring me in, and I will get him, and we will winnow back. I don’t care what you need to do to whoever he’s with, but you will let me and Azriel handle the interrogation on our own–after Solstice.” She said all of this in a great rush, and when she finished she took a deep breath, smoothing her hands down her front, keeping herself calm. “Now, would you like to tell me your plan?” 

Cassian was the first to speak, standing up as he did so to offer Elain his chair, which she gratefully took. “Do you feel the way that you have the last time you used Azriel’s shadows to winnow, Elain?” 

She nodded. “We know that I can do it when one of us is in mortal danger. If this doesn’t fit that description, I don’t know what does.” 

“Then of course you can come, Elain. We’ll need someone to handle the extraction, and with you there, the rest of us can fight.” He blew out a breath. “You will, however, then be in charge of explaining to Az why you felt the need to put yourself into mortal danger, but as long as I don’t have to have that conversation, be my guest.” Elain nodded. 

“We believe Azriel was flying just over the Southern Mountains when he was taken,” Cassian continued. “There are three camps there that we’ve been trying to get under control, and Az was visiting the northernmost one today. Nesta and I will cover that camp, as well as the surrounding woods to these points. Feyre, you will be in charge of the eastern camp, and Rhys, the one furthest to the South. When we find him, either Nesta or I will tell Feyre and Rhys, who will tell you, Elain, where to go, or they’ll tell you themselves. You’ll be waiting here, in the center of the woods. We’ve tracked no Illyrian activity there for centuries, so I’m hoping that today is not the day they decide to move. If it is, you should be able to winnow out of there.” 

He looked up at the members of his family, and his eyes were those of the general, not a hint of the warmth that Elain had come to know present behind his gaze. “Are you all clear?” 

Nesta, Rhys, and Feyre responded with curt nods, and Elain followed suit. 

“Good. Get changed and be ready to go in five minutes. There are gear and weapons everywhere in this house.” 

That much was true. Even two years of domesticity and six months of newly wedded bliss hadn’t been enough to strip this home of its teeth. Elain had opened a drawer in the living room that she thought held books to find four sets of knives not three days ago. 

The chairs scraped back against the wood of the kitchen floor, and they split off in different directions, Nesta and Cassian whispering furtively as they moved swiftly to the attic, and Feyre and Rhys silent as they winnowed to what used to be their own room. Elain trudged back up the stairs to her room, and pressed her back up against the door as she shut it. She set her gaze upward and whispered a prayer. 

“If you don’t keep him safe,” she said, voice so low even her siblings’ fae ears wouldn’t be able to hear it, “I will come up there and tear you down myself.” 

With that, she set about pulling on her leathers and braiding her hair back, readying herself for battle. I will get him back, she repeated to herself, reminding herself of it over and over. I will get him back. 

She opened her door, Feyre waiting for her at the end of the hallway, and they made their way down the stairs together, faces sober. They turned to meet the group, just as a crash sounded in the family room. 

Elain jerked her head to the side as her husband’s scent–and the scent of his blood–filled the house. “Azriel,” she gasped, eyes unbelieving. She was next to him in an instant, and was met with a groan as he collapsed into her arms.

“Azriel,” she repeated, gasping, trying to hold him up, reaching for his face, his hands, anything she could reach, before she became hyper aware of the gash in his side. She tore the side of his shirt up to see the wound leaking poison and blood. She turned her head over her shoulder to see Nesta turning slightly green. 

“I have a set of medicine and supplies in the kitchen. Third cabinet in, on the bottom. Go, now,” she hissed, turning back to Azriel. Nesta ran out of the room, Cassian and Rhys already moving furniture out of the way so that Elain could get a clear workspace. 

“Table from–” 

“The dining room, got it,” Rhys replied, moving it with barely a flick of his fingers. “What can we do?” 

“Get him on it!” 

Azriel finally gathered his strength enough to speak, even as he leaned more heavily onto his wife. “‘Lain,” he groaned, and the single word sounded like it sapped everything he had in him, putting all of his weight onto Elain and then into Cassian and Rhys’s waiting arms. They hauled him up onto the table, his head flopping back over the side, wings dragging down to the floor.. 

Feyre and Nesta returned then, Nesta heaving Elain’s enormous crate of herbs onto the table near Azriel’s feet and Feyre clutching the medical supplies in her hands. 

“Rhys,” Elain gestured to Azriel’s shirt. “Hold him up. We have to get his shirt off.” 

He complied quickly, and then Elain was left staring at her husband’s poisoned wound. “Feyre, can you–” 

Her sister was already moving, producing a small knife from her belt to cut her hand to feed Azriel her blood. “Yes, of course. Can you tell what poison it is?” 

“I’m working on it. It’s not faebane because he definitely Walked back, so his shadows are still active…” Elain cursed as Azriel started to shake, and missed the shocked glance her sisters exchanged behind her back. “Hold him down. It’s hemlock.” 

“Can you fix that?” Cassian asked, bracing his arms across Azriel’s chest. 

“Of course I can fix that,” Elain muttered, already mixing together her antidote in the mortar and pestle Nesta handed her. “Feyre, water, please.” Feyre complied, forming a large droplet and placing it into the bowl, and then Elain was tipping the mixture into Azriel’s mouth, forcing his jaw closed, relaxing slightly when he swallowed. His breathing steadied, and the convulsions stopped. 

Elain stood up to her full height and pushed her hair back off of her face, turning to face her family. “Alright. That’s all we can do for now. He will be fine. You’ve all been incredibly helpful, and I love you all very much, but I would be very grateful if you would leave.” She turned back around to face Azriel, watching his face while he slept, tracing a finger down his temple. She could hear her family gather their things and leave, and when Nesta shouted a final goodbye, Elain took a steadying breath, and leaned down to kiss Azriel’s forehead. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his skin. “It’s time to get better now.”

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Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

[stari-hun]

Single-handedly upping the Theopil tag on here cause he’s just as interesting as Isolde in a few ways but he lives as a memory in the main story so we’ll never really hear about him.

[faebled-stories]

Home is Where I'm Enough

Poll winner: Praise Kink (Kinkvember Debut Fic)

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader

6.5k words

The apartment was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of keys and the soft hum of Y/N’s computer. He sat hunched over his desk, the screen’s gentle glow casting an ethereal light across his face as he polished the final touches of his latest graphic design project. He’d been in the zone for hours, the kind of intense flow only a passionate creator knows, dreading any interruption. But as the night grew late, fatigue crept in like an unwelcome guest, blurring the vibrant colors and shapes on his screen and drawing him into a hazy exhaustion.

Just as he stretched back in his chair, letting his arms rise above his head to shake off the dull ache in his shoulders, the front door creaked open. Though faint, the sound pulled his attention immediately, stirring a gentle flutter in his chest. He knew who it was: Wonyoung.

She stepped inside, her silhouette soft against the dim hallway light. Her usual radiance had dimmed, replaced by a look of deep exhaustion. Strands of hair framed her face, loosely tousled, hinting at the long hours she’d endured. Dressed in her favorite oversized sweater, slipping off one shoulder, and paired with comfy shorts, her cozy ensemble contrasted starkly with the glitz of her public persona. Tonight, she looked as if the weight of the world had finally settled on her delicate frame.

Her gaze drifted across the room, her steps heavy as she gravitated toward him, perhaps unconsciously drawn by the promise of comfort. When their eyes met, she offered a small, tired smile—a gesture that seemed automatic, though the usual warmth was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted in a warm, low voice, breaking the quiet of the apartment with gentle concern. “Long day?”

Wonyoung let out a soft, tired breath, her smile persisting but not quite reaching her eyes. “Yeah… you wouldn’t believe how exhausting today was. Promotions, photoshoots, fan meetings… I don’t even know how I’m still standing.” Her words, though calm, carried an unmistakable weight, each syllable laced with unspoken exhaustion.

He rose from his desk, the scrape of the chair against the floor seeming louder in the stillness, closing the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, his embrace both protective and tender, inviting her to let go of whatever she’d been carrying. She melted against him, her body softening as she leaned fully into his warmth, the tension in her shoulders easing as if hoping to dissolve into him.

“You’ve been working so hard, princess. You deserve to rest,” he murmured, gliding a hand over her back in soothing circles, tracing gentle patterns over the soft fabric of her sweater. Each stroke was meant to ease her, to remind her that she didn’t need to be strong right now.

Wonyoung sighed, resting her head against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat become an anchor, grounding her. “I don’t even know if I can relax,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, carrying an edge of vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. “Everyone always asks me for things, but no one ever asks me what I need. I feel like I’m always giving, and no one’s there to just… take care of me.”

Her words tugged at his heart, and he tightened his embrace, listening fully, letting her be exactly who she was. Tonight, she wasn’t Wonyoung the idol; she was just his girlfriend, stripped of the weight of expectations.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, he murmured, “Tonight, I’m here to take care of you. You don’t need to worry about anything. How about we keep it quiet? I could make some dinner—whatever you’d like?”

She smiled softly but shook her head. “No, thank you… I’m not really hungry. Just too tired to eat, I think.”

He nodded, adjusting his suggestion. “Maybe a massage? Help you relax and ease those tired muscles?”

Wonyoung considered it, then sighed, her gaze drifting. “That sounds nice, but I don’t think I can even sit still long enough. I’d probably fall asleep halfway through.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over her shoulder in a light caress. “Fair enough. How about a movie, then? We could just put something on, snuggle up on the couch, and you can zone out as much as you need?”

A flicker of warmth crossed her face at the thought, but she shook her head again. “That sounds nice too, but I don’t think I’d even be able to focus. My mind’s just… elsewhere.”

He paused, sensing that none of his suggestions had quite hit the mark. Sliding a gentle hand to her cheek, he met her gaze, his voice tender. “Then tell me, Wonyoung. Whatever you need, just say it. I’m here.”

The world around them seemed to hold its breath, caught in the tender pause that enveloped the pair. Wonyoung, usually so composed and commanding, now appeared as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, her usual confidence momentarily abandoned. It was in this rare instance of uncertainty that she found the courage to voice her deepest desire.

"Oppa ," she began, her voice a whisper of its usual strength, carrying a hesitance that was seldom heard. "Can we just… be together? Just us."

His response was immediate and heartfelt. A gentle smile graced his lips, his heart warmed by the sincerity of her request. "Of course, Wony. We can just spend time together, no pressure, no work, just us."

The vulnerability in her eyes was palpable, yet it was accompanied by a spark of mischief that hinted at an unexpressed longing. As she stepped closer, her fingers traced an unsteady path along his arm, her touch betraying her nervousness. Oblivious to the full extent of her yearning, he leaned in to bestow a tender kiss upon her forehead, his words a soothing balm to her unspoken needs.

"Just us, no distractions, okay?" he affirmed, his voice a comforting promise.

Wonyoung's fingers anxiously toyed with the hem of his shirt, her courage wavering for but a moment before she mustered the resolve to voice the true nature of her request. With a shy smile that barely contained her anticipation, she looked up at him, her words laced with a boldness that belied her gentle demeanor.

"Oppaa... I-I meant... can we... have... sexy time?"

The surprise that registered on his face was genuine, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in the conversation. He had been prepared to offer her a sanctuary of relaxation and companionship, but this... this was an invitation to a different kind of connection, one that was both intimate and thrilling.

As the initial shock subsided, his gaze softened, and he saw her in an entirely new light. The playful glint in her eyes, the delicate blush that graced her cheeks—it all painted a picture of Wonyoung that was both endearing and alluring. She stood before him, her hands fidgeting with a mixture of nervousness and desire, her lips parted in quiet anticipation of his response.

Understanding dawned on him, and with it came a smile that reflected his deep affection for her. "Ah, Wony," he said with a gentle chuckle, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of her hair. "You want us to... I see, of course baby"

Her affirmation was shy but resolute, her voice barely above a whisper as she laid bare her innermost wishes. "I... I've been really stressed, and I just... I just want you. Just us."

A deep warmth rose within him as he gazed at the woman in his arms, a warmth that radiated through every fiber of his being. She was here with him, stripped of the expectations and perfection the world demanded of her, showing him the truest parts of herself. Her request, so simple yet so vulnerable, spoke volumes about the bond they shared, and he felt his heart swell with love and admiration. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled her closer, his hands finding their place around her waist, fingers pressing into her softly but with purpose. He tilted his head to capture her lips in a kiss that promised everything she might need, murmuring against her mouth, "Whatever you want, just tell me."

With that, the world around them dissolved into a soft blur, distant and forgotten, as Wonyoung melted into his arms. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the light spilling over their entwined bodies and casting shadows that highlighted her delicate curves. He traced his fingers slowly along her back, feeling the subtle tremors beneath her skin, the way her body softened by degrees, her tension easing under his touch. Each stroke coaxed a little more trust from her, even as she wrestled with the restraint that held her in check, a habit formed over years of needing to be perfectly in control.

As his hands began to unfasten the layers of her clothing with gentle care, he could feel her vulnerability like an unspoken word between them. To the world, she was grace personified, a vision of poise and elegance, an idol untouchable in her perfection. Yet, here and now, she was a woman grappling with the desire to shed the weight of that polished image, to surrender the mantle of perfection she wore so effortlessly in the public eye. His fingers moved with the gentleness of someone who understood her inner struggle, his touch a balm, offering her the quiet assurance she needed to let down her guard.

He sensed the battle playing out within her, an invisible tug-of-war between the person she had to be and the one she longed to become in this private space. His lips brushed over her neck, his voice low and soothing. "Wony, it’s okay if you don’t see it yet," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, "but you’re perfect in all the ways that matter. You bring so much beauty and strength into my life."

A shuddered breath escaped her lips as his words settled over her, each one unraveling a bit more of her control. Her hands tightened in the bedsheets, twisting the fabric as she balanced on the razor-thin line between control and surrender. His hands traced over her sides, strong and steady, each movement slow and deliberate, designed to comfort and ignite. "Let go for me, baby, it's okay," he coaxed, his voice a deep, resonant sound that seemed to settle right at the core of her, calling to her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

The endearment lingered in the air, a plea and a promise wrapped into one, coaxing her closer to that edge. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought the rising urge to surrender completely, to release everything she held back. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out as a fragile whisper, the vulnerability in her voice breaking through. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can," she admitted, her voice quivering, her brows furrowed in a fleeting expression of frustration and fear, the tension of her resistance etched across her face.

His response was instant and tender. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, a gesture of unwavering support that steadied her. "You can, Wony," he assured her, his gaze holding hers, brimming with sincerity. "I see how much you keep it together out there, and that makes me appreciate even more the way you open up with me. It’s such a privilege to be the one who gets to see this side of you." His words were a gentle nudge, affirming his commitment not just to her pleasure but to her peace, his hands holding her as if promising to anchor her.

Trust shone in her eyes as she took a deep, steadying breath, his words filling her with a sense of security that was as powerful as it was freeing. Slowly, she let herself relax, allowing him to guide her, his hands continuing their slow, purposeful journey across her skin, each caress a reminder of his deep affection. The pleasure within her built steadily, a growing ache, a tantalizing invitation that beckoned her toward release. Yet, even as she teetered on that edge, the remnants of her control clung to her, a practiced restraint born of habit, a habit he was patiently helping her unravel, piece by piece.

His fingertips traced her skin with a deliberate gentleness, painting a path that left her body flushed, every inch hypersensitive to his touch. The way he moved over her was worshipful, reverent, each stroke of his hand along her curves as if he were discovering her for the first time. She twitched beneath him, her back arching to meet his touch, her breaths shallow and filled with anticipation. Every caress was a testament to how he saw her—not just an idol, but a masterpiece, a person to be cherished in all her vulnerability and strength.

His mouth moved down to lavish her jawline with tender, lingering kisses. He traveled along the column of her throat, the warmth of his breath igniting her senses and sending cascades of goosebumps across her skin. With her head tilted back, she exposed her neck, an unspoken surrender in the tilt of her head, a silent invitation for him to continue. The softness of his mouth, the slow, careful rhythm, filled her with a thrill of arousal she could barely contain, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him, wanting more yet barely able to voice it.

Their lips met then, a slow, searching kiss that unfolded with a blend of tenderness and raw emotion. His mouth moved against hers with a gentle ardor, savoring each moment, each connection, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she drew him closer, letting herself melt into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of them suspended in a quiet dance, a sacred exchange of love and vulnerability that allowed her to shed every mask she wore. Here, wrapped in his affection, she found the courage to set down the armor she held so tightly, to accept the freedom he offered.

His mouth trailed lower, each kiss slower, more deliberate, as he left a line of warmth down her body, his fingers pressing gently into her hips to steady her. The closer he came to her core, the more intense her anticipation grew, her breath catching as he settled between her thighs. She felt the tension building inside her, excitement and vulnerability intertwining in equal measure. But as his lips neared her center, a flicker of hesitation stirred within her, a whisper of insecurity breaking through the haze of arousal.

She tensed slightly, her mind rushing to the imperfections she imagined, the things she couldn’t control. In front of him, she felt bare, unfiltered, not the polished, pristine version she presented to the world. Right now, she wasn’t perfect, wasn’t flawless, wasn’t prepared. The thought made her hesitate, and she tried to subtly shift away, her hand moving instinctively to shield herself. “It's not…I’m not—” she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush.

But he paused, sensing the change in her, his gaze lifting to meet hers with a gentleness that held her in place. He brushed a comforting hand over her thigh, the touch steady and reassuring, his voice low and soft. "Hey… don’t worry. Right here, you’re exactly as you should be. You don’t need to be anything but yourself with me." He placed a tender kiss on her inner thigh, his words imbued with an acceptance that quieted her worries, the unconditional affection in his gaze anchoring her.

With a breath, she nodded, the tension easing as she allowed herself to relax, feeling the weight of her expectations melt in his presence. His hands settled on her thighs, grounding her, as he placed a soft, reverent kiss at her center, his lips warm and gentle, easing her slowly back into the moment. As his tongue began to trace delicate, slow circles, she felt herself letting go, her hesitations fading beneath the steady rhythm of his movements.

He continued with a tenderness that felt like a vow, his mouth exploring her as though reminding her that she was already perfect to him. Each touch, each gentle press of his mouth, was a wordless reassurance, a reminder that she could be vulnerable here, could let herself be imperfect without fear. His fingers stroked over her skin, guiding her back to herself, and the pleasure started to overtake the remnants of her self-doubt.

Finally, her body began to respond instinctively, hips pressing forward as her breath grew shallower, soft sounds spilling from her lips as she surrendered to the sensation. His mouth continued its worshipful rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the edge until she could no longer think of anything but the waves of pleasure that built within her, each one stronger than the last. Her hand found its way into his hair, gripping softly as her control slipped, her voice a soft, pleading whisper in the quiet.

In this sacred space, Wonyoung found the courage to relinquish her hold on perfection, to embrace the imperfect beauty of being truly seen and wholeheartedly loved. His unwavering presence and the sanctuary of his affection were the keys that unlocked the gate to her unbridled self. Here, in the sanctity of their bond, Wonyoung was not just an idol, but a woman fully immersed in the depths of love and the freedom it brings.

He paused and replaced his mouth with his fingers. Her warm, moist folds pulsing around his digits, slowly he leaned towards her. The voice that caressed Wonyoung's ears was a balm to her soul, a soft, soothing timbre filled with quiet strength. "It's okay, Wony. You don't have to try to be perfect. I love you just as you are, you’re perfect to me." The words, imbued with unconditional acceptance, were a gentle command that resonated deep within her core.

Wonyoung, the idol worshiped by millions for her flawless poise and ethereal beauty, found herself gasping as the first wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her fingers, once graceful and composed, now gripped the sheets with an urgency that betrayed her facade. The pleasure was a sudden heat, a surge of sensation that ignited her senses and sent ripples of ecstasy coursing through her body. Each pulsating surge overwhelmed her with a delicious thrill, her body instinctively arching towards the source of her bliss, yet her moans remained soft and restrained—a delicate symphony of need barely rising above a whisper.

The world outside ceased to exist. The contrast between the poised idol she presented to the world and the vulnerable girl who yearned to unravel in his arms was stark and dissonant. The weight of expectation, a constant pressure to maintain the image of perfection, loomed over her. Yet, in the sanctity of their embrace, a different desire flickered to life—a longing for the freedom to embrace her innermost yearnings without fear or restraint.

The pleasure surged once more, its potency wrapping around her like a tantalizing embrace. Wonyoung's heart raced, her breath hitching in her throat as she inhaled sharply. The waves of sensation enveloped her, swallowing her whole while her thoughts swirled chaotically, tinged with a subtle desperation. Would he understand the storm of emotions raging within her? Would he cherish both the idol and the girl beneath the surface?

With every pulse of pleasure, she teetered on the edge of release, a dizzying dance between her public persona and her private self. The fear of disappointment clawed at her, but his gentle fingers spoke a language of love that was both soothing and comforting, coaxing her closer to the precipice of surrender. As she hovered on the brink, her body taut as a bowstring, his lips found her ear, and he whispered words of devotion.

"You're so beautiful, so perfect. Let go, my love. Cum for me." The sensual cadence of his words wrapped around her, an undeniable invitation, and she felt the last of her walls tremble, cracking under the weight of his praise. Her body responded instinctively, arching into his touch as he coaxed her closer to the edge. She could feel it building, a molten tension winding tighter with each pulse of pleasure that surged through her, threatening to unmoor her entirely.

Then, with a choked cry, her resolve shattered. The pleasure that swept through her was intense, potent enough to make her gasp, her core clenching rhythmically around his fingers as ecstasy surged, each wave cresting and crashing through her. She trembled, her breaths coming in rapid bursts as she teetered in that blissful space. But even as the release overtook her, rippling outward with undeniable force, there was still a sliver of herself she held back, a trace of resistance lingering at her core, keeping her from fully dissolving into pleasure. It was as if her body had surrendered, yet her heart still lingered, guarded, hovering just beyond the reach of complete vulnerability.

