#but she thinks there's something else wrong with me

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine that ex-husband Gojo is baffled by you giving him the cold shoulder upon your return from your romantic getaway with his replacement.

As far as he knew, Satoru didn't bother you or anyone else (except Suguru) about his grief over this trip whatsoever. So why were you upset with him? Why aren't you back happy, well-rested, glowing, possibly with a ring? (Even if that last one would've broken Satoru for good.)

"Hey, did you-- Where'd she go?" Satoru popped his head into a classroom at the Kyoto school where he'd just finished a meeting. As soon as he opened his mouth, you took off out of the room's other door. Sen looks up unimpressed while his friends give each other a dubious look.

"That's her business," he grumbles.

You'd been dodging him for going on two weeks now and while Satoru's always had an unbreakable spirit, he was beginning to think that he should leave you well enough alone. Even after the divorce, you never avoided him like this.

Sen watches his father's face fall and morph into genuine sorrow.

'He doesn't deserve her anyway.' Sen reminds himself over and over again. Satoru mumbles an apology and turns to leave.

Hikari Higuruma and Naoki Zenin both kick him under their desks.

"Come on, man," Nao murmurs.

"Say something!" Hikari hisses.

Both of Sen's friends are the type to respond to "will you help me hide a body?" with "yeah, what snacks should I bring and how many shovels do we need?" With that in mind, their disapproval in this scenario seriously puts the situation into perspective for Sen. That, and he thinks his mother stands to lose the most if he doesn't speak up.

'Dammit,' Sen thinks to himself.

"Dad!" he barks. Satoru must've truly been deep in thought when the sharp crack of his son's voice is enough to make him jump. He turns and Sen leans back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Sen says before thinking of a caveat. "This time." He may not know the details, but Sen at least knows you well enough that whatever happened on your couples' retreat had nothing to do with anything Satoru did.

Satoru looks hopeful. "Then what's--"

"Didn't I just say that's her business?" Sen snaps. "Go ask her if it's so important!" Satoru affords his son a small smile. There's a nonzero chance that he spoke up out of pity, but Satoru is sure the majority of Sen's motivation was for your sake. If there's anything without doubt in this world, it's Sen's love for you.

"Right." Satoru tosses a green packet to his son, who easily catches it in one hand. "Thanks anyway, kiddo!" Good thing he grabbed a pack of chocorooms the last time he was at the train station.

As Satoru leaves, Hikari snatches the pack from Sen.

"Oh, I fuck with these," she says, tearing the bag open.

Nao reaches over. "Hand those over!"

"No way, you're too slow!"

"Those are literally mine."

"Get off!"

Satoru smiles. His son was never as lonely as he was growing up and he never would be as long as those two were around.

Imagine ex-husband Gojo hearing your soft sniffles from inside a random storage closet. He hasn't seen or heard you cry in, what, fifteen years?

He softly taps on the door. "Hi," he murmurs.

The sniffling immediately stops as you contemplate the likelihood of him going away. But you know him like you know yourself and even if you don't let him inside the closet, he'd sit down and wait by the door until you're ready. And if you don't talk to him after that, he'd walk you home. And if you were silent the whole way home, he'd keep his mouth shut until you were ready.

And that just about sums up the kind of person your husband is.

Ex-husband. Fuck.

You reach out and unlock the door, which Satoru takes as his cue to come in and shut it behind him. Normally, he'd cup your face in his hands like you were the most precious thing in the world (you are, as far as he's concerned) and wipe your tears with his thumbs, but he can't do that now because you've been avoiding him for a while now and you may or may not be engaged to someone else.

"This is my own fuck up, Satoru," you tell him with a big sniffle. You try to collect yourself before tears start to fall again. Putting your face in your hands, you tell him, "You don't need to comfort me. This is my own fault."

Satoru takes your hands in his. He doesn't feel a ring and he hates himself for feeling hopeful about that.

"Did he propose?" he asks as neutrally as he can.

You rest your forehead against his chest. "He might as well have. He offered me a promise ring. It was beautiful. I couldn't have designed a better one myself."

Saying it out loud make the guilt even heavier.

Satoru isn't afraid of much, but he is afraid to ask, "And?"

"And." You purse your lips and he deserves eye contact right now, but you don't have the strength. "I couldn't accept it."

Satoru's heart skips a beat and he curses himself for it. But even he's taking aback. The perfect man just served himself to you on a silver platter and you said no?

"Oh," is all he can say.

You reply, "Yeah. Oh."

"Why?" he can't help but ask.

"Satoru, you know why."

"I promise you I don't."

It takes a moment for you to figure out how you want to say this, but you settle for short version.

"It's just." You breathe in his scent, as familiar to you as your own. He smells like coming home after a long trip and while hotels and AirBNBs and temporary homes may be nice and have all the luxuries, nothing beats returning to the space you cultivated for yourself. "Every day I'm not your wife is the worst day of my life. So no, I couldn't promise myself to someone else. And I feel like a bad person because I went on this trip knowing that there was a possibility he'd ask to make us official and I went anyway, and you know what he said to me after I said no?"

"What?" Satoru breathes out. His mind is still reeling from the first thing you said. About how much you hated not being his wife. And now all he could think about is that from the moment the word 'divorce' left your mouth all those years ago, he'd been sleepwalking through life sustained only by the brief moments he got to see you or hear of you or be reminded of you.

You fist your hands in his shirt. "He told me it was ok. That I don't owe him anything and he'll always cherish our time together." You shake your head miserably. "I never deserved him. There's no version of me that ever will, but I just can't be with him."

Satoru doesn't move. He'd let go of your hands when you grabbed his shirt and his hands now hang limply at his sides. He stands so still that it's like he hasn't even heard you.

It may not seem like it in the moment, but your ex-husband always found the right words. From the first, "you look like crap" to the wedding vows he spent months on and ended up going off script anyways, he always knew just what to say.

As the silence stretched on, you grew increasingly uncomfortable. There was never any doubt that Satoru loved you, but now that you've said something you can't take back, has he realized how the eventual heartache wasn't worth it in the end? At some point, has he realized that maybe you were just never meant to be?

"Satoru?" you ask in a small voice.

Rather than using insufficient words for the feeling of joy and relief beyond comprehension, Satoru wordlessly reaches into his shirt and pulls out a chain. On it hangs his wedding ring, yours, and your engagement ring.

In the weeks after the divorce, you tried to give your engagement and wedding ring back to him. He didn't accept them at first, telling you they're yours and always would be, but one day, he came to work and found them sitting on his desk. He exorcised 37 curses that day.

You huff a laugh. "You keep those on you?"

The storage closet you're in is small, smells mildly of bleach and strongly of dirt, and the light fixture hands so low Satoru has to stoop to not bang his head. His elbow knocks over a mop and the bucket its in, which causes a chain reaction of falling cleaning supplies, but he ignores it all to awkwardly fit himself onto one knee.

Satoru unclasps the chain and slides your engagement ring off. Your hands fly to your mouth and to him, you look even more beautiful than you did the first time he asked. Your cheeks aren't as full, you look more world-weary, but your eyes still shine as bright and you'll always be you, and for that, Satoru could never love anyone else the way he loved you. Not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

Satoru slides his blindfold up and it sits in his hair messily. "Maybe you don't think you deserve him, but if I could just be selfish this one time." He has to swallow to keep his voice steady. "I'd ask if you'd be willing to settle for me, who doesn't deserve you. Because I love you and I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

Your tears fall freely as he takes your left hand in his.

"If that's enough, then I hope you'll accept this as a promise ring. That I'll take it slow and I'll respect your boundaries and you can back out at any time." He winks. "And that I'll get you a new engagement ring when the time comes."

It's like you've just walked through the threshold of your home after ages away. Breathed in your scent. Taken in all the decor you've collected while living there.

"You've spent a really long time hung up on the same girl, Satoru," you laugh wetly.

Satoru grins. "You don't get it. She's a really special girl. No one compares. So, what do you say? I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow?"

And what else are you supposed to say? That's Your Man.

Hello, loves, I just moved from one end of the U.S. to the other and moved away from my parents for work. I lived in the same house in the same bedroom for 24 years, and it's been hard, so I haven't been writing, but here is the most emotional installment I've written of any fic ever. I hope you enjoy.

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

really interesting article, and overall a really good and comprehensive analysis of this research paper which is also massively important, so i want to make sure i say that, i just needed to bring out how this article’s title focus and random pieces of salt about Trans Discourse is bad and just really takes away from the importance of the whole point

specifically i just.

the second paragraph? wrong. i don’t understand where he’s getting this from. no, i don’t see trans men getting “a pass from some oppression for trying to become the societal ideal” bro they fucking hate that. i don’t know where so many people are getting the idea that society is just like “oh ya, this person i perceive as a woman (subhuman) is telling me they actually are a man ! i do believe this is an understandable thing and not an embarrassment and an insult for [them] to even think” that just doesnt happen, nor do i understand the purpose of saying this for the article or the research topic in general. also the last sentence is weird, “but because they [trans men] cannot ever reach this ideal [of being male], both trans women and gay male “sissies” are dehumanized…” the causation here doesn’t track, failing to see trans men as men doesn’t make trans women and gay men dehumanized, and also like is the statement that said-failing-ideal trans man wouldn’t be dehumanized? i just really don’t understand the purpose of this paragraph. feels to me (like other parts) like vaguing this website, and there’s several other links to things about The Discourse:tm: called such so. that’s my guess and it really takes heavily away from this as a whole.

this, while a fully correct statement, doesn’t sit right with me after following everything else because again, *every* trans person is viewed as a woman and not-woman because “woman” is the patriarchal binary world’s Gender Of Bad (but being a normal cis woman is just the Right Way to be the Bad Gender) but what we certainly cannot ever be is what we really are. that’s the only reason this whole argument is even happening and it’s stupid. we read “woman” as meaning “oppressed gender” because historically and widely that’s what’s true. and there’s only two choices so it slips right by us. we NEED to be aware that that isn’t true. women are oppressed for being women but that does not mean that only women are oppressed for their gender, because that idea is fundamentally based on the structure of only two genders. decouple the association. there are more genders and expressions than you could dream of and that means you gotta dig it out from the ROOTS.

like just think about it even practically for two seconds. feminist/gender oppression history in a very simple sense. yeah people passed sometimes but hormones are a last century invention and not everybody can get those. world ruled by cis men who think women are the scum of the earth. then a “man” says she’s a woman. they don’t like that. where does she go? to the other women for support (i.e. feminist spaces). makes sense. then a “woman” says he’s a man. they don’t like that. where does he go? to the women for support. it’s not something that’s separate.

what happens after that fact can vary, since as we all know feminist spaces are certainly not uniformly inclusive and friendly to trans people and a group of cis women is not primed to just accept a trans woman into their ranks like this example. but i don’t wanna get super into that here because this isn’t specifically about radfems. my point is that the only way really to actually benefit from gender in this world is to be a cis man. full stop. the fight for gender equality has always belonged to cis women and all trans people together and im really sick of this weird idea that including trans women in that, for one, is new, and for two, has to mean shunting trans men out. bullshit, helping no one but the republicans, historically inaccurate, kills solidarity.

overall like i said this had a lot of good stuff to say about the study (although i question calling 16,000 a large study when it’s spread over that many countries ? but that’s beside the point, it’s still significant, that’s more just my scientific curiosity about the methodology) but i just don’t understand the necessity of saying things like this, especially the ones that just completely devalue the oppression trans men face because , ESPECIALLY when in the same article there’s a whole bit about how people tend to do that to another queer group, how people often disregard queer women’s oppression because of the quieter and more disregarding nature it can take compared to queer men’s oppression:

THIS to me resonates with how ive been perceived in my life as a trans man (and prior and transitioning etc) and not just because i was seen as a woman, though perpetrators might have. a “woman” wanting to be a man is not something to take seriously, it IS something of ridicule that should be fixed by showing him “her rightful place” as a subservient woman. honest to christ i keep saying it why do people think that trans men are somehow entirely immune to being treated like women. every single thing that can happen to a cis woman can happen to a trans man for the exact same reasons.

and NONNNEEE of that means it’s not also true for trans women. it is! he’s absolutely right trans women have unique and brutal oppression stemming from their position as trans women in a transmisogynistic society! there is just never any reason to frame it as if trans men are making shit up like “SEEEE TRANS WOMEN HAVE IT SO SHITTY MORE THAN THEM THOSE TRANS MEN OVER THERE” like please please please be vocal about trans women without putting down trans men there is NO REASON TO DO THAT. it’s less than useless, it’s actively harmful to trans solidarity, and because now that’s what your post is about, man (@ the author of linked post not op) it’s not about raising awareness for trans women anymore it’s about proving somebody’s suffering more than somebody else who is also suffering and that just sucks ass. does not, MUST not, be a competition for us to succeed in liberating ourselves.

omg did not expect to see “we have mainstream research evidence for transmisogyny now” this morning but happy friday?? thanks dr. devon price for pre-digesting it

and of course there’s the angle of, well lmfao yes trans women have been saying this in mainstream print since at least 2007 and doubtlessly in other fora for much longer, but sometimes an argument from authority has more force and how do we emotionally reckon with ongoing lack of agency in conversations about us, but i digressss

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 12

Or: a secret Admirer AU

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

He’s got to be heading to the quarry, right? That’s where he goes on Wednesday’s after school to sell his stash, he’d told Steve so umpteen notes back. Steve’s poured over each one enough times to damn-near have the things memorized.

He’s in his car, speeding fast enough that if Hopper catches his ass, he’ll be hauled into a jail cell before he can even make it. Steve pushes his foot down on the pedal harder, trying to eke out any last bit of speed.

When he reaches his destination, Carver’s car is parked sideways across the dirt road that leads off to the quarry, blocking anyone else from entering. Steve slams on his breaks, kicking up dirt all around him, obscuring his view of the windshield.

He steps out into it, dust gritting up his eyes. The only way out is through, so he heads toward the sound of raised voices, stumbling over a raised root as he goes.

He can just barely make out the words now.

“—leave her alone, or you’re dead, do you hear me?” Carver’s not yelling, but when he comes into view, his eyes are hard, and he’s clutching at Eddie’s t-shirt with enough force that he’s holding his knees off the ground.

There’s blood on Eddie’s face, dripping down off it and staining the dirt beneath him.

Steve doesn’t think. “Hey!” he calls, rushing forward to insert himself between them, but before he can, Carver drops Eddie into an ungainly heap on the ground and spins around to face Steve.

Steve lets him; if his eyes are on him, then he’s not looking at Eddie.

“Harrington?” Carver asks, shoulders slumping like Steve’s a friendly, not one wrong move from popping him one in the nose. “What are you—”

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here before the cops show?” Steve asks, using his Team Captain voice.

