#but whatever he can have an early birthday fic

[agorawrites]

OBEDIENCE TRAINING

caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader

summary: caitlyn only sees one way to correct your juvenile behavior, but maybe it’ll lead to something more.

MDNI (18+)

wc: 5k

NAVIGATION

TAGS UNDER THE CUT

content warnings: dub-con (due to the nature of their dynamic), caitlyn and reader are both freaks fr, dom!caitlyn, sub!reader top!cait, age-gap (reader's early 20's caitlyn is mid-late 30's), jealousy/possessiveness, sheriff!caitlyn, junior officer!reader, brat taming, sexual tension, i think caitlyn calls reader a slut once, so, slut-shaming, spanking, cunnilingus (c! receiving), caitlyn’s bush, face fucking, dacryphilia, degradation, squirting, panty stealing, praise, thigh riding/grinding, hair pulling, cum eating, fingering, aftercare.

i think I got it all but please lmk if i missed anything

readers body referred to as having a cunt/pussy, clit, and tits in this fic.

-

Becoming a Junior Officer for Sheriff Kiramman definitely wasn’t in your plans for the future. Not that you had any plans to speak of. You’d been content working in Vanders bar, The Last Drop, for some time. It’s where your friends spent a good bit of their time, Jinx and Ekko so you saw no reason to leave.

Ekko and Jinx. Those two were the reason you ended up here in the first place. A drunk night on the town, your birthday, and a game of ‘truth or dare’ had your name scrawled in Jinx’s jagged handwriting on a recruitment sheet pinned on a cork board outside the Sheriff’s department. its something you'd completely forgotten about until the day of jinx herself waking you up early in the morning to very rudely remind you, shaking you awake you shoved her off and groaned out a tired “what the fuck?” 

You  hadn’t even questioned how her and her boyfriend had made their way into your apartment, again. you definitely don't remember them crashing at your place the night before though. 

Later you’ll take notice of the draft coming in through your very wide open bedroom window.

You'd complained about being woken so early, not thinking that she was serious, and she teased you about being a quitter, the white haired boy chuckling to himself as he watched you and Jinx argue about the stupid dare. But you weren't a quitter, so begrudgingly, you threw on some clothes and you and the duo made your way up to the Sheriff's department.

Jinx had offered to take on your shifts at the Last drop until Vander and Vi found someone to take your place.

Now you've been a Junior Officer for around a year, and working forSheriff Kiramman for just under two. You hadn’t planned on sticking around this long, but it became routine. Getting up in the morning, getting dressed, at some point along the way you’d begin putting on that stupid uniform, excited to go to work to see your boss of all people. 

Your small (huge) crush on the woman was something you thought you hid well, from everyone except for jinx, apparently, who had made it her own personal mission to comment on it whenever she can.

The Sheriff was hot, and even more so when she was pissed, and considering how often you got under the older woman's skin, you (luckily) got a view of that side of her pretty often. 

Funnily enough you’d grown a habit for riling her up as often as you could. This habit would usually end with some sort of punishment for you. Doing her extra paperwork at the end of your shift, sweeping the floors, even once making you clean the Departments restroom after she caught you and jinx fucking around while you were on the job.

“Dear gods, you need some serious discipline” is often what Caitlyn would say as she shooed you away to do whatever task she’d put you up to that day.

You’re sweet, but you drive her up the wall like no one else can. And she can’t count the amount of times she’s imagined bending you over and bruising your ass cheeks with the flat of her hand until you’re begging her to stop, and until you've thoroughly apologize for being such a fucking brat. The Sheriff would have to do something about you and your behavior at some point though, and the idea seems more and more tempting with each passing day. 

So today you stand outside of Jinx’s and Ekko’s ‘Progress Day’ tent for the second year in a row, filling in for someone else’s shift. Not that you’re complaining, exactly. Their tent is set up directly across from Viktor and Counselor Jayce’s tent, so you got a close view of your second favorite blue haired woman multiple times today as she occasionally stopped by to converse with Mr. Talis and Viktor. You took every chance you could to ogle at the older woman. 

Jinx had stepped out to tease you about your very obvious crush on the older woman before you, and you, embarrassed as you were, swatted her back inside.

Unfortunately filling in for someone else on such late notice meant that the uniform you had on was about just a tad too small. You didn’t have time to sign for a new one, which means that the bottom half occasionally rides up and the straps of your boots squeezing your thighs in a way that has Sheriff Kiramman throbbing between the legs and her mouth going dry. 

She’s not the only one who notices you, she notices, occasionally catching one of your peers guarding other tents eyes wandering south when they look at you.

 Jealousy. 

The thought of another person having you the way she wants to, and the thought of another person’s hands on you is almost enough to make her hurl.

She hates it. And she hates that it’s you that makes her feel this way. And now you're parading your body around for others to see in that borderline skimpy uniform (skimpy in her mind of course, it's hardly worse than anything the other guards are wearing.)

Caitlyn typically doesn’t pay her affection for you any sort of mind, you’re young and new to the force, still learning the ins and outs of a job she’s been training for, and in the game for, since she could hold a rifle without the help of her mentor. That plus not having the time or stability to give you the kind of attention she knows you’ll need.

She's completely ignored it up until recently, now finding herself hooking up with women who look suspiciously like you, or stuffing her fingers into her cunt after the occasional third glass of wine at the thought of having.

It’s not like her feelings are unreciprocated. She’s caught your eyes on her plenty of times in the training room, you’re not very discrete, though something tells her that you naively think that you are. It's endearing. Realistically she knew you just didn’t have time to get a new uniform, but part of her likes to think you’d worn it just to grab her attention.Still, Caitlyn can’t stand the 

She's tugging at the collar of her uniform as she continues patrolling the parade, keeping a sharp eye on each tent she passes. Every once in a while a smile will flash across her face as children run past, laughing and giggling as they chase each other around with a toy they obtained one way or another. 

You’re plucking at the fabric of your gloves when a cog rolls out of the tent behind you and you glance down when it taps the heel of your boot before spinning and inevitably flopping to the ground with a *clank*.

You scoop it up and make your way to return the piece of metal to its owners, the fact that you weren't really supposed to be leaving your post not crossing your mind. You’re just returning a dropped item. Timing is never particularly on your side however, as Caitlyn has made her way back around to your post just as you disappear being the pink and blue fabric serving as a barrier to the outside world. 

In the back of the Sheriff's mind, she knew all of your disobedience would come to a head. 

Her face becomes hot with frustration, and if someone looked close enough they could probably see steam leaking from her ears as she stands outside with her arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping against the ground as she waits for you to emerge.This is the fourth time today that she’s caught you where you aren’t supposed to be. It’s frustrating to no end, today of all days, you couldn’t just behave like she’d asked you to.

“Stand outside and watch for anything suspicious, that is all I ask.” Is what she’d said the second time she caught you exiting the heavily decorated tent today. 

It was just a formality really, as nothing was likely to happen anyhow, and even if it did, it’s not like you were equipped to deal with it right then and there. None of the tent guards held weapons, but she at least expected you to do the bare minimum of just standing there. She’s a bit hypocritical, she knows, given her past with getting up to no good, but she’s older now, she knows well that she’s given you too much grace, allowing you to wear her patience thin.

Once you finally come out there’s a stupid smile on your face, any other time she’d find it adorable, but right now it’s almost enough to send her over the edge. You clearly don’t take your position seriously.

Your back straightens as when you notice the tower of a woman standing just a few feet in front of you with her cerulean eyes boring into you. Before she can stop herself her lip is caught between her teeth, her tongue rolling over the soft skin as she tries to ignore just how edible you look and focus more on her racing thoughts.

No one would suspect anything but anger by the look on her face though. The Kiramman Matriarch, wouldn't ever have eyes for a subordinate, much less one who obviously had a difficult time following simple instructions. She’d fix that though, soon enough.

 “Sheriff Kiramman,” you greet her, clearing your throat as you clasp your hand behind you, your fingers twitching nervously. You can tell by the look on the womans face that you’re absolutely fucked,  and you’re already wondering what your punishment will be.

“Meet me in my office at the end of the day.” She says coldly, her voice slicing through the air as she cuts you off. She doesn't want to hear whatever excuses you may come up with this time to save your own hide. It’d be easier to fire you for sure, but she can’t just let you go and risk never seeing you again, no matter how angry you make her, dare say she needs you, but she also wants you to behave.

Caitlyn already knows what she has to do, however crude it may seem. 

Spanking is an unorthodox punishment, she knows this, and it’s not something she’s ever done to one of her officers. But they aren’t you. They aren’t blatantly disobeying her orders at every given chance. Not while wearing a stupid little dress and annoyingly adorable hat. 

Your mind races as she walks away without another word to go about her job. Your sheriff isn’t just mad this time, she’s seething, and you have no idea what to expect.

Please fuck me.

Did I just lose my job?

She looks so good.

I think I just lost my job.

You close your eyes and attempt to shake your head clear, you’d deal with the consequences of your actions like an adult, but you'd never hear the end of it if you got fired.

The rest of your day is quite uneventful, you don't do much but stand there, wondering what lies in your near future. You'd occasionally catch a glimpse of the Sheriff’s lithe form and stoic expression, your emotions switching between, alternating between embarrassed and indescribably horny, your eyes falling to the ground as your face and neck flash hot and your knees feeling weak.

_

Caitlyn spends the last hour of the parade in her office, trying her best to concentrate and file through a decent amount of paperwork before you show up. She’d gone back and forth in her head about what she was going to do, more so how she was going to do it. How she was going to approach you about it, but she doesn't sit on it too long, you’re unlikely to object. As much as you disobey her orders, you take most of your punishments well.

Most. She remembers you whining, just a few weeks ago, when she ordered you to clean the bathroom after you and your little friend thought it funny to prank a fellow officer while on duty.

She’s ripped from her thoughts by a very timid knock at her office door. She’s aware that it’s you, because who else would it be? She’d told you to come, and you came. 

Besides, most of the people in this building wouldn’t come to her door unless it was for an emergency, and if it was an emergency they likely wouldn’t be knocking. You just barely hear her order you to come in from the other side of the thick wooden door and you hesitantly open it, peaking your head in and watching as she stacks some papers before she gestures for you to completely enter, referencing the chair on the other side of the desk. 

When you sit down she stands and rounds the desk, stopping once she gets to your side and drops the papers in front of you. “This is it?” you ask, your brow furrowing in confusion.

Surely she hadn’t told you to come here right after your shift to do paperwork, right?

“No. This is what you’ll do until everyone else clocks out.” She says walking over to her investigation board, red string connecting points on a case you know nothing about. You, still considerably new to the field, didn’t work the big cases, mostly measly street patrols and occasionally your own paperwork if you actually had to arrest someone that day. “Your actual punishment will come soon enough.”

She smiles to herself, finding some humor in your cluelessness. 

You should’ve known, of course it wasn’t just paperwork

But… you weren't getting fired. So that’s a plus. And you’d probably let out a sigh of relief, if  you knew what the hell did she mean by “actual punishment”? 

You shrug to yourself, removing the tall hat from your head as Caitlyn begins looking over the board. It’s not hard to lose track of time as you work through the sheets of paper, reading through and stamping away at reports as you wait, and wait, and wait. At some point you zone out, humming to yourself as you thoroughly read over another sheet of paper.

It’s not long (or at least it doesn't feel like it’s been long) before the woman, who’s been keeping a close eye on the clock, counting down the seconds until she was sure the building is mostly empty, save for mandatory staff, is stalking past you to lock the door.

The sound of the lock clicking removes you from your trance of stamping papers and you peek over your shoulder in the direction of the sound. Before you know it Caitlyn’s standing behind your chair, hands gripping the wood of the furniture as she speaks. “Stand up.”

And you do, nervous of what will happen if you don’t and curious about what will happen if you do. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been squirming the entire time you’ve been in the older woman's presence. Sheriff Kiramman’s presence behind you is dizzying as she slides the chair you've been sitting into to the side as she takes its place. 

“I’m going to spank you.” she says bluntly. 

You hardly have time to process the shock of the words, choking on your own pit as you turn to face her. Or at least you attempt to. Her hand finds the center of your back and that’s enough to have you stilling completely

“Before I start.” She cuts you off (not that you were saying anything comprehensible anyways) “I want you to know you can stop this at any time.” She breathes. “No ifs, ands, or buts. Just say the word and it’s over. Understand?”

You nod dumbly, but she wants words, needs verbal confirmations that you understand what’s about to happen.

 Your upper thighs flush with the desk as her entire front flushes with your back, her arm rounding your shoulders as her gloved fingers grasps at your jaw, forcing your head back. Not too roughly. Just enough to grab your attention. She knows, of course, what your answer is. It's obvious, but she asks again, both of you pretending that you aren’t trying so, so hard not to grind your ass back into her pelvis.

 “Do you understand, brat?” 

“Yes- Yes, I understand, Sheriff.” You gasp quickly. Caitlyn nods to herself before letting go of your jaw and backing away slightly. 

“Good. Now- bend over the desk.” She nods, confidence lacing her tone as she removes her gloves from her hands and sets them neatly beside you.

You hesitate for only a second before moving the stack of papers out of the way then slowly lowering your upper half onto the desk, resting your head on your folded forearms as your entire body lights on fire.

Embarrassment and a humiliating amount of horny is currently swirling in your gut. You’re about to get spanked and all you can think is ‘how many people can say they’ve been spanked by Caitlyn fucking Kiramman?’

The delusional part of you says zero, but you know it’s unlikely for that to be true. You brush that thought away before the thought of Caitlyn with someone else can frustrate you too much.

“You’ll get thirty, and you’ll count every last one or we will start over.” she demands, roughly grabbing the hem of your Progress Day uniform and pulling it over your ass. Your eyes shoot open at the gesture but you make no move to stop her. The Sheriff, however, doesn’t miss the faint wet spot on your panties when she looks down. 

It seems neither of you are trying to hide the fact that you’re both enjoying this.

“And you’ll thank me when we’re done.” 

The first slap against your ass cheek comes without warning, gasping as your brain barely processes and your Sheriff grabs a fistfull of your hair, yanking your head back, making your back arch slightly and your hands fly out in front of you.

“I said count.” She snarls in your ear. 

You whimper out a weak “One, Sheriff.” but she doesn’t release your locks from her grip. Instead she gives you nine more, eyeing your barely covered cheeks as she listened to you count again 

“Two, Sheriff.”

“Three, Sheriff.”

So on and so forth. 

She savors each and every gasp and whimper that leaves your throat, biting down on her lip as her fingertips trace the seam of your panties over your right cheek, then your left. The gentle sting of it makes you hiss and she feels a pang of sympathy move through her as she releases your hair from her grip.

The sympathy hardly lasts a second as she sees that the wet patch at your center has gotten noticeably bigger.

By the time you make it to twenty there are bright red hand prints spread across each of your ass cheeks, and tears have started to pool in your eyes. Spurred from both the pain and the sexual frustration of it all. 

Your cunt is drenched, and you know that she knows for sure now, as your underwear are soaked, damn near see through. She can see the outline of your pussy and swollen little bud peeking through the lips.

She’s close to giving up on the spanking and ravaging your body right now, but she reminds herself that she’s doing this for you. She wants you to be the best Officer you can be, and how can you do that if you lack discipline.

“Ten more, Darling. You want to continue?” The older woman asks gently, breaking her harsh facade for a moment to check in. The bright red hand prints on your ass aren’t particularly worrying, nor the ruined makeup on your face, but she isn’t a monster. And not everyone’s the same, some could take one hundred swats to the ass and beg for more, some could hardly handle ten. 

So she’ll always check in, even if you’ve leaked through your panties enough to have her concerned for your hydration levels. It’s only right that she makes sure that you still want to continue.

“Yes.” your voice cracks through the confirmation. You’d probably cry if she stopped at this point, you needed this.

“You’re sure?” She whispers cautiously. Gods, you’re a fucking mess, but you insist, whimpering out a hoarse “Yes, Sheriff.”

She nods as she stands, humming to herself as she assesses your position, part of her wants the barrier of your underwear removed and she gives in to the thought instantly. She peels the fabric over your bruised cheeks and exposes your sopping cunt to the cool air of the room, shushing you, cooing at you as whimper in pain and relief.

You must be aching terribly, and she finds some satisfaction in the fact that you’re likely frustrated out of your mind. 

Maybe you’ll think twice before acting like a brat again.

She lets your panties fall around your knees. The first half of the last ten have you sobbing softly into the hard wood of the desk and your hips shifting into the desk desperately.

Her eyes squeeze shut, the scene has her cunt pulsing with need. She needs you. Needs to have you, to have her way with you.

Despite the fact that you're both attracted to each other, this was never supposed to be about sex, but anyone with a wrinkle in their brain could tell you that this was going to happen.

Five more. Just five more and she’s pulling your sobbing form into her chest, smoothing one hand over your hair and the other over your back. Your panties are still sitting around your thighs as she whispers praise into your hair.

“Good girl.”

“You did so well, darling.”

Sobs of “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” are quick to follow as you hold onto her tightly, mouthing at the skin of her neck as you grind your sticky cunt into her thigh without even realizing. 

You can’t cum yet, not until she does. She needs this.

“I know, sweet girl. You need to cum.” she comforts you, whispering into your ear, wiping away the fat tears that roll down your mascara stained cheeks before she removes you from her thigh and gentry pushes you to your knees in front of her.

“But you need to wait.” She says as she desperately tugs her belt from its loops and drops it to the floor before yanking her pants and underwear down around her knees. “Just a bit longer for me.”

For her.

She almost keels over when your mouth drops open and you're basically drooling for her pussy, pupils blown wide as you glance up at her.

She’s got the most gorgeous cunt you’ve ever seen, neatly trimmed bush mere inches from your face and she’s dripping something serious. 