Wave after wave of sensation left her body limp and shivering, her skin flushed, her breaths ragged. And yet, even as she lay in his embrace, reveling in the aftershocks of her release, something deep within her remained untouched, still holding on, as though daring her to surrender wholly next time. She felt the intensity of her release—a vivid, powerful testament to how much she wanted to let go, yet how much further she could fall if only she allowed herself.

Tenderly, he gathered her in his arms as she shuddered through the aftershocks. "That’s it, baby. You’re amazing. So responsive, so trusting. I couldn’t be prouder of you." He rained kisses over her face, her neck, his words a soothing salve to her soul. She clung to him, dizzy and disoriented from the maelstrom of emotions, yet cherished beyond measure. In this moment, she wasn't a fantasy or a fetish, but a woman truly seen and adored for all that she was—a duality of strength and vulnerability, perfectly entwined in the arms of love.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his hands continuing their gentle caress. "You're amazing, Wony." His words, soft as a summer breeze, carried the weight of his admiration and tenderness.

She sighed, her breath still shaky as she came down from the first climax, a testament to the passion they shared. Yet, there was a lingering frustration in her, a shadow of doubt that marred the perfection of the moment. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I don't know why I can't just fully… let go," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I feel like I'm still holding on…"

He shook his head gently, his fingers deftly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's okay baby," he said softly, his voice full of understanding. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. You've done so much already, I know you trust me, baby, please show it to me." His words, a soothing balm to her troubled heart, seemed to ease the tension from her body.

Her eyes softened at his words, her chest rising and falling with deep, labored breaths. She gave a small nod, her lips curving into a hesitant smile, though there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. He didn’t let go. His hands moved over Wonyoung again, softer this time, each touch deliberate and careful, as though every stroke carried a promise. "Do you have one more for me, princess?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. "Just trust me, Wony. I'm going to help you let go. You don't have to hold anything back."

Wonyoung's breath caught in her throat as she nodded. The tension in her body, so tightly wound, began to loosen under his careful touch. His hands roamed with purpose and pure, unhurried affection. The way he touched her wasn't just intimate; it was reverent, as if he was worshiping every part of her. His whispered praises filled the air between them like a balm, soothing the parts of her that had felt raw for so long. His lips trailed slowly down her neck, then lower, placing gentle, lingering kisses on her chest. He paused, his mouth grazing her nipple, his warmth sending a shiver through her as he focused on the stiff nub.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his lips returning to her neck. "The way you keep going, even when things get tough, it's amazing to watch."

With each word, Wonyoung felt her defenses begin to crumble, the walls she had built around herself slowly breaking apart, leaving her exposed. Her breath hitched as her body responded, but even as she surrendered, a small, aching hesitation remained, a part of her still clinging to control. She wanted to let go, to feel fully, to be vulnerable, yet something held her back—an invisible tether keeping her from completely surrendering.

"I don't know if I can, I don't know how to…" she whispered, her voice shaking, not from fear, but from the overwhelming vulnerability that swelled inside her. She had always been the strong one, the composed one—the one in control. But here, in his arms, she didn't have to be any of those things. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye.

His eyes, warm and filled with love, never left hers. "Honey, I know how hard you work to be strong every day, and I see how much you carry. But here, with me, you don’t have to keep it all together," he whispered, his voice so soft, "I love every side of you—your strength, yes, but also the parts that need tenderness and care. You’ve been strong for so long; it’s okay to let yourself rest and lean on me. I’m here to hold you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, completely, and I’ll always have your back. Let go, even if just for a moment. You’ve earned it, and I’ll be right here through it all."

Something deep within Wonyoung shifted, a missing piece falling into place in a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed. In that charged, breathless moment, her last defenses dissolved. The barriers she had clung to splintered into dust, leaving her bare and vulnerable, her emotions raw and beautiful. Her body softened under his touch, yielding, pressing close, every line of her molding to him as if they’d been designed to fit together. Her heart—her most precious, guarded part—opened entirely, like a flower surrendering to the kiss of the morning sun. Years of hidden hurt and buried longing spilled forth, leaving her exposed and breathless, every nerve alive with sensation.

Her breaths quickened, shallow and uneven, as he pulled her closer, his touch igniting something deep within her, something that had been waiting, yearning to be released. She let out a soft, needy sound, a whispered “Oh…” as his hand traced her spine, sending a delicious shiver down her back. The heat spread through her, coiling tightly, winding up like a spring. His hands roamed over her skin, each stroke a spark, each caress an invitation to let go. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and another soft moan escaped her, higher, pleading. “Mmm… please…” she breathed, the anticipation winding up within her until she could hardly bear it.

As the pleasure built, her voice trembled, rising with each sensation that took her closer to the edge. “Ah—” she gasped as he found that spot, her entire body arching into him. “Yes, I’m cumming” she whimpered, her moans spilling freely, no longer shy, each sound a testament to the rawness of her surrender, the depth of her need. When release finally claimed her, it crashed over her like a tidal wave, an all-consuming flood that left her gasping, body trembling as she clung to him. She let out a keening cry, her voice breaking into soft, shuddering moans, her fingers curling against him as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her, leaving her breathless and dazed.

The pleasure was pure, untainted by guilt or hesitation, a dizzying blend of bliss and vulnerability. She felt herself come undone, a thousand stars scattering behind her closed eyelids, each pulse of pleasure brighter than the last. She gasped, her voice a whisper as her senses dissolved, leaving her floating, utterly open and alive in his arms.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the moment, in him. His hands never stopped their slow, sensual caress, letting her enjoy every last bit of her release. His lips never stopped their sweet murmurs of praise as he held her, supported her, guided her through the waves of bliss that crashed over her again and again.

When she finally stilled, panting and spent in his arms, Wonyoung felt something she hadn't in years—free. Free to be herself, free to feel, free to love. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, a smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries of pleasure. "Thank you for helping me let go."

He just smiled, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You never have to thank me for that, baby," he murmured, his arms tightening around her. "I'm always here to help you, no matter what."

In the stillness of the night, two souls lay intertwined, wrapped in the embrace of intimacy and comfort. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the rhythmic cadence of their breaths, akin to a gentle melody that enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth. Wonyoung felt a profound sense of peace that had eluded her for far too long, nestled snugly against his chest.

He looked down at her, marveling at the sheer beauty of the moment as the golden rays of the setting sun streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow around them. The tender strokes of his fingers dancing along her back were like a soothing balm, a gentle reminder that she was cherished, easing the weight of her worries and insecurities that often clung to her like a second skin. Each caress felt deliberate, as if he were painting a masterpiece against her skin, and with every touch, she could feel the tension melt away, leaving her breathless and weightless.

Devoid of the pressure and expectations that characterized her public persona, Wonyoung felt free to be simply herself. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, and for once, the gleaming lights and flashing cameras were nothing more than faint memories. In his embrace, she was not the polished idol; she was simply a woman allowing herself to experience vulnerability.

The usual assertiveness of her personality melted into a soft bundle of intimacy. She took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a mix of her favorite cologne and something uniquely his that made her heart flutter. She turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat sync with her own. It was a melody of trust, of safety, allowing her to lower the walls she’d so carefully constructed over the years.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, she shared a rare smile, a smile that spoke of the unguarded joy that danced in the depths of her eyes. In that quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung finally understood that the pressures of the world, the expectations from fans and industry executives, had no claim over this moment. Here, with him, she was stripped of her titles and achievements. She was just Wony — beautifully flawed, wonderfully imperfect, and so deeply human. In the gentle confines of his arms, she felt liberated, ready to embrace every fragment of herself she had kept hidden away.

“I don't know what I did to be so lucky to have you in my life, Thank you so much,” she murmured softly, her words barely breaking the silence, yet carrying an ocean of emotion.

His heart swelled at her gratitude. “You don’t have to thank me, Wony,” he replied, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifted to tuck a blanket around them, ensuring that the warmth of their connection extended beyond just their bodies. Every gesture was measured, an unspoken promise to hold her carefully, to shield her from the chaos of the outside world. As he enveloped her further into the warmth, she exhaled a soft sigh, feeling the cares of the day slip away like grains of sand through her fingers.

The comforting weight of the blanket, combined with his unwavering presence, created an oasis of tranquility. Wonyoung nestled closer, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of him — a blend of warmth, safety, and love. It was a scent that anchored her, reminding her that here, with him, she could fully let go and simply be.

“Your happiness means everything to me,” he murmured softly, wrapping his arms around Wony. “I love taking care of you; it’s my greatest joy.”

In the quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung surrendered to the day's final embrace. The weight of hours spent apart now gave way to the serene pull of sleep, a tide of weariness that beckoned her to its peaceful shores. Yet, as the siren call of rest tempted her consciousness, a single, sacred ritual anchored her to the waking world—a phrase that had blossomed into their own secret lexicon, a testament to a bond that defied the physical realm. "Oppaaa… can I have… tucky?" she whispered, her voice a tender plea in the dimly lit room.

The words hung in the air, a delicate invocation, and his heart responded with a symphony of flutters. It was a request that transcended mere comfort; it was the embodiment of a profound craving for closeness, a need that only their unique connection could satisfy. "Of course, baby," he replied, his voice a soothing balm, wrapped in the warmth of a smile that illuminated the shadows.

With meticulous care, he began to undress, each movement a silent vow to honor the sanctity of her comfort. His actions were a dance of devotion, a series of quiet gestures that spoke volumes of his desire to bridge the gap between their bodies while preserving the delicate fabric of her ease.

As Wonyoung positioned herself atop him, her lithe form a perfect complement to his, their bodies began a silent conversation. Her thighs, soft and supple, cradled his hips, while her arms encircled his neck, drawing him into an embrace that promised refuge. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his awaiting form, her slickness guiding him into the heart of her warmth. A gasp, soft and surrendering, escaped her lips as he filled her, stretching her to the brink of pleasure.

In the close warmth of their embrace, Wonyoung's breasts, soft and tender, pressed against the firm contours of his chest. Each breath they shared caused her hardened nipples to graze his skin, a delicate friction that stoked the flames of their desire. Her core, a molten haven, clenched around his length, a rhythmic pulse that echoed the beating of their hearts."

Their dance was unhurried, a languid exploration of the connection that bound them. It was a communion of souls, a testament to the depth of their understanding. With each undulation of Wonyoung's hips, their bodies found solace.

Lost in the comfort of his arms, Wonyoung's sighs mingled with the quiet of the room, a harmony of contentment. Her cheek, nestled in the crook of his neck, inhaled the familiar scent that clung to his skin—a scent that whispered of safety and belonging. Thoughts dissolved into the ether, replaced by the exquisite sensations that coursed through her. Her fingertips, light as a feather's touch, traced the contours of his back, each stroke deepening their connection.

The pleasure that built within her was a slow simmer, a crescendo that threatened to consume them both. Yet, Wonyoung reveled in the anticipation, drawing out the sweet agony of their union. She clung to the moment, unwilling to relinquish the closeness that enveloped them, a closeness that made the world beyond their embrace seem a distant memory.

"You're so perfect," he murmured into her hair, his words a tender confession. "I love you so much. Just like this. Just us." His voice, laden with emotion, was a testament to the depth of his affection. In the stillness of their shared space, their love was a living entity, a force that rendered them invincible in their vulnerability.

Wonyoung smiled at his words, a small, contented grin that reached her eyes as she nuzzled closer. She gently traced slow, lazy patterns across his skin with her fingertips, feeling the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath her touch. Each caress brought a fresh wave of calm, a deeper sense of security, and a love that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. She had never felt so cherished, so at peace.

“I love you,” she murmured softly, her voice a delicate whisper filled with gratitude, knowing he understood her heart without needing to say more.

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he replied, his voice tender as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. There was something deeper in his touch—a promise, a vow of unconditional love and support that she could always count on.

As Wonyoung’s body relaxed fully into his, her breathing slowing, he focused on the simple, quiet joy of having her close. The rhythm of her heartbeat matched the serenity of the room, each gentle beat echoing the contentment swelling in his chest. He realized this wasn’t just an intimate moment; it was their sanctuary, a home they had built within each other where love grew and thrived.

“You make me feel safe,” she whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable, as if confessing a secret.

He smiled, holding her even closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. “To be the place where you feel at home.”

Wonyoung’s eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion washed over her. She hummed in content, her voice sleepy but full of warmth as she faded into the quiet, but the love in her tone was unmistakable.

Time seemed to stand still. The world outside—with its chaos and noise—faded into a distant memory, leaving only the peaceful calm that wrapped around Wonyoung and him. In this moment, together, they were safe. Together, they were whole.

[lizzobetumblin]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[natsaffection]

Please can we have something with top!reader please?

Reversed. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, Oral (n receiving) fingering (n receiving) begging, edging multiple orgasm.

Word count: 4,8k

A/n: Actually found this in my notes..

You found yourself in a circle with other agents and Avengers, the excitement in the air amplifying as the night progressed. The game of Truth or Dare was in full swing, and when it was your turn, all eyes fell on you. "Y/n.." Clint Barton grinned mischievously, "I dare you to seduce Natasha."

The group erupted into a chorus of whoops and cheers, their eyes darting between you and the redhead seated across the room. You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you accepted the challenge with a nod. It wasn’t the dare that was the challenge. It was Natasha herself. The Black Widow was an enigma, her emotions as guarded as her past, and yet you felt a thrill at the idea of unraveling that mystery, even if just for a night. You stood, smoothing the fabric of your dress, and made your way toward the bar where Natasha sat. Each step was calculated, purposeful, as you approached the formidable assassin. Natasha didn’t look up as you neared, but you knew she was already aware of your presence. It was in the way Natasha’s posture shifted ever so slightly, her body attuned to the movements around her.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, your voice low and smooth. Natasha’s eyes flicked up, meeting yours with an intensity that could stop a lesser person in their tracks. She studied you for a moment before nodding, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. "Be my guest." You slid onto the barstool beside Natasha, signaling the bartender for a drink. The silence between you was thick, not with discomfort, but with the weight of unspoken words and mutual intrigue.

"I hear you’ve got quite a reputation, Y/n." Natasha said, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, measured, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. "I could say the same about you." you replied, your tone equally measured, though with a hint of playfulness. "But I’m not interested in what everyone else says. I prefer to form my own opinions." Natasha chuckled softly, taking a sip of her drink. "And what opinion are you forming now?"

You leaned in slightly, your eyes never leaving Natasha’s. "That you’re even more intriguing up close." Natasha’s eyes flashed with amusement, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head, studying you with a new intensity. "And what is it you’re hoping to find, Agent Y/l/n?"

"Maybe I’m hoping to find out if the Black Widow is as untouchable as everyone says." you replied, your voice dropping to a near whisper, an edge of challenge lacing your words. Natasha set her glass down, turning in her seat to face you fully. The air between you crackled with electricity, a tension that was palpable and undeniable. "You might find that some things are better left untouched." You smiled, a slow, confident curve of your lips. "Maybe, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge."

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you, locked in a battle of wills and desire. Natasha’s gaze softened, just a fraction, as she considered your words. Then, she leaned in, her lips brushing lightly against your ear as she spoke. "Careful what you wish for." Natasha whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You just might get it."

With that, Natasha pulled back, her smirk widening as she took in the subtle flush on your cheeks. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure, matching Natasha’s smirk with one of your own. "That’s what I’m counting on." you replied.

When you and Natasha finally stood from the bar, walking together toward the private rooms that lined the edge of Stark Tower’s upper floors, a knowing grin spread across Tony’s face. He nudged Clint with an elbow. "Looks like you might be losing this one, Barton." Clint groaned but couldn't suppress his smirk. "Never thought I'd see the day someone could match Natasha like that." The team exchanged glances, some amused, others a little concerned. But they all knew that whatever was about to happen, it was going to be explosive.

You and Natasha slipped into one of the private rooms, the door closing softly behind you as the sound of the party faded into the distance. The room was luxurious, dimly lit with plush furniture and a large bed dominating the space. But it was the air between you both that was thickest of all, humming with anticipation. Natasha turned to face you, her eyes dark with intent. She took a slow step forward, her movements deliberate and predatory, like a panther stalking its prey. You felt your breath catch, but you weren’t about to back down. Not when the game was just getting interesting.

"I’m impressed." Natasha said, her voice low and sultry. She reached out, trailing a finger down your arm, sending shivers through your body. "But I think it’s time you realized who you’re dealing with." There was a challenge in her words, one that you weren’t about to ignore. Natasha was the Black Widow, used to being in control, to being the one who dictated how things went. But you had your own reputation, and you weren’t about to let Natasha take the lead so easily.

You took a step closer, closing the distance. You reached up, cupping Natasha’s face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the assassin’s bottom lip. "Oh, I know exactly who I’m dealing with." you whispered, "But maybe you should see that I’m not the type to be dominated so easily." Natasha’s eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. She wasn’t used to being challenged in this way, and you could see the gears turning in her mind. But before Natasha could make a move, you pressed forward, your bodies nearly touching, your hand slipping around to the back of Natasha’s neck, pulling her in close.

"I know you like control, Romanoff." you whispered against Natasha’s ear, "But tonight, you’re going to let go of that. I’m not here to play by your rules, Natasha."

For a moment, Natasha hesitated, her body stiffening as she processed your words. She was torn between her instinct to dominate and the strange, electrifying thrill of someone standing up to her in this way. You felt the tension in Natasha’s body and leaned in, your lips brushing against Natasha’s in a feather-light touch that was more of a tease than a kiss. The touch seemed to spark something in Natasha, something raw and primal. But instead of trying to regain control, she found herself curious, curious about what it would feel like to let someone else take the reins, if only for a moment. Her lips parted slightly, and you took that as your cue.

With a firm but gentle hand, you pushed Natasha back against the wall, pinning her there with your body. Natasha’s breath hitched, a flicker of surprise and something else..something akin to excitement passing through her eyes. "You might be the Black Widow.." you murmured, your lips grazing the sensitive skin of Natasha’s neck, "but right now, you’re mine."

Natasha let out a shaky breath, her hands instinctively moving to grasp your hips, pulling you closer. But you weren’t about to let Natasha dictate the pace. You moved your hands, pinning Natasha’s wrists against the wall, holding them there with a strength that belied your appearance. "You wanted to see what I’m capable of," you continued, your voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down Natasha’s spine. "so let me show you."

Natasha’s eyes darkened with a mix of emotions, lust, curiosity, and a grudging respect. You weren’t like anyone she’d ever encountered before, and that was enough to make her relinquish control, if only for a little while. With a slow, deliberate motion, you captured Natasha’s lips in a searing kiss, one that was more of a claim than anything else. Natasha responded with equal passion, but there was no mistaking that, in this moment, you were in charge. You deepened the kiss, your hands roaming over Natasha’s body, touching, teasing, and exploring with a confidence that left Natasha breathless.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick with the promise of what was to come. Your gaze was steady, your control unshakable, as you looked into Natasha’s eyes. "Tonight, I’m in control." you whispered, "And you’re going to love every second of it." Your gaze bore into Natasha, a smirk playing on your lips as you reveled in the fact that you had one of the most dangerous women in the world at your mercy. Without warning, your hands moved with surprising strength and precision, pushing Natasha back until she was forced to her knees on the plush carpeted floor.

Natasha's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and defiance crossing her face. "You-" she started, her voice carrying that edge of command she was so accustomed to wielding. But you weren’t having it. You silenced Natasha with a firm hand on her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear, your voice low and laced with authority. "I told you, Natasha. Tonight, you’re mine. You’re going to do exactly what I say."

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest. This was unfamiliar territory for her, being on her knees, looking up at someone with power over her. Her instincts screamed at her to regain control, to flip the situation and take charge, but there was something intoxicating about the way you commanded her, leaving no room for negotiation. Your hand slid into Natasha’s hair, tugging lightly, forcing the assassin to look up at you. The dominance in your eyes was unmistakable, a sharp contrast to the playfulness that had marked your earlier exchanges. "Now, Natasha," you murmured, your tone soft but firm, "I want you to eat me out."

She tensed, her muscles coiled, ready to flip the script and take back control. But you sensed the shift, and with a quick, forceful tug on Natasha’s hair, you brought the redhead’s attention back to you. "Don’t even think about it." you warned, your voice a growl that sent a shiver down Natasha’s spine. "You’re going to stay right there, on your knees, and do exactly what I tell you. You wanted to see if you could handle me, didn’t you?"

You watched the battle play out in Natasha’s eyes, a knowing smile curving your lips. "Good girl." you purred, your voice soothing, as if coaxing a wild animal to submit. You released your grip on Natasha’s hair, sliding your hands down to cup Natasha’s face. "Now, do as you’re told." Natasha hesitated for a fraction of a second, her pride flaring one last time. But there was something in your touch, in the way you exerted control with such confidence and precision, that made Natasha’s resolve falter. Slowly, she leaned forward, her hands gripping your thighs for support as she obeyed the command she had been given.

You let out a soft sigh of satisfaction as Natasha’s lips pressed against your inner thigh, moving closer to where you wanted her most. The feeling of Natasha at your mercy, doing exactly as you commanded, was intoxicating. Your hand found its way back into Natasha’s hair, guiding her with a gentle but firm touch. But just as Natasha was about to take things further, you suddenly tightened your grip, pulling Natasha back slightly, just enough to remind her who was in control. "Not so fast." you whispered, your voice teasing, as if savoring the moment. "You’ll go at my pace, Natasha."

A frustrated growl escaped Natasha’s lips, but she complied, her body betraying her desire as she leaned in again, slower this time, more deliberate. Your breath hitched as Natasha began, her touch both skilled and tentative, as if testing the limits of her submission. You arched your back slightly, your grip tightening in Natasha’s hair as the pleasure began to build. "That’s it," you murmured, your voice breathy, "just like that.."

Natasha’s pride still burned, but it was smothered by the heat of the moment, by the way you commanded her with such skill, reducing her to a vessel of pleasure. Natasha's instincts told her to take back control, but each time she thought about it, you would tighten your grip or whisper something that sent a thrill through her, reminding her exactly who was in charge. You reveled in the power you held, knowing that you had reduced the Black Widow to this..on her knees, fully compliant, her every move dictated by your will. And as the pleasure mounted, you knew there was no going back from this. You had won, and Natasha knew it too.

