#diana hush

[risingpilots]

The only way I can remember what a synonym is is if it sing the "me and my bestie is the same like a synonym" line from that one flyana boss song

[httpsseli]

niña ✿; pablo gavira

;plot. in which you’re the innocent bookworm accomplishing tons of tasks and he’s the jock athlete. until one day you two bump into each other, allowing him to explore all kinds of things.

;warnings: vaping, quite a few spanish sentences, a mix of arguing, smut minors dni!! dom!gavi, sub!reader, sort of protected sex but then unprotected sex, (you’ll see later on.. *wink wink*), virginity loss, oral sex (m and f), few sex rounds, multiple orgasms, and squirting.

authors note// oh boy prepare yourselfs for a much longer gavi fic because yes, duhhh🤭 (i dont think this is proofread…)

-

here you were in the library, editing for the school newspaper through the computer and writing down notes on to your journal. upcoming events, games, updates and somewhat the weather as what was having to be the very new exciting thing. you pushed your glasses up just a tad bit, looking and roaming through the notes of your journal.

“it’s a friday night.. why are you even-“

-hush!" you said, typing as quickly as you could, feeling rushed immediately from your friend's complaining. "come on,y/n. we can just watch a movie and eat a bunch of junk!" your friend tatiana spoke, and sighing, you looked at her and then at diana, your other roommate. "how about this: you two can head to the dorms and catch up with camila. i’ll get home later.”

both girls looked at each other, “fine then, no later than twelve,” tatiana spoke, both girls getting up from the table. 'be safe, hermosa!' diana spoke. you laughed at the nickname as they both left.

after spending an extra 30 minutes editing and submitting the copies, you sighed and closed your laptop. you then carefully placed it in your bag. as you had no other option, you decided to walk down to the lockers and placed your laptop in diana's locker, for reasons that seemed appropriate.

you stride away purposefully, clutching your tote as you brave the cold weather. despite the challenging conditions, you maintain your composure while donning a white sundress adorned with tiny charming blue flower prints. the small cardigan you wear provides a little bit of warmth as you navigate the bustling streets of the college, which you humorously refer to as the "streets of sex, alcohol, and drunks."

as you strolled through the chilly wind, a heavy force collided with me. "watch it!" you exclaimed, forcefully shoving him away. clearly, one of the jocks, not surprising. they were always out to irritate you. "my my, never seen you like this," the boy remarked, but you tried to push him off, yet he already had a grip on your wrist.

"let go of me, what the fuck!" you exclaimed as you tried to break free from his grip. half of the group was watching as a phone light caught your attention. you looked at the guy, hardly kicking his crotch before giving him a firm slap on the back of his neck. "don't you ever touch me again," you said boldly as you walked off quickly. you could hear a voice calling out to you.

gavi, who was a witness to the little fight you caused, now another guy is approaching you. gavi is well-known in the school for his looks, the people he dates, and his skills. almost everybody has his name on their lips. he recognized you just by the way your bag is decorated and the way you dress. sometimes, he'd make slight eye contact with you during the football matches while he'd be warming up, and you would be taking notes, writing everything down in a blue journal with a blue pen topped with a fluffy heart.

him and his friends were all wearing their varsity jackets, very typical of them. luckily he wasn’t far from you, he was standing next to his friend who was particularly, holding onto a vape hitting off it. his friend watched and chuckled watching their other friend get beaten up. “ay adónde vàs, ya basta tu.” where are you going, stop it. gavi spoke.

“ay güapa, you’re looking stunning..” one of the boys spoke, and you scoffed. “not interested.” you said attempting to walk off, “you have a nice pair of balls.” he spoke, you looked at him. “what’d you say?” looking up at him. “i said-“

"fermín, you heard her. she’s not interested," gavi said, gently holding your hands together. "areyou alright?" he asked, noticing your shock. You found yourself unexpectedly face-to-face with the one guy you never thought you'd interact with, admiring his facial features, especially the birthmarks on his face. "y-yeah, i’m fine," you said, trying to compose yourself. gavi turned around, and fermín and his friend started snickering. you looked at both boys, making eye contact with fermín only. as you watched him inhale the vapor and puff out the smoke, you looked away feeling uncomfortable and dismayed.