Caitlyn’s gripping your hair in one hand, the other dipping below the fabric of her shirt as she fondles her tit with the other as she guides your mouth to her hot, needy cunt.

You inhale her scent while she uses you for her pleasure, taking in her musk from a long day's work as the flavor of her juices makes you infinitely wetter and you can feel your cunt leaking.

You use her thighs to balance yourself as you work her with your mouth. Spit and arousal drips down your chin and neck as your tongue plays with her clit your desperate attempt to lick it all up, to savor it.

There’s just so much.

At some point she lets go of your hair to completely remove her shirt. She grinds languidly against your now flattened tongue as her hands grip at both of her breasts, fingers pinching at her sensitive nipples.

You’d never seen the older woman in such a state, usually poised and well composed. You take some pride in know that it’s you that has her this disheveled.

“Just like that Darling. Fuck.” she groans roughly under her breath, interrupting your thoughts.

The Sheriff's hips stutter when you suck on her clit, over, and over, and over again. You’re so lost in the warmth of her pussy you don’t remember to breathe until your lungs are practically screaming for air.

You pull away from her cunt and gulp down a lungful of air. 

“I didn’t say stop.” The older woman says frustratedly, not happy with you pulling away so suddenly. She’s shoving your face back into her messy cunt, a strong hold at the root of your hair.

She humps at your face desperately, her orgasim just out of reach while your hands squeeze at her thighs as you gasp against her sopping folds while she uses your face. The pleasure of being used mixed with the pain of your scalp being yanked about has your brain feeling fuzzy. 

You nose grinds against her clit once, twice, then a third time and-

“Shit- Shitshitshit, I’m gonna squirt. Open your fucking mouth.” She curses quietly, looking down at your ruined face.

The woman yanks your head away from her pussy as her own fingers moving furiously over her own clit.

Obediently you do, opening your mouth and the warm liquid hits your tastebuds. She spreads her folds apart with her fingers as she continues to cum, her squirt landing in your hair and down the front of your uniform.

She sets her cunt right back in your tongue, both hands now gripping at your hair as she uses your face to soothe herself through her orgasm.

All while you’re still gasping for breath. Well, both you and Caitlyn now, as she tries to recuperate, releasing her tight grip on your hair as she takes half a step back, resting against the cool wood of the desk.

She doesn’t expect to hear a quiet, content, ‘Thank you.’ from below her. And she doesn’t even have to tell you to say it. You just do. She’d just squirted all over your face and chest and you’re saying thank you.

You’re so good, and she tells you so as she helps you up onto wobbly legs, her arms around your torso to pull up your dress ten massage the fat of your ass, this inadvertently causes you to begin grinding against her naked thigh.

You almost forgot how painful the ache between your legs was, the first contact of The Sheriffs lithe muscle against your fattened and aching clit, almost makes you collapse, but Caitlyn’s there to catch you.

“Take whatever you need. You can cum.” She whispers, her lips barely grazing yours.

“Your fingers. Please- I need your fingers.” You beg before her lips capture your own in a sloppy, yet passionate kiss, her tongue massaging the inside of your mouth as she pauses her ministrations on your ass.

She uses one hand to hold the skirt of your dress up and brings the other around to your front.

She locates your clit with no trouble at all, swirling the tips of her ring and middle fingers around the swollen bud a few times before she dips her fingers lower. Right into your dripping, needy, hole.

She goes slow at first, only because she wants to, the feeling of your warm, wet, heat around her fingers is addicting. She knows she’ll never wants to leave your cunt after this.

But then you’re begging against her lips pathetically, begging for her to go faster and damn near crying again. She continues the tortures pace for only few more minutes, switching between dipping into your tight cunt and playing with your clit.

“Please, Sheriff, need it. Need to cum. Need you to make me cum.”

The blue haired woman shifts slightly. Just enough that you can lift one leg up onto the chair that you’d been sitting in what feels like hours ago. Hell, it could’ve been hours ago for all you know.

Cait gets to work quickly, sliding her fingers back into your slick little hole and she begins pumping in and out, her palm slapping against your clit harshly.

Your arms wrap around the woman’s shoulders, your head falling to her neck for only a moment at the embarrassing *plap plap plap* coming from between your legs.

You miss her lips almost instantly though and before you know it your tongue is back inside, messily swirling against her own. She moans at the taste of herself on your mouth, both of your faces sticky with her cum and your spit and drool, yours more-so than hers.

It doesn't take long before you’re cumming, white cream coating the woman's fingers and collecting a thick ring at the base of them as it drips down her forearm.

Caitlyn swallows your moans and sobs as your pretty pussy quivers around her fingers, withdrawing them once your breathing and cries calm down to avoid overstimulating you. She separates herself from your lips to suck her fingers clean of your cum, and don’t you just taste heavenly, before helping you ease your leg down from the chair.

“We should shower.” she says softly, nodding towards the small restroom in the corner of her office.

She’d had it installed some time ago, shortly after becoming sheriff when she realized that she spent too many nights here to not have one. She only really used it if she was too tired to make the buggy ride home, keeping some random spare sleep clothes in there as well. 

“Okay.” You whisper against her throat, exhaustion quickly taking over, but you make no effort to remove yourself from her.

“Come on. I’ll help you get undressed.” She laughs lightly, pulling her pants up before leaning down and helping you step out of your drenched underwear.

Mostly so you don’t trip as the garment has twisted itself around your lower legs and in dangerous manner.

But also so she can toss them onto her desk for herself later.

You whisper another quick “thank you” and she gives a kind “you're welcome” as she guides you to the bathroom with a hand on the small of your back. As you shower Caitlyn tells you that you’ll talk in the morning, but she quickly  reassures you that this wasn’t just her using you for your body or anything of that nature. 

“Really, I'll be here when you wake up.” She says fondly as she finishes a generous amount of bruise salve to your quickly bruising ass, foregoing clothes all together and wrapping you in the large throw blanket from the back of the couch in the corner of the room.

She thought it best to avoid too much rubbing on the the now tender skin. Caitlyn just threw on a sweater and some sleep pants she had lying around “Then we can talk. Right now you need to rest.”

“Lay with me?” you question, sitting and leaning back into the soft couch. And that she can do, so she does, pulling her hair back into a bun before squeezing herself behind you and the back of the couch.

You both lay in silence, caitlyn's fingertips massaging your scalp gently as you drift off to sleep, definitely not thinking about how you’d explain any of this to Jinx later the next day.

fin.

a/n: i wrote most of this while high out of my mind and yes i made caitlyn way older than in canon idc, i need to be her controversially young wife. this universe is set in a mix of the the au!timeline and the orignal timeline. if you liked this fic please follow/reblog! and don’t be afraid to to request and/or tap in my inbox, i love writing and talking especially about my fav characters

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[starkwlkr]

bitch, i’m a mother! | f1

female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) i like that almost every story i read about a female driver her team ends up being porsche and I’m not mad about it :) so for this fic, the reader is driving for porsche lol also I’m just making up names for the engineers and team principal. also because I’m in love with charlie hunnam, my man is gonna make an appearance

part 1 part 3

Y/N BEING THE MOTHER OF EVERY DRIVER IN THE PADDOCK

“Y/n is so great, you’re going to love her. She’s the best.” Oscar listened to his new teammate as they walked into the Porsche hospitality. The rookie immediately felt out of place with him being the only one in papaya colors while Lando was in casual clothes.

“Hey, Lando!”

“Lando! How’s it going?”

“Norris, hey!”

Lando greeted most of the Porsche team with a smile while Oscar nodded at them. “I hang out here sometime if you couldn’t tell.” Lando joked.

“So if I can’t find you in Mclaren . . ”

“There’s a big chance I might be here.”

Oscar nodded once again. “Noted. Where’s Y/n?”

As if on cue, Y/n walked into the Porsche hospitality with her team principal by her side. Once she spotted Lando, she called out his name. As the Brit approached the driver and team principal, he gave her a big hug. It was the start of the 2023 season and they hadn’t seen each in a while, of course he was going to give her a hug.

“I’ll see you around, Y/n. Nice to see you, Lando, and you must be mclaren’s rookie. Welcome to F1, I’m Adam.” The Porsche team principal greeted Oscar.

“Thank you—” before Oscar could continue, Y/n cut him off.

“I’ve heard so many great things about you! And you’re an Aussie too! What is it with Mclaren and Aussies? Whatever, I’m glad you’re here, Oscar. I hope you enjoy yourself. Have you eaten yet? I was just in my way to get breakfast. Let me tell you a secret, the Porsche hospitality has the best food in the paddock.” Oscar instantly felt at home with the female driver. She had a comforting presence that Oscar immediately took notice of.

“Told you she’s the best. Just wait until it’s your birthday. She bakes you a cake.” Lando told Oscar.

The entire grid was together for their drivers briefing early in the morning. After going over every detail of the upcoming Grand Prix, the race director decided to let the drivers voice their concerns.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

Y/n raised her hand. “I wanna know who banned the pit wall celebration.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know as well.” Lewis added.

“We can discuss pit wall celebrations at a later time. Excuse me, I am needed somewhere else.” The race director excused himself.

“Don’t worry, I don’t care about being banned. I’ll be there like a proud mom taking millions of pictures of you when you win.” Y/n whispered to Lewis as she layed her head on his shoulder.

“And I’ll be doing the same when you win.” Lewis replied.

“What about when I win? I also want millions of pictures taken of me and the exact same chocolate cake you baked for me for my birthday a year ago. Extra sprinkles please.” Lando smiled innocently.

“Fine, win first then I’ll bake. Shouldn’t be that hard unless you got a tractor for a car.” Y/n teased. “I love you, Lando. Of course I’ll take millions of pictures of you when you win.”

It was a perfect day to race in Silverstone. Like always, Lando had his family in attendance. He was in the mclaren garage when he spotted Y/n on one of the tvs being interviewed by Lissie.

“Hey, that’s my grid mum!” He told his engineer as if his engineer didn’t already know. His smile quickly faded when a blonde man appeared behind Y/n in sunglasses. Lando then watched as the man’s name appeared on the tv.

Charlie Hunnam, actor.

Who was he and why was he with his grid mom?

“Hey, that’s the dude from Sons of Anarchy! My wife watches that series.” Lando heared someone say. He continued to watch the screen as Lissie asked Charlie a question about Y/n.

“She’s incredible, absolutely amazing. I’m happy I finally get to see her talent in person.” Charlie replied, smiling at Y/n which made her blush.

“He’s British . . ” he mumbled.

After Lissie thanked Y/n and Charlie for the interview, the camera kept rolling on them as they walked away. That’s when Lando saw Charlie hold Y/n’s hand then pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“She’s dating a British man and she didn’t tell me?!”

Lando immediately walked out the garage and straight to the Porsche garage. He had a strong feeling Y/n would be showing her new lover around so he started there. He soon spotted the couple talking with the Porsche team principal, Adam.

“Oh, hey Lando! I was about to look for you. I want you to meet Charlie.” Y/n excused herself from Adam and introduced Charlie to her grid son.

“It’s very nice to meet you, mate. Y/n had told me a lot about you.” Charlie smiled.

“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing about you. Nada, zero, not a single thing, zilch.” Lando then turned his attention to Y/n. “I think we need to talk.”

“Okay . . ” Y/n said confused as she turned to Charlie to tell him she would be right back. Lando took her hand and dragged her to a corner away from Charlie. “Lando! What’s wrong? Are you nervous about today?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Oh.

“You always tell me everything and now I kinda feel betrayed. Especially when i also found out he’s British!” Lando said dramatically.

“Lando, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just sorta happened. We met a few months ago and he’s made me the happiest ever since. I wanted to introduce you properly today.” Y/n explained.

“He makes you happy? Like genuinely happy? Because if he doesn’t I will run him over repeatedly.” Lando warned.

Y/n laughed and brought Lando in for a hug. “I know you would, but there’s no need for that. I think he’s the one.”

“Before you leave, there’s actually one more gift for you and you don’t have to guess who it’s from.”

Logan was confused, but happily accepted the gift. It was the annual F1 secret santa and he had just finished unwrapping his present. A gift wrapped perfectly with a blue bow was placed in front of him. The tag read ‘From Y/n’ in neat handwriting.

“Thank you, Y/n! I don’t even want to open it, it’s wrapped so good.” Logan chuckled.

Every year, anyone who got a nicely wrapped gift knew it was from Y/n. And any year that someone new entered the season, Y/n would give them a gift during secret santa. She did it for Lando, George, Alex, Charles, Yuki and Guanyu when they were rookies and now she was doing it for Logan and Oscar. She had even sent Nyck a present as well, she wished he was in the paddock doing secret santa as well though.

“Okay, I’ll open it, I’m too curious.” Logan finally unwrapped the present and saw it was a Miami Heat jersey singed by LeBron James. Logan almost freaked out when he saw the signature.

“Holy shit! Wait sorry, I can’t curse, but holy shit!” He took the jersey out of the box and admired it. “This is incredible.”

“You love it?” He heard the familiar comforting voice of Y/n from behind him. “I hope it’s the right size.” She joined Logan in front of the camera.

“It is, don’t worry,” he chuckled as he gave her a hug. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

“I think you just adopted another son.” The camera man told her.

“I love all my grid sons equally.”

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[romulusthethird]

Demon Twins AU Prompt

Okay, so reading the dozens of DC X DP prompts and stories on Tumblr incites the juices as it wont to do, and I have an idea! Basically, at the barebones of this idea, is that, unlike the usual demon twins fics, where Dami kills Danny and he ends up in Amity, or the ones where he fakes his death, and all that jazz (heh)-- my idea is that they both... came out wrong. Neither of them are capable of dying. They grow up together, in the league, constantly killing each other. The wounds heal, but the scars remain. There are other abilities, like they're faster, stronger, and they have a quirk (in this case, Danny can still fly, and lets say Dami can disappear, become one with the shadows). They would kill for each other, and won't stand any slight against the other, but they also fucking hate each other and they spend half the time killing the other.

--

Immortal Demon Twins AU part 1

It is a glorious day in Nanda Parbat. It is their birthday, the tenth year of their existence. There will be a celebration, as expected of the grandsons of the Demon's Head, and they will be showered with gifts and given the day off from training and their tutors. However, at the end of the day, there will be a test.

The usual ritual, fighting their mother for the chance to learn about, and eventually someday meet, their father. Bruce Wayne. The Batman. Prince of Gotham, billionaire, vigilante, leader of the Justice League.

Danny doesn't care about the man at all, but Damien wanted to meet him, and as much as he hates his brother, he wasn't going to get in his way. He doesn't participate in the fights, but he watches, and if the boy was too injured after, he'd give the finishing blow. Their wounds healed in death, and it was nothing more than torture to make him heal over a course of months what could heal in hours.

Danny woke his brother up at the sun's rise, leaping onto the bed with a dagger in hand. "Rise and shine, ahki al'asghar~"

Dami's eyes snap open, alert despite the fog still clouding them. He kicks out, shoving his brother off him. "Danny. It's too early."

"Nonsense. It's our birthday. The tenth one. You survived ten years, ahki al'asghar."

Dami scowls. "No thanks to you."

Danny taps the jagged scars on his throat. "A for effort." Danny had given it to the other boy when they were five, not yet fully used to his strength nor the sword in his hands. His brother had bled out, but was alive less than nine hours later. That wasn't the first time he'd died, and it wasn't the last.

Dami laughs, "I got an eye in return, didn't I?" He did. Danny was blind in his right eye, an injury that healed on its own. It's why they'd died so many times. Easier to heal when their hearts had stopped. If they don't, it would lead to things like his eye or Dami's missing pinky finger.

"Whatever. The sun is up, let's go to the baths before they get crowded! Yalla!"

Damien clicks his tongue. "khalas."

Danny grins, teeth a touch too sharp, and physically drags his reluctant, "younger by fifteen seconds!" twin to the bathhouse to wash off before their morning absolutions.

It went by quickly, with only one attempted drowning, and they end up eating a hearty breakfast with all of their favorite foods like Dami's falafel with cream cheese (gross) and his own special meal of chocolate cereal and milk. Dami turned his nose up at the count chocolate cereal and said, "Your teeth are going to rot."

"They regenerate."

Dami sniffs in reply, taking a bigger bite of tomato, chickpeas, and cream cheese.

"You're disgusting." Danny grimaces at the boy, shuffling away from him and his gross food.

He catches the knife thrown at him, scoffing at the tiny blade.

He doesn't know who throws the first punch, but he's missing a tooth at the end (Dami throws it at him and taunts, "regenerate that").

It's only the "Habibi" call of his mother that stalls the two preteens. They pause from their position on the floor, chunks of artificial chocolate cereal and tomato in their hair and on their clothes, Dami's hands grabbing Danny's longer hair while Danny's hands are on his throat.

"Boys." She sighs. "Just because it is your birthday does not mean you can act like ruffians in the kitchen. Go clean up. We have to start the festivities."

Danny groans, leaning up and shoving his brother off him. "I hate them, you know I hate them. Grandfather's friends are so stuffy and boring, and the rest just stand there, like statues."

She raises an eyebrow at him, which causes the older boy (by fifteen seconds!) to whine and groan, before walking out the door, back to the bathhouse. He hears her tell Dami to "behave" and grins.

--

"Are you ready, Habibi?" His mother asks his twin, hours later, at the time of dusk, drawing her sword in the courtyard. Damien's response is to grab his own katana and get into a battle stance, lowering his legs, and raising his sword, pointing it at her.

"I am ready, mother."

Danny watches. Like every year since they were old enough to understand the concept of a father. He doesn't want to meet him, doesn't feel the need to have a father when he had Mother and Dami, as much as the boy annoyed him.