Your control never wavered, not even as you felt the crescendo building within you. Natasha’s skilled tongue and lips worked wonders, but it was your dominance, your control over the situation, that pushed you over the edge. As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your grip on Natasha’s hair tightened one last time, holding her in place, forcing her to continue until you were completely spent. Only then did you release her, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you looked down at her.

Natasha pulled back slightly, her lips swollen, her breathing just as heavy. She looked up at you with a mixture of satisfaction and submission, her pride wounded but not broken. There was a new understanding between you, a bond forged in the heat of your encounter. You smirked, brushing a thumb over Natasha’s lips, which were still glistening with your essence. "I told you," you said, your voice a soft purr, "I’m not like the others. You’re not the only one who knows how to take control."

You stepped back slightly, taking in the sight of Natasha, her usually composed and powerful demeanor now slightly frayed at the edges. But even now, there was a resistance in Natasha, a stubborn refusal to fully submit. You could see it in the way Natasha held herself, in the tight line of her jaw, and in the steely resolve in her eyes. But you were determined to break through that last barrier. You wanted to hear Natasha, to feel the powerful assassin surrender completely, not just physically, but emotionally. You wanted to push Natasha to the edge, to the point where she had no choice but to beg.

You reached down, taking Natasha’s chin in your hand, tilting her head up so your eyes met. "You’re strong, Natasha.." you murmured, your voice low and filled with a dark promise. "But even you have limits. I’m going to find them." Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes narrowing as she stared up at you. She wasn’t about to back down, not even now, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. You smiled, a slow, predatory grin, before you leaned down, capturing Natasha’s lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

As you pulled Natasha to her feet, your bodies pressed together, you felt the tension in Natasha’s muscles, the way she held herself taut, as if bracing for what was to come. You wasted no time, your hands moving with practiced ease as you led Natasha toward the large bed in the center of the room. Natasha followed, her movements reluctant but inevitable, like a moth drawn to a flame.

When you reached the bed, you spun Natasha around, pushing her down onto the soft mattress with a force that left no room for protest. Natasha landed on her back, her hair splayed out around her like a fiery halo, her breath coming in shallow gasps. You climbed on top of her, pinning Natasha’s wrists above her head with one hand, while the other trailed down her body, tracing the curve of her waist. "You can fight all you want," you whispered, your voice a dark, seductive murmur in Natasha’s ear, "but we both know how this ends. You’re going to beg for me, whether you want to or not."

Natasha’s eyes flashed with defiance, her lips parting as if to argue, but you silenced her with a searing kiss, one that left no room for resistance. Your hand slipped between Natasha’s thighs, your fingers finding the wetness there, and Natasha gasped, her body betraying her with its response. You smirked against Natasha’s lips, your fingers moving with deliberate slowness, teasing but never quite giving Natasha what she craved. You could feel the tension building in Natasha’s body, the way her hips subtly bucked, trying to get more, trying to take back some control.

But you weren’t going to let her. You wanted Natasha to break, to give in completely. "Comon, Natasha.." you murmured, your lips brushing against Natasha’s ear as you spoke. "Stop fighting it. You know you want this. You know you want me." Natasha groaned, her head tossing back against the pillows, but she still didn’t give you what you wanted.

"I..won't..!" You could feel the struggle within her..the battle between pride and desire, between control and submission. And you were determined to make sure desire won out. You increased the pressure, your fingers moving faster, more insistently, driving Natasha closer and closer to the edge. Natasha’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling beneath your relentless touch. You could feel how close she was, how much Natasha was holding back, and it only spurred you on.

"Don’t hold back." you commanded, your voice sharp and authoritative. "I want to hear you, Natasha. I want to hear you beg." Natasha’s eyes squeezed shut, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as if to keep herself silent. But you weren’t about to let that happen. You slowed your movements, your fingers stilling just enough to keep Natasha on the edge without letting her fall over it. "Say it." you whispered, your voice a tantalizing caress. "Beg me, Natasha."

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body quivering with the need to release, but still, she held on, her pride refusing to let her give in. You admired her strength, but you also knew it was only a matter of time. You leaned down, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Natasha’s neck, your teeth grazing lightly. "Beg me." you repeated, your voice a dark command. "Or I’ll stop."

The threat hung in the air, and you could feel Natasha’s resolve cracking, the thin veneer of control slipping away. Your fingers moved again, this time with a precision that had Natasha gasping, her back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through her.

"F-Fuck..Please.." Natasha finally whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop it. Her voice was strained, thick with need and the remnants of her shattered pride. But you weren’t satisfied with just that. You wanted more. You needed to hear Natasha fully surrender.

"Louder." you demanded, your fingers pushing Natasha closer to the brink, her body writhing beneath you. Natasha’s breath came in harsh pants, her mind clouded with desire, her body aching for release. The last of her resistance crumbled as she finally gave in, her voice breaking as she cried out.

"Please!" she begged, her voice hoarse, desperate. "Please, I need it.." The sound of Natasha’s surrender sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of satisfaction as you pushed her over the edge. Natasha’s body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she climaxed, her entire being consumed by the intense pleasure that wracked through her. You didn’t stop, drawing out Natasha’s orgasm, making sure she felt every last wave of pleasure until Natasha was left trembling and spent, her body limp beneath yours.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from Natasha’s flushed face. "There you go " you murmured, your voice soft but filled with the satisfaction of victory. "Was that so hard?"

Natasha lay there, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm that had ripped through her. Her breath was ragged, her mind swirling in a haze of pleasure and confusion. But as the aftershocks began to fade, the familiar desire to regain control, to be the one in charge, crept back into her consciousness. She shifted slightly beneath you, her muscles tensing as she prepared to turn the tables. But you, ever vigilant, sensed the shift immediately. A sly smile tugged at your lips as you watched the fire flicker back into Natasha’s eyes, the determination to reclaim her dominance clear. You weren’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

"Oh, no you don’t." you murmured, your voice laced with authority as you tightened your grip on Natasha’s wrists, pressing them back into the mattress. "We’re not done here. You think you can just switch back to being in control after one orgasm? Think again."

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body still sensitive from the overwhelming pleasure, but she couldn’t help the small flicker of defiance that flashed in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but you silenced her with a firm kiss, one that left no room for argument. Your hand moved with purpose, sliding down Natasha’s body, your fingers finding the slickness between Natasha’s thighs once more. Natasha gasped against your lips, her hips instinctively bucking as a fresh wave of pleasure surged through her. She wasn’t ready, she thought she was, but the intensity of your touch was too much, too soon, and her mind scrambled to catch up with the sensations overwhelming her.

"Y/n-" Natasha tried to protest, her voice cracking as she attempted to regain some semblance of control. But you weren’t having any of it. You pulled back just enough to look into Natasha’s eyes, your gaze sharp and commanding. "You’re going to stay right here, Natasha. You’re not going anywhere until I say so." Natasha’s pride flared up, but your relentless fingers left her no room to argue. You expertly teased her, bringing her close to the edge once more, only to back off slightly, leaving Natasha teetering on the brink. It was maddening, this push and pull, the way you held her at the precipice of release without letting her fall over.

"F-Fuck, Y/n comon.." Natasha finally whispered, the word slipping out unbidden as her need began to overpower her pride. You smirked, your fingers increasing their pace, knowing exactly how to push Natasha to the edge and keep her there. "What’s that, Natasha?" you taunted, your voice dripping with dark amusement. "I didn’t quite hear you."

Natasha’s body trembled, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought to hold on to whatever sliver of control she had left. But you were relentless, your fingers working in tandem with your lips as they traced a hot path down Natasha’s neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. "Please, let me cum.." Her voice more desperate now, her body aching for release.

"That’s more like it." you whispered against Natasha’s lips, your voice thick with satisfaction. Your fingers curled just right, pressing against that spot that made Natasha cry out, her body bucking uncontrollably as the second orgasm ripped through her.

Natasha’s world exploded in a blinding haze of white, hot pleasure, her mind shattering as she was pulled under by the sheer intensity of it. But even as she climaxed, you didn’t stop. You kept going, your fingers never pausing, drawing out Natasha’s orgasm until the assassin was left a trembling, quivering mess beneath you. Natasha’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body completely at your mercy. She thought..hoped that it was over, that you would finally let her rest. But you had other plans.

Before Natasha could even catch her breath, your fingers were moving again, relentless in their pursuit of Natasha’s total surrender. Natasha whimpered, her body oversensitive, her mind struggling to keep up with the onslaught of sensations. "P-Please!" Natasha pleaded, her voice broken, her body trembling uncontrollably as you pushed her closer to the edge once more. "Please, I can’t-"

"Yes, you can.." you whispered, your voice a soft command as you leaned down to kiss Natasha’s neck. "You’re strong, Natasha. Strong enough to take everything I give you."

Natasha’s pride was shattered, her body and mind pushed beyond their limits. She had never been this vulnerable, this out of control, and yet she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "That’s it, Natasha.." you murmured, your voice soothing as you brought Natasha to the brink one last time. "Let go. Give it to me."

Natasha couldn’t hold back anymore. Her body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as the third orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that left her gasping for air. You held her through it, your fingers never stopping, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until Natasha was left utterly spent, her body limp and trembling. You finally slowed, your touch becoming gentle, soothing, as you leaned down to press soft kisses to Natasha’s flushed skin. Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze dazed, her body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure you had wrought.

"You did so well, Natasha.." you whispered, your voice filled with warmth as you brushed a strand of hair away from Natasha’s face. "You took everything I gave you." Natasha’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with the effort of trying to catch her breath. She felt utterly exposed, completely vulnerable, but there was also a strange sense of peace, a peace that came with knowing she had given everything, that she had let go completely.

You smiled down at her, a soft, satisfied smile, before leaning in to capture Natasha’s lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. It wasn’t about dominance or control anymore..it was about the connection you had forged in those intense moments, a connection that neither of you could deny. When you finally pulled back, you brushed your thumb over Natasha’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during the intensity of your encounter. Natasha looked up at you, her eyes still wide with the remnants of her vulnerability, but there was also a newfound respect and trust in her gaze.

You slid down beside Natasha, pulling her close, letting the silence of the room envelop you both. For now, there was no need for words. You had said everything that needed to be said through your bodies, through the way you had challenged and ultimately surrendered to each other.

[darnell-la]

Dark!young logan and female human reader as his teacher. It sets in earlier x men back then when logan was young, feral, and didnt realize fully about his mutation. He just knew that he sexually and emotionally attracted to his teacher since she's been so nice to him and protected him from the bullies in his school. He gets bullied bcs he's always alone and super silent in class.

note: needy, dom, and darksih Logan is what we need (irl).

———

“What’s wrong with you today? Need an animal to eat!?” One of the students said to Logan, making the class laugh. Logan was sitting on his desk, legs shaking and hands balled up, trying to control whatever feeling he was feeling right now.

“Hey!” Y/n turned around before slamming the chalk she was using, on her desk. “I don’t know which teacher at this school told you that it’s funny joking about other people’s powers — But I know it wasn’t me. Cut it out!” the young teacher demanded.

All of the kids were silent, never really hearing miss y/n raise her voice, but for the past week, she’s been getting tired of the jokes being said to Logan.

Logan was around the age of 30. He was a hot head and started most of his fights, but for a few days, he’s been weak and silent. Y/n wondered why, but maybe it’s best he didn’t lash out.

After y/n’s long day, she finally decided to pack up and leave her office to go to bed. Almost every week, a new mutant comes in, and she has to do the paperwork. She never complained because she loves helping her students. They deserve to be treated like humans.

As y/n walked past Logan’s room, he quickly leaned off of his bed and sniffed, smelling her like he hadn’t smelled before. Usually, the man only smelled her when she was close by, but as she walked up the stairs and got closer, he knew it was her. So sweet.

Logan slowly walked towards his door opening it and sticking his head out to watch the teacher. She was close to her age, and she anyways stuck up for him. She saw something in him, and Logan adored her for it.

Y/n sang as she took her keys out of her purse and unlocked her door. After she went in and closed her door, Logan stalked after.

Logan swore he loved this woman like no other before, even though his been alive for nearly one hundred years. She was so different.

Logan knew he had something for y/n after the first week. He had his own room, a nice bed, and thick walls. As a normal man, he showered and touched himself, rubbing until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

As he was jerking off in his new room, he thought of y/n. At first, a small image of her popped up. Then her voice rang through his head. Before he could ask himself why that was, he came silly around his hand, stomach, and thighs.

“Miss y/n?” Logan knocked on his teacher's door right as she wrapped herself in her robe. If this was another student, she would’ve ignored him, but this student was Logan. She grew a small place in her heart for him.

Y/n got up from her bed and walked over to her door, opening it to the sight of a very down Logan. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Y/n asked as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

The man thought this would be easier, but it wasn’t. How would he explain what he’s going through? What would he say? He doesn’t even know what’s going on.

“Hey, it’s okay — You can tell me anything,” Y/n said, but all the man did was ignore eye contact. “C’mere,” y/n motioned him to come into her room. Within seconds, he was in, standing in the middle of her room as his heart pounded.

“Now we’re in here. No one can hear us, so you're safe with me,” the young lady spoke to him like a child, only because he was her student. Other than that, he should be the one to the king to him the way she is.

“For a week I’ve been going through this-this cycle. At first, it was just a small pain, but then my mouth felt dry. Dry like I needed something to eat or — or taste,” the man said, but she didn’t understand.

“Is this like an animalistic thing? Not calling you an animal by the way, I’m just trying to know you better before I start,” she said as she sat down on her bed. She wanted to help him, but he was afraid she might not want to help in the way he needed it.

“No, no, it’s- I honestly don’t know,” the man cut himself off. Even though he didn’t understand himself fully, he knew he needed to touch her. Get close to her and taste her.

“How about you relax tonight, and when you wake up, we can go talk to Hank. Get you checked out,” Y/n smiled at the boy as he walked over to her. The way she looked up at him, made him crumble. She was so pretty.

“Thank you, y/n,” the man cupped the woman’s chin. “Oh, there’s no problem. Really! That’s what I’m here for,” she smiled as she looked away from the thanks he gave, happy that someone saw the hard work she put in.

“No,” the man spoke, voice low as he softly pulled her back to look up at him. “I need to thank you,” the man whispered as he leaned down. “You already have-“ Before she could finish, his lips were on hers.

The girl's eyes widened, shocked at her student's actions, but didn’t push him away. On the other end, Logan’s eyes were shut and his stomach crumbled from the nervous but thankful feeling of her lips on his.

“Logan,” y/n spoke in between her kiss. He responded by softly pushing her down on her bed, shifting her to her liking right before he hovered over her, crotch instantly pressed into her clothes heat.

“L-Logan, wait,” y/n tried speaking, but he kissed her hard, grinding on the woman to earn s few shaky moans. He thanked her god she was in a robe and only had panties on — made his little plan easier.

“Ssh,” Logan shushed her as his lips traveled to her neck, sucking hard to make sure something shows up. He wanted people to know she was taken, even if they didn’t know it was him.

“Logan, you can’t — We can’t,” she spoke as she pushed at the man’s shoulders, but he wouldn’t budge. “Yes, we can,” he assured her with a low voice before hooking his fingers around her panties before ripping them clean off.

“Logan!” She finally shouted in shock. He continued his work by unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers down. “I need you, now,” the man slightly growled as he took his cock in hand, feeling his heart raise.

“Logan! Logan, listen — I-I can’t do this. My job!” She said as he tried pushing at her entrance, but she kept shifting to stop him. “You do so good at your job, miss y/n. Made me need you more,” the man spoke into her ear, still trying to get in, but she was a fighter.

If it wasn’t for her job, she would’ve let this happen, but she can’t. She’s his student, and he’s so sweet. She never thought anything like this of him.

“C’mon, Bub — Help a kid some more,” the man smirked down at the young lady before he finally pushed through her walls. He watched y/n struggle on his cock, whining at the instant stretch he gave her.

“L-Logan,” she stuttered as her hands pushed at his hips. She never knew how fit he was until she touched him. He used all his working out and power to snap his hips, jolting her body into her mattress.

“Fuck, baby,” the man dragged, looking down at himself disappearing in her cunt. She already coated his cock with her wetness. “Need you to soak me some more, y/n. Help me like any other time,” the man’s voice still felt low and soft to her, but nothing about his thrusts was soft.

“Logan,” she whined, forgetting about her job, and took him in without wanting him to stop. He rolled his hips so well. “Cum on my cock,” the man’s voice was close to her ear again, this time with a growl.

Logan’s left hand dug into her side as the other pushed her knee back to fuck he’d in a new angle. Now he’s hovered over her, watching her eyes squint in pain and pleasure.

“Do it, y/n — Fuckin’ do it before I get angry,” the man slightly threatened through his teeth. Logan slammed into the woman, taking in her whines and yelps as she squeezed down onto him.

“That’s it — Look at you,” Logan spoke as y/n shook from her orgasm taking over her body. “They always say I’m an animal. Tellin’ me I’ll never be normal, but that didn’t matter to you. You like me like this. Like me burning my cock in your sweet cunt,”

Y/n’s head nodded, agreeing how much she loved this, but deep down, she couldn’t take it. He was rough, but she didn’t want him to stop.

“Gonna breed this pretty girl, then see the looks on their face. Sweet favorite teacher knocked up by the Wolverine. By the animal — Fuck!” the man grunted at the thought of that. He was going to make it happen.

[ohbueckers]

WHAT’S MY NAME? i come alive in the nighttime. okay, away we go. only thing we have on is the radio.

THIS IS PART FOUR! pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, i think after this we can label paige as a crashout. this was so fun to write LMFAO. i’ll also be making a masterlist soon. warnings, minimal arguing ou… more sexual content & possessive paige? real tender or whatever.

liana sat between her two friends, their laughter mingling with the low hum of conversation around them. it had been a while since she had allowed herself to relax—her mind, atleast. no tutoring sessions, no basketball players, and, well… naomi was still there. she was always anywhere liana was, even if it wasn’t physically. paige had started to become that for her as well, but in a scarily good way. she was consuming her thoughts. tonight, however was just about good food, good drinks, and good company in a restaurant they’d been to a countless amount of times just outside of storrs, because quite frankly, there is literally nothing to do in storrs.

on her left, sat her friend amara, who was leaning back in her chair, her long faux locs cascading over her shoulders as she toyed with the silver ring in her septum. across from her was malik, dressed in his usual vibrant button-up, the fabric stretching slightly over his chest as he gestured exaggeratedly while recounting a story about his latest date. his animated storytelling along with the side notes had them both in stitches, and it felt good.

“i’m just saying, if he orders another round of oysters, i’m gonna have to start questioning his intentions,” malik teased, his grin widening as he leaned forward. amara snorted, nearly choking on her drink as she held up a hand, beginning to wave it around.

“okay, okay, but you survived, right? and now you know what to avoid on your next date,” she replied, always one to find a fair conclusion. she had one happy perspective on life, something incredibly admirable but also annoying at times. “wait… speaking of dates…”

liana froze for a second, her fork hovering over her plate of pasta. she had been waiting for this. a night out meant catching up, and catching up meant eventually diving into the complicated mess that was paige and naomi.

over the course of a few weeks, paige and liana had grown closer, sharing intimate moments that hinted at something deeper, yet never fully crossing that line. naomi, on the other hand, was becoming more aware of the growing distance between them. i mean, how could she not know? it was becoming painfully obvious liana was seeing someone else, sneaking around. but maybe she just didn’t wanna believe it.

she had been putting in more effort though, which was also an obvious factor. it was like she was holding onto something that had died out awhile ago, and while liana had found a distraction—or whatever it was, naomi just became more possessive. she always had been.

she’d been stopping by her apartment unannounced, resulting in paige having to hunch over in the closet for fifteen minutes (which the blonde still won’t let her forget), sending thoughtful, but not worth much texts, and even suggesting they spend more time together. but naomi had yet to ask the question that remained unanswered, despite it being the most important: where did they stand? and liana, in turn, didn’t have the answers… so maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t.

“what do you mean?” she asked, faking her innocence with those wide eyes, twirling some more pasta around her fork.

“liana, please spare me!” amara shouted, throwing her hands up in the air in mock surrender as she burst into laughter. her necklace caught the dim light above them, glancing at malik, who already knew what was up, then back at liana, whose quiet demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed. “you’ve been so unusually quiet tonight, and i know exactly why. it’s because of paige, isn’t it?”

liana’s fork hovered over her plate as she looked up, trying to play it off with a shrug. but amara wasn’t having it.

“doooon’t even try to deny it,” she continued, leaning forward on her elbows. “you didn’t even know her a few weeks ago, and now she’s all you think about. and might i add, she’s paige bueckers of all people. like, i can’t believe my bestfriend is climbing that coconut tree.”

liana began to hide her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table. “amara!” her smile was infectious, and despite her attempt to scold her friend, she couldn’t help but let it slip. amara grinned back, knowing she had hit a nerve.

“you ever talk to naomi about… all this?” there it was.

liana’s smile faltered for a moment. “not really. i mean, not directly.”

malik raised an eyebrow from his spot across from the two girls. “not directly?” he repeated, clearly not aware. “y’all still haven’t talked?”

liana sighed, her fingers toying with the edge of her napkin. “we’ve talked… but not about this. not about where we’re headed, what we’re doing. she’s trying, but—”

“but it’s not the same,” amara finished for her, her tone softening. “i get it. things got weird after… you know. but maybe talking it out would help.”

liana nodded, though she wasn’t convinced. she knew her friends had their history with naomi too, so it made sense as to why they’d try and help her out, even if it was just a little bit. they were the ones who had introduced them, after all. naomi knew her better than anyone before paige, but now… paige might just be stepping her up.

malik chimed in, swirling his drink lazily, the ice clinking against the glass. his eyes were half-lidded, a sure sign it was time to get out of there before he had one too many. “i’ve never really seen her with any girl. paige, i mean. like, ever. she’s always got that ‘untouchable’ vibe, you know? like she’s too focused on basketball to even bother.”

he wasn’t exactly wrong, and everyone knew it—but liana, seemingly always out of the loop and a homebody for that matter, didn’t. she went in completely blind, only to come out knowing everything. the blonde definitely did have her fun, but liana was indeed different.

amara picked up her own drink, grinning ear to ear. “and yet, she’s in your phone. clearly, you’re the exception.” she was just glad the topic had changed.

liana shrugged, trying to play it cool even though her insides were twisting. “i don’t know about that.”

malik laughed, shaking his head. “nah, you definitely are. trust me.”

liana smiled, a rather lazy one, but her mind was already elsewhere, thinking about paige. she pulled out her phone, her fingers itching to text her. it was almost funny how she hadn’t had any desire to reach out to naomi, like this blonde had swept in and made her forget. they had been messaging on and off throughout the night, nothing serious—just a few jokes, some comments about her day. but now, with the alcohol in her system and the her friends’ words fresh in her brain, she found herself wanting to reach out again.

she unlocked her phone, the screen lighting up with their latest conversation. paige had just sent her a picture of her sneakers—beat-up and covered in scuff marks after hours of practice.