"a donde vas?” where are you headed? He asked, and as you looked up at him, you felt the chill in the air make your nose and cheeks red. "um, i-i'm heading home," you replied softly. he gently caressed your shoulder and asked, “are you cold?" you nodded in response. "where’s your home?" he inquired. "it’s by the courtyard," you whispered. he nodded, then offered, "i can walk you home if you'd like.

he was different than you thought. you’ve heard him talk about you quite often, saying how weird you are, how you dress like a kid most of the time, and how you've probably never slept with anybody. the last one was a rumor started by him. now you're face to face with him.

you were freezing, your nipples hardening under the lace of your bra, and you swallowed thick. “la vas a llevar para que la folles o que.” you gonna take her to fuck or what Fermín's shout made you and Gavi turn your heads. You shot Fermín a look of disgust before turning to the boy who was still standing in front of you. “i’m supposed to be out on a party right now.. you don’t mind if i take you out somewhere instead, right?” you shook your head, “que la folles.” just fuck her you heard his other friend shout. “excuse me for a moment..” he said, you watched gavi walk over to his friends.

another interaction, there was more arguing. when you heard him speak spanish, it stirred something inside you. "just delete the video and all of you apologize. pobre niña," poor girl he said. the friend group was shocked into silence. you watched gavi as you made your way towards him. "i really have to g-" you started, but was quickly cut off by apologies from his friend, pablo. you remained silent, not saying anything back. when he was done, you nodded your head.

gavi gently placed his hand on your waist and whispered, "let’s head home, sweet girl." you felt a flutter in your stomach at the endearing nickname as the two of you strolled away from the street. "would you mind stopping by the small cafe instead? it’s my treat if you'd like," he suggested, causing your heart to sink a little. you managed to reply, "yeah, that's fine with me." he smiled warmly as you both made your way to the cafe. "but what about your friends?" you asked, looking at him. He chuckled softly. "they’re going to tina’s party. i don’t drink much, and they usually play that bottle game, so i’m not too bothered," he explained. you nodded, crossing your arms for some comfort against the cold.

"oh, spin the bottle... that game is weird," you said. he slightly chuckled, looking at you. "you've played it?" he asked. you shook your head no. "never have. i've heard a bit of experiences from my roommates about it," you said. he smiled. "you're cold, y/n. are you sure you don't want my sweater?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. you turned to look at him. "i-i'm fine," you said. he cupped your cheek, and your eyes looked up at him, your breathing hitched. "takeoff your sweater and hand me your bag," he said. you nodded, handing him your tote, then taking off the small cardigan. he folded the sweater and put it in your bag, then took off his varsity jacket and put it on you.

it was just like you had pictured it, as if it leaped straight out of the pages of a book. a warm smile spread across his face as he tenderly rested his hand on your head. “oh, come on!” you whined, your frustration evident. he chuckled softly and said, “let's go now,' gently holding your bag.

as you and gavi arrived at the cafe, you realized how much shorter you were standing next to him. “here, let’s go over there..” he suggested sitting down, and as you sat across from each other, you felt your cheeks growing warm. you tried to hide your feelings by clearing your throat and sipping your boba drink. “what the hell is that..” he questioned your drink choice, you snickered, “a strawberry lemonade with boba..” you explained it to him. despite his initial comment, you offered him a sip, “want to try it!” you said which he nodded to, taking a sip. “weird ass drink..” despite his comment, you rolled your eyes playfully.

“but, it’s good tho..” he said, you snickered again. you swung your legs around. “what made you take me out?..” you said looking at him, he looked at you. “well, fermín couldn’t stop harassing you, neither did pablo himself..and well, you’re truly a very sweet girl..” he said, his cheeks turning pink. you slightly choked in your drink, nodding your head quickly. “they were mentioning something tho.. something with the letter starting with a f..” you said, this time gavi choked on his drink. “oh yeah.. they’re sexually active geeks, that illustrates the rumors happening..” he said, you giggled.

"my sweater looks very big on you," he said. "really?" you rolled your eyes playfully. "oh, god," you sighed, looking at your phone. "something wrong?" he asked. you sighed, shaking your head, "it’s almost twelve and i’m supposed to be home." he bit his lip as you were distracted texting your friends.

your hair was put in a clawclip ponytail, but he wanted to see you with your hair down. he always thought you were innocent, but maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. he wanted to know. he didn't care if you were weird; he just cared about how you cared about others. "we can leave now if you want," he said. you looked up. "huh? oh, please, if you don’t mind," you said. he nodded, and you got up and grabbed your drink, the two of you walking out.