"Don't die." He says, just before he banged the gong.

It's fast, seconds turning into minutes as their swords clash loudly, his mother dodging more than she parried or went on the offense. She was defending more than usual, letting Dami wack and whirl and stab and hit. It confuses him, but he continues to watch.

He won't interfere, regardless of the outcome.

That doesn't lessen his surprise when Dami wins.

No, when their mother lets him win.

She smiles the little smile she gets when she is victorious and says, "You have won, Damien. That means you are worthy of meeting your father."

And-- what?

This doesn't make any sense. Danny knows what these meetings are; false hope for something that was never going to happen. A simple way to keep their youngest in line. It had worked with their oldest, Danishara (he goes by Dan). It had worked with Athanasia, who died trying to meet the man years ago. He doesn't know what happened to her, just that mother put her in the Lazarus Pit, and she never came out.

"You and Danny leave tonight."

What? "But Mother, I don't want to meet him. Let me stay. I don't want to go!"

"You'd leave your brother alone, and defenseless? Think of what happened to your sister. I cannot lose another child, Danyal." Danny cringes. His sister had been alone, on a mission, trying to prove herself, and had drawn too much attention in the process. Enemies of Ra's had caught the thirteen-year-old and killed her. It had been two years since then. Dan still hasn't gotten over it, and nor has Ellisha, another sister of theirs. They don't see them often, Ellie is often in some reach of the world, and rarely comes back to NP, while Dan is running his own underground mercenary group out of Russia. They never see any of their family. Not Dusan, their khaal, or Nyssa, their Khala.

"He can't die."

"We never know what will happen until it happens, Habibi."

He knew it was a lost cause, but still, he tried to argue. "Go with him to Gotham, get him settled, and if you really want to come back, you can."

"Really?"

"I swear it."

And so, Danny agrees, pensive and upset, and follows his brother, whose lips would not stop quirking up, to their room to pack. "I am unsure about this," he tells the other boy when they are alone. "We do not know this man, nor his children--"

"We are the blood children," Damien cuts in. "That is all that matters. He will love us, just like Mother does."

Danny hums in discontention. "I don't think blood matters to him, but he already has other blood children. That woman... Helena is also his blood."

"She is a girl, it's different." Damien says, but Danny can see he too is worried.

"What if he doesn't love us? What if all he sees is... well, us?"

"What's wrong with us?" Damien shoots back, angrily shoving robes into his bag. "We are mighty and strong. We do not die. We excel in everything we are taught."

"We also kill. Maim. Torture. We are... we are not like his other children."

"I thought you didn't care about him-- about having a father."

"I don't," Danny said quickly, reluctantly revealing, "I looked into him, though. I wanted to know if we look like him or Mother. While we resemble him, we take too much from Mother. We don't look like his brood--pale, with blue eyes. Kids he took off the street. We were planned, designed, raised with expectations. Our skin, our features, the green in our eyes is all Mother and Grandfather, and I fear he won't look past that. It doesn't help that Mother's advice is 'take out the competition' like that will endear us to the man."

"...I still want to meet him."

"I know, Ahki. I know."

Danny zipped up his bag. "Maybe when we're there, we can see about seeing Dan or Ellie again."

That cheered up his brother, and it sickened Danny--how nice he was being to the annoyance. Just so he wouldn't forget his place, Danny shoved the boy into a suit of armor, ignoring his outraged scream as the spear stabbed the other boy in the stomach.

"I'll see you on the plane, ahki al'asghar."

--

Danny wakes to drool on arm, the weight of his brother leaning against him, warm and reassuring. His Mother sits across from them.

She is looking out the window, as the sun rises, catching her pale green eyes in its rays. She is beautiful. She is a cold, calculated killer that claims to love Danny and his brother. Loved them even as they tore from her recently revived body in the waters of the Lazarus Pool--much to the glee of their Grandfather.

She is strong.

She is his mother.

She is scheming.

"Why now?"

She looks back at him, eyes soft in a way they almost never are in the treacherous walls of their keep.

"Does he even know we exist?"

Her eyes look down at his brother and then back up to him. "Because I love you."

He blinks. Their family was never one for vocal terms of affection or declarations. Why would she--

Ah. "It's him, isn't it?"

She doesn't ask who he is referring to.

"Athanasia died, Danyal." She glances out the window again. "Danishara and Ellisha... You are so young, Habibi. You are all so young. I had my oldest when I was young."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She huffs a small, amused laugh. She smiles at him in a way she's never before. "You are both so much like your father."

Danny scowls. "Am not."

"It is not a bad thing. You inhabit all of our best qualities. You and your siblings."

"Will he really like us? Accept us? I know what outsiders think of the league, Mother. I am not naive. He- He has children."

"He does." She agrees. "three boys and two girls."

"Why would he want more?"

She mulls over that, and then says, "Do you know why Dan and Ellie never met their father?"

Danny shrugs. "I had ideas."

"When I was young," she starts, "I fell in love with a boy. He was too pretty to be real, and I wanted him to be mine. They were the result." She pauses. "He disappeared shortly after that, and I never saw him again. There is no way for them to meet him and even after searching for the entirety of your Ellie's life, he has no appeared on this Earth. You deserve to know your father."

She stands up. "Let me see how long it will take to land."

She leaves, both of her children mulling over her words in her wake. "We will always have each other," Damien whispers. A sign of weakness that Danny does not exploit. He looks out the window, hand shoved against his brother's. He says nothing when the other boy clasps his fingers with his own.

He does nothing when he continues to hold his hand to the car, and even still, tighter, until they are at the manor of one Bruce Wayne.

It is a waiting game, then. Looking perfect and pristine in the foyer of this grand mansion.

No one is there to greet then when they slip inside. Not until Mother checks her watch, rolls her eyes, and walks back over to the door to trip an alarm. They tumble in like baby chicks, misty-eyed and in uniforms they rushed to put on.

"Beloved." Mother greets the one standing in the middle, wearing all black, ready to defend his gaggle of sidekicks. "I see time has done you wonders."

"Talia," he growls. Danny has never heard anyone talk to his mother with such disrespect. He itches to take out his sword and strike down the slag, but it is only the knowledge that he is their father, and Damien's hand in his that stopped him. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to give you a gift," she says, smiling despite the coldness in her eyes.

"We don't want it," Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne says, "So you can just leave."

"It is not up to you, little bird." She reponds. "This is between myself, my beloved, and his children."

The boy flinches, its small, but noticable. A weakness.

""He is my child, Talia. So, I'll ask again: what do you want?"

She looks at him for a time, studying his face, before she chuckles. "Very well, beloved. Come here, Habibis."

The bats look confused, until Damien and Danny step away from the wall, seeming to appear out of thin air. The air is tense, and the bats are readying to fight when they stop at their mother's side.

She grabs their shoulders and pushes them forward.

"Beloved, meet our children. This is Damien," she gestures to his brother, "and this is Danny. Say hello boys."

Damien grunts while Danny looks up at the man-- their father. He doesn't look like much, truly. A tired old man, tense, with wide, bright blue eyes.

"Is this a joke? Do you think this is funny, Talia?"

"You can run all the tests you want, Beloved, but they are yours."

Danny looks at the three children behind Batman, older than them. Cassandra, Timothy, and Helena. Three unknowns. Black cat, unknown, and Robin. They don't look like much. They looked like Dan and Ellie could squash them like bugs, easily.

He says as much to Dami, whispering in arabic that they weren't impressive and that he doubted this was really their father, because he was too old and ugly. Dami scowls, whispering back that this was an important moment and that Danny was ruining it. Naturally, Danny snaps back that he didn't even want to come meet this geriatric lame guy who dresses in spandex and his circus, and that he was only here because Mother doubted Dami's strength and skill.

Danny watches the boy's face slowly turn red in amusement. Then, before the bats could blink, there is a blade in Dami's hand and he lunges for his brother. He manages to knick his arm before their mother grabs his ear and twists.

"Ow, ow, ow, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop, that hurts--"

"Boys."

Danny looks up from where he was trying to lick the blood off his arm (it was coming out too fast for this to be effective. It looks like Dami hit an artery) and Dami manages to get out of his mother's hold, and hides behind Danny, like that was going to protect him.

"It's like Jason and Tim all over again..."

"What have I said about fighting?"

"But Mother, he--"

"No."

Danny grins at the sight of Dami's pout.

"You have lost the priviledge to come home, Danyal. Don't think I don't know you started it. You must stay however long Damien stays."

Danny jerks at that. "I don't want to stay! You said just until Dami was settled. He is settled, we met the old bat, we have achieved our goal of meeting the sperm donor. I want to go home now." He left all his stuff at home. Like his favorite blanket, and the doll Dami stole for him on their first mission, and all of his suveniors from Ellie, and the guns that Dan gave him--

"Your stuff will arrive within a week," she says knowingly. "Enjoy your stay with your father," is all she says, kissing their heads, a final goodbye, and left.

Danny stares at her retreating figure.

Damien tries to reach for him, but he is too angry. "I do not want to stay," he states.

"I know."

"I do not care for the bat man."

"I know."

"I want to go home."

"I--"

The batman looks at them, slowly peeling his cowl back from his face. They do look like him. Identical in features, the only difference being the coloring. Danny scowls. "I do not want you," he tells the man. "I want Mother. I do not need you."

"...We should treat your arm."

Danny scowls harder, shoving Damien away. The boy rolls his eyes and threatens to finish the job.

Danny would let him.

He does not want to be here.

And he does not know why his mother had forced him to come.

--

Damien doesn't know that normal siblings don't grow their organs back, or maybe he does, and he isn't thinking. Maybe it is just that his first instinct has always been stab first, taunt later.

Tim Drake-Wayne crumbles into a ball on the floor, clutching his side, where blood was quickly pooling out.

Damien grunted in disgust.

What a waste of a good knife. It was still in the other boy, and he had a feeling he wasn't getting it back.

It is deserved, though. No one got away with talking about his mother. Not even Danny.

"What did you do?!" Bruce Wayne yells, anger rolling off him in waves.

It wasn't his voice, but Danny's that rang out in the suddenly silent bat cave in answer. "Pathetic. If he can't even dodge that he really isn't any match for Dan."

"Are we sure this is our family? Can we get a DNA test? I think Mother brought us to the wrong house."

Which was entirely fair, in Damien's mind. He doesn't know that the rest of the world was different than Nanda Parbat. He doesn't know that they were different, that it isn't normal to try to kill your siblings, and succeed, and then have said sibling come back to life.

It isn't normal to be strong and fast and deadly.

He doesn't know that it was normal to fall to a stab wound.

He doesn't know it is normal to yell when angry.

He doesn't know anything past what he has been taught, and what he's been taught showed him that Timothy Drake is weak.

He is pathetic.

He is not worthy of his position as Robin, nor his place in this house.

He says as such.

The look... his father gives him hurt. It scares. It makes him feel inhuman. Like a monster.

He suddenly understands what Danny had meant.

He does not want them.

He does not want him.

Damien too wants to go back to Mother.

He also wants a DNA test done immediately (because parents aren't supposed to look at you that way: like you are scum; horrible, vile, not worth living. He is scared, and his chest hurts, and there is a lump in his throat, and this place is strange--) His hand finds Danny's again, like it had in the plane, and Danny doesn't swat him away when he grips his hand tight.

He's afraid too.

--

So that's part one!

Honestly this whole prompt idea stems from me wanting damien and danny to just constantly kill one another and have the bats go apeshit lol. Thanks for reading!

--

Translations:

ahki al'asghar - {younger brother, if google is correct?? lmk if it's not tho!}

Yalla - hurry up

khalas - alright

khaal - Uncle

Khala - Aunt

--

Also, the timeline differences with characters in this au is simply because I wanted to :) and DC canon is all over the fucking place lets be real, they reinvent and change shit all the time, I am allowed to tweak Athanasia and Helena and all of the other shit I might tweak.

Ages btw:

Danny and Damien: 10

Dan: 19

Ellie: 17

Athanasia (if she were alive): 15

Tim: 15-16

Jason: 20

Helena: 22

Dick: 25

Cass: 16?

Bruce: 43ish? idk

Talia: 34

Alfred: Immortal but looks like he's 57

Ra's: dying but also like a millenia old mf

--

also [I have no idea how falafel tastes, only that Danny considers falafel and cream cheese to be gross together, and adding tomato to it makes him wonder if he and Damien are related. Google said that its usually like chickpeas, fava beans, herbs, onions, spices, and garlic. I've never had them, and I haven't had them with cream cheese so IDK if they'd be good together, but Danny does not think so lol] :)

[lavenderchqn]

Congrats on 300 followers!! Your works are so lovely, and theyre so fun to read!! 💕

For the library expansion special event, i'd love for a hurt/comfort written fic with tighnari that involves the reader being injured? Like, reader survives but barely, and then nari is so worried taking care of them 🥹

(I have no idea if I did the request right but regardless, congratulations on the milestone again!! And thank you for your hard work 🩷 drink lots of water and take care of yourself!!)

"BELLIS PERENNIS"

synopsis — An accident happens while you're preparing Gandharva Ville for Sabzeruz Festivals' celebrations, luckily Tighnari is there to nurture you back to health... pairings — tighnari x gn!reader warnings — hurt/comfort; mentions of an injury (nothing graphic stated); notes — tysm for this request as well as the kind words! tighnari is a very special boi, so I'm absolutely delighted to be writing for him~ I've actually had something of this caliber in mind for text/written scenarios so I'm delighted for your request. Please also make sure to be taking good care of yourself, anon 🫶

As soon as the calendars mark the start of October, the people of Sumeru begin preparations for their cherished tradition: the Sabzeruz Festival, a celebration honouring their beloved archon. Sumeru’s City streets and squares are adorned with vibrant decorations, fragrant flowers and colourful lanterns light up the bustling markets. Music can be heard everywhere as musicians practice for the grand performance on the day of the archon’s birthday. 

And you? You’re in charge of dressing up Gandharva Ville instead of Tighnari, as he’s on the committee related to the Parade. Thanks to your position as his partner, all forest rangers are eager to help whatever vision you wish to bring to life. To them, it’s somewhat refreshing to be under the guidance of someone else other than their resident Valuka Shauna. 

Currently, your beloved partner is out assisting with yet another brilliant idea of the equally brilliant Madame Faruzan and Kaveh. With no commissions relating to Sumeru’s ecosystem to be done by your friends, the time to decorate the tiny city comes. In all fairness, you all want to get done with it as soon as possible — flora-related issues can pop up out of nowhere… and you promised Tighnari not to over-extort your body.

With the help of Collei, who is surprisingly joining you in the decorating process, you split the tasks among the rangers, assigning each of them to different areas of the village: some will gather additional flowers, others will craft garlands, and a few will set up the lanterns. In your mind, you can envision the vibrant flora adorning the trees and houses, illuminating the Ville like a shimmering and colourful garden. 

At first, everything goes smoothly, allowing you and the younger girl to assist each group in completing the tasks. The garland-making process is by far the most time-consuming, requiring much precision and some “aesthetic” knowledge. The longer it goes, the more and more people join in creating said wreaths, taking over for people tired and with hurt friends. 

As time goes on and on, it gets relatively close to the time Tighnari is supposed to return from Port Ormos. By this point, you’re hanging up the flowery decorations on the trees, balancing on a ladder. Unlike the early morning, people now scatter chaotically. Everyone is hurrying up to finish their part, wanting Tighnari to witness Gandharva Ville in its most beautiful state. With everyone being everything but organised, concentrating on getting the job done is less than easy. Now you have to put up with people knocking into you on accident, messing up your balance.

Just as you’re about to secure another garland, a murmur spreads through the crowd. The word is that Tighnari has been sighted approaching the Ville. This news sends a ripple of excitement — and panic — through everyone. Collei, standing nearby, shoots you a wide-eyed glance before you break into a grin. 

“Alright, everyone!” You call out, clapping your hands to draw people’s attention. “Let’s finish strong so Tighnari can see the full splendour of our hard work!” 

In the rush that follows, people are hurrying to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Rangers are darting back and forth, carrying last-minute additions and adjusting already hung to ensure everything looks flawless. You return your focus to your task, carefully tying the last garland to a branch, breathing steadily to keep your balance despite the chaotic movement below. 

But as you’re about to tie off the final knot, someone below bumps into the ladder, sending it into a wobble. It sways beneath you, throwing you off balance. Your hand instinctively reaches out to grab something, anything, to steady yourself, but there’s nothing within reach. Your heart is pounding as you brace for a fall, feeling the world tilt as the ladder tips further. 

As there’s nothing to catch you… you have an unfortunate meeting with the ground. You can feel something breaking, as you’re knocked out. Darkness envelops you, swallowing the sounds of bustling rangers who now gather around you worried. Slowly, consciousness returns in fragments — voices now hushed, a gentle touch, and a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through your body. 

Blinking your eyes open, you’re greeted by the leafy canopy roof, blurring and swimming in your vision. It takes a moment to orient yourself and take a deep breath, only to feel a sharp, burning pain in your chest.

“Hey, hey, don’t move too much,” A familiar voice says gently. You look up and see Tighnari’s concerned face hovering above you, his brows knit in worry.

“Nari…” You manage to murmur, wincing as his fingers graze your shirt. You can notice a stash of makeshift bandages on a stool nearby. Collei is nowhere to be found, leaving you as the only two in your partner’s abode. 

“You took quite the fall,” Tighnari says softly, his voice both reassuring yet stern. “We’re still waiting for a doctor from Bimarstan to arrive and asses your situation further. We’re quite lucky nobody else was injured. What I cannot explain, however, is why you were climbing ladders without anybody spotting you.” He tries to keep his tone light not to worry you, but it’s easy to tell he’s genuinely concerned. 