You’re the one with the endorsements, remember?

😂 True, true.

You made it home yet?

liana glanced around the table, watching as malik and amara engaged in a slightly tipsy debate about whatever was on their minds. she smiled to herself before typing out her response.

We’re about to head out and call an Uber soon, so I’ll call you when I get home.

paige’s reply came almost immediately.

Let me come get you.

You’ve had a long day. You don’t need to do all that.

Liana dpmo 😂

You know I wanna see you

I’ll be there in 5.

she hesitated, looking at her friends once again who were now deep in conversation. she laughed softly at the pure absurdity of her situation, sending a quick reply before locking her phone and slipping it back into her pocket. “alright, guys. change of plans. paige is coming to get us.”

amara raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face. “look at that, getting the vip treatment! could get used to this.” she nudged her, eliciting a playful glare from liana who was all around pretty tipsy and ready to go, but the thought of seeing paige tonight made things a little better. maybe she really did have her wrapped around her finger, or she was just lucky. perhaps both.

a few minutes later, they were outside, huddled together against the cool air that november brought. liana spotted paige’s car pulling up, and as the headlights washed over them, she felt her pulse quicken. when the car came to a stop, paige stepped out, rounding the corner and looking effortlessly good in a simple black hoodie and jeans. her hair was tied back in a low bun, and she flashed the three in front of her a smile.

“y’all ready?” paige asked. she hadn’t even looked tired, like she woke herself up for this.

amara blinked up at paige as she approached. “you’re taller in person,” she said, squinting as if trying to confirm it.

“it’s the shoes. but i am all legs,” paige entertained, helping amara into the car before making sure malik was good himself. once everyone was settled, liana climbed into the passenger seat beside paige, who gave her a quick glance as she started to fasten her seatbelt.

the car rumbled to life, and as paige pulled out of the parking lot, the conversation in the backseat continued, but liana found herself more focused on the subtle shifts in paige’s demeanor—the way her fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, the small smirk that lingered on her lips. she was nervous. or anticipating something.

the rest of the car ride was pretty silent as malik and amara’s laughter and voices gradually faded into sleepy murmurs in the backseat, neither paige nor liana wanting to break it, knowing there were things better left unsaid while her friends were still in the car. even though, with the way amara was slumped against the door and malik’s head was tilted back, they probably wouldn’t have acknowledged or remembered much of anything by morning.

paige had her elbow leaned against the door, fingers stroking her chin as she drove with her opposite hand. it was a casual, almost absent-minded gesture, but it still held liana’s attention. she tried not to stare, but the small bit of alcohol she’d had made it harder to care. she seemed deep in thought—her eyes fixed on the road but her mind clearly elsewhere.

when they finally arrived at the dorms, liana turned in her seat to make sure her friends were okay to walk themselves. malik was already half out of the car, mumbling something incoherent as he navigated his way to the door. amara followed behind him, offering a tired wave to paige’s cracked window as she mumbled, “thanks for the ride, superstar.”

the blonde chuckled, waiting a few before pulling off. liana’s apartment was a bit of a ride from campus, but she found it less hectic to have her own space. “still can’t believe paige bueckers made time for me tonight,” liana said softly, almost teasingly, as she let her eyes wander wherever they wanted to go.

paige glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised in jocularity. “i always make time for you.” she hesitated, letting her shuffled music play through the car for a brief moment. “a four hour practice today, and i couldn’t resist seeing you before tomorrow.” and it was true. between all the practices, the games, and everything else pulling her in different directions, she had still made time for liana.

paige was used to getting what she wanted. not that she ever had to really try, it just happened. so the fact that liana was toying with her, in knowing of it or not, fully and completely messed with her brain. on the court, she could control the game, dictate the pace, and make split-second decisions that would leave her opponents scrambling. off the court, it wasn’t much different. with liana, she thought she’d be able to break her barriers down from the moment their first tutoring session ended, and she did in a way, but there was one that still needed to be tore down, and the fact that it wasn’t exactly easy frustrated her… because the barrier was a person, and a person is a hard obstacle.

the thought of liana’s smile, her laugh, the way she’d tilt her head slightly when she was really listening… it all made paige crave her more. the little things. and knowing that naomi had access to that and much more before she’d even met her, made her blood boil. yes, maybe they weren’t exactly together, but her teammates had really gotten into her head about the history thing, and the truth was, it did matter. it made things complicated. made it so that paige couldn’t just step in and take what she wanted without consequence. without someone getting hurt.

the conversation shifted, liana going on about her day as she leaned against the headrest. she made sure to leave out conversation details, but when paige was comfortable, she was one to prodde… and let’s just say blondie is already real comfortable.

“so, you didn’t talk about me?” paige pressed, her tone light and all-around teasing. normal.

liana’s usual wide eyes were lower and more lidded tonight, meeting paige’s with a growing smile. “is that so hard to believe?”

paige laughed, shaking her head. “it’s hard to believe because it isn’t true.”

they shared a look before liana looked away, rolling her eyes. the blonde licked her lips, stroking her chin once again as she thought about the next question. the one she really wanted to ask.

“talk about naomi, too?” paige asked casually, trying to keep her voice steady, almost as if it didn’t matter to her.

liana’s smile faltered slightly, and paige noticed. that small hesitation, the brief change in her expression—it told her more than words ever could. paige had learned that she was bad at hiding that. it made her think about how long she could keep this from naomi.

“yeah, a little,” liana admitted, her voice softening as she glanced out the window. her mind flashed to the conversation she’d had with amara and malik earlier. the part where naomi had been brought up and dissected, the part she’d deliberately left out when talking to paige just now.

the taller girl’s grip tightened a tad on the steering wheel, not purposefully… almost instinct. of course she did.

paige hesitated for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. she didn’t want to push too hard, but the question had been on her mind for a while, lingering in the background of their conversations. it finally slipped out, almost too casual, yet loaded with everything she was feeling.

“have you?”

it was a vague and simple question, but it required a longer response.

liana turned her head away from the window, her eyes narrowing slightly as she faced her. “why, paige?” her tone was a little sharper, mainly because she didn’t expect paige to force this type of reply out of her. she knew what she was getting at, but she wasn’t about to make it easy for her.

paige let out a breathy, frustrated laugh, shaking her head. “man…” she stopped herself in attempt not to raise her voice. “you gon’ fix that attitude around me, liana. i’m just askin’. just wanna know if… y’know… if she came up. that’s all.” her was on the road, but liana could see the way she subtly shifted in her seat, her knee angling outward as she manspreaded just slightly.

liana’s jaw tightened, and suddenly the dashboard was the most interesting thing ever. “you already know the answer.” her voice was a mumble, and you can believe she indeed fixed that attitude after being asked.

paige’s lips pressed into a thin line, running a hand down her face. “aight, cool. just makin’ sure.” she tried to brush it off, masking it as that being the only thing she wanted out of her question as they pulled up in front of liana’s place.

the car fell into silence, the engine the only sound being heard as paige shifted into park. she leaned back in her seat, exhaling slowly, trying to cool down atleast a little bit before either of them spoke. she clasped her hands together in the area her open legs left her, gazing down. she hated feeling like this—out of control. because although she was upset, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

liana sighed herself, uncomfortable with the tension their words had brought. the situation had sobered her just enough as she unbuckled her seatbelt, but didn’t move to get out. instead, she looked over at paige, her expression soft. “you really want me to stay clear of naomi?”

paige turned her head, meeting liana’s eyes with a quickness. that was all she wanted, she just knew she couldn’t be the one to say it. “i mean… i ain’t gonna lie, it’d be nice. but you grown. do what you want.”

“shut up.” liana rolled her eyes at the nonchalant act, a small smile tugging at her lips. “you and your half-ass answers.”

paige chuckled. it seemed like her smile was enough to make her forget about everything as she reached out to brush a stray curl from liana’s face. “nah, i’m serious, though. i just—” her voice trailed off, and liana could see the conflict in her eyes, tilting her head a little as if daring her to finish her sentence. let her be vulnerable.

before she could overthink it, liana leaned in, her lips brushing against paige’s, testing the waters. the blonde responded instantly, her hand sliding to liana’s neck, holding it gently as she deepened the kiss. the intensity spiked, eyebrows furrowed as they attempted to devour every bit of each other, heads leaning in opposite directions.

liana shifted, climbing over the center console and straddling paige’s lap which had become her designated spot at this point, her fingers sprawled out on her shoulders. paige groaned, her hands gripping liana’s hips as she pulled her closer, glancing down at where their bodies met. the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate.

paige’s hands roamed over liana’s body, exploring the curve of her waist before slipping down to her ass, squeezing possessively. she immediately got back to work, using her hand to tilt her head to the side for better access to her neck. liana gasped softly when she felt paige’s lips linger in one spot, then the slight sting of her teeth as she bit down gently, marking her up.

“p, did you just leave a hickey?” liana asked, completely breathless as she touched the marks on her neck.

“mmhm. a few, baby.” her voice was a low murmur, but the girl atop her had managed to make it out. she trailed her lips back up to liana’s catching her mouth in another kiss. the car felt like it was getting smaller, and definitely hotter. liana’s hands moved up under paige’s hoodie, fingers brushing over her abs before reaching her breasts. paige groaned into the kiss, her breath hitching at her touch. she was being drove to the absolute edge with this girl.

her grip on liana tightened, pulling her even closer, and the kiss deepened, both of them losing themselves in the moment, as if nothing else existed outside of that car. but then liana pulled back slightly, her breathing ragged, her eyes shifting between paige’s eyes and lips. “‘m gonna tell her.”

paige blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in conversation. “what?”

“naomi,” liana clarified, glancing down at her hands. “i’m gonna talk to her. end it,” she repeated more clearly.

paige’s heart pounded in her chest, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. was it really that easy, all she had to do was ask? she didn’t respond right away, just kissed her harder, almost like she was sealing the promise between them. liana responded just as eagerly, fingers curling into the fabric of paige’s hoodie as if she needed to hold on to something solid.

it was only when they both pulled back for what felt like the millionth time that night to talk, breathless and flushed, that liana realized paige had whispered something else—something she couldn’t quite make out. she opened her mouth to ask, but paige was already leaning back, her eyes searching liana’s face. “can i come up?” her voice was softer now, hesitant.

liana hesitated herself, stopping her movements. since ted’s they’d done a lot, clearly, but had never really took it all the way. she wasn’t sure paige was even aware of why. she needed more time.

“not tonight.” she saw a look of slight disappointment on the blonde’s face, and made sure to add that it would be soon. they’d need to find a right time, and right now, while there were still some things to sort out, it wouldn’t have been good.

paige chuckled, nodding against the headrest. “alright. soon.”

[lovexjoe]

how wwould armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same way, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

New follower 💗💗♥️🌷

Amor Prohibido

A/N: This was meant to be short, but I took the idea and ran with it. I hope you guys enjoy🤍 I also flip around with pov; sorry in advance.

Warning: Forbidden love, angst, violence, smut (idk what else im missing 😭)

Music to listen to while reading:

Fuck Love - XXXtentacion ft Trippie Redd.

SAD - XXXtentacion

John Redcorn - SIR

Y/N has been working with AMMO for 2 years now.

Kelly was the firecracker and you were the reserved sweetheart. Just don’t let nobody cross a line cause you’ll turn into an explosive real quick.

Mike and Marcus loved having you around, you brought the balance to the squad.

Being Kelly’s little sister, you were protected by everybody, including your least favorite person: Armando.

You didn’t understand him at all. Stone cold killer trying to turn a new leaf? I don’t think so

The moment Mike brought him into Kelly’s house unannounced was the first time ANYONE has seen you explode.

“What the fuck is he doing here?! He needs to leave NOW” Kelly points her gun directly at Armando.

Without even a hesitation you pulled your pocket knife out and slammed Armando against the wall. Shoving the knife up to his neck, close enough to draw blood.

“I know who you are and if you’re working with us. Do not make us regret it or you WILL be my first body count” Y/N spoke with venom. She couldn’t stand that Captain wasn’t here because of him. All the trouble he's caused. Everyone stops and stares at the two of you.

“Holy shit! Since when did Y/N turned into a Cobra?” Marcus jokes causing the air to lighten up a bit.

“Puedes confiar en mi” (you can trust me) Armando says as he takes in how beautiful her eyes are. He fully understood where she was coming from. He knew he had to show everyone that he wasn’t a stone cold killer: it was his mother who trained him.

From that day forward Armando could not stop thinking about you.

Kelly with hesitation moved Armando into the guest bedroom, across from Y/N room. Y/N wasn't too happy about it, but she gave him a chance to redeem himself.

He was quiet, respectable and kept to himself. Observing everyone like he always does. Observing his new favorite person, you.

8 months later

Armando was up late after a mission with AMMO. He was on standby as Y/N flirts with the drug dealer to distract him. She looked beautiful under the club lights. Her tan skin was glowing and her curly hair framing her face. The dress she was wearing took his breath away. He's never seen her in this light. She's usually in a tomboy attire just cause it was comfortable and convenient. This was the first time she wasn't on tech duty, Dorn's therapist recommended he took a rest from the action so Y/N volunteered herself. He was happy she was here, but it drove him crazy that she had to flirt with this old fuck. The man trailed his hands along her exposed back. It took everything in Armando not to put a bullet through his head and accept whatever consequences that came with it. Shortly Rita appeared along with Mike to arrest the drug dealer, putting an end to his torture. Y/N headed back into the van with Armando following behind her: watching her back just in case. Mike took notice that he never left her side. He knew his son, because they were exactly alike and hoped Y/N could bring a softer side out of him. Their friendship was forming, Y/N saw a side to Armando that nobody else did and she finally trusted him. She would never admit to it though, because with that trust comes with other feelings she wanted to lock away. It felt wrong to her. More like forbidden.

After they got home, everyone parted ways to their designated space. He's been thinking about her in that dress all night. It was 3am and sleep was definitely not in the air for tonight. He started to collect the dishes he had scattered around the room, irritated he let it get a bit messy. As he exits his room he notices the door to Y/N's bedroom was open. The kitchen light was on, the sink running as Y/N was clearing up the dishes that piled up the sink for over a week. The whole house was slacking on cleanliness.

"Can't sleep?" He asks as he sets his dishes on the counter next to her. Now leaning against it as she shook her head looking up at him. His heart skipped a beat taking in her nightly attire. A baby blue silk nightie that hugged her curves. Her curly mane was up in a messy bun and her glasses set low on her nose as she didn't bother fixing it.

"I've been so restless for the past two weeks" She shook her head, trying to make sense of why. She signals her head for him to put the dishes away as she washes; He complies. Armando would comply to anything that you said honestly. He loved that it was just the two of you right now with no interruptions. They never talked much, just enjoyed each other's presence. Maybe tonight could end differently he thought to himself.

"You did a great job tonight amor. It was nice having you away from the computer." He places the last dish in the cabinet and proceed to grab a bottle of alcohol walking over to the couch. Everything in you was screaming to go back to your room and not entertain this conversation further, but your body was already seated next to him. He took a sip from the bottle without even a struggle, handing the bottle off to you. You took a huge gulp knowing you need some liquid coverage if you're gonna stay up with him at these hours. You knew why you were restless for the past two weeks, it was the exact time when you started developing these other feelings for Armando. The best thing you can do is DENY DENY DENY. After all he's still a bad person right? A few months doesn't mean anything...right? Yet you trusted him entirely, none of this made fucking sense.

"Qué estás pensando?" (What are you thinking about?) He studies her worried face, deep in her thoughts; wishing she'd let him in. She turns her body to completely face him, her bare legs resting on his.

"Are you happy here?" Your eyes searched his, hoping to find something...a soul maybe? Some reassurance that he's on the path of making himself a better man.

" Happy? I don't know what that is fully. But I can say, when I'm here with you I'm at peace." He spoked openly for the first time, his hand grazing against your exposed leg. At this point you were just looking into each other's eyes, wishing one of you would make the move first. He took his whole being not to show you how much he worships you on this couch, but he does not want to disrespect you in any way. Your body felt so hot, yearning for his touch. Slowly your head was leaning in, both of you breathing uneasy, his hand resting on your cheek; lips so close but not touching just yet. You never felt this way about anyone before. Relationships, feelings all of that love bullshit was so new to you. Love? Do you love him? No it definitely can't be. You shoved the thought away as you pulled away.

"I-I have to go" You set the bottle down, hurrying to your room and locking the door. Armando curses to himself for even entertaining what had happened. You were curled up in bed when you heard the front door slammed. He had left to god knows where and you hugged your pillow wishing it was him.

1 week later

The two of you have not spoken a word to each other since the almost kiss.

Armando had returned at 10am that morning with no emotion towards Y/N at all.

She went back on tech duty until today.

The tension could be cut with a knife the whole team noticed.

"You two lovebirds are fighting aren't you?" Mike teased.

You rolled your eyes as you prep your ammo before you made it to your destination. This is something Armando already had done for you anytime you were on a mission with him; today was not that day.

He felt guilty as he watched you out of his peripheral but he felt like it was time he stop pursuing this. If you wanted him you would have kissed him that night: not run away.

Callie has been kidnapped along with Mike's wife. We received coordinates on where they were being held hostage.

As you reached the destination, both you and Armando scooped out the scene. You felt something off about the coordinates.

Once you two made it inside, you heard crying that sounded like Callie. Armando signals you to stay as quiet as possible as you guys make your way through the abandon building.

Once you guys got closer to the voice, you both realize it was just a recording.

"Its a TRAP!! BOTH OF YOU ABORT NOW" Mike and Marcus yelled over the intercom.

Before you could even try to escape there were already men surrounding you guys. Gunshots being the only sound that filled the air. The both of you, took as many men as you could, with the help of the drone assisting. Armando hated more than anything to see you shed blood, but those combat training days you two had was worth it. You could hold your own. Your surroundings got quiet, as you shove a knife through your enemy's neck. You turned around hoping to see Armando following you, but you froze in your steps. Mcgrath had his gun pointed at you ready to shoot. You guys were out of ammo, the drone gave out and any slight movement Mcgrath would kill you.

Everything slowed down, you felt your world stopped as Armando jumps in front of you causing Mcgrath to let out 3 shots. Armando taking the impact of all of them. You heard the rifle go off after, Mcgrath being taken down by a headshot. You immediately wrapped your arms around Armando, trying to find any way to stop the bleeding. This can't be happening right now. No no no no. You applied as much pressure as you could.

"Armando please stay with me, I can't lose you. Please" You cried and screamed for help. Mike and Marcus rushed in helping you take Armando into ambulance. You REFUSED to leave his side. The nurses had to pry you and Mike off of him so they could take him into surgery.

Armando started off hated by everyone, but over the past few months he truly became family. You sat down on the floor of the lobby, looking down at your bloodstain hands and your heart broke. Will you ever get a chance to tell him how you really feel? He jumped in front of a gun for you with no hesitation. Callie and Mike's wife was safe, the rest of Ammo took care of the mission while you and Mike were on standby waiting for Armando's results.

3 hours later

You laid next to Armando's bedside, holding his hand waiting for him to wake up. Mike left a few minutes before, thanking you for staying with him as he returns to his wife.

"I love you so much" You whispered against his hand, placing a soft kiss against it.

"I love you too mi amor. Más de lo que jamás sabrás" (More than you will ever know) He says softly, squeezing your hand reassuring that everything is okay. With no hesitation you pressed your lips against his, both of you moaning into each other's lips.

"I had to get shot 3 times for you to finally kiss me mami" You both started laughing.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

4 months later

Armando was finally healed and better than ever. Rita released both of you on a well needed vacation. The two of you avoided any of "those" activities till the doctor cleared him. Everyone was finally relieved to see you two engulfed in each other; the angst was truly unbearable. You guys had the house to yourself after returning from your romantic dinner. His lips immediately on yours after he locks the front door. Melting into his touch as he pushes you against the hallway of your bedroom, leaving hickeys on your neck and he didn't give a fuck.

"Mando" You let out a soft cry as he sucks on your weak spot right below your ear.

"Recién estoy empezando princesa" (I'm just getting started princess) He whispers as he slips his fingers under your dress, rubbing you through your underwear. Your little cries only ignited his dominate side even more. He rips your underwear causing it to fall to your feet, teasing you with one finger.

"You're so wet" He works a second finger in causing your legs to weaken. He pumps his finger harder and faster till your pussy started to make a squelch sound.

"Baby! Im squirting I'm squirting please!" Your orgasm dripped down his hand, he smiles to himself taking in his view. His girl, completely weak in her knees for him and the night just started. He wraps your legs around his waist carrying you into the bedroom.

"You came like a good girl for me baby." He gives you your well deserve praise as he lays you down, removing your dress and his clothes. His size and length definitely matched his attitude. The kisses were hot and messy as you aligned him with your entrance. As he slips in, you both couldn't help the sounds escaping from your mouths. His thrusts were slow and deep causing your eyes to tear up from the intense pleasure. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder for a better angle. The sound of pants and skin slapping was all that could be heard in that room.