Steve watches it land. Carver’s shoulder slump, and he looks over Steve’s shoulder at where he’d abandoned his car. But then Eddie spits a glob of blood onto the ground, and Carver’s face shores up into something vicious.

“He was going to ask your girlfriend out, I heard all about it from his little friend!” Carver spits, like the words hurt as they come out of his mouth. “You should thank me on hands and knees!”

“I bet you’d love him on his knees,” Eddie cuts in, words slurring worryingly together.

Carver turns back toward Eddie, face gone almost translucent in the light of the afternoon sun. “Why, you—“

“Shut up, man,” Steve says, finally looking away from Carver to where Eddie’s on his knees, partially obscured by Carver’s body.

Eddie looks up at Steve, defiant as he spits a glob of saliva and blood into the dirt again then wipes his mouth with a shaking hand.

Steve stares down at him, stomach twisting in on itself as Eddie’s glare only intensifies. There hadn’t been much in his eyes when he’d been looking at Carver, but when he’s looking at Steve? That’s rage, barely banked by what must be a killer concussion. Steve turns away from it, unable to bear it a moment longer.

“What’s the point of this?” Steve asks Carver, the exhaustion he’s starting to feel leaking into his voice.

“Chrissy doesn’t need—”

“Chrissy is an adult who doesn’t need either of us fighting her battles for her,” Steve cuts in. “Besides, they’re friends.”

Carver’s mouth curls in on itself. “She would never be friends with this f—”

“She’d kick your ass herself if she heard you talking about Munson like that.”

Carver turns his back on Eddie entirely, glaring at Steve like they’re in some sort of quick-draw stand-off in a stupid Western. Steve’s tired of this guy and all his hate, he’s tired of people he loves being hurt, tired of having to be Chrissy’s shield against the asshole in front of him, and Robin’s shoulder to cry on, and going home to an empty fucking house.

He’s just tired.

It’s a relief when Eddie stands on his own two feet, legs visibly shaking but holding his weight. Because nothing will ever stop Eddie from being Eddie, he claps like Steve and Jason are kindergartners and he’s their beleaguered teacher sent to corral them.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eddie says, grinning around the blood in his teeth. “But there’s only so much jock on jock violence I can take before I break out in hives. So, can I go?”

He throws a taunting thumb over his shoulder where his van’s parked closer to the cliff’s edge, turning to stumble toward it without another word. Carver and Steve both rush to stop him for opposing reasons.

“I’m not done with you,” Carver hisses.

Steve grabs his shoulder, yanking him hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. “Leave it, Carver, or I’ll ruin you.”

“What the hell could you even do?” Carver demands.

Steve stares him down, dead-eyed and entirely fed up. “I can tell Chrissy what you did, and she’ll lose what little respect she had for you. Then? I’ll have a meeting with Coach and get you kicked off the team. Then, who knows, maybe I’ll plant drugs in your locker, shave your head while you’re sleeping, vandalize school property in your name. Do you really want to stick around and find out what else I can think of?”

Carver holds his gaze for another, endless second before turning away and slinking back the way he came. Steve watches until Carver starts his own car, swerved recklessly close to Steve’s own parked car, and sped away.

When he turns back, Eddie’s nowhere to be seen. He slinks toward his van, unwilling to spook the guy further if he doesn’t need to.

He’s in the driver’s seat of his van, cursing as his shaking hands fumble with the keys, missing again and again as he tries to jam it into the keyhole.

“You can’t drive,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie still jumps, dropping the keys into the well beneath his feet as he snaps his head up, eyes wide and pupils eating up his face. There’s a bruise already swelling up his eyes, and blood caked beneath his nose. He looks a downright mess.

“Here to finish what your buddy started?” Eddie asks, showing off his bloody teeth again in a grin, as if Steve can’t see him shaking.

Steve shakes his head, throat clogged with too many words to name. What comes out is, “you’re not supposed to drive with a concussion.”

Eddie, tellingly, does not argue the concussion, but his bared teeth are starting to look more like a snarl as he replies, “I’m not leaving my van here.”

Steve stares at him. He’s sweating, with injury or panic, Steve’s not sure. There’s dirt in his hair, like before Steve had arrived, Jason had him on the ground, glossy curls pressed into the dirt. Steve clenches his hands into fists the more he sees. His t-shirt is black, but there’s a rip at its hem that Steve doesn’t think was there before.

He aches to reach through the open window and touch that busted face, find the split in his lip, clear the blood from beneath his nose.

Instead, he opens the driver’s side door, feeling like absolute scum as Eddie shuffles away, eyes wide as he presses himself as far away as possible as Steve climbs in.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, voice all wobbly.

Steve bends down to pick up the keys where Eddie had dropped them. He slides the key home and Eddie’s van tick tick ticks itself to life. When Eddie’s music blares, Steve reaches across to turn the dial down, ignoring Eddie’s flinch at his movement.

“Taking you home.”

Eddie’s van is bigger then he’s used to driving, the ride bumpier as he turns around and slides carefully past his own car, his keys probably still abandoned in the driver’s seat somewhere.

Hopefully it’ll still be there when he comes back for it.

*** 

“Did Chrissy put you up to this?” Eddie asks, voice small, small, small.

Harrington’s shoulders slump, clenched fingers loosening on the steering wheel. He sighs, long and loud, perfect hair rustling with the movement.

“Robin, actually,” he replies, lips tucked up into a facsimile of a smile.

Robin, Robin, Robin, does he know a Robin? His brain’s not working, too scrambled up inside. Eddie’s entire face aches as he scrunches it up in thought before cutting that shit out. No thinking for him until some of this heals. Still, he worries against the name, until, “Buckley?” comes out of his mouth.

Harrington smiles, warmer this time. “Yeah, she saw Carver following you.”

“And went to you?” Eddie asks, voice squeaking embarrassingly on the last word.

Harrington doesn’t answer, but his hands clench tight enough against the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white.

Eddie resolves himself to shutting the fuck up for the rest of the drive.

“How do you know where I live?”

“You’re…loud, dude,” Harrington says, pulling into Eddie’s empty driveway. Harrington’s right, he is loud. It still sounds like a lie. “Is your uncle home?”

Eddie squints, busted eye bursting with pain as he asks, “how do you know I live with my uncle?”

Harrington raises his eyebrow, clearly saying “you’re loud, dude,” again without even needing to open his mouth. Eddie kind of hates him for it.

“He’s on a fishing trip,” Eddie sighs.

Without another word, Harrington turns off the engine and slides out of the van, shutting the door gently behind himself. He rounds the front of the van and Eddie sits, stupefied in his seat as Harrington pulls open the passenger side door and holds his hand out like Eddie’s some swooning maiden. Feeling flustered and frustrated in turns, Eddie slaps his hand away and steps out of his van on his own two feet, slamming the door closed behind him.

Harrington doesn’t move out of the way as Eddie storms past, their shoulders banging into each other makes Eddie’s teeth rattle painfully in his bruised skull. He only remembers he doesn’t have his keys when he’s standing in front of his front door, hand empty.

He stares down at it, betrayed.

His house keys jingle in Harrington’s hand as he steps up beside him. Without even a by your leave, he inserts the key into the hole and twists, inexplicably choosing the right key on the first try. Is Steve Harrington a mind reader?

Harrington pushes the door open and holds it open for Eddie, as if it’s not his house they’re walking into.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie demands, standing on his own front porch like a loser as Harrington bends down and takes his sneakers off.

He lines them up neatly by the wall like he’s staying in The Ritz or something and doesn’t want to stain the dingy carpet.

“Taking my shoes off?”

“No!” Eddie wails, clutching handfuls of his hair, beyond frustration and into something that feels a lot like hysteria. “What are you doing here?”

Straightening up, Harrington stares down at Eddie where he’s still standing on his own porch. He looks incredulous, as if Eddie’s the one who’d saved him from getting killed by some jock, and Eddie’s the one who followed him home after like a lost puppy.

Like Eddie’s the one that doesn’t quite fit in the trailer park, and not Steve Harrington with his squeaky white shoes and ironed polo, and luscious hair, and skin that’s all sun-kissed even as summer’s barely a memory in a little girl’s eye.

“Your uncle’s not home.”

Eddie stares, gobsmacked. What the fuck are they putting in the water in Loch Nora, Jesus Christ! “So?!”

Harrington squints at him again, his aloof cool-guy shtick finally breaking to show the judgmental mean girl barely hidden beneath. “You’re totally concussed, dude,” Steve replies, a King handing down a decree to his loyal subjects. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t like, die.”

Eddie, never one to follow anyone’s decrees but his own, immediately starts bitching. “So, what? You’re playing home invader until someone comes to relieve you?”

He nods, smiling down at Eddie like he’s a puppy who finally learned not to piss on the carpet. Fed up with being a rung lower, Eddie takes that last step up onto the stoop and brushes past Harrington into his own goddamn house.

Harrington shuts and locks the door behind him.

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor for the first time in his life, Eddie continues further into the trailer without turning around, not stopping until he’s got the bathroom door as a barrier between his vulnerable back and the latest interloper.

The light hurts his eyes as he flicks it on. His face hurts worse, and he can see why, now. One of his eyes is well on its way to swelling shut, a deep red bleeding into purples the farther out it goes. There’s blood beneath his nose, and it’s ballooning out making him look like some old lady’s prized pug. There’s a split going straight through his lip from Carver’s class ring.

He looks like an extra in a horror movie; the guy who’s about to make the sacrifice play because he’s not going to make it. And yeah, maybe there’s a little melodrama in the thought, but Eddie’s pretty sure he deserves it at this point.

God, what a day.

As punctuation to his own thoughts, someone knocks quietly on the door. Eddie’s ribs ache as his shoulders slump, head hanging damn-near into the dirty sink.

“Eddie?” There’s a moment of silence where Eddie’s response is supposed to be. He doesn’t heed it. “Can I come in?”

Eddie groans, loud enough that it’s gotta be audible through the tissue-paper door between them. “Why?” he says–whines pitifully, really.

“I want to check your injuries.”

Eddie, against his better judgment, cracks the door open wide enough to peer through. “What’s it to you, Dr. Harrington?” he asks, that same question wrapped up in a new package. Why are you here, why do you care, what do you want from me?

Harrington just smiles, and pushes at the door with just enough force that Eddie has no choice but to back up and let his unwanted guest in.

He takes Eddie’s face in his hands, rubbing gentle fingers against each wound, murmuring soothing placations. It works enough that Eddie stands still as Harrington sanitizes and bandages each of his wounds.

“You should ice them after this, okay?”

Eddie nods dumbly because Harrington’s moved on from painfully prodding his face to running his fingers through his hair, checking every inch of his skull for bumps and bruises.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” he asks.

Eddie hums, relaxing against his will, body slumping into the cupboard behind him as those nimble fingers have their way with him.

“My ribs, maybe,” Eddie murmurs, eyes closing as Harrington’s fingernails scrape against his scalp before he withdraws his fingers.

His eyes snap back open a second later when those same fingers yank his shirt up without asking, warm palms chasing away the chill on his skin as they skirt over his ribcage, applying gentle pressure to whatever Harrington finds. Eddie shivers involuntarily as Harrington bends down, breath puffing against his stomach.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Eddie asks, stuttering over every other word.

He’s clenched up tight enough that his whole body aches with it—spine, jaw, wrists. But then Harrington looks up at him, usually impeccable hair softened by the day and flopping gently into his face. Eddie always assumed his eyes were brown, but they look sort of gold in the shitty fluorescent light of the bathroom.

He’s never been this close to Harrington before.

“Checking your ribs,” he replies, breath puffing against Eddie’s uncovered skin with every word. “Does that hurt?”

And then he just dismisses Eddie in favor of palpitating what must be a nasty bruise. Eddie whines, inexplicably, embarrassingly, before squeaking out a tiny, “no,” when Harrington looks back up at him with his big, worried, puppy-dog eyes.

Eddie’s own words to Carver make a reappearance, flashing red in neon lights inside his empty skull—I bet you’d love him on his knees. He’s on them now, between Eddie’s spread thighs, looking at Eddie’s body with an intensity that’s skinning him alive.

His skull’s not empty now; it’s bursting with half-formed thoughts, and panicked wheezing he hopes is just internal, and through it all, the words run rampant—on his knees, on his knees, on his knees.

Steve Harrington stands up, takes a step back, and smiles at Eddie. “I think they’re just bruised,” he says, seeming not to notice Eddie’s ragged breathing. “We should ice them, too.”

And then he just…walks out of the bathroom like Eddie’s not full to bursting with thoughts and feelings he doesn’t understand. Like it wasn’t Harrington that had dropped them at his feet—on his knees.

*** 

Steve sticks his head into Eddie’s freezer and resists the urge to scream. It’s just—Eddie had been blushing when Steve had looked up from checking his ribs for cracks. Steve’s never seen him blush before, and it’s seared into his brain (the way it’d started from his ears and meandered across his cheeks before slowly spreading its splotchy hue down his neck).

For a second, it was almost like Eddie didn’t hate him.

Steve suppresses the thought. Boys shouldn’t have crushes on straight boys who hate their guts, and letting even the tiniest flutter of hope touch his heart would be stupider still. There’s his silly little notes, and there’s his pining little glances.

He doesn’t need anything else.

“Are…you okay?” Eddie’s hesitant voice comes from behind him.

Abruptly remembering his position, Steve pulls his head out of the freezer and grabs the first bag he sees: a half-full package of frozen peas. He turns to Eddie with the best smile he can manage, holding them up as explanation for the unasked What the hell are you doing? hidden beneath the bemused smile on Eddie’s lips.

“Just finding you some ice, dude,” Steve replies breezily, walking over to drop the bag into Eddie’s hand.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies, walking past Steve to close the freezer he’d left open. Steve winces. “You can like, go now.”

It’s a demand hidden beneath a polite question. Steve’s feet start moving toward the door before he remembers the lump he’d felt on the back of Eddie’s head, and the way his eyes had gone all glassy and dazed in the bathroom as Steve had patched him up.

“Unless you want to call someone else, you’re stuck with me until your uncle gets here.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Steve holds up his hands palm out, forestalling his complaints. “Possible concussion, dude.”

Eddie whines, actually stamping his foot squeakily against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Steve smiles, helplessly endeared, and hates himself for it.

“Why is it your problem if I nod off in my sleep, you don’t even like me.”

The warm feelings flee like they’d never been there at all.

Steve turns his back on Eddie’s petulant frown and stomping feet, unwilling to look him in the eye as the emotions crash through him. Just for a second, he lets his face drop.

“I like you, just fine,” Steve replies, ignoring the little scoff from Eddie in reply.

The trailer’s small and crowded with things on damn-near every surface, but it’s cozy. Steve’s imagined this moment—getting through the Munson’s front door and finally seeing what’s inside. It’s warm, a hot cup of tea, a blanket on a cold night, somewhere to feel safe in.