You open your mouth to explain, but all that comes out is a cough and you try to grab your chest in pain. Your partner is right in front of you, catching your hands — worried that your fall might’ve resulted in some injury there. 

“Having trouble breathing?” He asks, crouching with your hands still in his. As soon as you reply with a slight nod, his expression changes to a one of worry. Perhaps the situation is worse than he initially predicted. 

“Master! The doctor is here, can we come in?” Collei’s voice echoes, gathering the attention of you both. Gosh, you hope the young girl doesn’t blame herself for your injury. You don’t even want to think about potentially adding more stuff onto her plate of worries. 

“Oh,” Tighnari leaves you be for a second, opening the door to the hut. “But of course. [Y/N] is also awake now.” 

With a quick nod, the doctor enters carefully not wanting to startle you. He can overhear the whispers of your issues with breathing. Regardless of what happened, a thorough examination is in order. According to the words of the young forest ranger, your fall was quite brutal. 

“Mr. Tighnari,” The doctor calls out to your partner as he steps outside. “I’ve concluded my check-up.” 

Tighnari’s ears perk up, focused as he nods for the doctor to continue. He’s trying his best to keep his composure, but you can see the worry in his expression as he waits to hear about the findings. 

The doctor’s done is steady and professional as he speaks. “Your partner has a broken rib. That can explain the chest pain and difficulty breathing. Fortunately, your partner hasn’t fallen all that bad, otherwise rather than a patient… you would’ve had a dead body on your hands.” Despite uttering such words, his posture is unnerved. 

That cannot be said about Tighnari. His eyes are wide with shock, as he tries to comprehend if the doctor is trying to make a joke. Nobody, not even Cyno, would been so brave as to joke about a person dying — his soulmate dying, most specifically. 

“It will take careful attention and time for the rib to heal properly. I’ve wrapped their chest to provide some support, but they’ll need to avoid any strain for the next few weeks.” He pauses, giving Tighnari a meaningful look. “They should take some time off work, heaven knows what you rangers do to patrol Avidya Forest.” 

Tighnari releases a quiet sigh of relief, nodding as he absorbs the information, deciding to omit the thought of your death from his mind. “Thank you, doctor.” He says, voice steady but softened by gratitude. “I’ll make sure they rest and follow your instructions.” 

The doctor gives a small, reassuring nod before leaving. Collei, however, hovers nearby, visibly anxious. Tighnari, picking up on her distress, gestures for her to come closer.

“Collei, it’s alright,” He says gently, giving her a comforting smile. “They’ll be fine, they just need time to recover. Don’t worry — it was an accident, nobody is at fault here.” 

Her shoulders relax slightly, though she still looks at you apologetically. “[Y/N], I… I’m so sorry. I should’ve kept a better eye,” She says, her voice shaky. 

Despite the dull ache in your chest, you manage a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m,” You pause to take a breath. “I’m not upset… and neither should you.” 

“Oh, um— o-okay…” 

Tighnari places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a supportive squeeze. “You’ve done everything you could. I’m very proud of you for taking charge. Now that everything is in order, you can rest as well. We’ve all put in a lot of effort, you know.” 

With a hesitant nod, Collei finally allows herself to relax. She murmurs a quick farewell and leaves, casting one last concerned glance your way. 

Once you’re alone, Tighnari sits beside you, his expression soft as he takes your hand. “You had me worried,” He admits quietly, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “You’re not getting out of my sight for a while, I guess?” 

You cannot help but chuckle, which immediately turns into a wince as pain flares up in your chest. Tighnari’s grip tightens ever so slightly, brows furrowed in concern. 

“See?” He says. “This is why you’re under strict bedrest. No adventures until you’re fully healed AND approved by the doctor.” 

You sigh in response, resigned but comforted by his soulmate. “Fine, fine. I guess I have to behave now.” You reply, meeting his gaze with a hint of a smile. 

No more than three weeks pass by as you realise being bedridden is quite boring. Sure Collei, Tighnari and even Cyno are here to keep you company while you get better, yet you're still aching to go out to witness the Sabzeruz Festival in person. You’re quite certain that at this point, every place of Sumeru is decorated to the nines and yet you’re stuck in your silly little bed. 

“Drink slowly,” Tighnari says as he settles a glass of water on your nightstand. Over the past few weeks, your partner has truly evolved into his final form — a mother hen. Ever since the first day of your recovery, he has been granting your every wish. Fluffing over pillows? He’s done it. Feeding you? Complied with an eye roll. And yet, there was one thing he wouldn’t allow you to do… Leaving the hut. It has been so long since you’ve been outside, you were unsure if you knew how to walk still. 

“Oh, thank you,” You pick up the glass and slowly bring it up to your mouth.“You shouldn’t have.” You say, taking a sip. 

Tighnari’s watchful eye doesn’t leave you for a second, ensuring you’re drinking slowly enough not to cause yourself any harm. “Oh please, darling,” He rolls his eyes, scoffing at your preposterous comment. “It’s my pleasure to help out my soulmate in their time of need.” 

“I know, I know…” You sigh, taking a look outside. 

The garlands are still hanging in the branches, adoring Gandharva Ville’s trees with beautiful shades of pink and blue. Oh, how you long to witness this beauty in person, rather than from the confines of your bed. No matter how much you tried to hide said desire from Tighnari, there was simply no use. The male knew of every single one of your thoughts, whether you liked it or not. 

“You know,” Tighnari sits next to the bed, resting his head on his hand. “Maybe we could take a walk today? I think it would do you good.” 

Your eyes light up at his words, though you quickly try to compose yourself, not wanting to appear too eager. After all, Tighnari’s been strictly enforcing your rest, and far too much excitement might have him second-guess the idea. “A walk?” You ask, trying to sound calm but failing as a hint of hope slips into your voice. 

He chuckles, eyes warm as he observes your expression. “Yes, a short walk,” Tighnari emphasises, “Only around the village, and only if you promise to let me know if anything feels off. We don’t want you taking any more tumbles.” 

You nod, lifting your pinky finger. “I’ll take it easy.” 

With his support, you ease out of bed, feeling the cool, earthy air of Gandharva Ville wash over you. The decorations are even more enchanting up close, just as they were on the day you put them up. Villagers and forest rangers greet the two of you as you pass by, each offering a smile and words of encouragement — relieved to see you up and about. 

Tighnari keeps a steady pace beside you, his arm linked with yours as he leads you through the village. He looks at you every so often, making sure you’re okay. He cannot risk you any other injury so quickly, otherwise the doctor’s cruel joke might come to fruition. 

For all this time, he had been keeping up a front of being worried… in moderate amounts. On the insides, for the past few weeks, Tighnari had been a nervous wreck. Juggling preparations for the festival while taking care of you was no easy feat. And yet, seeing you up and moving at least fills him with a deep, quiet relief.

“Are you okay there?” He asks softly. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, one that shows how much he’s missed seeing you this lively.

“Better than okay,” You reply with a smile, though you do your best not to overdo it, worried about the ache in your chest. “Everything looks so beautiful. It’s like… exactly how I’d imagined it.”

Tighnari chuckles. “Good to know the work has upheld the planner’s expectations.” He sighs a little. “Though I’d much rather have you safe and sound than climbing ladders. Please… leave the high work to someone else next time, you hear me?” 

“Okay, okay—“ You nod, feeling gratitude mixed with guilt. “I never meant to make you worry.” 

“I know. There was just…” His expression grows serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as helpless as when I saw you there on the ground…” 

The admission hangs in the air, as does the silence that comes soon after. Stopping for a second, you reach out to Tighnari, to wrap yourself around him in a gentle hug. “You took amazing care of me… I couldn’t have asked for more.” 

He nuzzles his head with yours, not wanting to put any pressure on your body, grounding himself in said reassurance. “Well,” He says, his voice lingering. “You’re gonna have to let me fuss a little longer. I’ll watch you like a hawk until that rib is fully healed.” 

“As if you weren’t doing so already…” 

date of posting — november 4th 2024

[starvail]

hand in hand, chest to chest, face to face

narumi gen / gn!spouse!reader

content : crack, fluff, gender neutral reader, spouse!reader, dancing in the rain, narumi should have his own warning, relatively short, can be read as a standalone.

a/n : before anyone asks, yes, the title is based on 'don't stop the music' by rihanna, and no, that song and this fic have completely different vibes. releasing this chapter really really early to celebrate the happenings of chapter 115 of the manga huehuehue

an extra to 'a cheers to our youth'

"Dance with me?" You offer your hand.

"I don't know how to dance." He takes it.

"Don't worry, I'll lead." You pull him up from his spot on the dampening grass.

The clouds above are getting darker and the droplets of rain start to get heavier, but you don't make a move to rush.

You guide his left hand to rest atop your shoulder and his right hand into your left one. You let Narumi adjust until he felt comfortable before placing your right hand above his waist and started swaying.

"When did you learn to slow dance?" His shoulders relax and his arms are less rigid.

You lean in closer. He smells like sweat and freshly cut grass. Figures, he's been training on the field for hours now. "Remember that bar I used to work at for catering events?"

He hums in confirmation. You sway a bit more.

"Sometimes, when the birthday or wedding or whatever event it was dies down, and the families with kids start to leave, and the DJ starts playing slower songs, the older couples would take each other's hands and dance like this until we closed."

You notice that Narumi's vision must be very limited since his bangs hang even lower on his face because of the rain. You pause for a bit and take your hand that wasn't in his own and rake your fingers through his hair to slick it back.

"And sometimes, I'd imagine it was me and you, sometime in the future, dancing like we were the only ones in the room." You shut your eyes and reminisce. You sway a bit more.

Despite the embarrassment and teasing that may befall you after this confession, you think that it's okay here. It's just you and your husband and the rain. It's safe to be this vulnerable. You're safe here. You're safe.

Rather than a cocky laugh or a confident grin like you expect from him, Narumi whispers your name and you look back at him. You're slightly caught off guard at the softness of his features and the affection in his stare.

You sway a bit more.

"But what about now?"

A few shorter strands of hair fall back to his forehead and the way he looks at you so earnestly is forcing your heart to do somersaults.

"Huh?" You furrow your brows. It's maddening how pretty he looks right now.

"We're the only ones dancing in this field. Heck, we're probably the only ones outside. Who's to say that we aren't the only ones in the world right now?" He tilts his head to the side and sends you a gentle smile.

You are soaked to the bone, drenched in rain water, and the chill that comes with a storm runs up your arms and spine, but despite all of that, you are overwhelmed by this inexplicable warmth that you only ever feel when you're with him.

You take a few moments to properly grasp what your husband has said before you let out a hearty chuckle, because of course he'd say something like that. Of course Narumi Gen would say that only you and him were the only people to exist in your vast but miniature world.

You look forward to it. The future. Your future.

"Wanna learn how to ballroom dance?"

"Earlier, weren't you the one that said there was a meeting soon?" Your husband finally flashes you a cheeky smile and a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sure they won't miss us too much."

"Should I fetch them, Sir?" Hasegawa asks, looking through the wide expanse of window panes of the Chief's office.

Before going out to get Narumi from the training field, before it even started raining, you had initially asked the Vice Captain to bring your finished reports to the Chief before the official meeting began, but it looks like both of you aren't coming back inside any time soon. Hasegawa sighs inwardly and makes a mental note to grab two towels later.

Shinomiya Isao takes a few seconds to respond.

The couple he has personally watched grow into the people they are today, are dancing merrily in the presence of each other, out in the open training field during a torrential downpour.

"No, leave them. If they get sick, they get sick. A consequence they are surely aware of. However..." The Chief sighs aloud and leans back into his office chair, a memory of a now very distant past flashes behind his eyes.

"They do remind me of some people I used to know." He looks to his left.

Hasegawa does not dare bring up the small smile on the Chief's lips, nor the longing gaze set on the picture frame atop the desk.

a wee side note : it's been so long but would anyone still be interested in a tag list or would it be a little too late-

[its-all-papaya]

about the kiss prompts. I'd love to read about landoscar for 5 *and* 6 - a kiss where it hurts and where it doesn't hurt. I think that would go amazing together. I was thinking about the emotional kind of hurt but please do whatever feels right :)

heyyyyy this is like. not the emotional kind of hurt. but i saw everybody writing kid fic landoscar on the feed and i had to join in or die, so have 1.5k of fluffy, sappy singledad!lando.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

5. where it hurts & 6. where it doesn't hurt | landoscar | 1.5k

Lando’s been in love with Oscar for months already the first time he hears “I love you.”

It’s the kind of late-summer hot that burns off in the early evening, leaving you shivering and wondering when it started. Lando’s in the kitchen at his sister’s place, elbow deep in dishwater, as him mum prattles on about the very expensive wedding of the daughter of a neighbor Lando doesn’t remember from his childhood home.

“Personalized, engraved wine glasses,” she’s saying as he hands off another plate he’s rescued from the murky bottom of the sink so she can dry it. The window in front of them is thrown open so they can keep an eye on the backyard, where the rest of the family is nursing the last of the drinks they’d opened with dinner. Tied off to the fence posts, Lando’s niece’s birthday balloons float gently with the breeze that carries the sounds of a half-dozen conversations in for them to gather pieces of. If he listens hard enough, Lando can pick out his favorite accent from among them, several ticks off from the rest of the crowd’s English. It’s warm in Lando’s chest, the way Oscar has settled so easily today. He hadn’t been worried, but it’s the first time Lando’s brought him around to a whole family event like this – all three of them, Lando, Oscar and Emma – and everything has gone so remarkably smoothly.

“Insane, isn’t it?” His mum asks, drawing Lando’s attention back to the kitchen.

“Extravagant,” Lando agrees to appease her. He’s only halfway through sponging off the next handful of silverware when his focus is snatched right back up by the familiar, gut-tug sound of his daughter crying.

“Shit,” he says then as he scans the backyard through the screen to seek her out among his various relatives. It figures that she’d be fine all day while Lando was around, and the minute he’d ducked in to help with the washing, she’d find her way to trouble. His mum’s already handed off her dish towel for Lando to dry his palms with and he’s half-turned towards the door, cutlery abandoned back to the suds, when he finally spots Emma. She’s just reached three feet (on the small side for three-years-and-a-few-months old, but that was always going to happen with the genes Lando’d given her), so it’s mainly her curly head he can see as she runs back from the swings towards the patio, where the adults are all gathered.

“Gonna-” Lando hooks a thumb over his shoulder for his mum’s benefit, eyes still trained on his girl. Emma hits the group and skips right past the lost look he’d been expecting when she realized he wasn’t there, though, skips right over missing Lando and straight ahead to-

“Oscar,” she whines, arms outstretched and voice high like it gets when she’s upset. Lando watches from the kitchen as his boyfriend kicks off the wall to kneel next to her. He’s got half a beer still in one hand, but the other goes to Emma’s back as she falls into his shoulder. Lando’s heart feels racing and stopped all at the same time as he watches Oscar murmur to her, too low for him to hear across the garden.

It's a minute before she’s coaxed back up out of his chest. Her face is still red and teary, nose twitching, but she offers her hands out when Oscar asks for them. Lando’s stopped moving completely, frozen with the dish towel wrapped between his fingers.

“Can I see?” he picks up from the distance. Oscar smooths his thumb into the middle of Emma’s hand until she flexes her fingers out for him, displaying palms full of grass bits.

“Fell,” she gets out between little hiccupping sobs. Oscar sets his drink aside so he can tug her closer without letting go of her hand.

“Well, that’s no good. Can I help?” he asks and it’s soft, it’s tender, it makes Lando himself want to cry for an entirely different reason.

She nods. Her head falls sideways, back onto Oscar’s shoulder, as he brushes the dirt and grass away. Then he purses his lip to blow the last of the dust off and smacks a kiss right in the center of her hand, playing it up loud enough to make Emma smile about it through the last of her tears.

“Oscar!” she says again, all giggles this time. Lando’s heard Oscar laugh about the way Lando pronounces his name, but it’s only when Emma says it, his own accent in miniature, that he sees what there is to grin about. She seems to be mostly cured of the panic, but in the next moment Oscar scoops her up anyway, settling her on his hip and checking that she’s chilled out as he returns to his conversation. Everything keeps moving around them.

“So,” Lando’s mum says. He jumps a little, having forgotten where he was.

“Um.” Lando says back. She’s smiling like a maniac at the side of his head. “I’m gonna-” he repeats, same thumb motion as a minute ago. He departs for real this time, though, depositing the towel back in her hands as he goes.

“Hey,” he breathes out when he’s reached Oscar’s corner of the patio. He’s not sure where to put his attention first, honestly, a little overwhelmed, so he curls a hand around Oscar’s hip with one hand and tucks Emma’s hair behind her ear with the other. “All sorted?”

“All sorted,” Oscar agrees. He tilts his head to meet Emma’s eyes, eyebrows raised like he’s waiting for her to sign off as well.

“All better,” she confirms. She doesn’t reach for Lando, though.

Oscar’s gaze is still focused on her when he says, “Just wanted a little cuddle before going back to play, right? Nothing serious.” He shifts Emma slightly in his arms and she turns her face into his shoulder for a second, like she’s embarrassed he’d tell on her that way.

“Good plan,” Lando says, tucking her hair back once again.

“Just like dad,” Oscar adds, and Lando definitely can’t find room inside of himself to be embarrassed – not with the way his chest is all cozy, like a dryer-warmed blanket.

“Oscar gives a good cuddle,” he agrees instead.

There’s a beat of silence: Lando looking at Oscar, Oscar looking at Emma, Emma looking back and forth between the two of them and the swing set, where her cousins are still playing.

“I’m ready,” she decides finally. She plants her palm on Oscar’s opposite shoulder and leans back in his arms so she can look him in the face instead.

“Great!” Oscar says.