"I love you" You both said in unison as you came as the same time. He collapse on your chest and you played with his hair. You didn't speak for a little bit, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Estoy feliz aqui" (I am happy here) He says as he kisses your chest.

The End

[reader-from-another-dimension]

IM BACK IM ALIVE So sorry for being dead for a bit tehe im back again with some tomfoolery, hope you enjoyyy :P Secondbee au by @yuukirita!!! Part 1, 2, 3 hereeee

_____________________________

Elita regrets telling Optimus about the cave-in.

She sighs, watching the leader of the Autobots pace around the moving train, occasionally stopping to look out at the window glass to check if they’re there yet.

You would’ve thought she told him the Decepticon had busted in their base. The way his face pales (as much as it could being silver, anyways) and how he insisted on coming with.

She wasn’t worried about Cliffjumper, not really, the mech can handle himself just fine - there was a reason his name was what it is, after all. But alas, logic might not be available inside Optimus’ blue-helm right now, seriously, he spirals.

“Optimus, sit-down.” The pink mech grits out, she was already in a bad mood when Cliff scares her half to death when his comm suddenly cuts out, then the reports about the collapsing mine.

How ironic, she couldn’t have ever forgotten that mine. There were a lot of feelings going on when she assigned the place to Cliffjumper, it was mostly to just distract the bot, but deep down, she had hoped that he might be able to stumble upon sub-50.

Now, Elita has never personally seen sub-50, the place was a myth to her, a warning to scare mine-bots into behaving, she hadn’t thought the mines even went that low.

She hasn’t gone there, not really. Not even after what happened.

She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to.

Optimus told her about it, sometimes, if he had enough high-grade on a particularly slagged day. He told her about Steve and the others (she had only recognized Steve’s name), told her about how he and D-Megatron found him.

The stories usually ends there, when the mech starts shaking and they drop the topic.

Elita knew, she heard enough of Cliff’s complaints enough to know, Optimus truly couldn’t handle the red-mech being in any sort of danger, even though he was a fully trained soldier. Jazz said it might be a fragged-up coping mechanism, she wasn’t sure.

The Prime babies Cliffjumper to the point of ridiculousness, it had only gotten worse.

Despite that, Elita couldn’t bring it on herself to talk Optimus down from it. It was also pretty funny to watch, too.

Optimus flinches at her rough voice, and meekly sits down next to her, his antennas scratching the roof of the train, making both of them wince. Elita sighs.

This is going to take awhile.

______________________

Finally, finally, they arrived at the cave-in mine. Next to her, Optimus exhales shakily at the sight of the mine’s entrance. She had told him to stay behind, damnit.

Regardless, they look around, occasionally tapping their comms to search for Cliff’s frequency, awaiting a response. Every cycle passes, the more nervous and jittery Optimus becomes, pacing around again. Elita sighs, she could never understand how some people find this mech intimidating, was it the height difference?

They walk and walk, until finally arriving at the reported collapsed part of the mines. Also presumably where Cliff’s signal was lost.

Elita grimaces at the gaping hole in the ground, so deep she couldn’t even see the bottom. Glancing at Optimus, she can clearly tell the mech was going to lose it at this point.

She nudges him, tilts her helm, then jumps down.

Optimus’ scream is like music to her audio-receiver.

________________________

They landed in a run-down hallway, looking like there was no one around for centuries, the amount of dust in this place is going to clog her vents, ugh.

“Elita.” Optimus calls out, and she walks over, glancing at what he was pointing at.

Fresh poot prints, about the same size as Cliff’s.

“Well,” She lets out an exhale she didn’t realize she was holding. “Looks like we won’t be here for long, after all.”

They continue on.

Passing broken lamps and scratched walls, Elita frowns at the shredded posters of Sentinel, she’d recognize those claw marks anywhere - Cliff never really had good impulse control. They were heading in the right direction.

“Hey, Elita.” Optimus’ voice jolts her out of thoughts, she looks at him.

“Do you think…nevermind.” Oh no, they’re not doing this again.

“Once you start something, better spit it out, Optimus.” Elita snaps, it was the only sure way to pry any kind of worry out of the Prime, he had developed this nasty habit of hiding things - even from her.

Optimus isn’t looking at her, but his antennas are flat against his helm, red flag.

“The matrix, it’s…acting up.” That made her pause, as much of a blessing the artifact had been, it was also a huge headache, for both her and Optimus. Damn gods and their cryptic relics.

“It is? How long has it been doing that? Have you gone to Ratchet for that? What am I saying, of course you haven’t, Primus, Optim-” “Elita!” The Prime’s shout cuts Elita off of her rant, she glares at him, but the annoyance quickly vanishes when she sees what he was pointing at.

Cliffjumper, very much alive and kicking, standing shell-shocked at the sight of the two of them at an end of a dimly lit hallway. Elita releases a vent she didn’t know she was holding. See, Optimus? Cliff was fine, he-

What the pit is he holding?

Cliffjumper seems fine, nowhere physically injured, at least. Squinting her optics, as Optimus calls out for the red bot, Elita can vaguely make out a small figure in Cliff’s hold, like a drone bot.

Primus, if Cliffjumper also starts getting attached to and bringing back drone bots, Elita wouldn’t know what to do. Why, oh why did out of all of Optimus’ traits, that would be what Cliff picks up after the Prime.

Oh wait, he’s coming closer to them, Elita can hear his voice echoing back from the end of the long hallway.

“Optimus, Elita! L-Look!” Oh no.

“Cliff, I swear to Primus, if you’ve picked up another dro-” Elita had to cut herself off, her voice failing her as she looked at what Cliffjumper had in his hold.

“...Oh.” Optimus mumbles, his out-stretched hand frozen mid-air.

Elita resets her optics, twice.

Shivering in Cliffjumper’s arms, so small Optimus could probably hold him in one hand, was a sparkling. An honest to Primus actual, active sparkling.

And that’s not even the real kicker. Because when Elita resets her optics again, Optimus has one knee on the ground. One would think he’s doing it in order to not scare the small sparkling who’s a fraction his size, but Elita knows better, it took all of her willpower to not do the same.

Bright, if a bit dirty, yellow frame, with two black stripes running down their rounded chest frame. Two small (absolutely itty bitty) wings on the back, jittery in their movements, likely from nervousness due to the sudden attention.

A small horn at the side of their head, the other side missing, likely an accident, based on the dent on the sparkling’s helm.

Elita lets out a shaky vent, her frame is still and high-strung, like one small push can set her off.

Optimus hasn't said anything yet, he’s not moving, instead the Prime stares at the sparkling who looks so much like a friend that it hurts. Primus must have an awfully twisted sense of humor, he must be.

An old wound now all torn back open, blistering with pain she thought was long gone. Optimus’ frame shakes with frantic vents.

The sparkling looks up at the two of them with wide, scared but curious blue optics. They cling to Cliffjumper like a lifeline, small hands holding on red frames so tight it would’ve left dents.

“E-Elita-” Optimus finally speaks up, he calls out for her, but his optics didn’t leave the sparkling, he didn’t dare to.

“...B?” For the first time in her life, Elita can admit that her voice broke, just this once.

[nathaslosthershit]

Tensions Fall (Teen Dad!Oscar AU)

(part 2 to Tensions rise, also apart of this AU although these two fics can be read separately)

A/N: 7 weeks since the once happy couple have actually talked. 7 weeks since they shared a bed, but with their two toddlers starting camp for the first time, maybe they can try and mend their problems.

Warnings: Parental separation, a super mean mom like the ones I have to deal with at work, angst WITH A HAPPY ENDING

May 28, 2024

It had been 7 weeks since the fight in Suzuka that effectively ended Oscar and Honey’s relationship. It had been 7 weeks since Oscar had taken a leave of absence from racing in order to try and make amends with his family. He still trained everyday, he still worked with McLaren and did Sim Racing, he just never attended any of the Grand Prixs. 

It had also been 7 weeks since Honey and Oscar had shared a bed. 

Since that night she left their room, she had stayed in her kids’ hotel room till they got home. She then packed her things and moved into the guest bedroom. Things had been far from amicable between the two parents. In the beginning, Oscar had done all he could to try and make up with Honey but when she continued to give him the cold shoulder, he had given up and reciprocated her attitude. The children, about to turn 4 years old, didn’t know the full extent of what was happening at home. They knew that when they would go to their parents’ room in the morning, only Dad would be there, but this was easily explained away when Honey told them that Oscar snored too loudly and it kept her up at night.

They had of course also noticed how different their parents had acted towards each other, and how often their father was home now, but they just didn’t question it because at the end of the day, they were too young to begin to understand, and they still had two parents who loved them as much as they could.

Since the fight though, it was clear Oscar was making much more of an effort to take his kids out to do activities. At first it was nice, Honey got some time alone, something she rarely got anymore, but the more Oscar took over planning activities, the more she began to hate being alone. After three, almost four, years of being around her kids almost 24/7, the silence started to eat away at her. And in turn, her kids started to miss their mom more. 

Finally though, Honey had put her foot down, after a long conversation, ending in a fight, Oscar had agreed to more full family activities, even if it meant having to pretend with Honey that they were still the happy and perfect family. 

While their kids loved going to the park as a family, any parent around could see that the two parents watching their twins on the bench were fighting but trying so hard to conceal their whispered harsh words behind smiles. 

With the twins' fourth birthday coming up on June 8th, Oscar and Honey had been stressing on how they were going to plan their birthday while they couldn’t get through a conversation without being at each other's throats. They also had the kids’ first day of camp coming up May 29, a day that may seem insignificant to most parents, but as the kids had never been to preschool, nor a daycare, camp was their first introduction into that whole system. It was a big step for everyone.

Honey had been trying to prepare the kids the best she could for their first day at camp. She knew they didn't fully grasp the concept and she was nervous about leaving them alone, scared they would feel abandoned as child-care with non-familial adults wasn’t something they had experienced with their mother being a stay at home mom, only ever enlisting help from grandparents, cousins, and even ‘honorary uncles’ such as Logan and Lando. She had to keep telling herself that in the end, they will at least have each other. 

Oscar and Honey decided to make a day of it. Camp wasn’t until 9, so the pair took the very excited Hudson and Frances out to breakfast where the 3 year olds managed to cover themselves head to toe in maple syrup and chocolate from their pancakes, causing them to have to rush home to change, thus leading the family to a late arrival to the preschool building that the camp was held in. 

“We are so sorry, oh my goodness!” Honey said to one of the two teachers who were clearly waiting for them outside the door to the classroom.

“We decided to take these two to breakfast and they got more food on their clothes than they did in their mouths. Which reminds me, I added two extra changes of clothes to their bag in case they need it.” Oscar added, causing Honey to shoot him a glare that was luckily not seen by the younger of the teachers, as the younger teacher was too busy ogling at Oscar to notice. It was her that added the clothes to their bag, it was also her idea, he was being petty by taking credit.

After a few moments of silence as they waited for the woman’s reply, she managed to snap herself out of whatever daydream she was concocting only minutes after meeting the young father in front of her to reply with a quick, “No problem! We know how these kids can be.”

The older woman next to her clearly could sense her coworker was a little two focused on one of the parents and pointedly urged her to take their bags to their cubbies while she sorted the family out, which Honey was grateful for. She may have not been with Oscar anymore but that lady didn’t know it and had no right to eye fuck him in front of her and her children of all people. 

“Why don’t you all say goodbye out here, we are just about to start morning meeting with the other kids.” The older woman said as she stepped to the side to give the family privacy, thought she was close enough to hear all they would say.

Oscar and Honey both felt tears begin to form as they squatted down in front of their kids. 

“Alright, Mommy and Daddy have to go now, but you both are going to stay here and make some new friends. I know this is new and might be a little scary but if you guys get through today, we can all go get ice cream later. How does that sound?” Honey asked, nervous one of her kids was going to break down in tears at any moment. 

“Okay! Bye Mommy, bye Daddy!” Frances yelled as she ran through the open door to the classroom, clearly ready to get started.

Oscar and Honey weren’t necessarily shocked at what their very clearly extroverted daughter had just done, but they still had expected a little bit of pushback from her. They could see the older woman by the door laughing softly to herself at that interaction. 

Their son, Hudson, was less enthusiastic. He didn’t cry, which they had fully expected him to, but he gave them crushingly tight hugs, or as crushing as he could manage, and a quick kiss on the cheek before following after his sister.

Wiping away tears, they both stood up and laughed once they looked at each other's faces, realizing they were both far more of a mess than their kids.

“Wow, maybe we should have been giving ourselves pep talks for weeks instead of them” Oscar joked. Honey laughed, it was the first normal interaction they had had in what felt like forever. 

The older woman, still by the door, quickly joined in, “Oh don’t worry, we find parents are usually the ones with the most trouble at dropoff, but that moment they find you both after a day of camp or school, you will feel just how much they missed and love you. Plus you two are young, you’ve got plenty of more time to make more of those babies. You have grown yourself a real sweet family by the looks of it. Relax for a few hours! Enjoy the time off, maybe even add to your family.” The woman said, laughing, as she closed the door.

“Did she really just suggest we go make more babies?” Honey asked in disbelief.

“I think she did, yeah.” Oscar answered, just as confused as she was. 

The air felt light as they both walked to their car, relishing in how nice it was that they weren’t arguing, realizing how miserable they had been.

But that didn’t last long. 

“Come on, Oscar, you can’t be that dense! She was so clearly eye fucking you!” Honey argued. The conversation in the car had been light for a few minutes until Honey made a comment about the younger teacher and unintentionally started an argument.

“She was not! And if she was, who cares? We aren’t together anymore, you can’t get jealous over something as trivial as someone who thinks I am attractive. Sometime in the future I will get a partner so you better learn to stop being jealous.” Oscar yelled. He didn’t mean it of course, he knew even if he and Honey never got back together, he would remain single. She was the only one for him.

But what he had said, wording it in a way that made Honey fully think about their situation really tore her apart. Yes, they were separated, but she never felt like they were fully broken up. And from what he said, it sounded like he planned on moving on much faster than she ever would.

With tears rolling down her cheeks, she decided to not dignify his comments with a response. Once exiting the car, she swiftly went to the guest room she had been staying in since the separation and slammed the door.

After a few minutes in the car, Oscar had mustered up the courage to apologize, knowing what he did was uncouth. Hearing her cries as he walked up to her door made him stop just short of knocking, deciding maybe it was better to give her a bit of time for now and come up with a way to make it up later.

After two hours of contemplation, Oscar had decided to get a lunch reservation at her favorite restaurant that always had a live band playing. It was impossible to get a day of reservations but with a bit of bribing, he had managed to pull it off. What was also nice about the band was that they could sit and eat silently without any awkward silence. If they were going to fight, they didn’t need to speak. 

She wasn’t crying when he knocked on her door, having managed to seemingly get all her emotions out in the two hours by herself, then clean up to look presentable for pick up. But now she felt empty, like a shell of a person in a house with a man who once loved her to pieces but now seemed to despise her, and no kids because they were away at camp. 

“Come in.” Was all she said.

“I um, I got us a reservation to your favorite place. I understand if you aren’t up for going- or if you’d like to go alone, but I did kind of bribe them so one of us at least has to go, I fear.” Oscar muttered out fast, clearly sensing the awkward energy between them, not knowing whether they were going to ignore the fight or not.

But Honey’s heart burst at the idea of him trying so hard to get into her favorite place. She always urged him to use his name to get into places, like Lando loved to do, but he was always too humble to do it, so it meant even more that he had this time. 

“That… sounds wonderful. Thank you, Oscar.” Was all she said as she started to tear up again but quickly turned so he wouldn’t see. “Let me get my stuff and I can meet you in the car.”

The energy in the car wasn’t light like it was before, but it also wasn’t heavy. A comfortable silence stayed between the two until it got too much for Honey and she burst out into tears, seemingly unprompted. 

“Darling, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Oscar asked, openly concerned for her well being for the first time in what felt like years.

“I c-can’t take it, Oscar! We used to have so much love for each other, god, you used to look at me like I hung the stars in the sky, now you can’t seem to look at me for more than a second without realizing how much you hate me now. Then after saying you are going to move on to someone else- you do this really sweet thing and I am- I am so confused and hurt and don’t know what to think or do!” Honey rambled, everything truly coming to the surface. Everything she thought, everything she felt, everything she had tried too hard to push down and pretend wasn’t there.

“Honey, I have never hated you for even a second,” was all Oscar was able to reply as he registered everything she had just said.

“What?”

“I don’t think I am capable of it. Truly. I have tried so hard to be the best I could be for you after the fight. I stopped racing, I planned more activities with the kids, but I couldn’t do anything right. I let rumors continue about you making me stop racing, which I wanted to stop but was told to leave alone. I took the kids to do activities and left you out too much. When you continued giving me the cold shoulder, I gave up when I should have kept fighting. I then tried to love you less, to make it hurt less, but I couldn’t, even if I acted like a dickhead to you. I am so sorry, Honey, and I would never in a million years be with someone else, even if you had an entire other family and were happily married. You are it for me, always have been, always will be.”

With all finally being said, the two went to lunch happier than they had been in weeks, ready to work on their relationship. It was surely not going to be easy, but how they had been these past two months had broken them enough that they were certainly willing to try. 

Near the end of the meal though, things once again got tense. These two couldn’t catch a break it seemed.

Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren, called Oscsar out of the blue and as the phone rang, Honey’s heart sank, awaiting Oscar’s reaction.

“Shit, I should get thi-” 

“It's okay. I promise.” Honey said, already feeling doubt beginning to creep in.

She couldn’t hear much of the conversation as Oscar quickly walked out the door to talk to Zak. He was also turned away from her so any chances of learning information by reading his facial expressions went out the window.

Finally, he returned to Honey biting her nails waiting for what he would say to her. She already started to panic thinking he could have to go to work, race again, and this vicious cycle would never end, that nothing would ever be right between them.

“What did he want?” She asked.

“Asked when I would be ready to come back to race. I said I didn’t have a date in mind. He told me to come in next week for a meeting on it, but I said I wouldn’t make a decision without talking to my family. I am not going to lose you all over this.” He reassured her. 

Honey smiled, doubt leaving as quickly as it had come. Until she herself got a phone call, this time from the camp her kids were at. Stressing that they had missed pick up, she realized after checking the clock that they still had an hour and a half. Confused once more, she answered the call.

Being told on your kids' first day away from you that there was an issue you needed to go deal with immediately, that you needed to fill out both incident and accident report forms wasn’t something that the young parents had envisioned for themselves. 

Rushing to the classroom, Oscar and Honey saw both of their kids crying in the hallway with the older teacher when they arrived, accompanied by another mother and her upset son. Concern laced their features as they took in both their kids, looking for any hints of injury on the two, but they seemed fine, apart from the crying.

“God, don’t tell me these two kids are the parents, no wonder this happened.” The other mother muttered under her breath. Before Oscar could question her, the older teacher spoke up.

“It seems there was a problem between the kids today.” She began, clearly trying to mediate the situation before it got ugly between the parents. “Mattias here stole a toy Hudson was playing with and pushed him over when he tried to get it back. In turn, Fraces bit the Mattias. It didn’t even leave a mark so I know it wasn’t hard, and both kids got a talking to as well as exchanged apologies, but it seems that they might need to go home early for the day to recuperate. We will certainly work on sharing and using our words tomorrow.”

Both Honey and Oscar were shocked. While Hudson was quiet and they had been worried it would make him a target in the future, and they knew their daughter was fiercely protective of her twin, they didn’t think she would result to biting.

“Wow, alright. You two, let's discuss this in the car, yeah?” Oscar said, ready to leave the place as he felt the wrath of the other parent glaring at him. “Really? You are just going to walk away without so much as an apology to me and my son? Unbelievable.” The mother scoffed. “This is why young people shouldn’t be parents. Clearly you two need to grow up just as much. I pray your already terrible daughter grows out of this and doesn't end up like you, spreading her legs too young and becoming up a teen mom because of it.”

Both Honey and Oscar were stunned. They had faced backlash before, sure, but never to their face, and never from someone so clearly in the wrong.

“Excuse me?” Honey asked.

“Oh, you heard me.” The mother replied.

“No, I don’t think I did, because what it sounded like was you were asking for an apology for something your kid started, because I am sure as hell my kids do not have sharing problems. Then when my three year old daughter retaliates to seeing her sweet and vulnerable brother being so blatantly bullied, even though she apologized, you believe you and your snot nosed brat deserve anything else. Guess what, we don’t owe you shit. And while you are so worried about how our kids will end up, why don’t you worry about your own child, who clearly takes after his bully of a mother. Grow up, asshole.” Honey retaliated. She shouldn’t have sworn in front of the kids but damn was it wonderful to see the look on that lady’s face. 

Oscar had never been more turned on by Honey in his life.

After the fight, the family of four got out of there as soon as they could, stopping for ice cream on the way home. They hardly scolded Frances more than a “If someone does something mean, you can’t bite them, use your words” to which she replied “Like Momma did with that lady?” 

The kids were playing quietly in their room once Oscar got alone time with Honey. 

“That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen.” He said, arms circling her waist.

“When I went full bitch mode on that lady?” She asked, laughing at the desire so evident in his eyes.

“When you stood up for your family, and cursed that dickhead out.” He replied as he started kissing her neck.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, I liked it too but in a different way than you did.” She laughed.

Laying on the bed, cuddling as they basked in the love they still had for each other. Oscar managed to ask the question that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Honey, will you please move back in here and be with me again? I miss you too much.” Oscar pleaded.

“Fine, but you need to work on another proposal. It is only fair since this all kind of started because of you.”

“Deal, this time I will knock your socks off with my proposal, but first I intend on showing you just how much I missed you.” He said as he began to kiss her deeper and more passionately.

Life was starting to get much better. 

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Feelings and Faults (Wolverine)

Description: Logan loves Y/N but she’s too caught up on the past.

Word Count: 1,020

Requests: Hi I was just wondering if you could write wolverine x reader smut where he is in love/obsessed with her and she has feelings for him but doesn’t acknowledge it because she doesn’t think she deserves to be loved which could be down to past trauma (it’s up to you) but then they confess their feelings inspired by the scene in the Honda Odyssey just without deadpool please it’s okay if not

Author’s note: I didn’t see the smut part until I went to post so that’s not part of the story. But I hope you like it!