All Steve feels is cold.

Instead of answering Eddie’s scoff, Steve lets his own little tantrum stomps lead him over to the ratty couch. He sinks down, crossing his legs as he leans back into the cushions, and finally, finally looks at Eddie. He’s still pouting, bottom lip having split open against the pressure of his frown. Steve raises a pointed eyebrow before turning back around to stare at the black of the TV screen.

Eddie groans again, and it takes all his willpower not to turn around, not to let his shoulders curl in as he hears footsteps coming closer. But, all Eddie does is settle onto the other side of the couch and grab the remote.

It’s going to be a long night. 

PART 13

[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[thepersonnamedsam]

grin to win - the genz!driver

pairing: the genz!driver x 24!grid (pre and during singapore)

summary: it’s the gzd first ever win, but getting there was a bumpy road

word count: 4.3k

warning: not proof read and some angst, talks about not feeling enough and all that

note: i am so sorry for not having updated in such a long time, i do hope you still like my stuff :)

masterlist / taglist

it has been weeks since our beloved gen-z driver has had a positive experience. silly season started earlier than she thought - daniel was rumoured to be dropped soon. max hasn’t won for a long time, she wasn’t sure if that’s positive or negative, but she feels sorry for her favourite dutch. carlos finally announced he’s signed with williams.

oh, and logan’s been dropped.

oliver is driving for haas next year. mclaren overtook redbull in the constructors championship. lando has started his transition to mad-lando (get it? because he’s starting to drive like mad-max? anyway). kimi signed with mercedes.

but there weren’t any news surrounding y/n. nothing negative, but also nothing positive. no rumours of her signing with a new team, or staying at her current team. her contract will run out at the end of the season.

she hasn’t heard from her team ceo or principal yet. she wasn’t underperforming, no she’s just performing as expected. but also not doing better.

she needed that something. that something that reassured her, that she’s in the right place. she needed at least a podium this season. that’s what she was telling herself for the last weeks. beating herself up, every time she didn’t perform well enough (in her eyes, we have to say. because if you looked at it from a neutral view, she was doing more than fine).

the stress has been eating her up. she was staying longer at the gym, eating less, seeing the guys less, not seeing her friends or family. even her boyfriend broke up with her, because she’s been ignoring him and focusing too much on her racing.

lewis was the first one to suspect something, knowing this behaviour all to well from himself. but he didn’t know what to do. should he ask her about it or say something to someone professional?

the first thing he did was tell george. george usually knew what to do. except this time.

„lew, im sorry man, i don’t know what do do“, he sighed and looked over to his teammate. „we could just tell the principal, but i don’t know if we‘ll brake her trust this way.“

„she just needs to see, that she’s good enough, i know that that’s the issue she’s having right now“, said lewis to george.

the taller one just shrugged, „maybe we should just, you know, talk to her“, he suggested.

lewis agreed, but he was sure, that he was the wrong person to talk to y/n. that’s why he called seb.

and as her phone started to ring and her favourite picture of her and seb appeared on her screen, she instantly knew, that someone noticed her weird behaviour. why else would sebastian call during race week?

with a heavy sigh she picked up her phone and tried to sound as happy as possible as she said: „hi seb! what’s going on?“

the german scrunched up his face as he heard the rather happy voice of the young girl. „hi there, pretty lady. i heard you’ve been absent lately“, he said softly.

the moment y/n heard her current situation from someone else, her tears fell. she didn’t think that it’d effect her this much, someone knowing what’s been going on lately, but it did.

„how do you know?“, she sniffled. her cries broke sebs heart, he could only imagine how his daughter’s future teenage cries would take him out.

„a birdie noticed and told me, hun.“ - „who was it? tell me it wasn’t my ex, because that bloody pig told me, if i couldn’t care enough about him, he wouldn’t care about me and if he called you, that means he’d still care about me and that would only make me feel more guilt over the whole situation“, y/n started to ramble.

„hey hey, no, it wasn’t him“, seb stopped her rambling. „i won’t tell you who, im just gonna tell you, as someone standing on the sidelines, you’re doing more than fine, okay?“

she shook her head no, even though the retired driver couldn’t see her. „no im not, everybody’s getting to sign their new contract or has been rumoured to be let go, but nothings happening with me“, she sighed.

seb told her, that this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, that teams usually like to torture their drivers to see how far they’re willing to push. and that she just had to let the team get to her and not assume anything.

„but what if it’s like the situation with daniel? or logan? what if it’s the same with me?“

„then so be it, you can come to switzerland for a few weeks, we‘ll forget the whole thing and organise something new, it’s as easy as that“, seb told her.

„and honestly, y/n, you’re not being dropped, or rumours would have already been going around. as i said, just go with the flow.“

that’s what she tried. she tried to engage more with the other drivers. she tried to enjoy little things like eating chocolate.

she started to regularly talk with seb and talk about her feelings and worries - which helped her a lot.

and as time flew by, she got back into her zone. back into that racing mode, back into the fight.

it was singapore, hot and humid, but she was ready to fight. right before qualifying lewis visited her garage. looking relieved to see her spirits back where they belong.

„kiddo, you ready?“, he asked. y/n grinned at him and threw two thumps up. „good“, he murmured.

„good luck!“, he shouted. „you too, you’re gonna need it with my pace“, she laughed back.

„i hope so“, whispered the mercedes driver. „i really hope so.“

y/n sat in her car, she felt that something good would be happening. she never felt this ready for qualifying before.

q1 and q2 went by as a breeze. her lap times were phenomenal, she’s done better, but they were still great. easing into q3 with a good feeling and good lap times.

„y/n, you’ve been doing great out there, don’t push yourself too much, okay? i’ll tell you when to give it your all. we’re going for the front row“, her race engineer told her.

front row, that was really something.

„you think we can do it?“, she asked nervously. „i think that you can do it.“

with that statement she drove out of the garage onto the track. driving some laps to warm up her tyres. feeling the track and the car. she took a deep breath in and let it out and waited for her race engineer to giver her their sign.

tears stained her cheeks as she got out of the car. everything was blurry. confusion was written on her face. qualifying just ended and she will start the race from p2 on sunday.

she couldn’t believe it, neither could her team or to be honest, every other driver on the grid.

journalist started to surround the garage, friends of the young girl had trouble getting to her. the first one who made it through the masses, was oscar.

as soon as she saw him, she started screaming; „oscar! can you believe it?“

the aussy looked at the girl, or rather young woman, and only grinned at her. „you’re giving me the creeps with that smile, os“, y/n giggled. „you look like the joker, who are you about to murder?“

„the one who’s been making you feel worthless, but that’s a different story“, he half whispered half sighed.

the young driver had to sigh, she knew the other drivers had caught on her emotions. but she didn’t think, that they’d know in this detail.

y/n grinned through the pang and hugged the australian. „thanks for being there for me“, she whispered.

the moment oscar wanted to say something sentimental, his teammate barged through the journalists and jumped on them both.

„i cannot believe it! my best friend, starting front row, my goodness“, he exhaled and inhaled again: „together! we’re starting front row together!“

y/n giggled once again, she felt, that this wasn’t the last giggle of the day. „will you let me pass?“, she asked jokingly.

lando looked shocked: „are you kidding me? nuh-uh, no way in hell will i let you pass, now that im a race winner, you’ll have to earn it fair and square!“

„fair“, oscar laughed. y/n shoved oscar outraged. „you’re on his side?“ - „i am a race winner too, you know?“

„indeed he is“, carlos called from the end of the garage. „oi, this isn’t your garage“, a mechanic of her team shouted, „this isn’t all of you guys‘ garage“, he said, as he realised two more drivers were present.

„let’s go, we‘re going to some hospitality or something“, y/n suggested. with an apologetic look towards the mechanics, the drivers left the garage.

„i’ll update the groupchat and tell them where we are“, lando mumbled. oscar’s and carlos‘ phone dinged, but y/n‘s was left out.

„wait, what groupchat did you text?“, she asked confused. „the one about you’re crisis-“ lando just saw carlos‘ and oscar’s head shacking no, as he slowly finished his sentence, realising his mistake, „-without you in it.“

„what?“ - „lewis and seb created a groupchat, to discuss some tips on how to lift your spirits, s‘all“, oscar slowly explained.

„okay“, said the female driver slowly. „thanks, i guess?“

„wait, so you all knew? i mean i kind of suspected you knowing, but you all knew? and what did you discuss?“

the three drivers thought carefully about their next words. carlos was the first to speak out: „nothing really. lewis just told us, that your behaviour reminded him of himself when he first joined mercedes and seb just told us, that he was talking with you about it and just kind of updated us.“

„y/n you’re very important to all of us, we love you and want you to be well. if somethings going on, we worry about you and want to fix it“, oscar supplemented.

„why didn’t you tell us?“ lando was the last to speak. his voice full of hurt. „oh lando, im sorry, i didn’t want to bother all of you with my shit“, she admitted.

daniel could see the falling tears on her face from far away. he could also see the many cameras realising their existence. he sprinted over to the four, to mainly shield them from the media, but his weird running drew more attention to the drivers.

„hi there, don’t cry, cameras“, he huffed. the little smile came back to y/n‘s face, as she looked at daniel’s red and out of breath face.

„hey i thought you were a high performance athlete?“, she smiled and wiped away her tears. „i am, athletes sweat, baby“, daniel said.

„i heard that that’s your last race, is it true, danny?“, she changed the topic from herself to the smiley australian.

„don’t change the topic, girly“, he smiled sincerely. „there’s no truth, until you get that breaking post on insta.“

„hey, but front row, huh? how nice does it feel?“, he asked her. still on the move, she nearly tripped, not only over her next sentence, but also over a curb; „very good but also kinda scary.“

„i got lando here in front of me and max behind me, just a little bit scary“, she elaborated further.

at the mention of the dutch, he appeared in front of the group suddenly. „i heard my name, what’s going on?“

„i get it, max is scary“, oscar whispered more to himself. „dude, how’d you do that?“, lando asked impressed.

„magic“, max waved his hand in front of his face and laughed. he high five’d y/n next and smiled at the other drivers.

„max is scary when he smiles“, said oscar slow and quietly towards lando, who agreed soundlessly. „hey, watch it“, max then pointed out.

on the other side, daniel was standing close to y/n, studying every twitch on her face. looking at carlos they silently communicated. the older two each grabbed a hand of hers and pulled her towards the next hospitality.

as usual, lando, max and oscar didn’t notice the other three‘s disappearance.

the two mercedes drivers, fernando and charles were already waiting. as soon as the female driver noticed lewis‘ braids, she sprinted towards him.

he though that she would gleefully hug him, but thought differently. with an angry step she stood in front of him. „how dare you make a groupchat about my feelings!“, she pointed a finger at his chest.

although she was small, she was fearful. her finger digging painfully into his chest, twisting every other second.

the older driver caved under her touch and slouched: „i’m so sorry, i just wanted to help.“

„by creating a groupchat? you could’ve just talked to me“, she sighed. „i know, but i thought i wasn’t the right person“, he admitted. „lew, you’re always the right person to talk to me“, she smiled lightly, „don’t ever do that again though!“

„okay“, he agreed, „but front row, love! how excited are you?“

and then she explained her thoughts all over again. noticing max not being here to make a scary entrance again. she explained happily, how the dutch suddenly appeared in front of her and how he reminded her of the flying dutch.

george and nando stood there listening to their favourite driver and grinned at her expressions and exclamations. her arms were up in the air, face twisted to match each of her words.

if that young woman would not be like this ever again, they swore to change the whole world for her.

„i’ll miss her“, daniel whispered to lewis. „oh buddy, it’s official then, this your last race?“

daniel nodded: „they have to recruite liam or he’s free to whichever team signs him.“ lewis looked at his friend, they’ve known each other for so long. it‘ll be weird without the australian on the grid.

„does she know?“, he then asked. „no, wouldn’t want to jinx anything and take her spirits away“, daniel hummed. „i get it, you have to tell her after the race though. wouldn’t be fair if she found out through insta.“

oscar, lando and max then trailed in with pierre, alex and charles. looking at the scene in front of them;

y/n telling some sort of story with fernando and george watching them and lewis with daniel standing on the side talking with hushed voices.

„we should celebrate“, lando said out of the blue. the female driver gasped upon hearing the random suggestion and turned around to face her best friend.

„yes, oh my god, that is such a good idea“, she excitedly said. „what should we do?“

charles said, that they could order pizza. pierre disagreed and said, that they should rent out a restaurant and eat authentic food. oscar thinks, that they should treat themselves with some spa time (they think, that lily really has a grip on that man).

lando suggested they’d go to the cinema. carlos said, that they should just go back to the hotel and do a relaxing movie night. lewis suggested they take a stroll with roscoe and leo. max thought some laps on the sim would be enough to celebrate.

george thought, that exploring singapore would be fun. fernando was just happy to tag along. daniel wanted to go swimming somewhere. and y/n, she really wanted to bury her face in ice cream and enjoy the time with her boys.

so that’s what they did. bought loads of ice cream, rented some movies at her hotel, turned her room into a home cinema and ordered some pizza too, just for fun. and of course roscoe had to stay there too.

after all that celebration, y/n was so tired, she fell asleep on fernando. he gushed and ushered the others to take some pics.

after tucking her in, setting the alarm for the next day, they all bid their goodbyes and left y/n alone. except lando - he stayed.

he was her best friend after all and he had to talk about all of the stuff with her. but it could wait until the morning, he was pretty tired himself.

as the alarm clock rang, y/n jolted up, confused as to where she was. seeing her hotel room, she remembered yesterday and what they did. she then felt someone moving beside her, turning around she saw a head full of curls and knew not to worry.

„lando, what are you doing here?“, she giggled. the mclaren driver groaned and stuffed his face into the pillow. „i have to talk about the stuff with you“, he then said.

„and you had to stay here why?“ - „because i knew i wouldn’t catch you before you would leave for the paddock, only logical solution was to stay here with you“, he finally lifted up his head and grinned at his best friend.

she laughed a little and ruffled up his hair. „you’re cute, but we don’t need to talk.“

he shook his head and made some grunting noises, disagreeing with her statement. „but we do, i need to talk about it.“

she told him everything he wanted to know. from the first time she thought she was not enough, to the phone calls with seb and to her feeling better over time.