“Emma,” Lando says, “say thanks to Osc, yeah? For fixing you up?”

“Thanks, Oscar!” she chirps, agreeable. Then she smacks a kiss against his cheek, a match to the one on her own palm, and says, “I love you!” as he sets her down, easy as anything.

Like she’s said it a thousand times. Like it’s not anything, like it’s just a fact of her life.

Lando watches her run off with a hand on his own cheek, half over his mouth. He knows he must look insane in one direction or the other, the way his eyes are watering and he’s smiling to hide how his heart is beating triple-time inside of his chest. But Oscar just slides an arm around his waist, drawing Lando in close to his side.

“Sorry if that was-”

“No,” Lando stops Oscar before he can even start. “That was, like…” precious, Lando thinks, more than I ever expected.

It's just... there were days after Emma’s mum was gone, when he was alone with his baby, that he’d stayed up at night and stared at her even after she’d finally gone down for him; days where he’d wondered whether either of them would ever get to say the words to anybody else. There were moments, nights, weeks on end where everything felt scary, and the thought of bringing a whole extra person into their lives was impossible to entertain, more work than it was worth no matter how badly Lando yearned for it. And there were times with Oscar, even, early on, where Lando had hesitated against his lips mid-snog on the couch and despite all the burgeoning something in his own heart, thought: selfish.

He’s never felt further from it all, though, watching Emma jump from the apex of her swing’s trip up towards the sky. She’s never been afraid for long. Comes by it honestly, Lando thinks as he buries a smile against Oscar’s shoulder.

“That was…?” Oscar prompts into Lando’s hair. He’d pressed a kiss there a moment ago and never moved.

“That was really important,” Lando settles on, still misty eyed.

Oscar’s palm does a quick pass up and down his spine before wrapping back around to squeeze Lando in half a hug, “Okay, though? I didn’t overstep or anything?”

“No,” Lando’s laughing then, still a bit wet, as he dislodges Oscar’s chin from the top of his head, “Can’t believe she loves you, holy shit.”

Oscar smiles down at him, “Just like her dad?”

“Just like her dad,” Lando confirms, then presses his own sweet smile right into Oscar's lips.

[gilverrwrites]

Dickies Mom has got it goin’ on

Had to get this convoluted, angsty but fun idea out of my head. One day I might expand it into a better-written, fleshed-out fic, but for now please enjoy my yappy ramblings.

Wally West/BatMom!Reader

CWs: Wally being a not so great friend.

So like, imagine you're roughly late 20s/early 30s and happily married to the love of your life Bruce Wayne, there's an age gap sure, but ultimately that's not important. What matters is that you've made a life with him and his children. You're especially close with Dick, his eldest (late teens/early 20s) as you've known him since he was a teenybopper.

All is well, until one day in true comic book fashion; you die. You sacrifice yourself for a greater cause. It's all very tragic.

A decade later, it turns out fate isn't done with you. You've no idea how or why, but you wake in a coffin one day and have to claw yourself out of it. Cold, alone, and afraid, you make your way back to Wayne Manor. There you're greeted by your husband Bruce, but not really. This Bruce is greying. There are fine lines on his face you've never seen before and a ring on his finger that does not match yours.

You're not mad, it's been 10 years, and he was supposed to move on! But it doesn't feel like 10 years to you, it feels like only yesterday everything was perfect. It's devastating.

Queue Dick finding out. He just so happened to be hanging with his best pal Wally at the time, they both drop everything to rush over in a flash.

Your first night back on earth is messy. It's emotional, and stressful, a hell of a roller coaster. Ultimately, you spend most of it with Dick and Jay who surprise is also back from the dead. Dick is really your emotional soundboard, while Jay offers more practical advice about navigating a world that has gone on without you. He recommends you just take some time off, heal your wounds, catch-up with friends and family. You should learn from his mistakes.

Wally helps too. Primarily in a comedian relief way but also just as a sunny friendly face. His freckles and kind green eyes go a long way in making you feel at ease amongst a sea of familiar strangers.

He's adamant you've met before but you insist you'd never forget eyes that green and it stops his heart. You mean nothing by it, but it means a lot to him.

After you’ve parted ways, Dick makes a point of telling Wally not to flirt with you if he ever meets you again.

“Flirting? I wasn't flirting.”

“I was there.”

“But, come on man she's hot!”

“She’s my mom.”

“But she's our age now.”

“Wally, she's my mom!”

Eventually, after a lot of teasing, Wally surrenders but he deliberately makes no promises. He can't, not when he's been replaying the same 5-second interaction you'd had at Dicks 18th Birthday party many moons ago in his head over and over. He’ll try for his best friend, but it seems to him like this was meant to be.

Bruce may not be in love with you anymore, but he still loves you. So he helps how he can, offers you food and shelter, medical attention, a job, whatever you need to get yourself back on your feet.

You decide to take Jasons advice. Bruce still has a lot of your things; your clothes and your car. You ‘borrow’ gas money from your widowed husband and hit the road to seek out lost friends and family. Sad, but eager to get away from the city that no longer feels like home. You leave your rings with Alfred, a sign to Bruce that you expect nothing from him, that you'll leave him and his new wife be even though it breaks your heart.

The first stop is Dick, obviously, since you have to travel through Blüd. After joining him for a routine patrol, you spend the night on his couch, eating Thai food and talking about his life since you… passed. Nightwing as just finding his footing back then, but now he's a force to rival Batman.

You're two states over when you get a call from a number you don't recognise. Most of the people you know have changed their numbers since you last spoke, so don't hesitate to answer. You're surprised however by whose on the other end.

“Wally West? How did you get this number?”

“From Dick.”

He's not lying, he's just omitting the fact that Dick doesn't know Wally got your number from his phone bill. If he didn't want that info getting out he should probably put his bills somewhere other than a lockbox in a safe and quit being only person in the entire world to still actively use a landline.

His not-a-lie works however, the implication of Dick's approval helps you to let down those mother-appropriate conversation walls.

“Heard you're travelling cross country, any chance you plan on stopping in Keystone?”

“Why? Whats in Keystone?”

“Um, the Patriots?”

“Baseball?”

“And hotdogs! Al who serves em does not skimp on all the toppings, you've gotta try em.”

“You want me to detour in Keystone for baseball and hotdogs?”

“Well, there is something else.”

“And whats that?”

“Guess.”

“Unmmm… You?”

“Ding ding ding. She's smart and beautiful, a woman after my own heart.”

He's cute. So cute. He's no Bruce, but Bruce never made you laugh like this.

“Wally, this is a bad ideas. I was married until like a week ago.”

“And? I'm not askin’ you to walk down the aisle again, just one game and like 20 hotdogs. For me. You don't have to eat that many unless you want too.”

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ christmas cookies ] j. hughes

day three of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) and Jack make a bit of a mess in the kitchen when they bake Christmas cookies since they’re both home because of the snow

warning(s) : some sexual content and language, implied sex. mainly fluffy tho :)

author’s note : i KNOW this is very late according to the schedule i put out but it was my birthday weekend so i didn’t have much down time to write or post anything. i think day four is coming at some point during the day tomorrow so keep an eye out for that

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"Jack!" (Y/N) yells as she runs back into the bedroom. "Jack. Baby, it's snowing and I don't have to go to work." She happily jumps on her side of the bed and crawls up to her sleeping boyfriend. Jack lets out a groan when she lays herself on top of him. She's like a happy puppy.

Jack mumbles an "it's early" and doesn't open his eyes.

She frowns and sits up on his waist. "It's snowing," she tries again. "I think you promised me that you would bake cookies with me next time it snowed since we would both be home all day." When Jack doesn't move, she begins to jump up and down on her knees like she's riding him. "Jack Hughes, get your cute ass out of bed and make cookies with me!"

His hands fly to her waist and stops her. "(Y/N)," he slurs. "Keep doing that and I will not make cookies with you. I will be making babies with you."

"Sounds good to me either way," she teases. That gets Jack to open one of his eyes. (Y/N) smiles. "Tell you what. If you make cookies with me then we can come back to bed and we can do whatever you want to me. I can still walk so obviously we didn't do enough last night."

Jack to flies out of bed butt ass naked from the previous night. (Y/N) laughs and watches him put on a pair of sweatpants and one of his Devils t-shirts before practically sprinting to the kitchen. She follows him in one of his larger Devils t-shirts that has his number on the chest and a pair of tiny shorts underneath.

The messy hair while Jack runs around their kitchen to grab what he considered cookie ingredients. "Baby, you can barely cook broccoli," she comments as she walks toward him. "I don't think you know how to bake cookies."

Jack's head snaps up. "Hey, I'm still learning," he snaps. "Get over here and help me get cookie stuff together."

She laughs and helps him out. She pulls out bowls, spoons, and the baking pan that will need to be used to actually bake the cookies.

The kitchen island is filled with different dry and wet ingredients and utensils that will need to be used to make the cookies without making a complete mess out of their kitchen.

Honestly, the kitchen will still probably end up being a mess because that's the way the two of them work. They're a messy couple and all of their friends know it. It's why their friends refuse to make food with them. Something always happens and food ends up everywhere.

(Y/N) pulls a chocolate chip cookie recipe up on her phone while Jack puts on some music so it's not dead silent while they're baking. He settles on Christmas music since it is technically Christmas Eve. She smiles to herself.

Jack comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist while she's leaning over the counter. She can feel his semi press against the top of her thigh right under her ass. "Jack, behave," she warns him. He definitely didn't take the warning seriously since she's smiling at how needy he is.

His love language is definitely physical touch, and she loves it.

The first step in baking cookies is mixing the dry ingredients together before incorporating the wet ingredients. In the biggest bowl, (Y/N) lets Jack measure and put in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. She works on the butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar in a mixing bowl.

While she begins to mix the eggs and vanilla in with the creamed butter and sugars, a white powder hits her in the face. She blinks until her eyes are clear and hears Jack laugh at her side.

"You're an ass," she tells him as she wipes the flour away from her eyes. Jack is leaning back against the counter as he laughs. "I didn't want to make a mess, Jack.

"You were an easy target," he tells her with a smile. "I couldn't help myself."

She blinks at him before she grabs a handful of flour and throws it in Jack's face. He coughs and wipes his own eyes. "That was deserved."

Jack looks at her. The white powder is all over his face and in his hair. She smiles, proud of her retaliation. She barely has time to react before Jack throws another handful of flour at her. He barely misses her face and she throws another handful at him.

They're both laughing and running around the kitchen throwing flour at each other. Jack catches her in his arms and she squeals.

He picks her up by her waist and spins her around until her waist is pressed against the counter. They're both covered in a layer of flour but she smiles up at him. Jack brushes some of the flour out of her hair and off her face.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he softly says.

His little name for her makes her heart jump in her chest. Her eyes meet his and she surges up to press her flour covered lips to his. Jack immediately kisses her back and presses her waist against the counter.

Her fingers are gripping his t-shirt. Her pinkies touch the skin on his waist and a jolt of electricity goes down to her core.

One kiss and she’s aching for him.

(Y/N) is the one to break the kiss and Jack chases her lips.

“Can we please put these together and in the oven so we can go shower?” (Y/N) asks when she pulls back from the kiss. She suddenly wants to get these cookies made so she can get back in bed with her boyfriend.

It’s insane that all Jack said was ‘there’s my pretty girl’ and she’s weak at the knees for him and kissing him while they’re both covered in flour.

Jack nods and they rush to finish making the dough so they can put the cookies in the oven. Jack starts doing the dishes while (Y/N) puts the baking sheet in the oven with the balls of dough on it.

As soon as the timer is set, she grabs his hand and they walk to their bathroom. “I was cleaning the dishes,” Jack protests.

“And now you’re going to clean yourself,” she retorts.

(Y/N) closes the bathroom door behind them. Jack’s eyes are on her as she turns the shower on.

She turns around to face her flour covered boyfriend. “Are you going to get naked or are you going to stand there and look pretty?” she asks.

“Oh I am so going to keep making messes in the kitchen if it means getting to shower with you,” he comments as he begins to undress. “You’re going to keep your promise and let me do what I want, right?”

“As soon as the cookies are done.”

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yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 1,982 others

yourusername someone decided to make a mess in the kitchen then distract me so we had to remake the cookies since they got burnt

view all 291 comments

trevorzegras can’t trust a hughes in the kitchen

yourusername fr

lhughes_06 so rude trevor

_quinnhughes i hope the cookies were good

jackhughes eh. the chocolate chip ones were probably better

yourusername the world may never know

jackhughes not my fault you look so damn fine baking cookies. even when you were fully clothed, i was distracted

nicohischier jack calm DOWN

lhughes_06 that’s disgusting bro

jackhughes LOOK AWAY LUKE. NOT FOR CHILDREN’S EYES

dawson1417 lmaoooo

yourusername can you stop traumatizing your brother

colecaufield damn he hit you with the flour huh

tysmith_06 can he cook broccoli yet ?

yourusername nope

jackhughes what the fuck

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[dixons-sunshine]

Saw your birthday post and I’m here to say dad!daryl especially during pregnancy would be act like a caveman. You’re growing his child? He’s hunting for a mounting of food (more specifically animals especially deer) and presenting them to you like he’s at an altar. You want something. He’s already got it. Craving something that’s lots to the old world? Don’t worry he’ll do his best and if not he’ll find a suitable replacement. Dad!daryl would do anything for you already, and now you’re with his child… you really get to see how far he’d go.

Let’s not mention if you were ever in a position where he thinks you’d be in danger because he’s animalistic ensuring that you and his baby are okay.

Thank you for listening to my ted talk

Also happy early birthday!!

No because I think about this on a daily basis. You'd think I'm lying but I'm not. The amount of times I think of Daryl as a dad should be illegal lol. My own thoughts under the cut. (Sorry this isn't a proper fic. I didn't know how to write this in a way that would be in a way you deserve, but I loved this so much and didn't want this to go to waste, so I'm doing this. Hope it's okay!)

Basically everything you said is so freaking true. As far as I'm aware, aka on what I've seen in movies and what my mom has told me, the correct meat is an essential part to a pregnant woman's diet. Oh, boy, once you're pregnant and the doctor says that you need protein? You be rest assured that Daryl is not resting until he finds you the best goddamn venison he can. No rabbit or squirrel meat for the love of his life and his unborn baby. Y'all deserve only the best. He'd even fight tooth and nail if he could only find a small deer and there wouldn't be enough venison for everyone in the community and everyone wanted some. You needed it more than they did, and he'd hold someone at gunpoint if he needed to.

I've also wondered a lot about Daryl finding whatever you're craving. A few nights ago, I was really craving chips (fries) but I couldn't go buy any, so I had to make my own. While making it (at 3am if I may add) I thought about Daryl making you what you're craving during your pregnancy. If he can't find what you're craving outside the walls, he's gonna try his damn best to make it. Fries? He's picking potatoes out of the community's garden to make you that. You want a sandwich? He's gonna make you a sandwich. You want some crisps (chips)? He can't make it, but he's not gonna rest until he finds you some. It may be stale, but he doesn't care. Anything for you.

I've seen a couple of videos where the guy stands behind his pregnant partner and raises their belly to relieve some pressure. Daryl would do that! I read it in my favourite dad!Daryl series (Blood Ties by @celtic-crossbow. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it!) and I was like “yes, he would totally do that!” Anything that would help make you even the slightest bit more comfortable, he'd do it. Also, I feel like it would bring a sense of comfort to him when he does that. It'd make him feel more connected with his baby before they're born, y'know?

Don't even get me started on Daryl being extremely overprotective of you. He doesn't want you to be in any sort of danger in general, but the need to keep you safe when you're carrying his baby increases by a tenfold. Your escapades beyond the walls are put on a hold for the foreseeable future. Anything you need beyond the walls, he'll get it for you. And if you don't want him to leave you, he'll get someone else to do it for him. He wouldn't ever let you willingly put yourself in danger, and if you ever were in danger, the people responsible for it would pay dearly.

I have a lot of thoughts on this but my brain isn't working with me right now. Thank you so much for sending this in! I really loved this so much.

[soobchwe]

heartsick avenue —⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐫

➸ fic for the birthday boy and dancing prodigy himself! 🤍 ʚɞ pairing: nishimura riki x fem!reader ʚɞ word count: ʚɞ genre: slight to mid angst, fluff ʚɞ tags: exes to ? ʚɞ synopsis: Is it normal to celebrate your ex's birthday? Probably not. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't, and it definitely doesn't mean you still have feelings for him.

Lighting the candles on Riki's cake, you feel the intense, accusatory stares of Jake and Sunghoon behind you in the tiny kitchen. Your apartment is filled with Riki's closest friends and family, but two of them decided to stick around by your side to be as judgemental as ever.

In any other situation, you know Riki would be celebrating his birthday somewhere else. But it's you, and it's him, and it just feels right, despite all of the people wondering what is wrong with the two of you. The breakup was five months ago. Sure, there's cordial, but then there's off-putting denial.

"You're really going all out for him, you know," Jake comments, taking a free piece of garlic bread and stuffing it in his mouth.

"I would assume she's his girlfriend or something. Right, Jaeyun?" Sunghoon asks, sarcastically.

"Exactly! I was thinking the same thing."

"Can you guys just hush and keep eating? It's not like that," you admonish them. With the final candle lit, you feel successful that the cake is perfect and exactly to Riki's specifications.

Yes, you were his girlfriend, once upon a time. But that didn't mean you had to stop caring about him, especially when the breakup didn't end with any bridges burnt or sour feelings involved.

What was so wrong with wanting to celebrate someone who still meant a lot to you?

Sure, your friends told you trying to stay casually involved with each other as friends was not a good idea. It would only keep residual feelings in your heart and lingering disappointment in the air, but it didn't feel that way. It hurt more to be without him at all than with him but not in a romantic way.