"let me make sure i understand this: your friends didn't attend the party, but you were supposed to go and you chose to stay with me instead. why?" you asked, to which he replied, "because someone usually ends up wanting to have sex with me, and i absolutely detest that." you furrowed your brows and asked, "do you mean sex itself or just the idea of girls throwing themselves at you?" he hummed in response, "just the idea. it’s ridiculous, and there are always rumors about it. sex is... enjoyable, you could say." you gulped and questioned, "enjoyable?" gavi quickly glanced at you

“yeah..” he spoke, you avoided his look for this time.

“are you not a virgin or?” he said, you looked at him. “um, i-i’ve never.. t-touched someone..” you spoke, “i-i’m still a uh.. v-virgin..” you mumbled. he slightly laughed, “wow you have a long way to go.. you should try it with me.” he mumbled the last part, you frowned.

you exclaimed, “what was that?” he just shrugged. when you looked up, you realized you were home. you sprinted to the door, with him chuckling behind you. as you turned around, he was suddenly face to face with you. you felt your stomach drop as he held your chin and kissed you. you kissed back, feeling his soft, passionate lips. you put your hand on his shoulder as he bit your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in. you squeaked, pulling away.

you indeed did have a long way to go to, his dick hardening slowly in his jeans. “can you.. um.. uh..” you bit your lip, “come inside..” you said, he nodded his head, caressing your cheek. “que niña tan inocente..” such a innocent girl he spoke, you unlocked the door, took his hand, and gestured for silence by placing a finger on his lips. he nodded in agreement as he closed the door behind him. leading the way to your room, with gavi following closely, you entered first and then switched on the lights after closing the door. finally, you placed your drink on the desk.

gavi pressed you against the wall, engaging in a deep, passionate kiss while his hand gently caressed your cheek. you responded eagerly, wrapping your hands around his neck. "i don't know anything," you whined. he stopped moving his lips. "first, take this off," he commanded, tugging on the varsity jacket. you discarded it on the top of your chair in the room., “come here..” he motioned with his fingers, you walked towards him. “volteate..” turn around he whispered softly, his warm hands sending shivers down your back, causing your legs to tremble. as you turned around, he reached for your claw clip and gently unclasped it, letting your hair fall loose. "are you sure about this?" he asked, and you nodded in response.

"are you sure?" you asked, and he turned you around gently. you slipped out of your white flats, caressing his cheeks. "Lie down and trust me, okay?" he said. You nodded and laid down on the bed. he crouched down infront of your panties, a whimper slipping out. he lifted your dress to your stomach, then kissed your thighs. you breathed shakily, running your fingers across the sheets. his lips crossing your clothed area, he pecked around the area. he pulled your shapewear down, the material pooling around your ankles. he kissed your inner thighs.

he tenderly kissed your soft skin, causing your breath to become shaky, and a flutter of butterflies swarmed in your tummy. moving up to you, he kissed your forehead and then your lips. you kissed back, with your hand gently resting on the back of his head. "are you ready?" he whispered against your lips, still kissing you. "y-yes," you whispered in response. he pulled away, planting a kiss on your cheek, and you giggled. "tap my head if you want me to stop," he said, and you nodded, still giggling. he smiled before he positioned himself infront of your clit, he bit your thigh slightly, teeth gazing against your skin, causing you to moan softly.

his tongue slowly slid against your sensitive bud, his mouth slowly widing sucking against your clit. you moaned loudly, he covered your mouth quickly. a whimper coming out of your mouth, gavi chuckled sending a vibration across your body, you moaned into his hand. he pulled his mouth away, “use my fingers if you think you’re noisy..” he said, you nodded. he kissed your abdomen, lips marking down. he kissed your clit, letting his tongue swirl against the knob.

you arched your back, he rolled his tongue around sucking onto your clit. you moaned softly again, his tongue making its way down in between your opening, he licked around as his tongue nearly entered against your hole. your eyes closing, enjoying the pleasure. you looked down, the sight of gavi bobbing his head up and down.

he continued licking around your folds, picking up every inch of your dewiness. "you taste amazing, so sweet, baby," he hummed against you. you whimpered at his praise, and he looked up, finding you moaning uncontrollably, he held onto your hands softly, fearing you might wake someone up with any noise. you fingers brush against mine, and you treasure the gentle touch as you both hold onto each other.