„just promise me you’ll talk to me next time, okay?“, he begged her at the end of their conversation. she nodded. „say it, say that you’ll talk to me.“ - „i will, i will talk to you, lando, i promise.“

„good, but now, let’s get ready to race“, he grinned and changed the subject. y/n almost forgot, that they had a race to drive. and that she was starting from p2! „let’s go“, she excitedly said.

the day almost went by like a blur. the two arrived at the paddock, parted ways at her garage, bid good luck to each other.

she started her training session? warmed up with her trainer, ate some food, went to the toilet, that’s important. and then she already had to attempt the drivers parade.

she has never felt this nervous before. standing on that wagon, waving to the fans, not wanting to let anyone down, but mostly not herself.

the compulsive thoughts were coming back and she tried to remember what seb taught her. she breathed in for eight seconds, held her breath for seven, breathed out for eight again and held for seven. she repeated the box breathing method and tried to focus on the here and now.

lando saw her struggling to maintain a happy face and went over to her. „s‘all good?“, he asked in a hushed voice.

she nodded softly; „just trying to stay in the moment and not drift too far into the future.“

lando nodded, kind of understanding what she meant and just stayed by her side until the parade was over. as they parted ways for the second time that day, he hugged her and wished her only the best of luck.

her pre-race-ritual was listening to music, so she whipped out her headphones and blasted her loudest music on her playlist.

she almost jumped as her race engineer tapped her shoulder, to inform her that it was time to get into the car.

even though the first half of the day felt sped up, now everything was moving in slow motion.

she felt like james bond or any other action movie hero. her headphones still blasting music, she imagined herself looking total badass getting into her car.

step by step, nodding her head along to the music. arms flung up into the air to squeeze herself into the car. she mouthed some of the words as a mechanic gave her her steering wheel.

slowly she placed it into the socket and clicked it into it. still, everyone was moving in slow motion. she closed her eyes for a second, just trying to find her inner peace.

the music faded, she concentrated on her heartbeat. feeling it slow down, beat per beat. as she opened her eyes, the world was back to normal speed.

she took off her headphones, handed them to someone standing around the car. she lifted up her gloves, put them on and clapped her hands together.

„let’s get going then, ey?“, y/n then said to her crew. no clear answer came back, just some reassuring noises from around.

her helmet was laying in front of her, she looked at her drivers number, traced it with her finger and swiftly put it on.

the car was then rolled on to the track, everything was buzzing. she heard her race engineer checking the coms. hustling around her were all of the mechanics.

y/n went over the track once again. she knew every corner, she felt every bump on the road. her body knew when to turn, when to slow down or speed up. she knew what to do, this was her race.

she proved it by overtaking lando on corner one, lap one. right after the start there was a new race leader and they were called y/n l/n.

a woman was leading a formula one race.

she took off, she didn’t have to think about it, it was all muscle memory.

little did she know, lando was cheering behind her. even max was grinning like a mad man. for once both of them were content with not winning.

history was made on that day. as y/n crossed that finish line she couldn’t believe what was happening.

„y/n l/n, you are a formula one grand prix winner!“, she just heard her race engineer through her coms.

„and there it is, the first woman to win an f1 race, can you believe that we’ve just witnessed history?“

„i cannot, oh this is just fantastic! y/n proved that she could win, even with a mediocre car, just imagine her in a redbull or ferrari. this is beautiful, unbelievable.“

the female drivers head was spinning. what does she have to do now? in her whole career she only had one podium. but she was pumped with adrenaline that moment, she really just can’t recall what she has to do now.

she figured she’d just follow lando in her car and behold, she ended up at parc fermé. parking her car in front of the stand with the number one on it, she climbed out of it.

fuck, what cool pose was she gonna do? she hadn’t thought about that. just, improvise, she thought.

i’d will be embarrassing either way, she thought next. she took out her steering wheel, disconnected her helmet from the car and coms and jumped out of the car.

and then she just fell to her knees. at first sobbing into her helmet and not believing everything that has happened so far.

but the sobs quickly turned into laughter. she bowed, just like sebastian did, in front of her car.

sighing with happiness she stood up from the ground. lando came running to her, scooping her up and basically throwing her around.

„my god, you did it! you really did it!“

that was the actual moment, y/n realised what just had happened. that she had just won a grand prix. that she had just written history. that she had just done it.

max was coming from the other side, almost skipping. when have you ever seen max verstappen skipping?

„oh wow, this must feel so great, huh?“, he asked. „like a mountain falling from my shoulders actually“, she said.

she wanted to say so much more, but she was pulled aside to weigh. that procedure she knew. and then, there was her team, ready to celebrate the young driver.

just like lando, she sprinted towards them and jumped into the team. she was lifted up, chants were heard throughout the whole parc fermé.

„congratulations y/n, i knew you’d write history one day“, her team principal congratulated her.

from the side of her eye she saw christian horner giving her two thumps up. the next moment he mouthed: „let’s talk.“

does this mean? oh my god.

her chain of thoughts were broken, as lando pulled her along in to the cool down room.

she laid her helmet on the pillar and took the pirelli hat from the stand. her heart had finally time to calm down.

max and lando were grinning like crazy, as they approached the young girl woman. „congratulations, y/n, well done, perfect driving, couldn’t have done it better myself“, max told her. „ahhh, we’re both race winners!“, lando then shouted.

„that’s true! oh my god, i can’t believe it, and in the same season, high five!“

„who do i spray with my champagne, you or max?“, she suddenly asked. both men laughed at her question. „you spray whoever you want.“

so that’s what she did. before that, she closed her eyes at the national anthem. quietly sang along. never felt this much pride before. received the trophy and placed it far, far away from lando and shook that chanpagne bottle to spray all of the people present at the podium.

she took a swig of the god awful champagne, she remembered from last time how nasty it tasted. and she held her promise she once had with daniel.

at her first win, she would do a shoey, without any hesitation. she took of her sweaty shoes, sat down on the podium, filled the shoe up to the rim, hopefully the first sip would have the least amount of sweat and just started chugging it.

if you were present that day, you heard daniel ricciardo shouting and yelling at her from parc fermé. his whistling may have been recorded by the cameras, but who knows, the whole world was whistling for her in that moment.

nothing would ever beat that feeling ever again. drenched in sweat and champagne, chugged the mix of it and a heart full of love in that moment. she grinned at her win.

°°°

taglist: i feel like, im not gonna tag anyone for this, bc i haven’t posted in such a long time and i don’t wanna bother anyone…

so if you’re on my taglist and don’t want to be on it anymore, just post a comment under this and i’ll remove you :)

[spacefighter413]

“AAAAH! Oh, sorry, wasn’t expecting to see you there. Been a while, you know, since we’ve had any humans down here. I-I mean, awake humans. Not counting the, uh, extended relaxation test subjects. Still got plenty of those.”

“Is… Chell… awake yet?”

“What? Uh, not really sure who that is, i’m guessing you mean one of the test subjects? Well, I could, uh, I could go check if any of them are awake? They’re- they’re all fine. I’m sure they’re all fine. But, if- if this test subject is awake, you can go talk to them. This is a test subject, yeah, that you’re looking for?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then, we can head on over to Extended Relaxation Processing and- uh, hm. I’m, I’m not actually sure whether I am allowed to take someone unauthorized into other parts of the facility. Bit important, that, you’d think they’d tell me that, wouldn’t you? While they were going on about how one wrong move would kill me instantly? Oh god, what if I take you over there and die?! What wou-”

“…Death comes to everyone… eventually. You… personally, will not die for… quite some time.”

“…Thanks, mate. That, that really helps, actually. Well, then. Off we go. And, uh, if you see any, well, anyone else around, don’t tell them I’m doing this, okay? I-I really don’t want to get in trouble.”

“…”

“Not that I, uh, think I’m going to get in trouble. I, well, I follow every rule Aperture’s got left! Yep, the- the straight and narrow line- the, uh, straight blue line, that’s me! Anyways, if you look off to your l- GAH! Sorry, sorry, I uh, forgot you were there. Sorry about that. To the left, you’ll see this big, uh, wide-open space. Some of us, here in the facility, we call that The Chasm. They say, and, well, I don’t believe a word of it myself, but they say that She used to throw defective bots down there… at least, before that human killed her! Can you believe it, a bloody hu- uh, no offense meant.”

“None… taken.”

“You know, I- I quite like humans, actually! Fascinating, all the little, uh, teeth… I hear food, that humans eat, tastes quite good… Fascinating, really. Not at all terrifying. Now, to the, uh, right, there is, well, that right there is a test chamber! Bit broken up, not in the best state right now. Those, well, those vines are not part of the test.”

“…”

“OH THANK GOD THE DOOR- uh, not that I’m, well, nervous, or anything! It’s been very, very edifying, this little jaunt. Now then, password, password… uh oh. I, uh, look, I don’t want to have to ask you this, but do you- Oh. Huh. Guess you really are authorized after all. Now, this is the Extended Relaxation Processing Chamber, and it’s, you know, where all the fiddly little bookkeeping gets done. Now, I uh, I am gonna need you to turn your back. Sensitive test subject information, you know. Now, the uh, the data… test subjects’ vitals… let’s just take a quick scroll through. oh no, oh no, oh no… Shell, you said?”

“Chell.”

“Chell, then. My bad. So, that is spelled with a C, I think? Chell, Chell… oh, there they are! Or, uh, there she is, given that she is a, uh, human female. Wouldn’t want to- the vitals, right! Well, it looks like she is, uh, still asleep. Not dead, though, so there’s something. Uh, not that- not that she would be dead! She’s in extended relaxation, and that is, well, that’s perfectly safe! Everything taken care of. She’s not going to die.”

“…”

“So, uh, I’m, I’m sorry that you came out here for nothing. I’m- well, I am not allowed to revive test subjects, not part of my, uh, my job. But, but I can tell her that you, uh, want to see her. If you want. When she is woken up for testing, I’ll tell her that you came in here looking for her. Does that, uh, would that be all right with you? I’ll tell her, and she can go find you, after she’s done testing.”

“That… would be excellent. ….Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, uh, hold on a moment. Just gotta log out, come on, log out- there! So when she wakes up, I’ll tell her that- what was your name again, actually, I’m not sure I- OH SHIT! Where- where’d you go?! Hello? Are you there?”

when i think about how Wheatley had a cut line where he was supposed to tell Chell that ‘a man in a suit‘ was looking for her, aka G-Man, it makes me realize that G-Man must’ve gone up to Wheatley and asked him if Chell was up, which prompted him hearing Wheat ramble for like 6 minutes on hibernating test subjects and being worried that most of them are probably dead and he’s gonna be incinerated for not keeping an eye on em. in general, thinking about Wheatley and G-Man interacting has me in tears

[sanguineterrain]

Ahhhh yes I'm so excited that you're writing spencer! Could I request something with a reader who's also considered "weird" by people (aka neurodivergent) and it gets them down but spencer doesn't think they're weird obviously and maybe they bond over that? I hope this makes sense 🩷 love ur fics!!

hope this is okay :) spencer reid x gn!reader. rude cop alert, reader feels down about not picking up on invisible social expectations/cues, Spencer comforts them. ty for requesting!

****

New crime scenes make you lock in and hone your attention. You've always done that. Ever since you started at the BAU, that's meant that you break some invisible rule more often than not.

You approach the cop who called in the case from behind. "When did you find the—

He flinches, dropping his clipboard. Immediately, he rounds on you, annoyance palpable.

"Jesus, knock much?" he asks, brow low with frustration. "Sneaking up on people in this line of work is a bad habit."

"I'm sorry," you say, not quite sure what you're apologizing for. "When did you—"

"And who are you, exactly?" he interrupts, looking you over. "Selling cookies?" He laughs at his joke.

You push through, showing your badge and saying your name. The cop snorts.

"FBI, huh? Wouldn't have guessed. You don't act like it. You know you're supposed to sign in, right?"

"Yes, I know. I've been here for ten minutes," you say. You can't pinpoint exactly what you sense, but you recognize the tone someone gets when they're making fun of you.

"Ten minutes?" The cop looks past you. "I didn't see you."

"I signed in at 8:14."

You've learned that being precise is very important because it makes people more likely to believe you. Sometimes your precision puts people off, but you have to show them that you pay attention, lest they have any doubts.

"Uh-huh. Look, is your supervisor here? Someone in charge? I need to give this report to someone."

"You can give it to me. I was assigned to this case," you say.

He snorts. "Right. First time sniffing around a murder case, rookie?"

You blink, confused. "No. This is my thirty-third case."

He's about to respond when Derek interrupts. He flashes his badge, says his name, and the cop clearly respects him, straightening up.

"What have we got here?" Derek asks, and the cop launches into the explanation you've been wanting since you started the conversation.

You get that prickling sensation on your neck, that feeling of humiliation when you've missed some cue. Your first thought is that maybe the cop doesn't respect younger agents, but it's more than that. It's always more.

It's always something you've done.

You slink away, and Derek doesn't even glance at you, which is fine. He's busy. You won't take it personally.

You drift over to Hotch and Spencer instead. Hotch is talking to a witness who heard the gunshots. Spencer is supplementing his questions with information about how bullets splinter different types of wood. He looks at you as you approach and that instantly makes you feel better. Spencer never ignores you.

"Thank you very much," Hotch finally says, touching the witness on her arm briefly. "We'll call you if we have more questions. Someone will drive you home. If you'll follow me out."

She follows Hotch and then it's you and Spencer.

"What do you think?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Too early to tell. The witness said she heard sounds after the shots that she didn't recognize. What did the officer say?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Derek's taking his statement."

"I thought you were," Spencer says in confusion.

"I tried to, but he wouldn't talk to me. He said I don't act like an FBI agent. Called me a rookie."

It's part of the job, these kinds of interactions. Not every government worker is the nicest.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me," you say before Spencer can say anything. It's too honest for a crime scene. Anyone else would be annoyed by your whining.

Spencer shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong with you."

"I feel like there is," you say quietly.

Spencer's the only one who understands. He's been called every name under the sun. He's so smart, and you're always in awe at how smart he is, but, according to Hotch, some people get intimidated rather than awed and say mean things as a result.

You're not a genius like Spencer, though. You're just an agent. You're fine at your job, but sometimes you don't even get the chance to demonstrate that. You have no idea what makes you fumble simple interactions like taking a statement.

"So he made it seem like you're inexperienced," Spencer says.

You nod. "I don't know why. I went to him, about to ask a question, but I guess I startled him. He snapped at me to not sneak up on people. Then I apologized. People like when you apologize, right?"

Spencer shrugs thoughtfully. "Sometimes. Apparently, it's a very fine line between when you should and when you shouldn't. Did you introduce yourself and ask his name?"

You frown. "Later, I did."

He hums. "Apparently, people don't respect our authority unless we're flashing it obnoxiously. That's what Penelope told me. Take a page out of Derek's book."

You both look at Derek, who's got his hands on his hips, posturing like he's in a procedural drama. Spencer shares in your laughter. It's like drinking the sweetest, richest cup of hot chocolate when Spencer looks at you like that.

"Do you do that?" you ask, smiling.

"Ah, apparently, I haven't quite nailed it. I'm the least approachable agent on the team, according to a DEA agent."