Everyone's else's opinions didn't matter anyway. All that did was having his presence in your life any way you could.

Sunghoon turns out the lights as you begin singing "Happy Birthday," the rest of the partygoers following in your lead. You look directly at Riki as you set the cake down in front of him, your heart in your mouth as the final lines of the song ring out in your living room.

You know it was the right choice for the two of you to part ways, the decision amicable and made without anger or pain. His career was his focus right now, as was yours, despite the strong feelings that lingered.

Yet, why does your heart still clench every time you stare into his eyes and see the corners of his lips turn up? Why does he still handle you and every interaction you've had since the breakup with the same level of care he held when he was yours?

"Happy birthday, Nishi," you say with a smile, the expression equal parts real and fake. "Don't forget to make a wish!"

He blows out the candles the second after you tell him to. The people surrounding him clap when the smoke billows into the air, but all Riki can do is keep his gaze on you.

"You gonna tell me what you wished for?" You ask, covering another dirty dish with soap.

"The whole point is that you don't tell anyone or it won't come true, remember?" Riki smirks as you hand him the plate you've just cleaned. He rubs it with a hand towel vigorously, making sure it's spotless before it goes in the cabinet.

He's always been a neat freak, making sure things are in the correct order and place before he feels content. His quirks still make you laugh to this day, although they used to drive you crazy in the early weeks of your relationship.

"I was just curious is all," you say. "I didn't expect you to stay after everyone left. Shouldn't the birthday boy be drinking with his friends? Attending some after party  or whatever Hee was going on about?"

Riki chuckles. "Nah. I'd rather be here with you anyway."

Your heart cracks into small pieces. How could something so offhand from his mouth hit you like a shotgun barrel to the chest? It was easy to have a light conversation with him, but nothing to this caliber. Anything with a slight tinge of romantic undertones was not a territory you wanted to go back to again. It was too easy to fall into, and you fear you may never recover if you go back to that headspace.

The fragments in your chest are similar to the ones from the mug in your sink. It's chipped at the handle in a deep ridge. You barely remember the sound piercing the air, too lost in your thoughts to recognize the slipup.

"Shit," Riki exclaims, "are you okay?" There's no blood in the sink from his viewpoint, but he inspects your hand anyway to make sure you're not injured.

"I think you should go," you respond, the words coming out before you can stop them.

"Hey, look at me." He turns you to face him, saying your name with concern as he puts both hands to your face. "What's wrong?"

"We can't do this, Riki," you whisper, choking on the beginnings of a sob in your throat. "You can't say things like that, and you can't touch me like this. Not anymore." You remove his touch from your skin and walk to the bathroom, hoping he doesn't follow.

Like Riki can read your mind, he respects the space you clearly need and departs quietly. Little does he know, all you want is to pull him closer.

The December air bites through your thick coat as you tread the sidewalk to your apartment. Of course, you had to spend another late night in the office, your boss unrelenting even on the cusp of the holiday season. At the same time, it’s nice to be distracted by work, documents and timesheets taking your mind off the disaster of Riki’s birthday a week ago.

Speak of the fucking devil.

The man himself is sitting on the steps leading up to your apartment building, He has his hands tightly knit together to keep them warm, his attire doing nothing to provide the heat he needs. In denim jeans and a baseball shirt with a faux leather jacket, you’d think he had no intentions of stopping by tonight.

It makes you wonder how long he’s been sitting and waiting for you to arrive home.

“Nishi? What are you doing here?” You ask, clearly puzzled. You step closer to him, noticing the redness of his face from the chilly climate. The least he can do is find a warmer coat if he plans on going somewhere, on purpose or not.

“I had to see you.”

You force the butterflies down, not letting them flutter much harder than necessary. “What for? You could’ve called or texted.”

“I didn’t get to tell you what I wished for on my birthday.”

You can’t fight the chuckle that comes out of your mouth. “Yeah, because you said if you did you-”

In a millisecond, Riki is standing in front of you with his lips firmly pressed to yours. The kiss is rushed and clumsy, but the next few that follow are smooth and desperate. Your mitted hands press to his neck as his arms wrap around your waist, the urge to hold each other unavoidable.

When you part, Riki smiles like the world is a shade brighter because of you. “Last week, I wished to find the courage to do that again. And tell you how lost I’ve been without you.”

A sad laugh escapes your throat as a tear also forms in your eye. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“But it’s different. You know it is. And I want to go back to how it was before.”

You stutter, unsure what to say to that response. Did he think it could work again, in spite of all the things that made you agree to separate in the first place? “What about your job, and–”

“All that matters to me is us. Everything else is background noise.”

You whimper before connecting his mouth to yours again, his words and his touch melting you to the bone until you acquiesce to his plea. How could you say no to him, your bestest friend?And it feels so right to be in this place with him again that there’s nowhere else you want to be, as his friend and his lover.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @hursheys @slytherinshua @hyperdramas

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[lucrativesoul]

one of my favorite headcanon tropes is roommate!leon. friends to lovers brainrot anyone?

Leon would start out reserved until you two became comfortable with each other. He’s normally quiet anyway, as you have come to learn, but you also learned that comfortable meant him not being afraid to sit a little too close to you just because it’s cozy for him.

Food is his comfort item. This was discovered very fast. (“Leon, I just bought this whole box of cheez-its two days ago. I didn’t even have any!” “Leon, those were my gummy worms. I would have bought you some.” Once you learned to accommodate his black hole stomach, you found it oddly fun to cook for him, he was always looking to try new recipes.)

He would become overly friendly and caring when he wants something from you. 9 times out of 10, it was because he was hungry. (The one time was when he just wanted company late at night and couldn’t sleep.)

He would always have the courtesy to ask you if something he is doing would bother you, even if it is something you barely even noticed. (“Is my music too loud?” “Should I move my stuff off the table?”)

Leon would slowly start learning your every day routine. What you did on early mornings, how you set up meals around a work or class schedule, and what time you tend to go to bed. He found himself adapting his own around yours, keeping peaceful company unless you were in your room, door closed.

Sometimes, Leon would come home late from work. He tried as best as he could to be quiet so you could stay asleep, but he would always walk into something. It would prompt you to then walk out of your room and just stare at him. (“Leon, really?” “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know how the kitchen table got right there.” You were already awake and waiting for him to come home, but you liked seeing him stumble over himself to apologize to you.)

Once Leon had gotten word that he would be going on prolonged work missions, you could see he was guilty about leaving you alone. You comforted him as best you could, but you were often lonely without his presence. You did lots of cat ownership contemplating during those times.

While he was mostly a heavy sleeper, and could fall asleep anywhere, there were times you would wake up to noise in the kitchen. You would investigate to find him rummaging through the cabinets, looking for snacks. (“I thought you said you bought more cheez-its.” “I did, Leon. You ate them.” “Oh.” “Come on, there’s some in my room. I was hiding them from you, but you can take them.”)

Leon’s love language was very much quality time. You knew his job was stressful, and your schedule was often not fixed, so on the nights you were both home, he wanted to be in your presence, whether it be watching something together, or doing your own thing in the same room. He didn’t want those nights to end, because it always meant you had to go back to your own room. (You didn’t want these nights to end, and you wish Leon would just tell you that you can fall asleep in his room.)

No matter what the temperature is in the house, it seems like it never bothers him, or rather that he gets hot way too fast. This man is seen more often without a shirt than with one, not that it was totally a nuisance to you. You knew he was more observant than he led on to be, so you only let yourself look at his body when he is turned around. (“Leon, I’m in a sweatshirt, and you are half naked. Clearly one of us is wrong about the temperature here.” “Well, it’s not me.”)

Leon grew on you really fast. You knew you made a good choice in roommates after the first time Leon detected your bad mood and did whatever he could to make you happy. (“Gummy worms? Thanks, Leon. I’m surprised you didn’t eat these already.” “I was definitely going to. But you need them more than me.” He definitely snuck a few while you ate them.)

a/n: today is my birthday! take these little headcanons that I'm always thinking about while I finish the other fic and start some more :) does anyone else need a friends to lovers roommates au now... (cause i do) (thank you again for the support on my first fic. the pressure to please is high but i’m excited for my next fics!)

[cryonme]

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐔𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

—graham dunne x fem!reader

—summary: the story of you and graham dunne was never simple, but his love for you never faltered.

— word count: 2.7k

—tw: addiction, implied drugging, alcohol, cursing, reader says she "doesn't wanna be here anymore", very obvious signs of mental illness, the works...

—a/n: so... I did not intend for this fic to be this long or this sad, but here we are. I'm breaking it into two parts so its easier to read, part two is coming shortly!! I apologize for how sad this is lol but I promise its a happy ending story! also, sorry for how I wrote daisy! she's my girl and I love her, it was just for the plot I swear! this is the first fic I've posted in about 6 months so im rusty, please be kind! and please, don't read if anything listed in the triggers is going to upset you, I want you all happy and comfortable! XO

(flashbacks in italics)

Nothing was ever Daisy’s fault, was it?

At least, that’s what Graham Dunne thought when he got a call from Karen saying his girl was wasted at a party with Daisy attached to your hip.

She should have known what you were struggling with, she should have known that you couldn’t handle a party, she should have known this wasn’t what you needed. Daisy Jones should’ve fucking known.

To be completely fair, they really all should’ve known. You’d been around since day 1. Everyone knew better, Daisy just happened to be the red corvette.

-

“You can’t keep doing this, my love.” Camilla whispered oh so gently, holding your hair back from your face, pressing a cold rag to your neck.

It was a small gig, at some shitty bar called Tony’s in Pittsburgh. The band always had a couple beers and maybe a shot or two before a show but you had begun to need more. You snuck vodka into your water bottles and begged the bartenders to sneak you a couple free extras by pulling your top down and leaning over the bar, using your forearms to push your tits up. 

It worked every time. Pigs.

“Can do whatever I want.” You slurred, cheek pressed to the toilet seat.

But damnit, you knew she was right.

Tony’s wasn’t the first time.

There was Rod’s, and The Ladie’s Room, and The Shiner Saloon, and some girl named Lisa’s 18th birthday party. It was becoming a pattern, everyone could tell.

You always went back to your house after a show. Your parents had been completely absent since you were 15, you never knew where they were. And after every show, their cars were never once in the driveway.

A safespace.

Billy would sit outside of the bathroom, head leaning against the door while Graham waited in the living room, arms crossed and head down, not wanting to listen to your cries and shakes of pain.

Eddie would retreat to the guest room, but he usually wouldn’t be able to fall asleep til he heard the click of your door next to his.

Warren would be passed out on the couch as soon as you all walked through the door, not that he didn’t care about you immensely, but the poor kid could just not stay awake if he was tired.

“I wanna go to bed.” You said.

Camilla sighed, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You nodded and so did Camilla. She got up to get Billy like she always did, and he’d come and pick you up off of the bathroom floor, as he always did, and carry you to your room and lay you on the bed, letting Camilla make sure you’re comfortable, like she always did.

Graham would come in and ask how you’re doing, like he always did, and he’d make himself comfortable on your floor with throw pillows and spare blankets, like he always did.

But that night, after Tony’s, things changed.

“I can’t do this anymore, Graham.” You whimpered.

Fuck.

This was early days, Graham was still awkward as hell and didn’t know how to go about things like this.

“Do what?” He croaked, mustering up the courage to be there for you.

“This. I can’t live like this. I’m afraid I’m gonna kill myself.”

Graham was up in an instant, reaching for the doorknob. “Do you want me to get Camilla?”

You shook your head, “No, please. Just-” You wiped a tear from your cheek, “Will you just lay with me?”

“Anything.” Graham breathed as he settled into bed next to you. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, being too drunk to care about any awkwardness and Graham was thankful.

“We’ll get you out of this, promise.”

-

That was the last time anybody saw you drink anything besides a beer or two, following that was shirley temples and cherry cokes.

Nobody really knew the heaviness of addiction then, but they knew that you were happier, and that’s all that really mattered to them. You were even laughing at Warren’s jokes and Billy and Eddie’s lame bickering, everything felt okay.

“You don’t drink?” Karen had asked, the first time you properly met in California, while she was digging through the fridge searching for a beer. You shook your head, hoping you weren’t going to get some crazy reaction like you were a zoo animal in a cage like you got from most people.

She just nodded, a small smile playing at her lips as she pulled two coca cola bottles from the fridge, popping them open with her ring and handing you one.

“Cheers to that.”

You were sober enough to realize you were in love with Graham, and confident enough to tell him. And man, he could’ve exploded.

There was a celebration, at the house in Laurel Canyon, just the 7 of you.

Warren recalls later that Graham looked like he’d been dipped in sunshine and rainbows.

“Like he’d just smoked sunshine and been fucked by a rainbow. It was crazy, man.”

Well, almost.

You’d been around the band multiple times while they drank and it was never a problem. You’d have the first round of beers with them then tap out, but you always stayed and had fun, smoked a couple joints and cigarettes, never without a mocktail or coca cola in your hand. Sometimes, usually Karen or Camilla, someone would join you on the sober night, and that always felt really nice.

That night had felt different, you were scared.

-

“I’m gonna fuck him up Warren…” You said as you laid on the floor with the drummer as Down By The Seaside by Led Zeppelin played from the record player, Warren laughed.

“Yeah you are.” He said, his tone suggestive as he bumped his elbow with yours.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the heat creeping into your cheeks. “You know what I mean, man. I’m gonna ruin him.”

Warren had known you long enough and listened to enough of the songs you wrote to where he’d like to think he knew you pretty well.

And you never opened up out of the blue unless you were drunk.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked, not looking up from the ceiling. You scoffed.

“I still have a beer here and there, Warren.”

“You know what I mean, man.” He repeated your words back to you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m going to bed.” You said and stood up, trying your hardest not to stumble or slur.

“Honey…” Warren started, pushing himself off of the floor to try to stop you.

“NO!” You whipped around, flipping your hair so forcefully it stung your face but you were quick to pull it back.

“Don’t fucking- don’t fucking do that, man!” You started, holding a hand up. “My own friends don’t even fucking trust me i’m just constantly babied! Do you know how that feels?”

At that point, Karen, Eddie and Billy had tuned in, being in the kitchen. Camilla and Graham must have been elsewhere, he had always confided in her like a sister.

“Hey–” Billy tried to interject with a hand on your wrist but you were quick to pull away.

“Huh?! Do any of you know how that feels?!” You were borderline screaming now, and everyone was speaking to you so softly, hands slowly trying to grasp you and it made you want to scream even louder.

“How dare you ‘ccuse me of something like that asshole?” You were beginning to slur your words, the tequila you’d snuck from Warren’s room starting to hit pretty heavily, making your eyes droop and words slur.

“Baby, please-” Karen started, making the move to grasp your arm but you turned and lost your balance, nearly falling but Eddie was quick to catch you, he held on tight and didn’t dare let go until you calmed down or Graham came back. Billy had left minutes ago to find him and Camilla, who had taken a walk so he could freely gush about his new girl without the chances of anyone else hearing.

“Need you to calm down, babe.” Eddie whispered, running a hand up and down your arm for comfort.

“None of you even care!”

Warren shook his head alongside Karen, both of them had squatted in front of you, doing their best to provide what you needed.

“That’s not true.”

“I fucking hate you all!” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t wanna be here anymore!”

And then he said your name.

You froze.

He was gonna leave you, you were so sure of it. You worked so hard to be better for him and it didn’t work.

“No…” You whimpered and you swore you saw Graham break in front of your eyes.

“You can’t- you can’t see this.”

But he didn’t care. He knelt in front of you and Eddie and gathered you into his own arms, completely silent as he carried you to his room and you wanted to disappear into him so badly.

“‘M so sorry…” You slurred, and still he was quiet. You let him undress you and replace your pretty top and flared jeans with his own tee shirt and boxer shorts.

You watched as he changed into a similar outfit as you picked at your nails. “Graham, I-”

He sighed and placed his hands on either sides of your cheeks, placing a firm kiss on your forehead that only made you cry harder. You brought your hands up to grip his wrists, not willing to let go of the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Graham was silent again as he pulled you into his bed with him, covering you both with the large duvet.

“Not in the slightest.”

-

That night was really the last night anybody had seen you get drunk like that.

Then, Daisy Jones came along.

And you learned how to keep bad habits a secret.

Tequila and mints in the bathroom, water and cherry cokes with the band. A shot of jameson to fall asleep. Champagne to wake up, brush your teeth. A beer in the shower after lunch, leave the evidence in Warren’s room since there were hundreds of empty ones anyway.

It’s not like Daisy was teaching you one on one, you just started watching her, and you liked the way she got away with it.

No one told Daisy about your issue either, you could hold your own and you had asked them not to, so lips were sealed.

But it took everything in Graham and Billy not to tell her to tread lightly every time they saw the two of you sneak off on your own.

And now here was Graham Dunne, sitting in the driver's seat of the van outside of God knows who’s house, with Camilla in the passenger’s seat and Billy in the back. Moral support. 

“Want us to come with you?”

Graham shook his head. “I need to do this alone.”

Billy scoffed, “I’m not gonna let you go in there with our two hot headed alcoholic rage sisters. Cam, you stay here.”

“Nope, you go I go. You two get our girl, I’ll handle Daisy.”

The three bickered a moment but finally settled on their plan. Graham and Camilla would take you, while Karen and Billy took Daisy, since the blonde girl drove.

“Fucking finally.” Karen exasperated as she saw her friends walk into the backyard of the party while trying her hardest to hold you upright.

“Where is Daisy?” Billy spat immediately, making eyes around the party. You had always been like a sister to him, in the way Camilla was to Graham, and he could’ve killed the redheaded girl in that moment.