he continued, this time you felt his tongue everywhere. causing you to moan uncontrollably, you held onto his head. your orgasm coming closer, you breathed heavily. “g-gavi.. i-i think i-i’m about to.. c-cu..m..” you said, he firmly gripped your thigh, pressing both of your thighs against his face, while your ankles dangled off his shoulder blades. “cum mi niña..” he mumbled, your arrival was marked by a gasp, and your back arched as you tightly held onto his head. he continued licking around your folds. tapping on his head, he pulled himself back up. he took his shirt off in front of you, eyes narrowing down to his pants.

he unbuttoned them, now undressed but his boxers. he stood infront of your sat up figure. your eyes narrowing down to his boner, “u-um..” you stuttered, he chuckled. “hm?” he said, caressing your head. your hands touched the waistband of his boxers, they slowly moved down to his boner. “y-you’re.. b-big..” you spoke, “let’s be fair on this..”, “o-on what?” you said looking up at him, he felt his cock twitch. your eyes were glossy and big, he groaned. “i’ll lead you through..” he spoke.

“take this off first..” he gently fidgeted with the strap of your dress as you stood in front of him while he sat on your bed. you pulled the straps of your dress down, letting the apparel get loose and roll down to your ankles, within a few seconds later, his cock was free from the material. your eyes widened, he caressed your waist. “how perfect you are, you’re so beautiful..” he said, you blushed.

your hands reached under the back of your bra, you unclipped it, straps slowly falling off. the material falling off your chest, he sat back looking at your naked self, he stroked himself, precum oozing out as you bit your bottom lip. he groaned, “sit on your knees infront of me baby..” he said, you did what you were told. “spit on the head.” he looked down at you.

“t-the h-head?”

“the tip amor..” he said chuckling, you spat down on the top, “good.. now work your way up, y’know.. stroke your hand against the skin, use both of your hands if you want to as well..” he said, you nodded your head, hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it slowly. the hand gesture causing him to moan, “fuuck.. so good already..” he said, you watched more of the liquid goo out, you looked up at him, with a small nod for you to take him in, you did so. you swaddled your mouth around the head, kitty licking the tip. your hand still pumping him slowly, without hesitation, you bobbled your head further down, taking up as much as you can from the top.

your tongue worked its way around, swirling around the base, he held onto your head, letting his head fall back while a groan slipped out. “so so good..” he moaned, you felt your stomach and breathing hitch, “t-try going faster.. use both hands if you want to..” he groaned, you nodded your head, “mhm..” within seconds later, you began bobbing your head, before your other hand wrapped around the skin. slowly and tightly, you tugged up and down, he closed his eyes gripping onto your hair. “fuuck.. such a good girl..” he moaned, your bottom hand stroking the bottom of his base as the top stroked him quickly.

he groaned uncontrollably, your mouth doing incredible things you or he himself never knew about, you were now on your fours, he stood up limped. leaning down to slap your ass, causing you to whimper and gag around him, his length pushing deeply into your mouth. the two of you looked at each other at the same time, he groaned seeing your face expressions before he pulled himself away from your mouth. you catched your breath, he picked you up placing you on his lap.

you cupped his cheeks, “we’re not done yet r-right?” you spoke, he shook his head. “shh don’t worry.. i’ll take care of you..” he spoke, his lips resting on yours. you kissed back, your hands tangling in his hair. he turned you around, moving you against the pillows. he caressed your waist, your cheeks warm and red. “y-you have a-a.. c-condom.. right?” as you gazed up at him, he let out a chuckle. retrieving his wallet from your nightstand, you couldn't help but giggle as you watched him unwrap the package. gently caressing your forehead with his thumb, he asked, “are you absolutely sure about this?" you nodded in response.

“m-mhm..” you said, hand resting on his shoulder. he rolled the rubber on him before putting the wrapper on your nightstand, “it’s going to hurt for a bit, okay? scratch or bite me all you want..” he said, you giggled. he smiled and tenderly kissed your forehead as you looked up at him. he then positioned himself in front of you before gently entering you. you arched your back crying out, "shh... shh..." he whispered as he gently held your hand, allowing your hands to intertwine and find comfort against the softness of the sheets.

he completely slid in, your thighs shaking already as your other hand rested on his bicep. he groaned and rested his forehead on top of yours, and tears started to fill up your eyes. “you’re so warm..” he whispered, you breathed shakily. “do you want me to stay like this?" he asked, caressing your cheek. you nodded in agreement, but when he kissed you gently, you didn't quite match the rhythm. you kissed back deeply, lost in your thoughts. your hands cupping his cheeks, he slipped his tongue in, your cheeks blushing while your insides were clenching and drenching with your sliminess.