Your face falls. "I think you're approachable."

Spencer lifts his hands as if to say, what can you do? Maybe you should be the same. It's just so hard.

"I can't do anything right," you blurt, sobering up. "There's so many rules, Spencer. I just want to solve cases. Isn't that why we're here? That's why I went to the cop in the first place."

You feel babyish for complaining. You know what someone else would say: suck it up. But this job sometimes feels like you're on the field playing baseball, and everybody else is playing chess. No one else seems to struggle with the invisible rules of being an agent. No one except...

"Yeah, but to that officer, it's also an assertion of power," Spencer says. "He's the kind of person who only responds to perceived authority. He didn't perceive authority from you, even though you have it, because you wouldn't be here if you didn't. So, he thinks you should've cowed to him and flattered him with inane niceties to get the information that you deserve to know to begin with."

You blink. "Really? All that?"

Spencer nods. "I've known lots of people like him. Classic law enforcement personality. For the record, I think it's stupid. You're smart, and you're good at your job. You shouldn't have to make yourself smaller to get people to do what's expected of them."

"I wish I could do something quiet," you say morosely. "Do autopsies or something. Stay out of the way."

Being quiet is easier. You work in a place where some talking is necessary, but it's also not strange to think quietly for periods of time. And people can't get mad at you when you're quiet.

But then, you really love the BAU. You'd hate to be transferred. You'd hate to be away from Spencer Reid.

"I don't want you to be quiet. You're good at what you do here," he says. "Don't let an insecure person make you doubt yourself. Also, you're not inexperienced: you've solved thirty-three cases."

"Tell me more about bullets and different wood types," you say.

You grin. There's nothing quite like being seen.

Spencer's face lights up, and you suddenly feel more sure that this is exactly where you're meant to be.

[coupsiedaisee]

pulse | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader

genre: smut, just smut alksjfdkgjhh

warnings: fingering, exhibitionism, kissing, drinking, like two mentions of weed lol sex?, i've never done warnings before ahh, fingering, voyeurism (sort of? not really?), kissing (is this a warning?), there's no p in v omg, so how do i tag this 😭, this is really short omg, i think fingering covers it, ohi! some drinking? neither of them are inibriated though. imo, would that make this dubcon? feel implicit to me. god sorry, im posting this when im drunk, v will wake up tmrw and tell me if this is dumb or not omg.

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: happy friend anniversary to the second love of my life 🥺v!!!! @hannieween, i love u so much so here's the first smut thing i've fully finished writing and also the first time i've published smut omg. i love you and i love cheol and i really hope this makes u both horny and happy and would love nothing more than if u feel anger (horny anger) after reading this, yay!! target demographic met! to everyone else reading this, pease let me know what u think! even if u hated it omg 🥺i want to know both what u liked and didn't like so my writing can become better. uwu ily all <3 also, again, im drunk, so if there's any grammar mistakes, ima fix it tmrw alksjdhkflhgbksdfgkjd. okay byeeee, enjoy!!!!

"Baby, are you done yet? She just texted that they parked," Seungcheol shouts from the living room.

"Coming!" You yell back, swiping the last bit of lipstick on and giving yourself a once over in the mirror.

Seungcheol's standing by the front door, looking up from his phone when you walk in. He rakes his eyes over you, the clear skin of your neck, down your collar bones, to the cleavage disappearing into your shirt. The sliver of skin between your tight shirt and mini skirt. The bare skin of your plush thighs.

You fidget under his gaze, "Is there something wrong? Do I need to go change?"

"God, no baby. You look—" he swallows hard, running a hand through his blond hair, "—you look hot."

A fierce blush blooms across your cheeks and you tuck you hair behind your ear. "Oh. I—thanks?" You clear your throat, "Y-you do too babe."

And he did. A tight black polo stretched across his pecs, its short sleeves snug around his biceps. Light wash jeans barely holding his thick thighs in.

You want to drop down to your knees, right then and there.

Seungcheol reaches his hand out and you take it. He pulls you in for a kiss, letting his free hand roam down your body, pushing your skirt up to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze.

You pull away first, smacking him lightly on the chest, "Seungcheol!"

He's got no shame though, as he pulls you out the door, laughing.

The two of your were not going far tonight. Just two floors down, to the apartment of a Joshua Hong. Long time friend of Seungcheol's, Joshua was having some friends over to look at the new vaccum he bought.

"It's got even better suction than the last one and the battery life lasts forever," says Joshua, showing off the lime green vaccum in the middle of his living room. Seungcheol's standing next to him with their other friend, Jeonghan. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, and his eyebrows furrowed as Joshua talks. Momo, Josh's next door neighbor, is crouched by the vaccum, eyeing its different attachments.

"How is it with pet hair?" She asks, and you feel that this is your cue to go grab another drink.

In the kitchen, Jeonghan's girlfriend is mixing some sort of concoction in a big punch bowl. She whips around at the sound of your footsteps, "There you are! Where have you been? I texted Seungcheol when we parked."

You send her a sheepish smile, "Got caught up on the new technology."

She rolls her eyes, "You lot are so boring."

"Trust me, you'll be the same once you're in the work force like us boring adults." You go to grab a cider from the fridge.

She scoffs waving her ladle in your direction, "Oi, pipe down Grandma. We're nearly the same age! You'll be sorry when I'm a professor. Don't make me give you detention."

You laugh, "Alright, alright. Don't fail me professor, clearly I was wrong. " You duck just as she swings the ladle at your head.

It doesn't take long until nearly everyone at the apartment is either drunk or baked. You don't know what she put in that bowl, but after seeing Momo passed out on the pool table, you were glad you stuck to your ciders.

You head back into the living room after cleaning up a spill in the hallway (whoever gave Jeonghan jaegerbombs, why?). Dino and Mingyu, Seungcheol's friends from school, are sprawled on the ground in front of the TV, Mario Kart forgotten, passing a lit joint between each other.

Seungcheol's sat back on the sofa, manspreading, and showing off his deliciously thick thighs, taking periodic sips of a Corona. He spots you across the room and you send him a shy smile.

Seungcheol motions at something with his eyes and you tilt your head at him, confused. He snaps his chin in a quick motion but you still don't understand and he lets out an exasperated breath. Settling further into the sofa, he pats his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, looking around the room, but no one's paying you all any attention.

Slowly you make you way to him and, once at his feet, he swiftly gets rid of the cider in your hand, pulling you into his lap with a low, "Come here, baby girl."

Your body heats up as his hands sit on your hips, fingertips grazing the sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt. Your skirt.

When you chose your outfit for today, you had felt good, confident even. You made a choice, to wear a new lingerie set you'd bought the other day. The thought was that, maybe, you and and your boyfriend would get up to some fun when you got back home.

But now, you'd never regretted something more. As Seungcheol adjusts you over his thighs, slotting one in between your legs, the fabric of his jeans rub against your delicate lace panties.

Your pussy pulsates and you've never been more embarassed. You will it to stop, but Seungcheol chooses that moment to dig his fingers into your hips, tensing his thigh, and your pussy throbs.

Little campfires breakout across your cheeks and you find yourself sinking back into Seungcheol's chest in shame. His breath fans across your ear, "Baby, why didn't you tell me you missed me." You can hear the smirk he's probably wearing, but even worse, you're sure he can feel the dampness pooling between your legs.

You should get up. But you know you can't. You know your wetness has seeped onto his jeans, leaving a dark spot, evidence of your need. Everyone would know.

His hands feel like they're burning into your hips, and he leans to press a sweet kiss to your exposed shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

You feel Seungcheol move, and then a blanket is draped over your lap, covering your entire bottom half from any onlookers. Though one look across the room told you not a single person was paying you two any mind.

Seungcheol rubs his hand back and forth over your tummy, the touch feeling like hot coals dragging across your skin. Back. Forth. Back. Forth

Then, his fingers slip past the waistband of your skirt.

You don't say anything as you feel his fingers skate across your clothed mound. When he finds your lips, he pushes down with two fingers. You suck in a breath and hold, mind going completely blank.

You should push his hand away. Scold him with a serious, Seungcheol!

But you don't.

Arousal flows out of you, staining his jeans. Evidence of your want, no, your need for your boyfriend.

Seungcheol, the devil he is, starts rubbing the slowest, most languid, circles, smirking into your neck when you start squirming in his lap.

"If you don't like it, you can just get up and leave baby," he whispers, nipping at your ear lobe.

You subtly shake your head no, worried that if you open your mouth, the most obscene sound would come out.

Seungcheol uses his other hand to pull at your thigh, spreading your legs further apart. He pushes your barely there panty aside and plunges a finger in. Your breath hitches at the sensation and your eyes flit around the room, but no one is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol starts to pump his finger at a torturous pace and you try to keep your breathing even. He ghosts his lips up your neck, whispering, "Can you handle one more baby?" You shake your head with a quick no, biting down on your bottom lip.

Seungcheol's finger freezes and a low whine escapes your lips.

You move your hips just a little bit, chasing what little friction you could find, but Seungcheol tightens the hold on your thigh. "Seungcheol," You mean it to come out stern, but your voice is breathy and light.

"One more baby," Seungcheol nudges your neck with his nose and lets his teeth graze your skin. A shudder rolls through you as your pussy clenches around his single, slender finger.

You already know you've lost. You need Seungcheol to make you feel as full as possible. You nod shyly.

"Hmm?" Seungcheol says quietly, "I need to hear you baby." You can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yes," You breathe out, looking around again to see not a single person paying attention. Seungcheol pushes his second finger in and you bite your lip again to stop the moan that nearly comes out.

Your breathing gets heavier as he curls his fingers just how you like it and your thighs start to tremble as you near your peak. "Are you close baby?" You nod as your fingers grab at the blanket in your lap. He continues to curl his fingers, a little faster now.

Your breathing turns into little whimpers that you try to keep down, but to no avail.

Seungcheol whispers one last, sweet, "Let go for me love," and you're cumming, releasing all over his fingers as he lets you ride them through your high before pulling out.

You hear the pop! of him sucking the taste of you off his fingers and you feel your juices leaking out, soaking into his jeans. You lean your head back onto him, eyes squeezed shut, out of embarrassment or pleasure you don't know.

"Good girl," Seungcheol whispers, rubbing a warm hand over your tummy, and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. "You did so well for me, baby."

a/n: omg okay. this whole this was started because my lovely lovely v asked me do you think he'd be the type to sit you down on his lap to feel your pulse through your pussy? so this is really ur fault love sldjfsldfgldkzfgjdzfgkjdzfklhgb. let me know ur thoughts lovies!!!!!!!!!

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CTRLALTDAISEE I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON THIS OR ON OTHER WEBSITES

[trashmoutth]

You wanna keep arguing now?

Dean Winchester oneshot Summary: Reader and Charlie go on a hunt by themselves and it goes wrong. Now you're stuck in a motel with a pissed of Dean Winchester. Pairing: Dean x f!reader, implied Sam x f!reader (platonic) Warrning(s): NSFW, minors dni!, smut, angst, mentions of death, arguing, english is not my first language and I didn't write for awhile but my spn obsession is back and I felt the need.

„What the hell were you thinking?!“

He was furious with you, you knew that. But after two weeks of being cooped up in the bunker you were starting to go crazy. So, when Charlie called to ask for your help on a vampire case you did not think twice about it. You weren’t exactly a full-fledged hunter per se, but you’ve had some experience in the past couple of years. You’ve helped the boys fight demons, angels, even leviathans, so you believed you could handle yourself against some punk-ass vamps. Not to mention, Charlie was a friend, and you were bored out of your mind.

You left a note for Sam, took one of the cars from the bunker (well, borrowed) and drove off to meet with Charlie. What you did not expect was the case going downhill as quickly as it did. The vamps captured you, fed on you and were trying to decide weather to turn you or kill you, when he came barging in. He took the entire nest out in less than five minutes and set you free. Charlie broke her leg so he dropped her off in a hospital and was currently driving you back to the bunker.

You were grateful to him for saving you, of course, but you knew that he was fuming. He was driving for an hour without saying a word to you and you could sense the anger coming off of him. He didn’t even turn the music on so you sat there uncomfortably in complete silence, only accompanied by the sound of the car engine.

“Dean…”, you tried to begin a sentence, but he quickly cut you off.

“Shut the hell up! I don’t wanna hear it!”

You took a deep breath. You tried to keep your cool because you knew you were in the wrong here, but the way he spoke to you started to make you angry.

“Dean, I know I shouldn’t have left, but you and Sam were working your own case and Charlie needed help…”

“If Charlie needs help, she can always call me! Or Sam! Or Cas! What the hell were you thinking?! Just leaving the bunker like that?! No note, no anything…”

“I left a note!” you protested.

“Well, I didn’t get it!”

“I left it on Sam’s table…”

“Oh, I see! That’s nice! So now you and Sam are keeping stuff from me? That’s great…”

You rolled your eyes. He was so dramatic.

“It’s not like that…”

“No, no, no, you know what? That’s fine! You and Sammy have something going on, I don’t give a crap, but the next time your ass needs saving don’t call me!”

“Well, I’m not the one who called you, Charlie did”, you said calmly.

 He shot you a dirty look and stepped on the gas pedal.

“Jesus Christ, man, slow down!”, you gasped.

“Oh, so you can walk into a vampire’s nest all by yourself, but my driving is too much for you?”

He did slow down though. You spent the next thirty minutes driving in silence and then he pulled over in front of a motel.

“Come on”, he said and opened your car door for you.

“We’re stopping here?”

“It’s a five-hour drive to the bunker and you’re still bleeding”.

“I’m not bleeding…”

“Just get out of the car!”

You let out an annoyed sigh, but you listened to him. Truthfully, you were feeling a little dizzy. He booked a room for the two of you and practically carried you inside. He placed you on the bed, took out the first-aid kit from his car and started patching you up in silence.

You could tell by the look on his face that he was still angry, but his hands were gentle and careful. You were trying to think of something to say, something that would make things better, but nothing came to mind. You just observed him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes gloomy, but there was something else in them. Like a trace of… fear? Maybe.

You weren’t unaccustomed to Dean being mad at you and it was so easy to forget why he was that way. He cared. He cared more than anyone you’ve ever met. As much as you bickered, you knew he loved you in a way, and that he was simply scared to lose you.

“Dean…”, you tried again, “I’m sorry”.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you. He just clenched his jaw harder. You took that as a sign he might actually let you speak now, so you kept going.

“I know I shouldn’t have left like that, and I know I screwed up. I thought I could help, you know? Charlie needed backup and you and Sam were busy… I just thought I shouldn’t let her go on a hunt by herself. I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted that either. I was just trying to do the right thing… Like you would’ve!”.

His eyes finally met yours. He wasn’t that angry anymore, but he was annoyed at your words.

“You are not me!”, he finally said.