“Beats me.” Karen said, passing off your deadweight into Graham, who was quickly supported by Billy. Your head lulled onto your boyfriend's shoulder, recognizing him as a source of comfort even in your inebriated state.

It made his soul ache.

“Is Simone here?” Camilla asked.

Karen shook her head, “Was. Split as soon as she and Daisy got into a fight. Offered to take this one” she nodded her head at you “home with her but I figured it’d be best if you guys came.”

Graham shook his head, “You made the right call, thank you.”

“Yeah, well uh, I sure as hell can’t drive. Got drunk as hell before even stepping foot in the backyard, soon as I saw (Y/n) I stepped in and called you guys immediately.”

“Do we need to get Daisy?”

“That’s a fight you sure as hell don’t wanna have. Yelled at me just for taking ‘her best friend’ away from her to get her some water.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

Graham and Billy began making their way out of the party with you slung around their shoulders, and Camilla walking arm in arm with a very drunk Karen who kept tripping over feet.

And suddenly red hair and sparkling eyes were in front of them.

“Ohhh no, what happened to my girl?” She tried to touch your face but Billy pulled you away, ready to say something before Graham spoke up, surprising everyone.

“Your girl, Daisy?!” His voice boomed, no doubt you’d be embarrassed if you were in any way conscious. “This is my girl, our girl.” He gestured to the rest of the group. “And I’d say it’s in your best interest to leave her the hell alone from now on.”

-

Graham was a mess when he got you home.

Daisy ended up at the house not too long after the rest, explaining she didn’t know the situation, apologizing profusely, informing them all you had been drinking for months. She told them in a sullen voice that you hadn’t been this bad last time she saw her, that she thinks someone must have done it to you.

Graham understood, he did. But he couldn’t look at Daisy. How could she let you out of her sight, to allow someone to do this to you? It made his stomach turn. Billy was next to his brother this time, in the living room, a hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing from time to time, and instead of standing Graham sat with his head in his hands, creating knots in his hair as he ran his fingers through it. Cam and Karen had you in the bathroom, after seeing the panic in Graham’s eyes they decided to take over that part, knowing it wouldn’t be easy for him to see. Warren stayed up, and Eddie didn’t retreat to his room, Daisy paced back and forth outside of the bathroom, biting her nails. Graham could hear it, it was driving him nuts.

“Would it kill you to be quiet for two seconds, Daisy?!” He groaned, running a hand over his red splotchy face.

Everyone knew that Graham was just upset and taking it out on Daisy, the red corvette, which wasn’t exactly fair, but they also knew better than to argue with Graham at that point.

“You know what, Graham?!” Daisy stomped into the living room, planting herself in front of the Dunne brothers with her arms crossed.

Graham didn’t look up.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” Daisy used her thumb and pointer finger to grip his chin and pull his face up to look at her and she immediately felt guilty at his tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

She sighed, and crouched before him.

“I know it’s hard, and I’m so, so sorry this is happening to her. But she makes her own decisions, Graham. No one could’ve stopped her.”

Graham nodded, but still wouldn’t look in her direction. “Will you go check on her, please?”

Daisy would later tell the story with a frown on her face, and she’d recall never being that scared for another person before, despite the smile she put on for Graham.

“I didn’t-” She took a breath, “I’d never seen it that bad before, at least not while I was sober. I thought she was going to die.”

Daisy retreated to yours and Graham’s shared room shortly after discovering she couldn’t stomach staying in that bathroom, deciding to make herself useful by getting the bed ready, fluffing the pillows and retrieving some fresh clothes for you to wear to bed, making sure she grabbed ones that smelled like your boyfriend. She dropped the clothes off in the bathroom, and passed along the message to Graham from Karen and Camilla that it was time to take you to bed.

This had been Billy’s job, since before The Six was even The Six, that’s how it went. But things had changed, Graham had grown, and it was his turn.

part two coming soon!

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

It's always been you

Word count: 3.8k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit Smut, Age gap (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: Here's one of my old fics which is one of my favs. I've added some extra bits to the smut, so enjoy ;)

Summary: You're in a relationship with a guy called Luke after you were too scared to tell Stephen how you really felt about him. But one thing leads to another when you go to the Sanctum to see Stephen after an argument with Luke.

When you first arrived at Kamar Taj almost a year ago, it was Doctor Stephen Strange that you first met out of everyone. He was one of the masters there, after all, and despite that – you had fallen for him. Sometimes it felt like more than a crush, though, especially since you and Stephen grew closer and closer as time went by. You always assumed your crush would lead nowhere and you’d get over him, because there were days when you thought nothing would happen with you and Stephen. He was older than you; you were a good twenty years younger than him. Eventually, you decided to just date a guy who seemed a bit more attainable. That was when you met Luke. He was around your age, and you hoped that being with him would diminish the crush you had on Stephen – even though you were going to stay best friends with him.

But it didn’t take you long to realise that Luke wasn’t the man for you. He wasn’t always the best boyfriend. He seemed to only care about himself and his own pleasure, and it quickly got to you. There were days when it seemed like Stephen would listen to you more than your own boyfriend would. And whenever you told Stephen about your problems with Luke, he would always be so kind and caring.

And it was then that you realised that you loved Stephen. But fear got the best of you, and you weren’t ready to tell him the truth. You were convinced he didn’t even feel the same way back, anyway. Part of you was also scared to tell Luke that you wanted to end things. What if he freaked out and got angry?

You were officially stuck between a rock and a hard place.

******

It was early one evening and you found yourself laying on Luke’s bed. He wouldn’t even look at you, though. His eyes were stuck on his phone. As usual, he was paying no attention to you. But you were over it. If you were going to be with him, he would have to start acting like an actual boyfriend.

“Can you please just put your phone down and come cuddle with me?” you asked with a little pout.

But Luke said nothing. Whatever was on his phone seemed much more important.

“Luke,” you tried again. “Please just come cuddle with me.”

Luke grunted and rolled his eyes. “I heard you the first time, Y/N. I’m busy right now.”

“You barely ever give me any attention,” you said quietly. “It makes me upset. You’re always on your phone, talking to other people, when I’m right there.”

“Well, you’re always talking to Stephen,” snapped Luke.

“Uh, yeah. I talk to him because he actually listens to me.”

Luke chuckled. “I do listen to you.”

“When’s my birthday?” you suddenly asked him. It was a test. If he really, truly cared for you, then he would know that fact.

Luke shrugged. “July 9th.”

You shook your head, trying not to glare at him. “It’s June 9th. See. You don’t listen!”

And he didn’t even seem concerned with that as he tapped away on his phone. It hurt. It really did. And you found yourself with tears welling up in your eyes. You decided right then and there that you were going to talk to the person who actually listened to you. And that was Stephen.

You got off the bed in a huff, determined to get away from Luke. You stormed over to the door, yanking it open in a hurry.

“Where are you going?” Luke called out.

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him bluntly.

“I bet you’re going to him. At the Sanctum.” Luke’s voice was laced with an accusatory tone.

You didn’t answer. You just slammed the door shut, not caring that you were in your pyjamas. If Luke was going to treat you like that, then you were going to put some distance between the both of you. In a rush, you opened up a portal that would take you right to where Stephen would be. The New York Sanctum. You closed the portal behind you when you arrived and took quiet steps to Stephen’s room. Was he still awake? It was late. You hoped he was up.

When you got to his door you saw a small stream of light shining through. That was a good sign. You knocked on the door and heard some noise from behind it.

“Who’s there?” Stephen asked loudly.

“It’s me,” you responded.

“Come in!”

You pushed the door open, finding Stephen there in his robe and a thick book on his lap.

“Hey,” Stephen greeted you.

“Hi. Am I disturbing you?” you asked. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Not at all. What’s wrong?”

You sighed at the question. “Can I come and sit with you in the bed and tell you?”

“Of course.” Stephen pulled his blanket back, offering you a spot to sit.

You joined him on the comfortable bed, taking in the situation. You and Luke had just had a pretty nasty fight. And you hated the way he made you feel. You said nothing for a while, and neither did Stephen, until he finally broke the silence.

“What happened?” he asked.

You turned to look at him, noticing the worry on his face. You sucked in a sharp breath before starting your story. “Me and Luke just had a little argument.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just noticed that Luke doesn’t really pay attention to me. He wants to spend more time on his phone than he does with me.” As you said that, you could see Stephen shaking his head. “And earlier, I asked Luke if we could just cuddle. But all he did was ignore me.” The words got to you as you remembered the argument. Tears formed in your eyes yet again, your voice turning all soft.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Stephen said quickly. He pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he hugged you tight.

You pulled back a little to wipe at your eyes. “I’ve noticed during our whole relationship that he doesn’t really listen to me. He doesn’t show me that he cares about me.”

“I’ve noticed that too.”

Your eyes widened a little. “Really?”

Stephen nodded at you. “I’ve noticed how Luke upsets you. But I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to make you anymore upset. And I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I care about you, Y/N. So much. I love you. I love every part of you.”

Your head snapped to the side as you looked at Stephen, completely taken aback by what he had just said. Did he just…?

“What?” you asked with a whisper.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, his eyes shutting for a second. He turned away from you, suddenly looking embarrassed.

“Stephen,” you called out to him.

He turned back around. Slowly. And there you saw his bright red cheeks.

“Is that true?” you wondered. “Did you really mean that?”

Stephen sighed loudly. “Yes. It’s true. And I’ve loved you ever since we first met. It broke my heart so much when I found out that you were with Luke. I kept my mouth shut because I just wanted to be happy for you. And I knew nothing could really happen between us, anyway. Because of our age gap…”

For a long time, you and Stephen just looked at each other. You were in the middle of taking in every word he just told you. His confession. But then you couldn’t help it when you sent him a teary-eyed smile. Reaching forward, you cupped his face with your hands. He smiled at you. A sweet, bright smile.

“I love you too. And I always have,” you whispered.

“Really?”

You nodded and leaned over to him, giving him a soft kiss. And then he kissed you back. And it was slow and moving and so, so perfect. But Stephen suddenly pulled away.

“What about Luke?” he asked you.

“Stephen, I’ve given Luke many opportunities. I’m done being treated second best,” you said confidently. You gave Stephen another kiss before eyeing him closely. “I’ve always loved you, Stephen. I’m sorry I was just too much of a coward to admit it.”

Stephen laughed lowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, that makes two of us then.”

You giggled right back at him before Stephen kissed you. It quickly grew heated, your tongue diving into Stephen’s mouth. His hands lowered and held your hips tight, pulling you right into his lap. Your lips broke apart for a split second, but Stephen wasted no time as he quickly pulled you back into a kiss.

Your arms quickly wrapped around his broad back, with Stephen mimicking the action as he held you nice and tight. Tongues dancing together, you suddenly felt something hard pressing into you. You had to pull away from Stephen when you realised what it was. You gasped, watching as Stephen blushed all over again.

But you didn’t care. You kissed him fast and hard and noticed just how quickly Stephen kissed you back. Rocking your hips against his, you heard Stephen groan for you. The noise literally had you going weak right there in his arms, your centre growing wetter and wetter.

You kept kissing and rocking your hips, loving the sounds Stephen kept making. Those deep, guttural groans. But you pulled away from him so you could whisper out a request.

“Please make love to me,” you told him.

“Are you sure?” he asked with big eyes.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” You meant every word.

Stephen kissed you softly before moving away from your mouth. “Okay.”

He shifted a little so that you were laying on the bed, while Stephen hovered above you. You shared another kiss before Stephen reached down, pulling off your top and exposing your breasts. He threw the top to the floor before he stared down at your breasts, taking them in. He stared at you, at your hard nipples. And then he blushed some more. You found it so adorable.

“You look so beautiful,” he said with a whisper. Then he leaned down, his warm lips kissing your skin. His lips ghosted over your nipples as he paid attention to each breast. Then he sucked one of your breasts into his mouth, moaning as a big hand grasped the other one.

The feeling had you whining. You reached down, raking a hand through Stephen’s thick locks. Your back arched for him, letting pleasure take over. You felt so wet. And it was all for Stephen. He stayed there, licking and sucking at your breast, before reaching down to pull down your pyjama bottoms and panties. They both hit the floor, and then you were completely and utterly exposed for Stephen. Every part of you was on show.

“Fuck,” Stephen hissed as he stared at you. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

He moved down, kissing you hard and fast. Your tongues moved together wildly, but you had to see Stephen. You had to see him properly.

“I wanna see you too,” you said with a whine. “Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” He nodded. He got off the bed to stand up, slowly pulling off his robe, exposing his cock.

You literally gasped at what you were seeing. He was so hard. And so, so big. Thick too. You couldn’t wait to feel him deep inside of you.

Stephen got back on the bed and you wasted no time spreading your legs for him. Stephen then got settled in between your legs as he hovered above you. He kissed you softly, and while his mouth was so perfect, you needed him to take you already.

“Please fuck me,” you pleaded with him.

“Okay,” Stephen groaned. “But I’m gonna start off slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled at how sweet and caring he was being. “Okay.”

Stephen gave you a soft kiss before grabbing his cock. He ran the tip up and down your wet slit a few times. The swollen tip of his cock was soon covered in your arousal. You let out a sharp moan when you felt Stephen press the head of his cock against your clit. It felt so good.

“Are you ready?” He asked, voice deep.

You nodded eagerly at him. Stephen watched you closely as he pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance, and then he slid right into you with absolute ease. You moaned in unison, and then Stephen buried his face in your neck as he pushed more of his cock into you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, wanting to feel him close. You could hear Stephen groaning into your ear when he filled you up, right to the hilt as he bottomed out. The noise had you clenching around him.

“Fuck,” Stephen moaned out.

“Are you okay?” you quickly asked.

Stephen moved so that he could stare down at you. His cheeks were so red. “Yes. You just feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

You gave him a quick kiss. “Please move. Please.”

Stephen’s eyes were stuck on you as he began to move his cock. He was moving slowly, but the pleasure was still there and had you letting out little moans. You dragged your nails across his skin, digging into him. But you had to have more.

“Please move faster,” you begged. “Please.”

Stephen did. He thrusted into you that little bit faster and harder, and you couldn’t help it when you let out a long moan. The sound filled the room right up. You couldn’t believe how good he was making you feel. The pleasure was so new to you, and you had no idea that sex could feel so good.

Stephen kept moving in and out of you, his cock stretching you out. He was moving fast and hard and it was exactly what you needed.

“Oh, please don’t stop!” you let out.

“I’m not gonna stop.” He leaned down, giving you a rushed kiss that you eagerly returned. Stephen placed his hands on either side of your head and suddenly began to just pound into you wildly.

“Stephen!” you whined out. “Mm, fuck me just like that!”

Your shaky hands reached down as you grabbed at the blankets, pulling at them as Stephen took you hard and fast and so, so deep. Your knuckles literally turned white as you grabbed at the blankets, getting lost in the pure pleasure that Stephen was giving you. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room and you loved every second of it.

Stephen suddenly pushed his cock into you nice and deep. The swollen tip of his cock was pressing up against that sweet, sensitive spot – a spot no one had ever reached before.

“Mm, your cock feels so good,” you cried out.

“Fuck.” Stephen suddenly lowered his body, pressing up against you tightly.

You kissed each other hard and fast; all the while Stephen kept hitting that spot again and again. You circled your arms around his back and let out a long moan when you realised that your orgasm was quickly forming. It was something you had never felt before. You needed it so bad.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whined out. Stephen was fucking you so good. He knew exactly how to touch you. Exactly how to make you feel good, and you knew you were going to meet your orgasm any second now.

That seemed to trigger something in Stephen, because he began to pound into you wildly from above. You kept crying out, letting Stephen know just how good he was making you feel. Your back arched as that wild feeling grew more and more. You kept moaning, unable to believe how good you were feeling – and how it was Stephen of all people who was making you feel so good. And then the feeling hit you. Your orgasm. It hit you hard and fast and you lost it right there on Stephen’s cock.

“Oh, Stephen!” you moaned out, letting your orgasm take over your body. It felt so good. You were growing wetter and wetter by the second, letting Stephen pound right into you.

Stephen fucked you right through your orgasm. He was dragging out the pure pleasure, allowing you to feel every second of it. He groaned deeply, and you had a feeling it was because your pussy was clenching right around Stephen, pulling him deeper and deeper into you.

He kept pounding into you and you suddenly felt something else growing. Another orgasm. But it felt so much stronger than the one you just had. It was building up, second by second, the heat just growing the more Stephen fucked you. And he was fucking you so good, so hard. He seemed to be entirely focused on your pleasure alone, his cock stretching you out and filling you up at just the right angle yet again.

“Stephen, please keep moving,” you whined as he kept on thrusting his cock into you. “Oh, fuck. I think I’m going to…”

"Just let go, sweetheart," Stephen told you.

After those words left his mouth, you felt yourself coming undone. You couldn’t say anything. All you did was scream loudly as you came a second time, the feeling driving you wild. You were gushing right around Stephen’s length, making you feel so wet between your thighs. It was something you had never felt before, and you kept feeling yourself getting wetter the more Stephen fucked you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you saw white, your ears ringing. All you could feel was complete and total pleasure as you felt your body shaking. Stephen was dragging out that wonderful feeling with his cock, like he wanted to make sure that your orgasm was lasting as long as possible.

You whined and cried out, eyes shut tight as your strong orgasm hit you. You still didn’t say anything and instead just let out sounds of pleasure, your breathing unsteady as Stephen fucked you good and hard.

Eventually, the wonderful feeling faded, and you found yourself letting out soft whines as Stephen kept moving in and out of you, his cock twitching inside of you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he muttered out.

“Mm, you can cum inside of me,” you whispered, wanting to feel him lose himself inside of you. “I’m on the pill. Please cum inside of me. Please.” You needed it. You had to have Stephen – every part of him.