She sat in the Honda Odyssey with a drink in her hand. She never really was one for drinking but times like these it was needed. Everyone was either inside planning the attack on Nova or by the fire drinking. She was in the car, alone in thought. Not realizing that she had someone that could never look away from her.

Someone that loved her and wanted to be with her even though she had fault in that. After losing Erik she never felt like she could be loved again or deserved it. But Logan adored her and wanted her forever. In his universe Y/N and Magneto were the happy couple that he let get killed. He always adored her but could never have her.

Now, she didn’t have Magneto in her life anymore and he wanted to be the one to fill the void. He could tell that she beat herself up over it and the blame was on her. Whatever happened between them, he would never believe that she was fully the one to blame. She deserved love and happiness, even if she couldn’t see it.

After his talk with Laura he walked over to the car that he knew she was in and got in the driver side. She looked over at him and saw a bottle of whiskey in his hand and smirked. He was definitely one for drinking. But she couldn’t blame him. “How did I know that you were in here?” He asked and she shrugged. “Despite what Wade says, I think the Honda Odyssey fucks hard.” She said and that made him chuckle.

Wade hated this car but Y/N liked it. “I also didn’t take you for drinking.” She smiled at him and held up the drink, “Cheers to that. I never was a drinker but after things go south it’s nice to have one.” He watched as she chugged the rest of her drink and held out her cup to fill it up. He gladly poured her another glass. “So about the fight earlier-” “Don’t mention it. He’s fine.” “I’m talking about you. Us.” She looked over at him, “What’s there to talk about? You’re right. I beat myself up over a guy that probably never gave a shit about me.” He felt guilt for saying that to her. “In my universe, you guys were married. Had kids even. You two were in love.” She rolled her eyes, “And let me guess we died?” He nodded and cleared his throat, “Yeah. It was awful. I constantly think back to that night and it haunts me.” “It was probably meant to be.” He looked at her, “What do you mean?” “I’m not meant to be happy in any universe.” He wanted to roll his eyes at her and her stupidity but he kept going, “No. That’s me. You sit here and act like nobody loves you and you’re alone but that is fair from the truth.” She looked at him as he finished off the bottle.

“Y/N, In my universe I was in love with you. I wanted you so bad but Erik beat me to it.” Her eyes widened in shock. His words repeating in her head. “The first second I met you I felt it all come back. Only this time Erik isn’t in the way. It’s you.” She chugged her drink before she could get out the words, “What?” It wasn’t a question of her asking him to repeat what he said or that she couldn’t hear him. She simply could not believe the words that left his mouth.

“Don’t act like nobody loves you and doesn’t care about you. I do! And I always will.” She stared at him with wide eyes. Sure, she had some feelings for him but she beat herself up after what happened with Erik. “You’re drunk.” She stated and he laughed. “Unbelievable. I pour my heart out to you and you tell me I’m drunk?” She didn’t know what to say to him at this time. “Y/N, Erik was a fucking idiot for not loving you and trying with you. You’re amazing and beautiful and only a dumb fuck like him wouldn’t see that.” Her eyes filled with tears, “You can’t mean that.” She whispers and he sighs, “Well I do. And if Wade wasn’t there earlier than maybe this would have come out sooner.” She turned away from him and sighed.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way he was telling the truth. Was he? She looked up at the top of the car, “The Magneto that Cassandra killed, that was mine.” He turned to look at her, “The TVA had got him before I could save him. I feel like the biggest fuck up about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me or wanted to be with me. It was never known but we had something special.

That’s why I was so nervous about coming here. I was so scared that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me and hated me but he’s dead. That’s worse than him hating me.” She was pouring her heart out to him. “I want to believe you, Logan. But I don’t know. After seeing you and you helping us I realized that maybe Erik wasn’t the one for me and that I could have another chance at happiness.”

“You can. I’m right here.” She turned to look at him to find that he was already looking at her. Maybe it was the heat of the moment but she really wanted to kiss him. As if he was Charles Xavier and could read her mind, he leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back and maybe it was the drink or the kiss but she felt herself calm down and realize that this was meant to be. “Erik wasn’t your fault sweetheart. You are not at fault for that. You deserve love and all the happy things in love.” She felt herself smile at his words. “Thank you, Logan.” she whispered and he smiled. “No problem, sweetheart.” He said before they locked lips again.

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗥 ᵃʳᶜᵃⁿᵉ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Multiple short chapters. Platonic. In which you're a teenage troublemaker who ends up on Silco's radar. He ends up taking you in (unofficially adopted). 𝘼/𝙉 ;; Will be a multi-parter! This is a short series and collection of dynamics, interactions, and scenarios. I really wanted to write something about the reader being an unofficial adopted child of Silco's. These are also longer than what I usually post!

11.30.24 Masterlist

You were an orphan, like countless others scraping by in Zaun. But unlike some, you didn’t mourn the absence of family. Having never known your parents or having a guardian figure, you thrived on independence, learning to fend for yourself from an early age.

Without any guidance, you grew up doing whatever you pleased—and that often meant getting into trouble. Fights became your playground, and through sheer stubbornness and repetition, you honed your combat skills. Street scuffles were your life, and though you didn’t start all of them, you were always ready to finish them. You’d end up earning quite the reputation. People either cursed your name or watched their backs when you were around, wary of a flying fist coming their way. To some degree you enjoyed that wariness. 

One day, your bold attitude landed you in the wrong scuffle—or the wrong crowd, so to speak. After an intense fight, you realized (too late) that the people you just beat down weren’t random street thugs; they were Silco’s henchmen, and worse, they were highly respected in the Undercity.

For someone like you, it wasn’t personal, it was just law of the land in Zaun. You didn’t even keep tabs on Zaun’s power dynamics. But your little “incident” painted a target on your back—and it got Silco’s attention instantly.

Now, teens causing trouble wasn’t anything new for Silco, but your knack for stirring chaos caught his eye. The more he heard about your raw combat skill and reckless attitude intrigued him—and irritated him in equal measure. He ordered Sevika to track you down, wanting to know more about the unruly fighter who was making waves across the streets, still debating on what to do with you. Sevika couldn’t help but be somewhat interested in who you were as she gathered intel. The laundry list of curses and complaints thrown your way amused her—maybe even reminded her of herself back in the day. Still, orders were orders, and soon, she was on your trail, something you were not aware of.

It was a quiet moment for you, perched on the splintering wooden railing of a dock, snacking and enjoying a rare moment of peace. The dull noise of the Undercity buzzed in the background, but here, it was calm. Or so you thought.

You didn’t hear the heavy footsteps behind you– it was masked by the sound of the waters below– and didn’t register the looming presence until–

“Gotcha.”

The world tilted as a rough hand yanked the collar of your jacket. Your snack fell into the water below, splashing quietly as you were unceremoniously hauled off the railing, landing hard on the dock with a loud thud.

The impact let out a shock of rippling pain down your spine.

“What the hell?!” you snapped sharply, coughing and groaning as you scrambled to your feet.

Towering over you was Sevika, her imposing figure blocking out the dim glow of the lights behind her. She stood with arms crossed, her mechanical arm gleaming faintly, flanked by a few henchmen you didn’t recognize. 

“Guess you’re the little punk everyone’s been complaining about,” Sevika said, voice dry with amusement, though the amusement didn’t fully reach her eyes.

You narrowed your own. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re on Silco’s radar now, kid. Consider this a courtesy call.”

“Fuck.” you uttered under your breath, holding back a loud groan at your own recklessness. You weren’t the type to keep up with Zaun’s underworld hierarchy, but even you knew the name. “I don’t work for anyone, it wasn’t a hit job or anything, just another street fight.”

Sevika tilted her head, unimpressed. “Right. Let’s just make this easy. You’re coming with us.”

Your fists slowly clenched as you narrowed your eyes at her. “Like hell I am.”

And before anyone could react, you swung at Sevika, aiming squarely for her jaw and landing a very solid hit.

It didn’t faze Sevika in the slightest. She responded with a calculated strike to your side, knocking the air out of your lungs. The henchmen moved in, but you weren’t going down without a fight.

One swing after another, you landed solid hits. One of the henchmen doubled over, clutching his ribs, while another stumbled back with a forming bruise on his cheek. You grinned through the pain, exhilarated by the chaos.

But you were easily outnumbered.

Sevika grabbed your wrist mid-swing and twisted, forcing you to your knees. “You hit harder than you look,” she said, almost impressed, before shoving you toward one of the henchmen.

“Let’s go.”

You struggled and cursed as they dragged you away, your ego bruised more than your body. You lacked self preservation, but you did feel somewhat satisfied that you somewhat held your own.

They dragged you through the dim, twisting back corridors of the Last Drop. The faint hum of machinery and the murmur of voices blended with the steady clink of Sevika's boots. You didn’t bother to struggle much anymore—you’d exhausted your strength fighting them off earlier. Instead, you focused on memorizing every twist and turn, every detail of this place.

Finally, the henchmen shoved you through a large iron door into a dark, smoky room. At the far end sat Silco, reclined in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other. His mismatched eyes, one fiery and orange, the other cool and calculating.

“Ah, so this is our troublemaker,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “You’ve been... busy.”

“You’ve been meddling,” you shot back, ignoring Sevika’s warning glare and subtle shove. 

Silco chuckled softly, gesturing for the others to leave. 

“Stay,” he added when Sevika started to follow. She stepped back to the corner of the room, arms crossed but watchful.

You crossed your arms, refusing to show weakness even as your body ached from the earlier fight. “If this is about your guys, tell them not to pick fights they can’t win.”

“Bold,” Silco remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. “But misguided. They weren’t the aggressors, were they?”

You hesitated but quickly masked it with a defiant glare. “You’ve got something to say? Say it.”

Silco stood, slowly walking toward you. He stopped just short of entering your personal space, his hands clasped behind his back. Up close, his presence was even more unnerving, his calm demeanor belying the power he held.

“You’re reckless,” he said, his voice low but firm. “No regard for alliances, no understanding of consequences. And yet...” He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle piece. “You’ve made it this far. Alone. That takes talent.”

“I don’t need your approval,” you quipped..

“No, but you need someone to temper that fire,” Silco replied. “Without guidance, that strength of yours will get you killed. And quite frankly, I’d rather not waste such potential.”

You frowned, unsure where this was going. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” he said, stepping back slightly, “is that Zaun doesn’t need another wild card running loose. You’ve proven your capability. Now it’s time you prove your loyalty.”

You blinked. “Loyalty? To you?”

“To Zaun,” Silco corrected, though the distinction seemed thin. “But under my guidance, yes.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“Let me be clear,” he said, his tone icy. “You can continue down the path you’re on, burning bridges until there’s nothing left—or you can accept my offer. A place in my network. Protection. Purpose.”

“And if I say no?” you challenged.

Silco’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “Then I let the Undercity decide your fate. The enemies you’ve made won’t hesitate to tear you apart. Sevika, for one, seemed to enjoy your little scuffle.”

You clenched your fists, glaring between Silco and Sevika. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the choice pressing down on you. You hated getting bitten back for all the shit you’ve pulled, and this seems to be the hardest bite.

You’d always been independent, always fought for yourself. The idea of working for someone—even someone as powerful as Silco—felt like a betrayal of who you were and what you pride yourself on. But his offer wasn’t without merit. Protection in Zaun meant everything.

“Well?” Silco prompted, his patience clearly finite.

You stared at Silco, jaw clenched, weighing your options. The fight in you wanted to refuse outright, to spit in his face and walk out the door. But the logical part of you—the one that had kept you alive so far—knew better. You’d already pissed off too many people, and the promise of protection wasn’t something you could dismiss lightly.

“Fine,” you muttered, glaring at the floor rather than meeting his eyes. “I’ll... work with you. But don’t think for a second I’m bowing down or calling you ‘boss’ because that’s really corny.”

Silco’s smirk grew, and you hated how satisfied he looked. “Good,” he said simply, turning back toward his desk. “I don’t need your indifference, just your cooperation. For now.”

Sevika let out a quiet snort from the corner, clearly amused.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do?” you asked sharply, crossing your arms. “Run errands? Break kneecaps for you?”

Silco waved a hand dismissively as he sat back in his chair. “Nothing so crude. You’ll start small—learning how we operate, understanding what it means to be part of something greater than yourself.” His mismatched eyes fixed on you again. “In time, we’ll see where your particular talents are best put to use.”

“You mean I’m on probation,” you said dryly, unamused at your situation.

“Call it what you like,” Silco replied with a shrug. “But consider this: I see potential in you, and I don’t waste resources. Prove you’re worth the trouble, and you’ll find more freedom under my wing than you ever had on your own.”

You hesitated, the words lingering in your mind. Potential. Freedom. They didn’t sit right with you—not yet—but you couldn’t deny the opportunity he was offering.

“Fine,” you said again, more firmly this time. “But don’t expect me to like it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silco said, his tone light but his gaze piercing. “Sevika will guide you. Welcome to the fold.”

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam wiped away her tears as she left Tara’s hospital room. She jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Tara didn’t need her, she had you now, maybe Tara never needed her. She left, she didn’t have a right to tell Tara what to do or judge the decisions she made. Sam left and her little sister grew up without her, she was an adult who had no need for her big sister anymore.

Sam once again jumped back when she turned away from the door and right into Richie. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Richie said softly, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay.”

“Were you listening at the door?” Sam asked, staring at Richie. It was kind of obvious he was listening at the door, just as you probably were, given how quickly you ran into the room. She needed to hear Richie confirm it himself though.

“No, no, of course not,” Richie tried to wave it off. “Okay, yeah, I was listening at the door,” he just as quickly caved, admitting he in fact was eavesdropping.

“It doesn’t freak you out, that my real father was a serial killer?”

Sam searched his face, wondering why he hadn’t run the second he learned the truth. Sam hated her birth father, she hated herself, she hated being related to him, as much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t blame Tara for hating her now as well, she fully expected the same from Richie. You already weren’t a fan of hers, learning this would probably make you officially hate her even more. Sam couldn’t see how anyone could like her, let alone love her, knowing who her father was and what he did. 

“I mean, yeah,” Richie nodded, giving her an awkward smile. “A great deal.” 

“Okay, go, I get it,” Sam shook her head, trying to keep control of her breathing and not breakdown. She had met an awesome guy, a nice guy, and now she had ruined that relationship, just like every other relationship in her life, all because of who her father was. “I just got to stay and figure it out.” Sam didn’t care if Tara hated her, she didn’t care if her sister never wanted to see her again, this was all her fault and she wasn’t leaving until she learned who attacked her sister, she wouldn’t rest until she knew her sister was safe. 

“I’m not leaving you here Sam.” He said it so simply, as if leaving her there alone never even crossed his mind. Sam couldn’t see how that was a possibility, if Richie were smart, he’d leave her, anyone else would have. 

“If you were smart, you’d get the fuck out.” 

“Well, then maybe I’m not smart,” Richie said softly, stepping forward and taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Because I’m staying.” Sam looked up at him in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, she couldn’t fathom why any sane person would stay when all this was going on, why anyone would stay with her knowing how messed up she was. 

Richie looked down, opening a closing his mouth slightly as if he were nervous to say what he wanted to say before looking back up, looking Sam directly in the eye. “I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with each word. Sam’s eyes darted around, searching his face, she truly couldn’t believe he said that. It was the first time Richie had ever said those words to her, she wasn’t sure if him choosing this moment proved how much he loved her or proved how crazy he was for being willing to stay during this insanity. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Sam said. She wasn’t ready to say those words back yet, she wasn’t sure what was keeping her from it, she had known Richie for six months and they had gotten along right away, becoming friends long before they started dating. Sam just couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back. 

“So, your sister won’t talk to you,” Richie caressed Sam’s face, then began running his hands through her hair. “The police aren’t going to help, what’s our next move?” 

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Richie said was true. She knew Judy had an officer on Tara’s room and others in the hospital, but they still weren’t anywhere close to actually figuring out who Ghostface was, so they were truly on their own in trying to catch this psycho. “We go talk to an expert.” 

Sam approached the trailer of Dewey Riley, with Richie right behind her, one of the perks of living in a small town was it was pretty easy to find someone, it took her less than a minute to get Dewey’s address. She didn’t know what to do, the only thing that made sense was talking to someone who was there at the beginning, who had survived this kind of stuff before. Technically Sheriff Hicks also survived but she didn’t like Sam and she barely counted as being apart of the whole thing. Therefore, it left Dewey, he was also the only one still in town, everyone else was either dead or had some sense and got out of town. 

Dewey was still sheriff before she left town, he was sheriff during all the trouble she caused. She had remembered seeing Dewey around the station, but she had never interacted with him. It was always deputy Hicks she had the displeasure of interacting with. Sam was also never officially arrested, Judy usually brought her home, occasionally when she was feeling petty, she’d cuff Sam, throw her in the back of the cruiser, and bring her down to the station until her mom could pick her up. No, the only person Sam saw Dewey regularly interact with was you. 

“Go away!” a voice shouted from inside the trailer as soon as Sam knocked on the door. 

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Riley,” she yelled back. “We just want to ask you a few questions.” She really needed Dewey to open the door, if he didn’t talk to them, she wasn’t sure what she would do, she had no idea how to prepare for a psycho coming after her and her sister. 

“I don’t give interviews.” Dewey sounded more irritated. Sam couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t imagine what his life has been like, surviving all those attacks and being good friends with Sidney Prescott. Dewey’s life was probably filled with nonstop questions, people and reports asking him to describe what happened to himself and to his friends. It couldn’t have been easy being constantly asked to relive probably some of the worst days of your life. 

“We’re not looking for an interview.” 

Dewey’s face suddenly appeared in the little window of the door to his trailer. “Give me one good reason I should talk to you.” 

“I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam said, staring Dewey right in the eyes. This was the first time she said she was Billy’s daughter and didn’t hesitate, she didn’t question the words leaving her mouth. 

The next thing she knew Dewey was opening the door. “That’s a terrible reason for me to talk to you.” Dewey was no longer yelling, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a plus though, he just seemed exhausted now. 

“My name is Samantha Carpenter,” Sam continued, Dewey at least opened the door, and she didn’t intend to back down now. “I was attacked last night at the hospital. The night before that my sister was stabbed seven times. I know you know what that’s like,” she said the last part softly. She might have wanted Dewey’s help, but she didn’t want to seem unsympathetic. “I’m just trying to protect my family,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.” 

“I’ll give you two minutes,” Dewey agreed, though he sounded firm in only giving them two minutes. Sam wished it had been more, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, this could be the only chance to get some advice from someone who survived not one attack but multiple. “I’m missing a show I like.” Dewey went back into his trailer, leaving the door open for Sam and Richie to enter. 

“Gale Weathers,” Richie said as he and Sam walked into the trailer. Dewey had her morning show on but quickly turned it off as the three of them sat down. “Weren’t you two…” Sam held in a sigh; she was starting to regret bringing Richie along with her. 

“Yeah,” Dewey said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Dewey took an aggressive sip of his coffee, flicking a glare at Richie before focusing his attention on Sam. “Who’s he?” he nodded to Richie. 

“This is Richie,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.” 

Richie smiled, readjusting in his seat as if he were about to offer his hand to Dewey and introduce himself. “How long have you known him?” Dewey never gave him a chance to introduce himself, he never even looked at him again, he just got right down to business. 

Sam was a little taken aback by the question. “Six months,” she answered anyway, though she was a little confused as to why Dewey was asking. 

“Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?” 

Sam gave an awkward smile, turning to look at Richie, she wasn’t sure if Dewey was actually serious. She came to him for advice not to be questioned about her relationship. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked awkwardly. He kept glancing at Sam as if wanting her to confirm if Dewey was serious. 

“Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies, right?” Dewey asked, leaning back in his chair. Sam nodded, hesitant but curious as to where he was going with this. “Well, there’s certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me, I know.” Dewey looked off to the side, looking out the window as if his mind went to another place for a second. “Rule number one, never trust the love interest,” he shook his head, looking right at Richie. “They seem sweet, caring, supportive, but then welcome to act three, where they’re trying to rip your head off.” 

“I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked,” Richie said, instantly defending himself. Sam was looking at Richie, nodding her head to confirm what he was saying. They were together that whole night, she didn’t even get the call about Tara until the next morning. 

“And let me guess,” Dewey continued, sounding more cynical as he went on. “You were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital.” 

“Okay, do I have to take this from shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?” 

“Rule number two.” Sam slowly looked from Richie back to Dewey. “The killer’s motive,” he was still glaring at Richie as he spoke. “Is always connected to something in the past.” 

“I’m related to Billy,” Sam said. She already knew Tara was most likely attacked because of her; she knew even before Ghostface said he knew her secret; she knew the moment Wes said Tara was attacked by someone in a Ghostface mask. Hearing Dewey practically confirm it though wasn’t easy, Tara was basically attacked all because Sam was the daughter of a serial killer. 

“Right,” Richie said, nodding along. “But then why kill that random Vince guy?” 

Sam nodded at that; Vince seemed like a random victim. Tara was the first victim, then she herself was attacked at the hospital but it didn’t seem like Ghostface actually wanted to kill her, more like just scare her. You and Tara’s friends were all at that bar, you worked at the bar, you had been outside seconds after Vince was attacked, meaning Ghostface wanted Vince for some reason, no one else. 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Dewey said. “And rule number three, and this is the most important rule.” Sam turned in her seat so she could give Dewey her full attention. “The first victim always has a friend group, that the killer is apart of.” Sam nodded along, she remembered that being a theme in all the movies from the one time she saw them, and hearing about the real-life stories. “Does your sister have a closeknit group of friends?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding, Tara had exactly that. “She does.” 

“Then look for the killer there.” 

She knew Dewey’s logic; she knew from his experience that this was always how it went down. Sam couldn’t imagine it though; she couldn’t picture any of Tara’s friends attacking her. Tara knew all of her friends since she was a little kid, Sam baby sat all of them, they literally grew up together, Sam watched them grow up. The only person who was new to the group, or she guessed more so, new to Tara’s life, was you. 