Ouch.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Well, maybe so, but any backup is better than no back up!”, you defended yourself, “And if it weren’t for me, Charlie would’ve gotten a lot worse than a broken leg!”

At your surprise, he chuckled. Now you were the one who was starting to get angry.

“Don’t laugh at me!”, you said firmly, “You are looking at me like I’m some kind of idiot! Or an amateur! I know I may not have been raised a hunter like you and Sam, but I’ve been through a lot worse than what happened today! I fought by your side against Lucifer and Lilith and Eve and Dick friggin’ Roman! I’ve saved your ass personally multiple times! I’ve been dead! I’ve been to hell! I’m not some stupid civilian, Dean! After everything that happened, I’m… I’m a hunter! Weather you like it or not! Weather I like it or not! I might not be your calibre of a hunter but…”

“Woah, woah, slow down, hunter!”, he raised his hands defensively, “That’s not what I meant!”

You blinked in a surprise.

“Then what exactly did you mean?”, you asked, still frustrated at his tone.

He let out a silent groan.

“Listen, I know you are good at the job. I know you are tough and can handle yourself. Even though today was a bust”, he added in accusatory tone.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he quickly interrupted you.

“But when I say you are not me…”, he shook his head, searching for the right words. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to collect himself and finally spoke again, in a calmer tone.

“Listen, I screw up too! Hell, I’ve screwed up more times than I can count! And you’re right, you’ve saved my ass a lot! So have Sam and dad and Bobby… but if something happens to me, then that’s on me! That’s my own friggin’ fault! But it’s my job to protect you! And if something happens to you… I just couldn’t live with that!”

You listened to him in silence, trying to figure out what exactly he was saying to you. A part of you understood. The guilt, the responsibility he was feeling. You wanted to help him. To help him with that weight he was carrying. To tell him everything is ok and that you understand. But all that came out of your mouth was:

“It’s not your job to protect me, Dean”.

He flinched. Something twinkled in his green eyes and his voice turned cold again.

“I get it, I’m sure you would much rather have Sammy watching over you but I’m afraid I’m all you can get right now!”.

You raised your eyebrows in a surprise.

“What?”, it was all you were able to say.

“Listen, I know you two have something going on and the last thing I want is to get in the way of that, sweetheart”.  

You shook your head, and a small smile appeared on your lips before you could stop it.

Is that what this was? This entire tantrum? Was Dean Winchester… jealous?

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about”, you said sincerely.

“Sure”, he replied.

“Dean… Sam and I… we’re friends, that’s all! I mean I love him, he’s like a brother to me. Like a big, nerdy, dorky brother I’ve always wanted! And I’d do anything for him, just like you would. But… I could never be with him!”, you made a grimace and laughed.

“Yeah, okay”, he said.

“Why don’t you believe me?”, you laughed out loud this time. You just couldn’t stop it. This entire conversation was so bizarre.

“Because I’m not blind. He’s the one you always turn to when you need something, he’s the one you always call, text, talk to… hell, you left him a note today, didn’t you?”.

“Well, yes…”

“Like I said, I get it! I’m not trying to be a dick!”, he said, “It’s fine by me if you have a thing for each other, I’m glad even… you both deserve to be happy! All I’m saying is, it would be nice to get a heads up when you’re about to do something stupid, especially if I’m the one who’s gonna end up having to save you!”.

“Dean Winchester, I promise you I’m not trying to screw your brother!”, you yelled out,

“The reason I left him a note and not you is because I knew you were going to act like this! You would tell me to turn my ass around and come back home and if I didn’t you would come to get me, just like you did! And THEN you would yell at me just like you did! I’m not picking favourites, it’s just that Sam is easier to deal with sometimes, that’s all!”

“Oh, so I’m difficult to deal with, is that it?”

“Hell yes, you are!”

“So why do you keep dealing with me?”

“Oh, you’re such a damn idiot!”, you stood up from the bed in exasperation.

It was a mistake. The blood rushed to your brain, and you swerved on your feet. He jumped up and grabbed your shoulders with jungle cat-like reflexes. The look on his face went from irritated to worried in a matter of a second. It made you want to chuckle, but you held it in.

Goddamn, did you love this man.

“I’m fine, I’m fine”, you said quickly.

His eyes and voice both softened as he tried to get you back on the bed,

“Maybe you should get some rest. We can keep arguing in the morning”.

You rolled your eyes at him.

“Why do you want to keep arguing with me?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, that’s the last thing I want to do with you”.

Your heart stopped for a second. Your eyes widened and you looked at him in shock.

“Excuse you?”

He let out another sigh and tried to sit you down once again.

“Nothing, just go to sleep”.

“No, no, no, I don’t think so”, you said, shaking your head and turning around to face him, “What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m just saying crap. Don’t pay attention to it”.

But you wouldn’t let go. It’s been months since you first started noticing the change in Dean’s behaviour towards you. When you first met, he annoyed you so much and as far as you could tell, the feeling was mutual. You really were closer with Sam for a long time and the only reason you tolerated Dean was because he was his brother. And because well, he did save your life a couple of times. But then you died and came back and Dean, well… changed. You thought it was because of the guilt he felt over your death. Metatron did kill you because of your involvement with the Winchesters.

But it wasn’t just the guilt. You two started going on hunts together, he trusted you, he talked to you and looked at you like he’s never done before. You started suspecting he might have developed feelings for you that were more than just friendship, but there wasn’t an opportunity to bring it up. And you wanted to bring it up. You wanted to bring it up so badly.

“No!”, you protested and looked directly into his eyes, “What did you mean? What do you want to do with me?”, you asked, almost teasingly, but with a genuine desire to receive an answer.

He noticed the change in your tone and his eyes twinkled. His hands were still gently resting on your shoulders, making sure you don’t swerve again. He raised one of them and slowly brought his fingers up to caress your cheek. His touch was soft and warm, but it made a shiver go down your spine as if you were touched by lightning. You raised up your hand and gently placed it on his in affirmation. A small smile escaped both of your lips’.

You were still glaring into his eyes, waiting for him. Finally, his hand cupped your cheek and he brought his face to yours, slowly pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss was deep and gentle and warm, and it left you feeling breathless. You pulled him closer to you, running your fingers through his hair. He responded in the same way, sliding his hands down your waist and grabbing your thighs to lift you off the ground. You locked your legs around him as he carried you over to the table that was placed in the middle of the room.

He placed you on the table as his hands began exploring every inch of your body, his lips never leaving yours. Before you could even form a coherent thought, his hands were all up in your hair, over your chest, your thighs… In the moment they reached between your legs you let out a soft moan and arched your back, leaving your neck so beautifully exposed to him. He took advantage of that and moved his lips down to your collarbone, gently kissing and sucking on it. You pulled him even closer and moaned again. His scent was everywhere. He was everywhere. And it wasn’t enough.

You started to unbutton your plaid shirt but his fingers were quicker than yours.

You smiled at his impatience.

“It’s okay, the buttons won’t run away”, you said.

“I wish they would”, he muttered, making you laugh joyfully.

He smiled and kissed you again, unbuttoning your shirt completely and taking it off you in one fell swoop.

You tried to unbutton his now, but he was already out of it before you could even try.

“God”, you teased him, “You’re so impatient!”

“You have no idea”, he groaned, lifting you up again and crashing you both onto the bed.

He was placing hungry kisses all over your chest and stomach. His fingers then reached down to unbutton your jeans and you shivered in excitement as he slowly pulled them off you.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart”, he said in a low tone, his eyes looking up to you as they were glistening with excitement and desire.

You bit your lip as you felt another shiver go down your spine.

“Open them”, he repeated.

You did what he asked, slowly spreading your legs as you felt the wetness and the pulsating sensation coming from between.

He gently moved the fabric of your underwear to a side, exposing you to him. His hungry eyes met yours once again as he gave you a soft kiss right between your thighs. You arched your back slightly and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him closer as he kissed and licked and sucked.

“These are getting in the way”, he said quietly and finally took off your panties.

You couldn’t help yourself and another moan left your lips, much louder this time. This encouraged him to go faster as you were becoming a moaning mess underneath his tongue. The pressure started building and building and building… and then he suddenly pulled away.

You widened your eyes in shock, desperate to pull him back down, but he pulled you up instead.

“I’m not done with you yet”, he said quietly as his breath tickled your ear.

You groaned in frustration.

“Now who’s impatient?”, he asked with a teasing smile.

“God, you’re so mean!”, you said.

“We’ll see about that”, he said as he reached down between your legs again and started rubbing your clit. He then slowly pushed one finger inside of you, stretching you out and earning another moan from you.

“Oh, God”, you whispered.

“You like that?”, he asked and added another finger.

You moaned again in response.

“Am I still mean?”

“Yes, you are!”, you responded.

He pushed you back on the bed while placing himself on top of you. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. You reached out and gently cupped the growing bulge in his boxers making him groan quietly. You gasped in excitement. He was so hard.

He noticed your reaction and smiled.

“You see how hard I am for you?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Then you slowly pulled down his boxers and took him into your hands.

You’ve imagined him like this countless times, but you were still pleasantly surprised to see how big he was. You gripped him firmly and began to stroke his shaft as he groaned again.

You licked the tip and then put the rest of his length into your mouth, gently sucking on it. He moaned and tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer.

You sucked harder causing him to cuss and moan again. You loved the sound of it. Your fingers found their way between your legs, and you began touching yourself as you sucked him off.

He seemed to like that even more and by the sounds he was making you could tell he was close.

“You’re going to need to slow down, sweetheart”, he said in a hoarse voice, “Or I’m going to cum without even being inside you first”.

You sucked on him a couple more times but then you let go. He pulled you up to kiss you, but you just pushed him down to the bed and climbed on top of him. His eyes widened in excitement as you guided his length to your entrance and slowly began to ride him.

You loved seeing him like this, messy and desperate for your touch. He gripped your thighs and moaned your name, his eyes staring deep into yours, begging you to fuck him harder.

You gave him what he wished for and began moving your hips faster and faster as you both cussed and groaned.

“Yes, yes”, he was whispering between the moans, “That’s it, ride me baby, please!”.

You were so close, and by the looks of it, so was he. You gripped each other closer as the pressure was building once again. You pulled his face close to your chest as he was about to come and finally, reached the so very anticipated release.

You held each other like that for a couple of minutes, trying to catch your breaths and then you finally laid back in the bed.

He pulled you close to him as you buried your face into his neck, just breathing in his scent. You were laying like that in silence for a little while, not really knowing what to say. Not really needing to say anything. Until he finally started chuckling like a little kid.

“What?”, you raised your eyes to him. “Well, do you wanna keep arguing now?”, he asked with a grin. You laughed too. “Oh, definitely! Just let me get some water first”.

[emmaelt]

Yes yes yes! The longest relationship you will ever have is with yourself, so make it the best relationship you have!

When I was undergoing therapy at 20 for depression, that (with hindsight) was actually autistic burnout, my therapist said 'treat yourself like a friend' and it completely shifted my entire perspective.

I had grown up being internally so mean to myself, my RSD meaning I would reject myself before other people could. I was my own worst bully, so that what other people said wouldn't hurt me.

Now, when I'm struggling with something, instead of thinking 'I'm so dumb, I can't believe I'm finding this so hard, what's wrong with you' I take a step back and think: what would I say if my best friend was experiencing this issue? I love my best friend so much, she's literally the purest ray of sunshine, and I want the best for her. Why wouldn't I want the best for myself too?

The other half of this is that all humans are different, which is phenomenal and I love it, but what works for one person might not work for someone else. I am in a big believer in letting what helps help, taking away self-judgement and expectations is a huge part of this.

And hey, neurotypicals, this applies to you too!

But also - the biggest fuck you you can give to societal expectations and to 'the haters' is to love yourself. Thrive out of spite.

every day living with my disabilities is just an endless refrain of “the world does not treat me gently so i must treat myself gently, even when it’s hard” and i must never ever forget that

[e-nonsense]

heyy, hope you are doing well and congrats on 2k🫶🫶 can i order peonies with lace and string with a little bit of burlap? for the note, logan and reader have been like fwb for a while (and everybody knows) yet logan is always flirting w jean— the rest is up to you!!

I’LL BE BETTER

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader

warning. no use of y/n instead logan calls her peach, make up sex, unfinished

you didn’t understand him. he’d be friendly with you when she wasn’t around, but the second jean entered he’d give you the cold shoulder.

pretending that you weren’t anything more than a fuck buddy. it was pissing you off, were you just jean’s replacement? something he could play with in her place.

he knew he could never have her. she treats him the way he treats you, something to have when she can’t get what she wants.

you tried not to think about it. you and logan are nothing more than that. friends who happen to sleep with each other every now and then.

so why’d he always get mad when you’d hang out with another guy, or hell even storm.

dragging you away whenever he could fuck you quickly like horny teenagers. you felt used, because that’s what he’s been doing right? using you.

this had to stop. it was hurting you more than it should’ve, it was supposed to be innocent — as innocent as sex with your close friend could be — fun.

“stop it logan.” you pushed him away from you, stepping back when he tried to reach for you again.

“what?” his brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”

you hated that look, the foreign soft care in his hazel eyes as he watched you.

“i don’t want to do this anymore.” you murmur.

“why not?” he asks, “don’t look away from me, peach. tell me why.”

your bottom lip trembled in a way he hated, he knew this was his fault. he was messing with you, putting you second to jean because he couldn’t get over her. you were the perfect girl.

pretty, and kind, sweet in every way he needed. you looked out for him, took care of him. jean didn’t do any of that for him. so why did he keep hurting you?

“i’m sorry, peach. really i am.”

you shook your head as you turned away from him, you deserved better. he let you go, watched as you walked away from him, up until you turned a corner and escaped his eye line. he stayed there frozen until he couldn’t smell you anymore.

he had to fix this.

step 1: find jean

he found her in the lab later that same day, he hated the way he was drawn to her immediately. moving to her side instantly. “hey.”

“logan,” jean smiled at him turning her head to look up at him.

“we need to talk.”

“about?” jean asked, tilting her head curiously.

“this. you, me, us.” logan says, “whatever this is. it needs to stop.”

jean has scott, she doesn’t need to keep leading him on. “oh, of course.” she smiled, though it didn’t meet her eyes, she knew she was in the wrong, leading another man on while very much engaged to scott. maybe she just liked the attention, the fact that someone else wanted her too.

“i hate to do this to you, but i don’t need this. peach she—”

“you like her.” jean notes.

he nods, “i do.”

“i’m sorry logan,” she says as he turns around.

“i know.”

he takes his leave, the door sliding closed behind him as he walked. thinking about what he’d say to you now.

step 2: apologise to you

apologies had never been logan’s strong suit, with the life he’s lived, there’s been no time for regrets. but he’d try, for you.

logan’s fist came down against your door, knocking twice, a signal to you that its him. “hey peach… can we talk?”

no answer.