“y-you can.. m-move..” you hitched out, he penetrated into you slowly, you gasped holding onto his biceps. “spread your legs a little more amor..” he said, you nodded your head, doing what he told you to. your legs parting, he slipped out a few seconds, slamming himself in again. you covered your mouth with the back of your hand, moaning softly. he thrusted slowly again, looking down at you. he leaned closer, caging you in between his hands. all of gavis's words of encouragement felt and sounded muffled. you felt full, your brain couldn't comprehend anything.

as he grasped your waist, he asked, “want me to go faster?” you nodded. “yes... please...” you moaned. he thrust at an increasingly fast pace, causing you to feel louder. “too quick?” he asked, you shook your head. “n-not at all, keep going...” you held his shoulder, he leaned closer shifting his hips at a similar pace.

you cupped his cheeks, he groaned going deep. you moaned loudly, he covered your mouth, “shh.. c..ant wake your friends up.” he said, you nodded moaning uncontrollably into his hand. he slipped his fingers into your mouth, you closed your lips around his digit, sucking against it to prevent your noises from going any louder.

you cried out, the feeling of your stomach tightening like a firework nearly about to explode. you gripped onto his arm, he felt you clamping around him. “close again?” he said, you nodded quickly. tears forming, he halfway pulled out, spitting down onto your clit, he rubbed onto your sensitive pearl. you moaned louder, your other hand gripping onto the sheets nearly about to cum.

“i-i’m going to..” you gasped loudly, and with a moan your orgasm came crashing down, he nearly slipped out, holding onto your waist. you laid on your bed, breathing heavily. he giggled, resting his forehead on yours. “a-are we d-done..” you whispered, he shook his head. your eyes slightly widening, “there’s a few more to go mi niña..” you giggled, arms pulling him closer to you a few inches away from your lips, kissing him. he smiled against your lips, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.

little did you both know the kiss went from a cute moment to another heated minute.

his lips traveled down south to your neck, you leaned your head back, holding onto his head. his lips kissing and leaving love bites and even marks, he began to paint your neck as if you were his own canvas. he groaned when your fingers touched down to his abs and to his pelvis. you whimpered once his free hand gropped your breast. he pulled away chuckling, “how pretty..”

he grabbed one of your pillows, you looked at him confused, “okay lift your back off the bed..” he said, you did what you were told. he ruffled it, placing it under your back. "what are you doing.." you whispered. he gently lifted both of your legs, placing them on each of his shoulders. as you looked up at him, he reassured you, "trust me on this, you won't regret it at all." you furrowed your brows in uncertainty before nodding your head in agreement.

he placed a small kiss on your temple, he pushed himself in. you looked at him, he kissed you deeply. your lips responding back, he slowly thrusted into you. you felt him everywhere in your walls at the deepest angles, he thrusted at a rapid speed out of the blue causing you to moan loudly. he smirked, “g-gavi!” you cried out between your pleasured noises. he looked down at you, before thrusting deeper. you were on the verge of screaming when he discovered that spot. you gripped onto the sheets, moaning loudly.

your noises increasing everytime he thrusted at a tremendous speed. you struggled to keep your eyes open, they slightly rolled back at the delicious pace. “doing so good mi niña..” he leaned down to you, kissing your forehead, being pushed deeper he thrusted crazily into your g-spot. your calves now on his shoulders, “o-oh my g-gosh!” you cried out, gripping onto the sheets. he wrapped his arm under your lower back, throwing the pillow across your bed.

picking you up, he thrusted harshly and sloppily into you, you gripped onto his biceps, screaming already in pleasure. “f-feels good, huh?” he groaned loudly, breathing heavily in between his words. your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, he gripped onto your ass tightly and harsh. for sure leaving a mark, you cried out. “y-yes! s-so g-good!” you teared up. he felt closer everytime you would clench and nearly fell, “holy shit i’m about t-¡joder!” he came inside the condom, you cupped his cheek, caressing the back of his neck.