“If you can find out why they’re doing this,” Dewey continued. “You can figure out who’s next.” That made sense as well; despite never understanding why someone would dress up and kill all their friends, the killer always had some sort of twisted motive and that motive tended to explain who their victims were and would be. 

“So, help us,” Sam tried pleading. She knew it was a long shot. Dewey hadn’t even wanted to let them in his trailer to talk, the odds of him agreeing to get involved were zero to none. “Help us figure out who’s behind this.” 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dewey sighed, sounding more exhausted than he had since opening the door. “I’ve been stabbed nine times, I’ve got permanent nerve damage, and a fun little limp. You think I want to do that again?” he let out a humorless chuckle. 

“You just said it always goes back to the past.” Sam still intended to try her hardest to convince Dewey to help, she didn’t think she could figure this out on her own, she needed help. “Right?” Dewey reluctantly nodded, seeming to know where she was about to go with this. “So, if I’m in danger, that means you’re in danger.” Dewey seemed to take in her words as he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s do this, together.” 

There was a split second that it almost seemed like Dewey was going to agree to help them. “Your time’s up,” he said instead. He quickly stood up, walking to his door and holding it open for them. 

Sam rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the couch and stomped out of the trailer, Richie following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door Dewey slammed the door closed. Sam couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved, it was insane for someone to willingly get involved in this mess, she had just told Richie that before coming to see Dewey. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed that Dewey wouldn’t help them. She figured out of everyone else in the world the person most likely to help would be someone who had survived what they’re going through now, Dewey knew quite literally what they were going through, and he still refused to help. 

“Okay, what’s next?” Richie asked as they made their way back to the car. 

“The friends,” Sam said, easily catching the keys as Richie tossed them to her. She didn’t want to suspect Tara’s friends, but they were the only ones that made sense. 

Before starting the car, she shot a quick text to Wes, asking him to gather the others. Wes quickly texted back saying he’d do it. Sam sat there for a few minutes when another text from Wes came through. Wes had said the others all agreed to meet at Mindy and Chad’s, since they were the niece and nephew of one of the victims of the second killings it made sense to meet at their house. Sam started the car and quickly pulled out of the trailer park, not carrying if she was speeding on her way to Mindy and Chad’s. 

Sam pulled into Mindy and Chad’s driveway, seeing a few more cars there as well. As they were walking up to the door Sam heard another car door closing. She turned around and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dewey walking up to them. 

“You came,” she said when he was close enough. She truly thought he wasn’t going to help them, that she was completely on her own in trying to figure this out. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Dewey sighed, leading the way to the door. 

Mindy opened the door, leading them to the family room and telling them the others were already there. Sam had only been in the Meeks-Martin household a handful of times when babysitting the twins, but it hadn’t seemed to change much over the years. 

Sam stood in front of the others, she had just opened her mouth, ready to tell them that she was the daughter of Billy Loomis, when there was a knock at the door. Martha Meeks quickly ran to the door, happily greeting whoever it was. Sam glanced back and had to do a double take when she saw you walking into the room. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked them to gather everyone, she didn’t realize that meant you as well. She was honestly surprised you left Tara’s side for something like this, considering you refused to go to work until Tara basically ordered you to. 

“Tara asked me to come,” you said. Sam let out a hum, now that made sense. She wondered how much convincing it took to get you to leave Tara’s side. “You all have exactly one hour,” you pulled out your phone, quickly typing off a text to someone. “So, let’s get this over with.” You pushed past Sam and took a seat on the far end of the couch, putting yourself as far away from everyone else as you could get. 

“Why are you here?” Dewey asked. He squinted his eyes, watching you carefully even though you hadn’t so much as glanced at him. 

“Tara’s my girlfriend,” you said. “Going to arrest me for that? Sheriff,” you made sure to say that last part with all the sarcasm. 

Dewey narrowed his eyes at you. “How long have you been together?” 

You rolled your eyes, clearly not enjoying yet another person questioning your relationship. Sam would bet money that it also didn’t help that the one questioning your relationship is the cop who used to always deal with you. 

“It will be two years in December,” you sighed, obviously getting more irritated. “Can we move this along, please,” you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I would like to get back to Tara.” 

Sam nodded, she didn’t want to shift the attention back to herself but you and Dewey arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially if you ended up storming out before they even got started. “Alright,” Sam said nervously. She glanced back to see Richie giving her an encouraging smile. “I’m the daughter of Billy Loomis.” 

Everyone’s mouths fell open. Sam could practically see their brains trying to process the information. Sam quickly ran to take her seat on the couch, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. She spared a glance at you, seeing you weren’t shocked, she figured you overheard her conversation with Tara or Tara told you herself. Your jaw was clenched as you stared off across the room, your hands balled into fists, and you refused to look at Sam. 

Mindy was the first to break out of her shock by instantly jumping to her feet and running to the closet they had filled with movies. Sam furrowed her brow as she watched Mindy shuffle around the movies, until finally finding what she was looking for and popping it into the DVD player. Sam suppressed a sigh when she saw it wasn’t Stab Mindy had put on but Stab: The True Story. It was basically a documentary of the true story, though no one who actually survived what happened was involved in the making of it or was interviewed. Sam was pretty sure Gale Weathers was involved in some way, but the documentary was mostly made up of pictures and found footage, with a ‘expert’ who had done their research and talked about what happened. 

“So, you’re saying that you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” Chad said, being the first to break the silence. “And that, what, one of us is the killer?” he gestured at himself and his friends. 

“The killer told me he knew my secret,” Sam said. It was clear Chad didn’t appreciate him and his friends being accused of being a killer but based on the history, it was always someone in the friend group. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here.” Sam caught you clenching your fists tighter as her words, she assumed you had already figured that part out as well. 

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?” 

“And why does it have to be one of us?” Wes asked. “What about deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Wes shrugged. “No offense.” 

“None taken,” Dewey said. “But what’s my motive?” 

“You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife, and crawled into a bottle,” Wes listed off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re on the suspect list.” 

Sam let out a small sigh, she had gone to Dewey for help but what Wes said made sense. As hard for her as it was to admit it still seemed one of the friends was more likely involved than Dewey. Wes’s argument was good but Dewey suddenly snapping after all these years and going after some random kids didn’t make much sense. 

“Well, maybe you’re the killer,” Dewey said. “Cause that cut deep.” 

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber said. “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher. Stu Macher’s sister.” 

“Who’s Stu Macher?” Liv asked. 

“He’s Billy Loomis’s accomplice,” Dewey answered, leaning forward in his seat again. 

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, nodding along, everything was finally starting to make sense. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.” 

“Oh my god,” Mindy said, shooting up from her seat. “He’s making a requel.” 

Everyone looked at Mindy like she had grown two head. “A what?” Sam decided to be the one to ask. 

“Like a sequel, fans are confused or torn on the terminology.” 

“God,” Chad sighed. “Please speak English.” Sam couldn’t help but agree, she understood what a sequel was, but she had no idea what the hell a requel was or what the hell Mindy was talking about. 

“Okay,” Mindy sighed, sitting up straight as she got serious about this topic. “Do you remember the Stab movie that came out last year?” 

“Oh, yeah, the one the Knives Out guy directed,” Liv said, seeming to know exactly what Mindy was talking about. Sam was still lost but decided to just wait and see where they were going with this. “You know, I actually really liked that one.” 

“Of course you did, you have terrible taste.” Sam rolled her eyes as Liv and Mindy had their little argument, even when she was a kid Mindy the habit of being a bit of a movie snob. “The point is the hardcore Stab fans hated it.” 

Sam sighed, beginning to tune Mindy out as she rambled on and on about why the fans hated the movie. She didn’t really care about a shitty sequel to a relatively basic franchise. She was hoping Mindy actually had a point to all this and her random movie knowledge about Stab would actually be useful. 

“What’s wrong with elevated horror?” Amber asked, joining in on the conversation. 

Mindy then went on to rant about how elevated horror was great, but it wasn’t Stab. The only reason Sam had some semblance of an idea as to what elevated horror was because even as a kid Tara loved that stuff. As Mindy said, Stab was a typical slasher whodunit type of movie, Stab wasn’t elevated horror. 

“Come on, it’s just a movie,” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had to speak up, she couldn’t stand listening to them argue about movies and their deeper meaning, they were just movies, they were in the real world where her sister was really attacked. 

“No, it’s not,” Mindy said instantly. “To some people the original is their favorite thing in the world.” Sam couldn’t wrap her head around that, she got liking movies, but not loving one so much someone would begin to blur a movie with real life. “The movie that made them love horror. The movie that mom or dad showed them when they were ten and bonded them together.” Once again, Sam got that, she understood bonding with someone over a movie and both enjoying that. “And god help anyone who fucks with that special memory, who makes a movie that disrespects it.” 

Sam could sort of understand that as well. She truly understood loving a movie growing up and then a few years later someone deciding to cash in on that love by making a sequel or spin-off or something involving those characters and that world. It rarely worked out, it was usually made as a cash grab and not for the fans, then the new fans had a habit of hating it. Being pissed about a bunch of shitty sequel movies to your childhood favorite didn’t give someone the right to go around dressed up like the killer from the movies. That’s where Mindy was losing Sam. Sam didn’t get how someone could take a simple movie so far. 

“It sounds like,” Mindy continued, getting up from her seat before Sam could even think about interrupting her again. “Our killer is writing his own version of Stab Eight but doing it as a requel.” Mindy raised her hands, nodding to herself, clearly proud of her theory. 

Sam would admit, it was a good theory, that didn’t answer her original question though. “Which is?” Dewey asked. Sam was glad he still didn’t get it; she didn’t want to ask Mindy again. 

Mindy sighed, clapping her hands together as she tried to contain her clear irritation at them not getting it. “See, you can’t just reboot a franchise from scratch anymore, the fans won’t stand for it. Black Christmas, Childs Play, Flatliners,” she began gesturing around the room at her friends. “That shit doesn’t work! But you can’t just do a straight sequel either. You got to build something new but not too new or the internet goes bug fucking nuts,” she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s got to be a part of an ongoing storyline, even if the storyline shouldn’t have been ongoing in the first place. New main characters, yes,” she gestured around the room as if all of them were the new main characters. “But supported by and related to legacy characters,” she pointed at Dewey. “Not quite a reboot, not quite a sequel. Like, the new Halloween, Saw, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, fuck, even Star Wars! It always, always, goes back to the original,” she picked up the first Stab movie to help emphasize what she meant. 

Sam was beginning to fully understand what Mindy was trying to say. “Are you telling me,” Sam started. “That I’m caught in the middle of fan fucking fiction?” she couldn’t believe this, it was even more insane than she ever imagined. She figured someone was pissed because she was Billy’s daughter not because they were hurt that the sequel to their favorite movie was total garbage. 

“Not just in the middle Sam,” Mindy said, a lot calmer than she had been than when she was rambling about the movies. “You’re the star.” Sam could only stare at Mindy, her mouth slightly agape. She knew she was the reason Tara was attacked but she didn’t think she was the reason all this was happening. 

“So, not to put like to fine a point on it,” Liv said. “But according to requel rules, who’s next?” Sam looked at Liv, her eyes coasting across everyone else. She wanted to figure out who the killer was but knowing who the next victim might be was just as important. 

“Going by the pattern,” Mindy said slowly. “Whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.” 

They all slowly turned to look at Dewey, he was the only one connected to the original killings. “I’m starting to regret coming,” Dewey said. Sam knew she told Dewey he was probably a target as well, but she didn’t realize how true her words might have been. 

“Jesus, my mom is a character in one of them,” Wes said, sitting up a little straighter. 

“No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels Wes,” Minday said with an eyeroll. “You’re safe.” She turned her attention to her brother. “With Randy as our uncle though, you and I are probably screwed. 

“Wait, what?” Chad asked. Despite literally being Mindy’s twin, he didn’t share the same passion for horror and movies that she did. It seemed as though he didn’t realize that being the nephew of one of the only survivors of the original attacks put a target on his back. 

“Or you’re the killer,” Richie began, laughing Mindy’s theories off. “And this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks. 

“I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” Mindy said, laughing off Richie’s accusation. 

“Who?” Sam asked.  She was staring at Mindy, she had no idea who the killer could be, she didn’t know how Mindy could figure it out so quickly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amber said, interrupting whatever Mindy was about to say. Everyone looked at Amber, but her glare was solely focused on you. 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. You didn’t seem happy that you were being accused but you certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Are you serious? What’s my motive?” you shrugged. 

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re dating Tara.” 

“Never trust the love interest,” Mindy mumbled. 

You snapped your gaze from Amber to Mindy, you actually seemed hurt that she was agreeing with Amber. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” you gestured, looking around the room. Sam did the same, seeing everyone staying silent, all of them either looking at the floor or at you like you were the prime suspect, the only one who looked the slightest bit guilty was Liv, she refused to look at you, opting to keep her eyes on the floor. 

“If I can’t have her, no one will,” Amber said. “Classic motive.” 

“The thing is,” you leaned forward, glaring back at Amber just as intently. “I already have her.” Despite Sam’s feelings on you she had to side with you there, you were already dating Tara, had been for a while now. There was no reason for you to attack Tara, there was no one for you to be jealous of and this wasn’t some twisted version of unrequited love. 

“Maybe you’re threatened.” 

“By who? You?” you scoffed, literally laughing at the idea of being threatened by Amber “Please! As if.” 

“Tara knows you’re not good enough.” Amber smirked, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. Sam had no idea what happened to warrant the animosity between you and Amber, but it was very clear where Amber stood regarding you. 

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, but Sam could swear she caught a glimmer of doubt in your eye. She didn’t think you necessarily believe Amber’s words but there was probably a part of you that truly didn’t think you were good enough for Tara, that she deserved better than anything you could offer her. 

“What could you possibly offer her?” 

“You’re trying to get me to doubt my relationship,” you kept your voice low as you pointed at Amber. “I don’t know why,” you shook your head. “It won’t work though. Tara’s love is the one thing I have never doubted.” Sam hated to admit it, but she admired your devotion to Tara and your commitment to each other. 

“Why are you still here?” Amber continued to poke. “You always talk about how much you hate this place, you literally despise this town.” Amber leaned forward, staring right into your eyes. So why are you still here?” 

“For Tara!” you shot to your feet. “I stayed for her,” your voice cracked. Everyone got silent, all of them dropping their eyes to the floor, except for Amber; Sam seemed to be the only other one willing to still look at you. 

“I was actually going to say Sam was the prime suspect,” Mindy was the first to speak up. Sam’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open as she stared at Mindy. “Daughter of the original mastermind,” Mindy looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It makes sense,” she shrugged.  

“But you,” she shifted her gaze to you. “You have nothing and no one, your parents abandoned you, you were a troubled teen, hated this small town, until magically you got your shit together, turning your life around, then began dating Tara, who just happens to be Sam’s sister. You knew Sam before, no?” you only acknowledged her with a glare. “The perfect suspect, one that’s seemingly unsuspecting.” 

You let out a humorless chuckle. Sam watched as you looked around the room, seeing how no one argued with Amber’s accusation or Mindy’s logic. “Fuck you,” you spit out before storming out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind you. 

“Yeah, because that doesn’t scream guilty,” Amber mumbled under her breath. “Well, this has been fun.” Amber stood up from her seat. 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. 

Amber rolled her eyes. “Home. Unless you want to accuse anymore of us?” Amber gestured around before making her way out of the house without a goodbye. 

Wes was the next to go but unlike Amber he actually gave a short goodbye to everyone before quickly running out the door. Last was Liv, she gave Chas a quick kiss, saying something about having to go to work and then she left as well. 

Sam sighed, figuring it was time they left as well, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome after basically accusing the entire friend group of murder and after sort of being accused by Mindy. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, as she, Richie, and Dewey stepped outside. 

Dewey gave a small shrug. “Now, what’s your plan?” Dewey asked. 

“Hopefully food,” Richie mumbled. 

Sam ran a hand through her hair. Gathering everyone together had been simultaneously useful and not. They now had a theory on what the killer was doing, they knew his victims were those related to legacy characters, but they still weren’t any closer to knowing who the killer was. 

“I need to get back to the hospital,” Sam sighed. Even if Tara didn’t want to talk to her, she needed to try. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Tara alone in the hospital too long, especially overnight, even if that meant sleeping in a chair outside her room or in the waiting room. 

“I was hoping for something besides hospital food,” Richie groaned. 

Sam sighed, she really didn’t want to waste time going to get food. “I can give you a ride to the hospital,” Dewey offered. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. 

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, it’ll give me the chance to ask some questions anyway.” 

Sam tossed her keys to Richie. Richie didn’t waste time, giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off towards the car. Richie had started and pulled away before Sam and Dewey had even started walking to Dewey’s truck. 

“A text!” someone yelled, stopping Dewey in his tracks as he started to walk towards his truck. Dewey turned around and Sam peered over his shoulder seeing a woman in a colorful business suit approaching him. “You let me know in a text!” she continued, walking right up to Dewey and slapping him. 

“You were on air,” Dewey weakly defended. That’s when Sam realized who this was, Gale Weathers. 

“How do you know that?” 

Dewey opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit he still watched his ex-wife’s morning show. Sam couldn’t fault him for that it was either really sweet or really depressing, she was starting to think maybe a bit of both. 

“How did you find me?” Dewey settled on, crossing his arms. 

“I tracked your phone,” Gale said without shame. 

“You tracked my-are you insane?” 

Gale rolled her eyes. “I needed to find you and it was the quickest way,” she shrugged. “Who’s this?” Gale turned to Sam, seeming to finally notice her for the first time. 

“Sam Carpenter,” Sam introduced herself. “My sister was attacked. 

Gale tilted her head, her eyes instantly softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do we know anything yet? What about the second victim?” 

“Vince Schnieder,” Dewey said. “He’s Stu Macher’s nephew.” 

“He attacked my sister because I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam added. Gale’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head at hearing this information. Sam hated the fact that she was getting used to revealing that information. “Somehow the killer knows and now he’s going after those related to the original killings.” 

“What did you just say?” Gale whispered, her eyes taking on what Sam could only describe as a look of fear. 

Sam couldn’t blame her for being scared, Gale probably didn’t come back to town and expect to be even more in danger. “This psycho seems to be obsessed with the original movie and so disappointed in the ones that have followed, he’s decided to make his own,” Sam rolled her eyes. She still thought it was ridiculous someone was doing all this because of a movie. 

“She’s related to Billy,” Dewey said, pointing at Sam. “So, he went after her sister. Then Stu’s nephew,” he shook his head. “He’s going after anyone related to the legacy characters, anyone related to us.” 

Sam watched curiously as Gale pulled out her phone, furrowing her brow at whoever was calling her. Sam couldn’t make out who it was before Gale declined the call. Not a second later her phone buzzing again. Gale once again declined the call, rolling her eyes. 

Gale let out a frustrated sigh when her phone vibrated again, but this time it didn’t seem to be a phone call. Gale furrowed her brow as she tapped her phone. She furrowed her brow as she stared down at the screen, then her eyes quickly widened as if she realized something. “Oh, god,” Gale whispered. 

“What is it?” Dewey asked. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Gale continued to whisper under her breath. She quickly typed on her phone, dialing a number. Sam furrowed her brow; she had a feeling she didn’t want to know who had been trying to call Gale and what they sent her. “Dammit!” Gale screamed at her phone when whoever she was calling didn’t answer. 

“What? What’s going on?” 

“We need to go.” 

“What? Where?” 

Gale ignored Dewey’s questions as she dialed 911. Sam’s eyes widened; she didn’t know what was happening but clearly it wasn’t good. Gale began speaking quickly, rattling off an address Sam didn’t recognize it seemed as soon as someone answered. “Yes, it’s an emergency!” Gale yelled into the phone. “Tell the sheriff it’s about Ghostface! The next victim is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Sam’s eyes widened at hearing your name. “We need to go,” Gale said. “Now!” Dewey seemed just as confused as Sam felt but he didn’t question it as he took off towards his truck, Gale right behind him. Sam followed their lead, running off after them. She jumped in the backseat, just barely getting the door closed before Dewey took off, his wheels squealing against the pavement. Sam gripped the sides of the front seat, staring out the windshield, silently hoping they’d get to you in time. 

[jarofstyles]

Take Me Higher

Happy 4/20 my lovelies. I just whipped this up quickly so I hope you guys enjoy it 🫣

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!

Send requests here

WC- 2.5k

Warnings- use of marijuana, high users, switch!H, choking, cum play, etc

Picture is not mine, credits to owner

————-

The smoke had cleared out of the room but it was a bit cold still from the chill of the night. It wasn’t quite warm enough to be spring in her humble opinion, but she’d take what she could get. Plus, Harry had brought her some food stuff for them and she was feeling the effects kicking in as she felt a weight settle on her body. Her eyes were hooded and she was a little giggly as his scent engulfed her, vanilla and tobacco more prominent than the smell she tried to keep from her place.

“Mm… you’re warm.” A cool nose brushed her throat, making her shiver as the man crawled up her body and rested himself on top of her. Harry always got like this when they smoked, but it seemed even more prominent today.

“And you’re a needy little thing.” Fingers carded through his hair, knocking the beanie off his head as he buried his face in her neck. There was no real response except a whine, breath warm on her skin as he tried to warm himself up. The window had to be opened so they’d not get any real complaints from their flat, but luckily they were sure her neighbor wasn’t home today.

Comfortable silence made her melt further into the sofa, the playlist on low as her eyes fluttered shut and she busied herself with playing with his hair. He’d been a good smoking buddy for a while, but she knew why he really came over. It was only a matter of time.

A large hand slipped under her body, wiggling itself under her top to feel the hot expanse of her back. He couldn’t get close enough, needy little thing, and Y/N was fully enjoying being clung to. Physical touch always made the high even better, but that’s just her opinion. Or maybe it was physical touch was better when high? She didn’t know. Her brain didn’t want to analyze that right this second.