It seemed as if that was all Stephen needed to hear, because a second later, he was giving you a few more deep thrusts before letting out the deepest of groans. And then he came. He came right there inside of you, filling you up. He lost all control, giving you every drop of cum he had to offer.

He was panting wildly as he pushed in and out of you. Soon his breathing settled and he laid down next to you on the bed. You were in the middle of catching your breath too. You were still trying to process what just happened with you and Stephen.

Stephen seemed to get his breathing back on track and got up. He put his robe on and then headed off into another room. He came back with a washcloth in hand. You laid there, body still shaking a little, as Stephen cleaned you up gingerly.

"Did you know you squirted?" Stephen asked you as he cleaned up your sensitive area gently.

You stared at him for a long moment before you shook your head. That must have been what you were experiencing earlier when you felt so wet between your thighs.

"No, no man has ever made me do that before... Until you of course," you told Stephen and he sent you a smile before winking at you. He then stood up and made his way back over to the other room to put the washcloth back.

After he returned from putting the washcloth back, he climbed back into bed with you and covered you with the warm blankets.

“Are you okay?” he asked lowly.

“I’m okay.” You nodded at him. You moved over to Stephen, laying down on his broad chest as he wrapped an arm around you. It felt so good to have him cuddle you, to have him hold you close.

It was quiet for a while. And you figured that Stephen just wanted to get some sleep, but then he broke the silence.

“So, when do you plan on telling Luke that your relationship is over?” he asked.

It was a good question. Shifting slightly, you looked up at Stephen. “I’ll probably tell him tomorrow, I guess. If he listens to me, that is. He barely even listens to me when I’m talking. He probably won’t even listen to me when I finally break up with him.”

“Does Luke listen to you about anything?” Stephen asked with a furrowed brow. He looked offended on your behalf.

You shook your head at him. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t even know when my birthday is. And he doesn’t know the stuff I like, or the stuff I don’t like.”

Stephen’s eyes widened. “How could he not remember that your birthday is the 9th of June? Or that your favourite flowers are roses? Or that you hate spicy food?” There was such disbelief in Stephen’s voice, like he couldn’t even process the fact that Luke didn’t know those things about you.

You looked at Stephen for what felt like an hour. You were in total shock. How was it that your boyfriend didn’t know any of that stuff, but Stephen did? Stephen knew you better than your boyfriend did. Better than anyone else, it seemed.

“How… How do you know all of that?” you finally let out, your voice a bit shaky. Your mind was still a little hazy from your love making session.

Stephen just smiled at you. “I actually listen to everything you tell me.”

You returned his smile. It was big and bright, and that was because you were experiencing full, pure joy. You kissed Stephen softly and slowly, loving the way he gently kissed you back. You were right where you belonged. Right there with the man who actually knew you. You were so lucky that the two of you had found each other – even with the Luke hurdle that had been thrown your way. But he could be dealt with later.

“I love you, Stephen Strange,” you said with a whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said, his voice laced with what you could only describe as pure love. You and Stephen laid there together, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Your eyes fluttered shut as pure exhaustion took over. But you were truly over the moon that it was Stephen that you were with. Because he was the one who listened to you. He was the one who cared for you. And he was the one who loved you.

And you loved him just as much.

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @alice-bcmf @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

[tkwrites]

I miss you. Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I miss you.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Mostly fluff, mentions of smut & p in v, but nothing particularly graphic.

Summary: After their longest separation of the summer, Quinn and Sarah reunite.

Word Count: 3,000

Comments: You all happened to pick the piece I had the most progress on for my next post, so good on you! This is way beyond the timeline I’ve posted so far. I have so much more planned for their summer, so stay tuned. 

Thank you for all the support for this fic. I sometimes have to remind myself it isn’t a dream.  Please let me know what you think, and if there’s anything in this series you’d like to see. Sending all the love.

I miss you.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah was at the aquarium, taking samples from the tanks when her watch dinged with a text. 

She knew it would be from Quinn. It was mid day in Michigan, about the time he finished with his morning workouts. He'd be headed home for lunch before whatever plans he had for the evening. She would call him on her break. It was their daily routine while they were in this less than ideal summer situation.

When she finally got the samples set to be tested and out of her gloves and lab coat, she pulled her phone from her bag. 

“I'm taking my break,” she told Joshua, walking outside before he could respond.

Miss you like crazy, Quinn had sent along with a picture of the sun glinting off the water of their lake. Call me when you're free. 

The phone didn't even have a chance to ring before his voice filled her ear, “hi.” 

“Hey, that was quick.”

“I was already on my phone,” he said, “answered as soon as it popped up.”

She giggled. 

“What are you up to today?” he asked. 

She heard a chair scraping against the floor. 

“Working,” she said, leaning against the building, letting the warmth from the brick soak into her back. “I'm testing our tanks for invasive micro algae.”

“That sounds thrilling,” he said. 

She wondered if he was going outside when she heard a door shut. Maybe he was going into his room. 

“It's tedious,” she agreed, “but if we catch it early we don't have to deal with a full on bloom later, which is a bitch to clean up. How about you?”

“Gym this morning,” he said even though she knew that part of his schedule. 

“How’s your stick defending coming along?” she asked. 

“Good,” he said, smiling that she remembered he was focusing on that today. “I finally managed to strip the puck from Jack pretty consistently.” 

“Look at you go,” she praised. “What’s on the calendar for tonight?”

“We're going out for Penn's birthday.”

“That sounds fun.” 

“More fun if you were here.”

“We both know that's not true,” she chastised. “I'm the worst at a party.”

“Well, it would be more fun for me.”

She snorted. 

“Plus it would mean I could leave early.”

“You can still leave early.”

“Yeah, but it's easier when you're there.”

“I'm beginning to think half of this relationship is just the convenience of getting you out of social situations.”

He laughed. 

She smiled at the sound. “God, I miss you so much.”

“I know. Me too. You're sure I can't fly you up for a weekend?” 

“As much as I would love that, I don't want to interfere with family time.”

“You're not interfering with family time,” he insisted, “they'd be here too.”

“I mean,” she bit her lip, even though he couldn't see her, “I'd want you all to myself, and that's not fair when you don't see your family much as it is.”

“You want me all to yourself?” he repeated, his tone light and teasing. 

“I do.” 

“And why would you want that, Sarah Roberts?”

Her cheeks flamed, but she persisted, “so I don't have to just dream about you being inside me anymore.” 

He groaned. “You dream about that?” 

“For the past week,” she admitted. “I dream about it every night and then I wake up and you're not here.” She sighed, “and then I just have to try to figure it out by myself.”

He was booking a ticket to see her. She couldn't say something like that and expect him to just stay in Michigan. If she didn't want to come here, he'd go there. Or they could meet in the middle somewhere. 

“I hear Utah’s beautiful this time of year,” he said.  

She laughed. “Utah?”

“Yeah. We could meet in the middle. You know, see some red rocks.”

She hummed, grinning. 

“Or I could just come back to Van and we could spend the weekend in my apartment.”

“Now that you say it, Utah does sound pretty appealing.”

Her tone was teasing, but he still found himself groaning. 

“Come on," she said, "you could hike in some shorts and I can fantasize about your thighs all day.” 

Quinn felt his face get hot, instantly glad he'd come out to the porch. 

He knew she had a bit of a fetish for his thighs. He didn't understand it, but if it got her hot and bothered for him, he didn't really mind. “I can just do squats in my boxers like that one time.”

A few weeks after they started sleeping together, she was lounging in his bed the night before a game. When he thought she’d fallen asleep, he slipped on his boxers and did a round of squats, trying to keep his legs nimble. It was a routine he'd built in college and he didn't sleep well if he didn't do it, even now. 

“Your thighs are so sexy,” she had said as she watched from the bed. 

They'd had sex again, and she asked for reverse cowgirl, something they hadn't done yet. She rode him gripping his thighs so hard he was surprised he didn't have bruises the next day. He loved watching her back and feeling her at a new angle. Loved that after she came hard - fluttering around him, and milking him dry - she collapsed against him, back to chest, breathing hard. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.

Sarah often thought and dreamed about that night when they were apart - how his powerful thighs flexed under her grip when she rode him that way. It was a surefire way to get her riled up. The next time she saw him, she was going to lick him from knee to hip. 

Something nagged at the back of her mind. “That's still taking you away from your family,” she said, “and I don’t want to disrupt your training.” 

“Sar, my family gets it. We went from seeing each other every day to living in different countries. They know we miss each other. Besides, it would just be a weekend. I could fly in on Friday night and come back on Monday morning. I'd really only miss one day of training.”

There was a pause before she said, “Friday afternoon.”

“What?” 

“I work a half day on Friday, so you should come in the afternoon.”

“Done.” 

“Joshua's giving me the evil eye," she said as he looked at her pointedly through the window even though it had barely been ten minutes. "I have to get back to work.”

“That micro algae doesn’t wait.” 

She laughed.

"I’ll let you know when I book my ticket.”

“I can’t wait to see you.” 

Three days. Only three days. 

Sarah was already in the parking lot when Quinn texted that his flight had landed. She’d come straight from work, not wanting to go home, even if it meant an extra thirty minutes in the cell phone lot.

Relaxing in the reclined drivers seat, she waited for him to tell her he was ready to be picked up. 

After reading the same page four times, she tossed the book into the back seat. The thought of Quinn being by her side for the first time in 24 days was too distracting. 

Closing her eyes, she thought about kissing him. She couldn’t wait to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, no need to feel rushed, or worry that someone might come home earlier than expected. 

The ache in her belly and the empty feeling in her mouth intensified. 

Walking down now. 

When she pulled up, he threw his bags in the back and threw himself into the passenger seat before she could get out to hug him. 

“Welcome back,” she said with a grin.

He returned it as he leaned over the center console to kiss her cheek, “I missed you so much," he said, catching a whiff of her perfume. 

As much as she wanted to kiss him right there, she knew the airport pickup lane wouldn't be the best place. There were already a few people looking at them. So she put the car in drive and started into the city as they talked about his flight. 

He took her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. The need in her stomach deepened. 

The city slipped by as she drove. She somehow got to his street, though she didn’t remember making any of the turns. 

Just as she was turning into the parking garage, Quinn remembered, “Oh, we can’t go to my place.”. 

Sarah looked over at him, crestfallen. “Why not?” They were so close. 

“They’re doing some kind of roof repair. I told them these dates were fine at the beginning of the summer, but didn’t remember until I got a notice from the building last night,” he said. 

“So we go to mine?”

“I booked us a hotel so we wouldn't make your roommates uncomfortable,” Quinn said. 

A smile melted onto Sarah’s face. He was so thoughtful. He made her feel seen and understood, loved and cared for. It was somehow more evident through their separation. He called every day, and always remembered what she was working on. His attention spelled love to her.

“What hotel?” she asked. 

He pulled it up on his phone. It was a bed and breakfast he’d asked his mom to help him pick out. It was a ways out of the city, along the coast. 

“Oh,” Sarah said, “we’ll have to stop by my place so I can pack.” 

“You didn’t pack already?” 

“None of my skincare and stuff, that’s already at your place." 

Even knowing this was his fault for not telling her last night, Quinn found himself wishing she had somehow known so there wouldn’t be another delay to finally be alone together out of the car. Having her so close, and not kissing her was driving him wild. 

After another twenty minutes that felt more like fourty, he followed her up to her apartment like a lost puppy. 

When the door swung shut behind him, he finally - finally - wrapped his arms around her, sighing when she returned the embrace. He’d been waiting so long, too long. 

“Are your roommates home?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her neck. 

“Jane might be,” Sarah said, backing into her room. She felt like she would explode if she put off kissing him one second longer. 

The door to her room clicked shut, and Quinn pinned her against it, crushing his mouth to hers. He needed - he needed - God, he needed her. He’d been dreaming about it for too long without having her near enough to satisfy any of his hunger. 

This arrangement wasn’t going to work for another year. Either she’d have to come to Michigan, or he’d have to stay in Vancouver. Maybe they could split the summer between the two.

The kiss was all at once passionate. Falling together into the heat of a moment that had been building for weeks apart and minutes separated by a car console. 

His hands wandered over her body. He knew she wouldn’t be comfortable having sex here, so he brushed it aside and went on kissing her, refilling the Sarah shaped well inside him. He had been surviving on fumes and memories for far too long. 

“I missed you so much.” he said against her mouth. 

She pulled back so she could look into his eyes. They looked hazel in the light filtering through the sheer green curtains. “I’ve missed you too. Thank you for coming.”

“Like you could have stopped me after telling me you were dreaming about me,” he teased, leaning in to skim his lips over hers. 

He often dreamed of her while they were apart, but the night after her admission, his dreams had been so intense that the next day, while they were out on the lake, Jack started teasing him for moaning and crying out in his sleep. 

“Sarah,” he’d mocked, his voice thrown into a dramatic, porn star moan. “Oh, Sarah!”  

Everyone else in the boat laughed.

None of them got it. Some of the guys had girlfriends, but they were all either living together or, at the very least, in the same state for the summer. Quinn was the only one separated from the woman he loved by several thousand miles. 

When he'd told the family he was going to Van for the weekend, Jack had sighed dramatically and said, "finally I can get some sleep."

Quinn had flipped him off. 

Sarah’s hands wove into his hair, and pulled his mouth flush to hers. Kissing him was…

Kissing Quinn was a symphony. Plush lips and warm tongue, the bitter zing of coffee mixed with the tart sweetness of cream in his mouth, the softness of his hair, the very real warmth of his skin, the smell of his cologne. God the smell of him, she’d missed it so much. 

The door to the apartment opened and closed and the moment popped like a delicate soap bubble. Someone was home. 

Quinn pulled away and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. 

“I should pack,” Sarah said, nearly whispering. 

“Sarah?” Jane asked, “I saw your car. Are you okay? I thought Quinn was coming in today.”

Sarah turned and opened the door, “he did. I’m just packing before we go for the weekend.” 

Quinn leaned around her to smile at Jane. 

“Oh,” she said. “Have fun then.” 

Sarah pulled out her weekender bag and threw some things into it. Truthfully, she did have things packed in the car, but they weren’t things for polite company when they would likely be going out to dinner instead of ordering doordash to his apartment. She needed some more normal clothes and her toiletries for this different weekend that he had suddenly sprung on her. 

“See you Monday,” Sarah said, waving as they left. 

Quinn collapsed onto the bed as soon as they got through the door. His backpack thudded off the side, and he didn’t even care. 

“Tired?” Sarah asked as she crawled on the bed to lay next to him. 

Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be raring to go.” 

“It’s fine,” she said, brushing her hand up his forearm.

“But, we’re supposed to…” 

“We’re supposed to be together,” she said gently, leaning in to brush her lips over his. “I’ve missed having sex with you, but I’ve missed cuddling, and talking face to face, and sleeping in the same bed with you too.” 

Her voice was gentle and it put him in a kind of trance, relaxing him all over. 

“You don’t mind?”

“No. We’ve got all weekend, and frankly I don’t want our first time back together to be sloppy tired.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, he pulled her against him. “I love you,” he said into her hair. 

“I love you too, Quinn.” 

When he woke, Sarah wasn’t with him. He looked around and found her on the balcony, reading her book. She looked so beautiful there, with the ocean behind her, and the breeze gently mussing her hair. He dug his phone out to snap a picture before she realized he was awake.

Glancing at the time, he was surprised to find he’d slept for two and a half hours. 

He hauled himself out of bed and walked to the open sliding glass door, “why are you out here?”

She jumped, “Jesus, I didn't even hear you get up.”

He laughed.

She put a marker in her book. “I had to get up to go to the bathroom, and I didn’t want to wake you up getting back in bed, so I came out here.”

“Come back inside,” he said, extending his hand. The hair on the left side of his head was pushed up, and he looked adorable: warm and sleepy. 

She followed him, slipping the book onto the breakfast table as they passed. 

“No more waiting,” Quinn said quietly, pulling her against him. 

“No more waiting,” she agreed before she pressed her lips to his. 

Every time they had been together that summer, it had been rushed, racing to get to the end before anyone walked in on them. This kiss, though, this kiss was slow and passionate. It made Quinn’s knees weak. A small noise escaped his throat. 

Sarah giggled against his mouth. 

“Don't make fun,” he chastised, backing up until his legs hit the bed. 

She pushed on his chest so he fell back. Scooting to the pillows, he tore off his shirt, desperate to have her skin against his.  

“I'm not making fun,” she said, as she straddled his hips, “I'm just glad that it still works.” She reached for the hem of her top and stripped it off. 

His eyes grew wide. The bra she had on was light purple with a lace panel covering the center of each breast. Other than that, it was sheer. 

He gulped. “Have you been wearing that all day?”

She nodded, leaning down to kiss him. 

Thank God he hadn't known that before. He would have certainly done something stupid if he did. 

They took their time, slowly making love in a way that had been taken from them since May. They held eye contact, and touched with reverence. 

When at last, he collapsed on top of her, his face in her neck, Quinn mumbled, “I am never going this long without seeing you again.” 

She laughed and agreed. 

After a few minutes of his weight fully on hers as they caught their breath, Sarah tapped his hip. “I need to get up,” she whispered. 

“No,” he whined teasingly. 

“Yes,” she insisted, wriggling underneath him. 

He rolled to the side with a groan, and watched her pad to the bathroom. 

After cleaning up, she went back to the bed, ready to lay down and be held by him. 

He brought her against him. They were both still a bit flushed, and she relished the feeling of his heated skin against hers. 

“I'm so glad you're here,” she said quietly. 

"I'm so glad you're still mine," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“It’s not like I threatened to leave.”

“I know.” He paused, adjusting to slot one of his legs between hers. “I just - I know it hasn’t been easy.” 

“Nothing worth having ever is.” 

Bonus scene here.

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