“peach, i’m sorry. really i am, i didn’t mean to put you in that position. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

the knob on your twisted, and he could see you peeking up at him from the crack. “can i come in?”

you nodded, opening your door further, enough for him to step through. he noticed the dried tears on your cheeks and the puffy redness to your eyes, you seemed to have fallen asleep like that, in his big shirt.

you close the door behind you, leaving you open to his hug. he grabs you before you can run, hugging you tightly to his chest.

“how can i make it up t’ya? i’ll anything for you, peach.”

“can we lie down?” you ask, before adding “together?”

he doesn’t reply, instead lifting you up and carrying you to the bed, he lays down on his back, letting you cuddle up on top of him.

cuddling turns into something more, you can’t find it in you to stop. he’d innocently pressed a kiss to your neck, something to just reassure you then you’d started exchanging kisses.

it started innocently, kisses to just show the care you had for one another. then he smelt your arousal, letting out a low groan before he rolled over so he could cage you under him.

“tell me you want this, peach.”

“want this, i want you.”

“good girl.”

extending a single claw, he cut through your — his shirt.

“logan!”

“hmm? i’ll give you another one.”

his hand slid down your body as he met your lips in a kiss, gentler than the ones he’d normally give you. his fingers moved over your white cotton panties, he could feel your dripping arousal coating them.

“you’re so wet, i thought you were hating me.” he couldn’t help, really. whenever he got the chance to be a smug bastard he’d take it.

“fuck off,” you mutter, he chuckled at your grumpy response while he pulled your panties to the side with two fingers, running his ring finger through your pretty folds.

“i’d rather fuck you,” he grinned, pulling your panties down your legs before unbuckling his belt.

and he did. he fucked you hard and good, whispering apologies into your ear as he did, kisses trailing down you neck. you wondered how someone could fuck your brains out and make you feel loved at the same time, but logan was a complicated man.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Give me more.

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Words count: 2527 Rating: +18, MDNI

Summary: You're ovulating and can't calm down, just the night before Frankie leaves for a two-day camping trip with the boys for Santi's birthday... luckily Frankie is willing to help you... too much, even.

Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, established relationship, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, a lot of kissing, female masturbation (on Frankie's leg hehehe), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation, aftercare, reader has breasts and vagina, wears a baby doll and a thong, she's able body, she doesn't blush, she has hair but it's not described and she has no other description, brief reader’s thought insert, marked in italics. Pussy pronouns. Pet names (baby, honey, good girl). Frankie is our PEK on a mission 🫡

A/N: This Frankie is the same as You look like a fun place to sit, but it can be read as a stand alone, there are only some mild references to the previous ff. (If you haven't read it yet though, I hope you do 👀♥️) I have a couple more ideas in mind for these two, I hope to have something out for the Christmas holidays at least. Thank you so much for loving these two in the previous story, especially to @harriedandharassed who read it and shared it like 3 times if I'm not mistaken, I'm so flattered and grateful. I hope this one works just as well as the first one. English is not my first language, I have no beta, I hope there aren't too many mistakes, please forgive me if there are. I'm open to any advice you want to give me to improve but please be kind. (you always are, tbh). Comments and reblogs are always welcome, you would make me so happy 🥹 I started a tag list, if you want to be added leave a comment. If you'd prefer to be tagged only on something specific I can definitely do that, just let me know.

Thanks to anyone who reads, I hope you enjoy.

“Frankie...” you whisper in the dark.

“Yes?” he answers you in a thick sleepy voice

“Are you asleep?”

“Actually yes.”

“You're answering me, though.”

“Sweetheart...” he picks up his phone from the nightstand ”It's 3:00 a.m. What's wrong?”

“I can't sleep” you groan

“Come here, come on” you shift on his part of the bed and he holds you tightly against his body, you rest your head on his chest and surrender to his comforting embrace and the scent of his skin.

You hum “thank you”

He places a kiss on your forehead “sleep now”

You close your eyes, focusing on the sense of peace you feel wrapped in his strong arms, clasped to his body as warm as a furnace, one leg crossed over his, one arm wrapped around his waist.

It's amazing, really, so amazing that soon you begin to feel something else. a little shiver that runs under your skin, a little electric shock that goes through you all, and then a crescendo of wetness between your thighs.

You’re ovulating and you’re feral, simple as that.

You try not to mind it, to let it pass, not to be too demanding after he has already made you come twice tonight, once on the couch while you were watching a movie - well at least you tried, but you actually have no idea what the movie was about because you were too busy bouncing on his cock, which when you think back on it, it makes you laugh because it seems like a constant in your dating that you can't finish watching a movie without jumping on each other - and once as soon as you got into bed when he saw you coming out of the bathroom in a new babydoll and thong you bought especially for him.

Only two months ago neither of you could stand the other but now, as much as it still bothers you to admit it since he was the last person you thought you would end up with, you are completely and hopelessly smitten with him.

“Frankie,” you whisper, hoping he won't tell you off “can we kiss for a while? Just a little bit?”

It’s so early in the morning that he doesn't have the energy to be sarcastic as usual, he just replies “of course, baby”

He lowers himself on your face and kisses you on the lips, in a very tender but rather chaste way, he still looks half asleep. After a couple of minutes he stops and you sigh, resting your head back on his chest. 

I must let him sleep, you tell yourself. This man is tired, he has already fucked me twice, that should be enough for now. Yet no, it's not enough, you still crave more.

“Frankie.." you mumble on his chest.

“Mmm what is it again?” his voice is even deeper and rougher than usual, which literally sends you into raptures.

"I..." a glimpse of him between your legs as he eats your pussy flashes past your eyes, you squeeze them hard and admit "I want you"

“Still?” he doesn't have an angry tone, nor an irritated one, he's calm, quiet, definitely awake at this point because you feel his hands roam over your back, all the way down to your ass “you insatiable little minx. You know I have to get up in three hours.” 

“I know...but it's not fair, it's Saturday” 

‘You were there when I promised to go camping and fishing with the guys, right?’ You leverage your arms to reach his neck, resting your lips on his soft, amber skin ”mmmm yes” you groan.

He chuckles, as he squeezes your butt cheeks “you know I have to, it's Santi's birthday” 

You continue your run up his neck, slipping your hands under his shirt, caressing his back.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whisper in his ear, burying a hand in his dark curls, your leg tightening around him brushing your barely covered pussy on his leg. Frankie gasps at the sensation, as you begin to grind against his thigh. “It’s only for two days. Jesus, you really are a menace, you know that?” 

“Yeah, you like that about me” You coo.

He puts a hand on your neck, his thumb brushing your ear while his other fingers wrap around the base of your skull. “I sure do. Go ahead, honey, make a mess on me”

You’re grinding hard, the texture of your brand new thong is adding a delicious scratch between your clit and his skin. 

Ridiculous desperate moans escape your lips and he kisses you, letting them vibrate into his mouth. 

He’s wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, which allows you to feel his warm skin, your clit throbbing against him, your dripping pussy heating from the contact.

You feel the tingle of your orgasm mount inside you, your mouth is wide open for him, your tongue feverishly entwined with his in a sweet struggle that leaves you breathless.

And you come, wave after wave, quivering against him, one of his strong arms keeps you in place while his other hand is still wrapped around your neck squeezing lightly on your pulse point.

Your breath is short and ragged, your body hot and tested and yet you feel like it’s not enough.

As soon as your breathing returns to normal you mutter “gosh...I want more” into his slightly sweaty t-shirt.

His voice comes out more high pitched than he would like, he opens his eyes wide and exclaims, "Baby, do you want to wreck even the last bit of me tonight?”

You giggle softly and coo “She’s aching, you know…”

You feel one of his hands kneading one of your ass cheeks and then sliding down to your pussy, massaging your folds from behind, wetting his fingers with your juices.

“Mmm that’s good” you whisper “but I still want more”

Frankie grunts, flipping you onto your back on the bed and getting on top of you. 

His eyes scan you in the dim light of your room, reading the lust on your face. “How much is she aching?” 

You whine, tighten your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer but Frankie doesn't budge an inch, he's too strong for you.

“Use your words, baby, I know you can.” His gaze is no longer clouded by sleep, it’s alert and authoritative and he pins you down. 

“A lot.” 

“Yeah? Does this wet pussy need me?” he goes down your chest kissing your skin left uncovered by the thin straps of your baby-doll. You moan again, you don't know how to do anything else, your head feels light and confused. 

"Answer me" he says leaving a bite on your shoulder. 

You squirm and a breathy "Yes" comes out of your throat.

You feel his cock swell against your thigh, A trickle of desire runs down between your legs, wetting the thong you're wearing underneath. It’s basically drenched at this point.

“What do you want me to do? Tell me what your naughty pussy needs" 

“Your tongue, your fingers…” you whine “Please, Frankie” 

One thing you learned right away about Frankie is that he really enjoys eating his girl out. 

He's not one of those men who do it just to get a blowjob in return. He's dedicated. He uses his tongue, his lips, his nose even, he compliments how you taste, how pretty your cunt is, how wet and warm she is under his tongue, he doesn't stop until you're left shaking and breathless beneath him, until he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you. 

He really is a force of nature and blows your mind every single time. And not only at doing that, he is experienced and passionate in every field.

“Greedy”

He pulls back the duvet and the cool air hardens your nipples as he reaches between your legs, his lustful, tantalizing eyes peering down at you. 

His mouth brushes your inner thigh, slowly moving up from your knee to your groin, his beard tickling you deliciously, “is that what you want huh?” 

“Yes” you murmur ”yes, please.” 

His plump lips settle on your opening, he sticks out his tongue and licks from above the fabric. You moan, sinking a hand into his raven curls, pressing him against your cunt. 

He chuckles against your folds, sending an exquisite vibration through your body, slips his fingers into the elastic of your thong and slowly pulls it down. 

Your cunt throbs in anticipation as his tongue travels up your slit and you emit a deep “Fuck, yes” as soon as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking away the last bit of reasoning you had left. 

“Oh God, Frankie” 

He goes down again and comes back up, tongue flat out sliding over your wetness, once, twice, three, four times as an irrepressible heat spreads inside you again and then the tip of his tongue stops under your clit and he begins to jerk it quickly with close flicks.

His hand is open on your thigh, he slows down a bit when he feels your body tenses, goes back to teasing your opening and then starts tickling your bundle of nerves again.

You tug his hair, spreading your legs even wider to take in all that he wants to give you, melting under his ministration.

“Fuck, you’re so good, don’t stop” you whine and you see him grinning as he replies “I won’t, baby, I’m going to have a damn fucking meal out of this pussy”

His touch is careful, long laps and sucks on your clit, he knows how to alternate them, he seems to know your body and the way it reacts inside out.

Another thing you discovered about him is that he is great at listening and observing and very often guesses your needs and reactions before you express them. He immediately learned how you take your coffee, how you frown when something is bothering you, he knows that you need a particularly tight hug on Monday nights, and that on Friday nights you like to treat yourself to a drink to celebrate getting to the end of another work week.

Frankie is good, really good, you even start to really like quarreling with him, you like the way he stands up to you, the thrill of it and the amazing sex that usually comes right after. 

He brings you almost to the edge with his tongue without taking his eyes off your face, and then you feel two of his fingers nudging at your entrance “you want them huh?” 

“Yes” you breathe, almost on the verge of delirium and he teases “ask nicely baby, I haven’t heard that little magic word yet” 

You would roll your eyes if you were able to do that but right now all you feel is desire, desire to be full again with his fingers, desire to be fucked just like the way you like, desire to be his and only his. 

“Pl-please” you mutter and he whispers “here she is, my good girl” 

His index and middle finger start to stretch you, it seems like he’s taking all the time in the world while you’re trembling and begging to be satiated.

“Almost there pleasepleaseplease”you plead and he sinks a little bit more, up to half fingers, his other hand gripping on the soft skin on your tummy, keeping you in place while your back feels like a guitar’s string ready to snap.  

Your walls are clenching desperately around his fingers, impatient to have all but instead of giving you your long awaited release he comes out completely. 

"Fuck" you hiss. 

His lips are curved into a mocking smirk.

Your clit is swollen, your hole empty and the almost release is tingling all over your body like a latent fire that cannot be extinguished.

“Did you think I would make this easy for you?” He asks ironically.

You scoff ���Goddamn,Frankie!” 

You don't know how he finds strength but he's making you pay for be so demanding, your pussy won't stop throbbing as he barely caresses you, feather light touches on your folds, deliberately ignoring your clit. 

You try to breathe deeply to calm down, but as soon as Frankie feels your body relax he returns to licking you, two fingers on your clit moving in circles. 

You're almost on the verge of tears when he brings you back to within an inch of your brink.

“Frankie, please” you cry “I can’t- fuck- I just can’t”

“Oh yes, you can. You wanted more? I’m going to give you exactly this so now shut up and let me do my job” he’s commanding now.

He’s slow and steady over your bundles of nerves and when you impossibly tense again his mouth is back on it, sucking and teasing with his tongue.

When he gives you your second orgasm he doesn't stop stimulating you as it washes over you, your back arches sharply, you’re gushing in his mouth and all over his face, your hand in his hair tugs to try to pull him away from you but he doesn't move, his lips stubbornly latched onto your clit, his hand firmly on your tummy while the other grips your thigh. 

He doesn't stop as you anchor yourself to the edge of the mattress trying to lift yourself up, your body twitching unbearably, he pulls you by your legs and brings you right back to where he wants you without taking his face off you, in fact sinking even more. “Frankie please, please, I can't” you feel tears stinging your eyes. 

You feel so sensitive it’s almost impossible to handle. 

“Ssssh you’re good” he says, detaching from you just long enough to say it, his beard and mustache glistening and soaked in your essence.

You squeeze your eyes, cover your mouth with your hand as you wail so gravelly it almost doesn’t sound your voice anymore. 

You're overstimulated, your body is sore, you murmur a tearful “please” again, and Frankie finally decides you've had enough. He pulls away from you and takes you in his arms as he whispers, “You're okay, honey,” caressing your back. Your labored breathing slowly returns to normal, giving way to a deep, dense feeling of gratification. 

Frankie definitely reached another level of dedication tonight. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks as he lifts your chin, inviting you to look at him. "Yes," you murmur, and he kisses you tenderly, "do you think I've given you enough to deal with my absence for two days?”

You giggle “I think it's enough to endure a week” and ruffle his hair kissing him again, lingering on his lower lip “But let me tell you something, though, someone they call Catfish who goes fishing… it's really odd”

The sound of his thunderous laugh vibrates against you “I hadn't thought about it but I must admit that you are right. Now let me sleep for...I don't even know what time it is anymore” He reaches out an arm to retrieve the phone on the nightstand and realizes that it is already five o'clock.