“Did you sleep last night? Tired?” Her voice was soft as she didn’t want to disturb the vibe, twirling a curl around her fingertips.

“No.” He shook his head, seeming like he was trying to get into her skin. “Jus’ want to get close to you. You’re warm and you smell fuckin’ incredible.” His voice was a little bit more hoarse, but that was to be expected. “You’re my favorite person... To smoke with.” He added on to the thought hurriedly but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. Fingers trailed down her spine, making her shudder a little.

“Hm, is that because I let you eat my pussy?” She smirked, feeling him pull his head form her neck with a glare. Sex with him was fantastic. Maybe it was because they were usually blazed when they did it and they both felt the sensitivity that went with it along with a more intense orgasm. He was the only one who could match her drive when she was like this, so he’d easily become a favorite person of her. Though she had a feeling that he’d do it just as well without the smoking bit, that would be something to unpack at a later date.

“Hey… don’t make me sound like a lecher.” He pouted, sending her heart to beat a bit harder. One thing she’d give the man was that he was adorable. “Not the only reason. I love doin’ that but… you have the best snacks n’you let me talk about anything. Your cunt is just a bonus… though I really do love it.” Harry wasn’t usually super shy, but sometimes he got a bit bashful when it came to Y/N. There was a slight hesitation as he let their noses brush, ghosting his lips over hers. “Can I?”

“So sweet for asking.” Y/N cooed, smiling n at his request. He wanted to kiss her. She could taste how bad he wanted it when the high had hit him, but now he wasn’t able to hold back much. “Go ahead, pretty boy. Since you seem to like it so much.”

Harry was a little messy with it, smearing their lips together and grazing his teeth over her bottom lip. There wasn’t much to hide his desperation as he adjusted himself on top of her, pulling one of her legs to wrap around his hip. “I do.” He breathed before licking into her mouth. Her lips were so sweet and soft, tasting like the cola she’d drank and mint chapstick. His favorite thing. Pulling apart with a soft clicking sound, he let out a groan as he looked down at her. Her bun was all messed up with some flyaways, lips wet and eyes hazy. His favorite sight. Seeing he undone when usually she was so put together, knowing he’d been the one to get to see her like this… it did things to his “I really fucking do.”

Y/N whimpered as he devoured her. His tongue hot in her mouth and his hand gripping her thigh to keep her close, she couldn’t help but grow hot when she felt him against her. It wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last, but it still surprised her every time. How had she ever fit that inside of her? Tightening her legs around his hips, she heard the hitch in his breathing before he pulled away from her lips to groan. It gave her a chance to pull her shirt off her body, exposing her tits to him.

Harry nearly whimpered at the sight of them, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips before making his way down. “Fuck, the things you do t’me.” He whispered, moving closer to her breasts. “Can I kiss on them a bit, pretty? It’ll feel good.” He pleaded, sighing against the skin as she nodded at the request.

Sponging kisses all over the swells, he gently rocked his hips into hers to relieve a bit of the ache. His cock was thick and throbbing, desperate for some relief. The hear of her cunt could he felt through her panties, making Harry thank whatever higher power that she’d chosen the big shirt no pants combination today. “Gorgeous. You’re so pretty, all over.” He praised, puckering his lips over a nipple for a kiss. She shivered under him, her grip in his hair getting fuller as he brought it into his mouth.

Y/N sighed in pleasure as his hot mouth suckled on her. She’d loved when he did this last time, licking over her tits while he was inside of her. He was still clothed this time but somehow that was just as hot to her. Panties were ruined regardless, but she arched her back slightly as he took more of her breast into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the nipple. “Oh, shit.” The girl whimpered, rocking her hips in return. The stimulation made her head cloudy, or maybe it was the blunt, but she didn’t really care. It all felt so fucking good, it didn’t matter. “Harry… you’re so nice t’me.” She sighed, watching him pull off with a soft ‘pop’.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s what you deserve, yeah? So nice to me too…” he sighed into her chest, placing wet kisses to the skin that glistened in the light, leaving cool spots once he left. “Let me come over and smoke, let me eat your snacks, kiss your pretty mouth… let me taste you, sometimes let me feel that perfect little pussy wrapped around me… have t’be nice to my girl.”

She didn’t have a chance to answer before he repeated the process with her other nipple, making her pant. The grinding was getting harder, her breathing matching it as he rubbed over her clit in the motions. Back and forth, sweet relief as she spread herself out further and clutched his head to her breast as he worshiped them. “Fuck me, keep going like that and M’gonna cum.” She warned him, though she had no real want of him stopping.

“So cum.” He mumbled into her skin. “Won’t be the last time you do it tonight.” And oh- oh. He sounded so self assured and cocky and it did something to her, a zap of electricity to her tummy as she moaned into the air, clinging to him.

His back was firm under her hands, not stopping herself from sliding them unde this tee shirt. His skin was burning under her palms as she dragged her nails lightly down his shoulder blades. “Harder.” He instructed, rutting into her with more force. “Scratch me. S’okay.” He couldn’t help connecting their mouths again, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh as it clung to him.

She did as asked, surprising her when he let out a deeper groan than she’d heard before. His hips quickened, sure his gray sweats were ruined but uncaring about anything else. “Gonna make me cum in my joggers.” He panted against her lips, unable to keep himself from touching her. His mouth was a magnet to her body, his cock throbbing and balls feeling exceptionally full as he dry fucked her.

“Mm… here.” She momentarily reached between them and tugged them down far enough that he was out of them. “Cum on my panties.” Her voice rang into his ears. “Already ruined them. Can’t you feel how wet you made me?” And fuck, could he.

Without the sweats in the way he could feel her soaked through panties wetting his prick, the heat of her through the barely there fabric making him insane. Though the real thing that got him was her request. “You really want that?” He questioned, buttoning their lips together for a moment because he simply couldn’t help it. “You want t’be sticky with my load all over your panties and your skin? I’ve got so much for you…” he wasn’t joking either. It had been a bit since they’d hung out and his hand didn’t do him as much justice as she could. His dick desperately missed her.

“You know I don’t mind a mess, Harry.” She purred, moving a hand to wrap around his throat. “And you’ll be a good boy and lick it off my skin, won’t you? Then you’ll lick my pretty pussy until you’re ready to fuck me. Because you’re always such a good boy for me…”

Oh, fuck. Harry whimpered at the feeling of her hand around his throat, the drop of his guilty pleasure nickname, immediately feeling the shift. He was determined to please her before, but this tone of voice and her slight overtaking made him a bit pathetic. “Yes- yeah, M’gonna do it.” He promised, adjusting them slightly so he tip could brush right over her clit. “Anything you want. Want t’make you feel so good. M’good for you.” He nodded, messily kissing her again as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

Y/N hummed in pleasure as he got them to the right position. His hard cock rutting against her like the fabric wasn’t even there, thick and hot. She loved feeling him, knowing she’d done that to him. Her stomach tightened as she felt the perfect thrust from him, gasping into his mouth. “Oh- yes, like that. Keep it light that, baby.” She pleaded, mouth falling open as he repeated it. “Mhm… there. Gonna cum.” She had been worked up for a little bit now but feeling his need to please her helped her get there.

“Please, please do it. Want you to cum, want you to feel so good… you’re so perfect, please cum for me. Give it to me, fuckin’ goddess….” He spoke to her like he needed her orgasm to breathe. Whimpery and needy and unlike how he usually sounded, but with his perfect angle and the friction against her clit combined with that, she was pushed over the edge.

“Yes- yes, fuck me.” Head falling further back into the cushions, she dug her nails into his back with one hand while the other tightened on his throat. Sparks igniting her nerves and her legs held on to him like a lifeline as she came. Harry never knew a prettier sight in his life than how she looked when he made her orgasm.

“Give me it too, H. Make me a sticky mess so you can clean me.” She gasped out. “You’ve been so good, I know you can give me what I want. Please?” Her voice shook slightly. “Give me what I want.” Giving just the slightest bit more pressure to the fingers on the sides of his throat, she knew exactly how much to press to make him lightheaded. Choking was a weakness of his, something that made him cum embarrassingly fast a lot of the time, but this time he was grateful as he let out a sob. His prick was slick with her and aching to release but he tried to hold back for her sake. With the mix of the high being at its height, the sensitivity overwhelming him and how she knew exactly how to touch him- The moment she called him a good boy and gave him the head rush he needed, he was a fucking goner.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, M’gonna cum-“ he babbled her name as he found his release. Jerking against her, hot ribbons of the pearly cum shot against the covered cunt and over her tummy. His balls pulsed as he unloaded on her, smearing it over himself and her as his hips sloppily worked him through the orgasm. Face slack in rapture, he let out a hoarse groan as the last of it spilled from his tip, hips jerking a few times before he felt her hand fall and his mouth descended on hers again.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, hm?” He slurred, biting her lip with a hum before he lowered his body onto hers. His prick was sensitive but he made no move to pull back, pecking her over and over again as she caressed his cheek with her choking hand. Y/N was by far the best at it regardless, intuition leading her to know exactly what he liked. “Feel like m’fucking floating. Dunno if it’s the high or your cunt.” He snickered, feeling her return the laugh.

“Probably a mix of both.” She smiled, giving him a few kisses of her own. “But we’ve got plenty to keep it going for a while. Are you up for it, pretty boy?” The girl had no plans but to be blazed and fucked for the rest of the night, and she hoped he was on the same page.

“M’up for anything, you fuckin’ goddess.” He mumbled as he sat up on his knees to look at the mess they’d made. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, her cunt and little thatch of hair visible through the now transparent fabric and splattered with cum on the ruined panties and her tummy. It made his mouth water just looking at it. “Jesus… look at this.” He mumbled, spreading her further open with his hand. “Seems like I’ve got a lot of work to do, don’t I?”

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FOURTEEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings none! my girls are getting on the right track in this one.

kalena speakss 🪽! this chapter might be a little underwhelming for y’all but it’s so key for the ending of this story and allat!

July 2025 — Kia Forum, Inglewood, California 

I never imagined that singers— especially really fucking good ones— could be so terrible at singing happy birthday.

Backstage at Kia Forum I’m joined by none other than Destin Conrad and Victoria Monet, and multiple other members of my team, just minutes away from going out on stage.

I can hear the crowd and feel the rumble under my feet even though no one is out yet. 

“You guys do know my birthday isn’t until tomorrow, right?” I laugh when the singing comes to an end.

Destin drapes an arm over my shoulder, slightly bumping his hip against mine. “Yes, but it will be by the time we’re off stage.” He responds, squeezing my shoulder gently and leading me closer to that black stage. The instrumental of Unpredictable plays, and Destin is walking out to start his verse.

I shake off any nerves that reside on my mind and adjust the grip on the microphone in my hand.

There’s always a moment of clarity whenever I’m about to go on stage, like the feeling of being so loved by thousands of people is surreal. 

Footsteps grow increasingly louder behind me, I tug out my inner ear monitor to look over at who is behind me.

“Kea?” My eyebrows furrow and I gasp just slightly surprised. I knew she would be here, she made a big deal of explaining how Cameron, Paige, and herself would get comfortable in their suite and cheer for me the loudest of anyone in the arena.

So I fully expected her to be, well, in her suite. Not here.

“Listen—”

“I have to go—”

“I know, just listen. I know about Paige. She told me everything, and I'm not mad it’s just,” Rickea pauses with a sigh and I look at her pointedly, silently telling her to hurry it up before I miss my cue.

“You should hear her out. I know you’re hurting over it all, and rightfully so, but I know Paige. And I don’t think she’s ever been more regretful of something in her life.” She adds.

“Is she here?” I ask.

“No, she thought you didn’t want her here.”

It makes me frown. Because even now, after all the things I’ve said, or rather left unsaid, I still wish she was here. 

When she came and saw me the first time, I didn’t even know she was there and it sucked. It sucked because I was so desperately missing her. My mind was racing over thoughts of her and she wasn’t there. Somehow, knowing that she stayed home tonight hurts even more.

Knowing that Paige thought I’d rather have her at home than here, fucking hurts. I did that. I made her feel like that.

I didn’t think that it was possible to miss someone this bad. Paige had literally weaved her way into my life and in two months had me wrapped around her finger.

She should be here. No matter what. She said she would so she should’ve followed through. Why didn’t she follow through?

I reluctantly nod at Rickea’s words, hearing Destin’s voice echo through the building as my verse approaches. I look back and forth from my sound manager and herself, my words resting on my tongue, mouth slightly parted.

“I— I gotta go.” I murmur wrapping my hand tighter around my microphone and backing up towards the stage, and Rickea looks defeated. I can only imagine how many conversations about me she had to have had with Paige in order for her to tell me to speak to her.

“I will.” I called out. “I’ll talk to her, I mean.”

That’s all I say before beginning my verse, exiting to the stage and being greeted by the cheers of my sold out audience.

—

July 2025 — Two weeks ago

“Your birthday is coming up soon.” Paige mumbles into the air. 

We sit on her couch, my legs resting on her lap while we do nothing but talk. I didn’t want to go home even though I knew I should. After the entire argument I had with Julian earlier, my phone has been blowing up with texts and calls from him. I knew that if I were to go home, I’d be responding and giving him the exact response he’s wanting.

So instead I sit here, letting Paige rub up on my legs and tell me everything I want to hear. All too intimate for two people who aren’t supposed to be seeing each other.

“Yeah.” I respond, feeling goosebumps travel up my skin from the way her fingers play with the charm anklet by my foot.

“Why you say it like that? You ain’t excited?” She asks me, a chuckle tumbling past her lips.

“No, no! I am!” I smile. Her eyes on me are almost suffocating, I still can’t even find it in me to break the eye contact. “There’s a lot to be excited about. The show. Imma drive out to San Diego too.”

There’s a sly bite to Paige’s lip as she looks at me, taking in everything I tell her. “San Diego? Whatchu doin’ out there?” She asks.

“I used to spend my birthday with my grandma. She got this nice ass place in La Jolla.” I start, thinking about all the birthdays I got to spend in California before even moving here. “She passed away a few years back, so I try to stay at her place for my birthday weekend. It’s like she’s still here with me, y’know?” 

Paige frowns a bit, trailing her hand up my leg to squeeze at my calf. It’s comforting, saying all the words she has yet to.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that.” She says, her eyes softening just slightly.

I shrug. “Don’t be, it’s alright.” I slide my legs off of her lap and they drop to the floor. She looks at me almost disappointed that I’m no longer touching her. It’s late, past one o’clock, and the city is nearly asleep. We should be too. “You coming to the show?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, ma.”

That damned pet name is about to make me lose my mind. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she says it. The eye contact and lick of her lip, sometimes she smirks after and it turns me into a puddle every time. It’s almost more sensual than when she calls me ‘angel’. When she does that, I just feel warm inside. Giddy almost. She’s being a sweetheart. 

But when Paige fixes her lips and relaxes her jaw and opens her mouth to call me ‘ma’ it’s raunchy, and I can only imagine how it would sound when she's breathing all heavy. Whispering it in my ear, talking her shit to me in a way that would make me fall apart just for her. On her hands or mouth or literally anywhere.

“We should do sum. Like dinner after the show.” Paige suggests, voice sort of quiet. The sweet suggestion takes me out of my otherwise dirty thoughts. I can tell she’s been thinking about how to bring this up. Like she’s trying to get a feel of whether that would be too forward or not.

“So y’wanna take me on a date?” I smirk, watching the way her face flushes. We sit even closer to one another, my knee pressed up against her thigh as I sit on my haunches.

“I wanna do something nice for your birthday, actually.” She teases. “But if you wanna call it that, then sure. Lemme take you out then.”

I look at her incredulously, this was the same woman who just told me she didn’t want to be a home-wrecker, the same woman that swore she would give me space and time to figure my shit out. Yet here she is, with the bite of her lip and eye contact that makes me feel naked. The words fell from her tongue so sultry, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was blushing so bad that I was pink.

“Stop it.” I laugh, pointing at her with a squint of my eyes.

“Y’ont wanna go out wimme? I thought I was doin’ a great job at being all charming and shit.” Paige leans into me, her head just slightly angled as she bores into my eyes. “I think you and me would have a great night at dinner.”

“I think you are very bold.”

“I think you should kiss me.”

It shuts me up, and I freeze and look at her like she has three heads. Paige, however, looks very proud of herself. Smug, even.

“You’re crazy.” I mutter, sitting up from my spot on her couch to trot towards the door. She follows me instantly, her laugh echoing in my ear. Paige grips my wrist, pulling me to her until my back is pressed against her chest and her arms are wrapped tight around my waist.

“C’mon I’m just kidding.” She mumbles.

“No you’re not!” I laugh, attempting to get her off my back, but really really I don’t want her to move. I like this feeling of Paige all on me like this. Her body is warm, breath fanning my neck.

“Okay, just one last kiss.” Paige turns me around in her embrace. I always forget how tall she is, because most of the time we’re just close enough where it feels eye to eye.

But she towers over me right now, Calvin Klein scent traveling down to my nose, blonde hair tickling her tanned skin. She’s stunning. Gorgeous in a way that I’ve never seen before. 

“Just one, before you go.”

“Are you begging me?”

“Will it make you kiss me if I say yes?”

I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t stop me. I’m instantly reaching for her face, cupping her cheeks in my hands and angling my head towards hers. She kissed me slowly, lips barely even moving against my own as she grabbed my hips.

I don’t think I want this to end, if I could spend the rest of my life kissing her I think I’d be happy. 

“—Good kisser.” Paige groans against me.

I pull back from her sucking on my bottom lip which is now wet from her saliva. “Whatchu say?”

“Said you’re a good kisser, ma.” She repeats. Her thumb traces over my bottom lip. “You break up with what’s his name, and we can do a lot more of that.” Paige shrugs, moving in and kissing me again. It's even shorter, something I could barely consider a peck.

But I’d be a fool to stop her.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

Only I would be distracted by Maraye while she isn’t even in the room.

My flight to Indiana is in the morning and I should be packing the clothes that surround me where I sit on the floor. But I can’t tear my eyes away from my TV, the Amazon Prime replay of her birthday bash playing on my screen.

She looked incredible last night. A long crystallized black dress was what she wore first. Then some baggy jeans and a vintage Atlanta Falcons jersey that was tucked just right where I could catch a glimpse of a new tattoo on her rib. The camera can barely make it out, but I saw it and it was occupying a spot in my brain all night.

I shouldn’t be here. I mean sure, I should be packed and ready to go for the weekend. But I shouldn’t be sitting on the floor like an idiot.

I should be at some fancy restaurant, Maraye sitting across from me in some pretty dress with that fucking lip combo she wears that makes me forget my name. 

It’s her birthday for God’s sake, I should be wishing her a happy birthday and telling her how fucking important she is in my life. I texted her earlier today, first thing when I woke up actually. Just like my other texts, it went unread and unanswered.

I reach for the rest of my clothes on the floor, packing jeans and shorts and shirts into my suitcase haphazardly. It was hard to focus when I could hear her singing in the background. 

SOS. The first song I ever heard of hers, the song that is probably to blame for what became an obsession with her. She sounds just as perfect as she did then. Maybe even more. But I'm not sure if that’s because she’s gotten even better as a musician or if it’s because I’m so embarrassingly down bad that the slightest change in tone makes me think that.

Probably both.

I can feel my phone vibrate against the carpet, my lock screen, or rather the bible verse written on it flashes bright. John 13:7.

I see her contact name almost as bright.

It’s been what feels like forever since she’s texted or called me. Even longer than when I saw her at the gala. My mind short circuits and I haven’t even opened it yet.

When I do, I feel like I can breathe again. It’s minor, not an emoji or exclamation mark in sight but it still makes me feel like everything is right again. 

Happy birthday angel, missin you extra today sent 7:02am

thanks sent 6:12pm

That’s it. Thanks. But it’s something, something that lets me know she knows I exist. That’s all I can really ask for right now.

i miss you

can we talk soon? i know you’re busy with all star stuff but whenever ur ready, i am too sent 6:15pm

That one I didn’t expect. Not in the slightest.

But I smile anyway, staring at my phone like a fucking high school girl with a crush.

i miss you too

i’m free rn, i’ll come over just say the word  read 6:16pm

maraye 🫀 started sharing location 6:16pm

When I click her location I nearly scoff. La Jolla, San Diego. Over 2 hours away. I’d be crazy to get in my car, and drive out there when I have a flight at four in the morning. When I have clothes that still need to be paired together and shoes that need to be picked and toiletries to be packed.

I’d be crazy to drive to San Diego to see her when I don’t know what she wants to say. She could tell me she doesn’t want shit to do with me.

But then there’s that other possibility. The one where she could tell me she wants me, needs me, loves me. I think the fact that there is a chance, no matter how slim, that she could forgive me and that I can fix this means more than everything else.

So I’d be crazy not to go. Right?

—

July 2025 — San Diego, California 

I’m crazy.

I know she’s leaving, maybe tonight, probably in the morning. And I am too. A flight to Indy is waiting for me tomorrow morning. I shouldn’t distract her before the biggest weekend of her life with this. With something that could’ve been fixed forever ago if I just let her speak.

I was going to let the silence go for the rest of the weekend. Talk to her when we get back, maybe even after the game.

Then Rickea got to me, and Paige was texting me happy birthday, and then I saw them.

Texts that started with long paragraphs, apologies that then I would’ve called phony or weak. They dwindled from those long thought out messages to short ones. A few sentences that turned into a few words. 

But they never stopped. She never stopped texting. 

So now, when I read them, I know she was serious. I know she was sorry.

I know that when she texts me, saying she stayed up at night thinking of me, or that she funnily enough thought she was playing terrible without my live texts— she meant it. All of it.

I’m otw

Traffic is shitty but I’m coming

Stay up for me?

Omg I just triple texted like an idiot.. ignore all that sent 8:00pm

i’m waiting :) read 8:01pm

That’s all I really can do. Just wait. 

And when I do hear that knock or get that phone call I know where I’m going. I’m going back to her. Because it’s always going to be her.

Paige is my person.

[alienguts]

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside. 

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”