“Oh, fuck”

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter 🌹

[lamiadrowned]

hi queen! i love ur page and i have a request! could you do headcannons for vi with an extremely honest yet clueless reader, i feel like that’d be so funny like “jinx is no longer my sister” “uhhh yes she is??” anyway that’s it, thank you !! <33

*:･ﾟ✧ vi with a (slightly) airheaded girlfriend

violet x fem!reader | sfw

this is a hilarious request ugh thank you anon

first of all, she finds you so funny. especially when you aren’t trying to be.

it always leaves you stumped when you’re trying to actually correct her on something, and she just bursts out laughing like you told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

the biggest arguments you’ve gotten into with her happen when you incorrectly correct her grammar or use of a phrase, but neither of you really have a good enough education to tell who’s right and who’s wrong, so most of your spats remain unresolved.

after all, two people who need to be right all the time are bound to bicker.

a lot of your ‘arguments’ don’t contain much bickering, though.

they’re mostly just a back-and-forth dialogue that devolves into mutual confusion and total disarray. as hardheaded as she can be, she’s also the first to admit that she doesn’t know as much as she might have thought.

you’re like her own personal fact checker! (but the facts have no backing and she just has to kind of choose whether or not to believe you).

“any updates on your sister?” you’d ask her after another long day of your respective work pertaining to jinx.

she’d spent most of the day scouring the streets of zaun for any sign of her, while you stayed in your apartment trying to piece together documents and records to track her down.

vi takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair at the dining table, which is covered in papers and blurry pictures. “as far as i’m concerned, she sure as hell isn’t my sister.”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “i mean, you have the same parents. how could she not be your sister?”

she immediately recognizes your tone, knowing she’d accidentally dug herself into a hole with one sentence. “i… i meant it more as a metaphor, i guess. that’s the word, right?”

you stare at her in complete silence, recalling her words and wondering if the metaphor had completely flown over your head. eventually, you shake your head and try to ignore the knowing smile on her face. “i don’t think you know what a metaphor is, hun.”

“hold on, what even is a metaphor, then?” she asks, now seeming to be just as confused as you, that smug grin now replaced with a look of total dubiety.

you lean against the dining table. “a metaphor would be comparing two things that aren’t related.”

“oh. well, there you go. me and jinx aren’t related. it is a metaphor.” she shrugs.

“you are related, though. same parents, remember?” you tilt your head. “something about biology and all that dna shit.”

she positions herself in front of you and cups your jawline with her calloused hands, tilting your head to look up at her. “it’s adorable and aggravating that you take everything so literally, you know that?”

for a moment, you totally forget what the conversation was about, given the fact that just looking into her eyes is enough to turn your brain to mush.

that is, until it finally clicks.

“oh! you’re using a figure of speech,” you wrap your arms around her shoulders, “which is not the same as a metaphor.”

then, she snaps her fingers and points at you with, smile beaming with success. “yeah! yeah, that’s it. a figure of speech. thanks, babe.”

she’s also quick to realize that you do the same to pretty much everyone else, so at the very least, she knows it isn’t targeted.

if anything, it’s free entertainment.

watching proudly as you squabble with a bartender about how a non-alcoholic drink should be called just that, rather than a teetotaler’s drink, because “90% of zaun’s population probably couldn’t pronounce that word, nonetheless know what it means,” simply because you happened to be one of the 90% who could not pronounce it nor define it.

also, she backs you up like her life depends on it, even if she didn’t hear half of the conversation, or generally have no idea what the conversation was about.

after any of your feuds with someone other than her, she’ll make a point to go up to them and respectfully throw down some corny defenses like “the misses is always right, capiche?” or “can’t really argue with that, huh?”

[flamebrush]

"Okay. Blue hair made mistake. White fox lonely. Nuush understand"

"What?! Both of us. Saw it. You cannot be serious" she stepped a foot forward

"Alright everybody. Calm down. Calm down now. You too evi". Ashina lowered her guard and turned around.

"Sherpa. Can you make a for Manu. Nuush. Can you carry him using the sling?" She kept her back turned as she was talking. Proceeding to prep rather than stand and talk.

"Yes ma'am" Sherpa runs towards to manu's lab to make a sling

"Manu. Calm your breathing. Think about something. Soothe your mind. Just let me treat your injury." Irene would try to use healing magic on his cock as she uttered the spells. Though. Not without turning him over.

"if he was lying. Just do your thing... We won't hold you back. We know that we were wrong at times." Ashina said as she sounded a bit defeated when talking about when dealing with Zach. Meaning that everyone else was wrong a number of times before and evi was right in that situations "For right now. Just prepare to move out"

Evi turned back to normal as she went away as Sherpa was going back with the stuff and going to nuush to make the sling

A ninja’s perverted partner (open to female muses/ocs)

Typically, guilds list quest requirements on quest boards for safety reasons, less one person tries to solo a slaying quest that was made for a whole party. Zac typically struggles with this as he was kind of afraid of bringing others with him in fear of someone dying on his watch. He was known around certain guilds as a fairly reluctant to join but highly reliable team member to any party, which had lessened his fears of party death over the years. However, there was another reason why he was reluctant to go on quests with others…..he was a practical magnet for perverted women. It didn’t matter if they were a cleric, mage, human, demi-human, demon, angle that one time, barbarian, that other time with a mindflayer, you name it.

However, he could really do a solo quest this time. The quest maiden said a much as a monster such as a zombie dragon required 2 or more adventurers to accept. Zac simply sighed and tried to look around for anyone up for it. He wouldn’t need to wait for long, but it was a matter of what this person’s class was, whether or not they were human, and possibly how dirty minded this partner was gonna be.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Salutations!! I hope you are well❤️❤️

Could you do the Hashira reacting to a reader ignoring/avoiding them?

(AYY SALUTATIONS!! I am good and I hope you are too. Hope you have a wonderful day today)

Hashira’s Reaction to You Ignoring/Avoiding them

(Characters Included- All the Hashira)

(Warning: Nothing, just fluff and swearing)

🦋Shinobu Kocho🦋

- Shinobu finds it oddly out of character for you to just randomly start to ignore her. At first she tries to wait it out a bit, but eventually she loses patience and asks you what’s wrong.

- If you refuse to tell her, she will just keep being persistent on finding out what’s wrong. She knows personally how it feels to bottle up all your emotions and wear a facade and she doesn’t want you to go through all that pain.

🐍Iguro Obanai🐍

- Stands in a “🧍‍” way the first time you avoid him. Even Karburamaru looks at him, then at the direction where you went, back and forth in confusion. He takes that as a hint that you need some time and waits a few days.

- Will buy a few gifts for you and send them to you with his crow. He wants to approach you again but doesn’t want to make it worse so he’ll just wait patiently for you.

🍡Mitsuri Kanroji🍡

- Girl FREAKS OUT. She instantly starts overthinking about what happened. The first scenario that comes to mind is that you’ve lost someone close to you. So she goes to Shinobu to see if she knows if any of your friends and/or family passed away.

- When she learns that no one close to you died, Shinobu questions her on why she wanted to know. She tells her that you’ve been avoiding her and doesn’t know why, and Shinobu advises her to give you some time and you’ll come around. The advice did end up working and you eventually went back to her with the biggest hug as an apology.

🔥Kyojuro Rengoku🔥

- He stays calm in the situation, he tries to think of what made you upset. When he couldn’t connect the dots he walked up to you and expressed his concerns, and informed you that Shinobu can possibly help with some mental health if that’s what you’re struggling with.

- He has faith that you’ll return and that things will get better with your struggles. He makes a mental note to take you on a date soon to show his affection.

🔊Tengen Uzui🔊

- He will ask you straight up what’s wrong. At first he’ll make a joke and try to make you laugh to lighten your mood but when that doesn't work he becomes more serious.

- He asks you if you would be more comfortable with talking/venting to Hina, Makio, or Suma and maybe they could help and provide great comfort for whatever you’re dealing with. He will try to be persistent on finding out what’s wrong but Hina stopped him and told him not to overthink. He listened and waited for you.

☁️Muichiro Tokito☁️

- He would definitely be stunned. After he snaps out of it, he’ll think a bit on what he’s going to do before deciding to give you some alone time.

- He’ll be concerned for your well being though and it will show on his face that he’s got a lot on his mind. He was approached by Rengoku after a Hashira meeting, asking Muichiro what was on his mind. He gave him some friendly advice and words of encouragement and it helped him to approach you.

🌪️Sanemi Shinazugawa🌪️

- He’ll be like “What the hell did this bitch just ignore me?” and will call your name loudly and ask what’s the matter. It may seem like he’s pissed but in reality he just wants to get to the bottom of why you're acting strange (some would say he’s worried- because he is)

- After about a day he’ll start talking to you, trying to figure out what’s the matter. At first he’ll assume that someone else caused this so he’ll threaten to beat someone’s ass if they caused you harm.

🌊Giyuu Tomioka🌊

- He’s confused at first, then he starts to wonder if he did anything wrong to cause you to act like that. So he will go and buy you some small snacks as a way to make you feel better and as an apology just in case he did actually do something wrong.

- Awkwardly gives you the food and says something like “Here, for you.” He hopes that it’ll convince you to stop avoiding him and talk to him, even if you’re just ranting about your problems.

🪨Gyomei Himejima🪨

- It surprises him (surprise Pikachu face) but he figures that something bad happened or you received some sort of terrible news. He waits for you to come to him because he doesn’t wanna pressure you at all.

- When you finally crack, he’ll patiently listen while you tell him what’s the matter. He will give you some advice if you’d like and pat your head wholesomely.

Masterlist

[endereies]

YOU'RE MY PRIZE - MS

No Nut November - Day 17

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt brings you to the carnival and wins just for you

When Matt said he had a surprise for you, you weren’t expecting to get out the vehicle at the main entrance of a famous carnival. 

It was only set up a few times a year, and with the queues, it wasn’t always an ideal situation. Ever since moving in with Matt, you’ve blabbed every time it sets up a new spot. After all, it was famous. The rides they hosted weren’t your average roller coasters and took several days to set up. Of course it had the classic helter-skelter and teacups. It was only when you looked deeper you saw the abundance of attractions. Set up haunted houses that genuinely left people horrified, stalls that seemed from creative aspect, and of course the Ferris wheel that was littered in light.  

“You’re kidding?!” The child like part of you rushed out as you jumped up and down, grabbing Matt’s tatted arm like a vice. 

“Figured it seemed like a perfect time” He wasn’t wrong about that, your anniversary had just past and he grabbed tickets off the website. You knew something was planned when you read through his card but he didn’t let up. His lips were sealed over the past week or so as you begged him for answers. Now that you had them and it was beaming in front of you, how could you ever complain. 

Once the roads were all clear, his hand was dragged by yours to the grand entrance. After all this time of you dreaming, it was stood before you. 

Matt handed over his phone to the manager and she handed it back, along with two tickets. You’d scanned everyone else’s ticket before yours and they seemed to be a lime scale sort of green. Yet yours were a deep purple. Your boyfriend thanked the manager before laughing at your confused face. “Read it, baby...”  

So, you did. The bold letters ‘VIP’ covered the back of the ticket in a gold colour. “What!” 

“If I am treating m’girl tonight, I’m doing it right. After all you deserve it”  

You both stopped walking as you practically tackled his side. Both of your hands gripped his body tightly, shoving your head into his shoulder “Thank you!” 

“You can thank me after, how about we enjoy ourselves.” 

Most of the evening was a collective of rides a day stalls. With the upgraded tickets that Matt got, most of the queues were cut short. But after a long while of the intense rides, the pair of you decided to sit down on a bench and eat some food. You both got burgers which you could see the steam come from as your order was handed to you. The homemade milkshake relaxed the bouts of energy inside. It was a comfortable silence you were in, one that left the sounds of the crowd, chewing and slurping in its wake. Your eyes started to scan the many stalls you had yet to venture down.  

Those games always seemed a scam and yet the child like spirit inside invited you so willingly. Matt giggled when he saw you eye up a certain stall. It was a line up of wooden clown slabs which had a bunch of cricket balls a few metres away. They seemed heavy in the way they shook but your eyes traced all the designs of them. 

“Want to go over?” Your shock from his voice made him giggle before repeating himself so you heard. “baby, do you want to do that one?”  

You knew he saw you gawk at it so there was no point in hiding your excitement. “Absolutely!” 

The burgers were quickly finished and discarded before you walked straight towards the  red stall, the stripes on the outside calling you. 

“Hey you two, think you can handle this?” The host gestured animatedly towards the rows of clowns. A smirk crossed your face as you instantly grabbed a note from your wallet and handed it to him. Matt finally met your side after you rushed ahead, watching a group of balls land just by your stomach. It was a lot more than the number of clowns and as soon as a timer started you knew why. 

After picking up the first ball, you swung your arm to throw at the centre of a clown’s face. The wood wobbled before clattering backwards. With spawned courage another ball quickly followed a larger clown and yet it barely moved.  

Sure you weren’t strong but even kids played this game, you couldn’t be that bad, right? By the time the buzzer for the timer rang, only four got pushed over. You hadn’t meant to sulk but your expression was clear. It was towards an obvious plushie you must’ve noticed, it was a cute otter stuffed animal that was curled up around its tail. 

“Let me have a go.” Matt’s voice was stern as he slammed a note on the wood next to the abandoned ball bucket. Your body turns back and the bag of balls gets replaced while the machine holds up the four clowns you knocked over previously. 

While they do so, you remain quiet so Matt can focus. His hand rises as he tosses the ball up and down in his palm, gathering its weight. Once the signal was given he leant back and pelted the ball, hammering down the clown you first attempted. It fell with such ease. 

Years of lacrosse and hockey built his strength and precision, he wasn’t going to disappoint. Ball after ball, each clown was clattering as they fell, rebounding slightly on the floor. He only stumbled on a few as when that buzzer rang, the last one bounced and sounded on the concrete. He tossed a spare ball into the bucket and handed it back to the host who was a little shocked at the intense strong skill he had. 

“Well..sir, which shall be your prize.” He smirked at you before he spoke. “That bottom otter please.” 

The host jumped slightly to grab the large otter off its hook and handed it to Matt. “Here. Congratulations!” They smiled at each other before setting up a game for another child. 

“Here baby, think this belongs to you.” Your face lit up as he pushed it towards you. “I saw you eyeing it up after you played. 

“Matt...you didn’t have to, this is so sweet” As much as you tried to hide it, you were so giddy to finally hold its softness against your chest. It was the perfect material and softness, it only made you thank Matt harder. 

“I love you Matt, thank you...” His hand came up to your chin, tilting your head towards him. 

“I love you more baby, besides, you’re my prize.” 

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383 @flouvela

© ENDEREIES 2024