he softly smiled, you giggled breathlessly. your legs coming down, wrapping around his waist. “surprised at your flexibility..” he said, you giggled. “that’s a secret mister..” you spoke giggling. “hmmm..one more round?” he spoke, you looked at him biting your lip while smiling cheekily, head nodding yes. he held onto your back, walking to the bed. he laid on the bed, sitting up. you slowly got off him, sitting on your knees infront of him.

before even sliding yourself in, you slowly pulled the condom off him carefully, tieing a knot. “wait y/n!” you got up quickly tossing it in your trash-can, “what are you doing..” he said, you crawled on to your bed, giggling your hand wrapped around his member. “wanting to feel you even better..” you spoke, “a-are you even sure about this?” he stuttered in shock, hearing those unexpected words from you. your head nodded, “mhm.. i’ll just go to the store later and get plan b pills..” you said, your hand moving away.

you climbed on his lap, leaning yourself closer. sinking down, your back arching slightly shivering. he groaned feeling you tighten, you immediately burried your face onto his neck blushing. he chuckled, “want me to help you out on this?” he said, “mhm..” you muffled out, he caressed your shoulder. “rock your hips back and forth..don’t bounce yet.” he said, you nodded your head as you started to grind slowly against him. he groaned, “just exactly like that..” he said, you wrapped your arms around him levering yourself up, he smiled.

you rested your forehead on his, blinking tiredly. you kissed him, his lips responding back to the kiss as the two of you made out passionately, while you were perfectly busy stuffing yourself in for more. both of your lips glued on each other, breathlessly panting not wanting to let go, love.. you thought.

you cupped his cheeks, your chest sweaty and sticking against his. gavi held your waist guiding you through, slipping his tongue yet again into your mouth, were you and him happened to tongue fight. you whimpered in his mouth, he pulled away from your lips. “fuck, you’re doing so amazing.. try going a bit faster now..” he said, you nodded your head. your hips began to move on themselves quickly, causing you to moan increasingly. he groaned loudly, squeezing your ass. you gripped onto his shoulder, attempting to move quicker than you were.

“fuck!” you cried out, he held onto your breast, kneading with it. “i-i feel t-tingly..!” you said, starting to bounce on him. he groaned loudly, slapping your ass. tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. he laid his back against the pillows, you leaned closer holding onto the bassinet. you were so fucked and enjoying every single little thing, his stomach slowly tightening feeling himself close yet again. lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking gently onto your nipple. your hands fidgeting anywhere on his skin.

“i-i cant a-anymore!” you said, your vision going white. a scream leaving your throat. your movement’s stopped, gavi came inside you, walls clamping down. “you squirted everywhere for your first time..” he laughed breathlessly, you fell on his chest, nearly about to pass out from exhaustion.

he stood up, you looked at him, “y-you’re leaving?” he spoke, he shook his head. “where are your blankets?” he spoke, you pointed at the closet. he opened the closet, placing the blanket in your basket for your unwashed clothes. he found another blanket, attempting to stand up, you limped. he fixed your bed, he turned around, looking down at you.

“hm?” he said, you shook your head. “can’t really walk..” you mumbled, he chuckled. “come, sit on the bed.” you limped, holding onto the bed before sitting down. he found his boxers, placing them back on. you laid on the bed, eyes nearly closing. “hey.. sit up..” he said, you sat up. “alright, hands up..” he spoke, you raised your hands up, placing the shirt above you. he fixed it, you crawled to your bed. laying back down, falling asleep. gavi chuckled, turning your lights off as he walked over to the other side, laying down.

he pulled you closer to him, your head snuggling onto his chest. sleeping deeply.

the sun shined through the white curtains, deep asleep. gavi was already up, looking at your sleeping state. you breathed shakily, gavi pulling you closer. you woke up, “hey..” he whispered, you smiled lazily. “hi..” you mumbled, “you’re still here?” you whispered, he nodded. “i didn’t want to leave you at all.. you’re too sweet y/n..” he spoke, you nodded your head, fighting back the sleep. “have my roomates woke up?” you said, he nodded. “yeah, we haven’t been caught yet..” he spoke, you giggled. he kissed your lips, you kissed back, your thigh rested on his hipbone. fingers gazing across your skin, causing you to giggle. he bit your bottom lip, a small whimper slipping out, “be my girlfriend..” he whispered.

you looked up at him, “really?..” you said quietly, he nodded his head, you saw the pink flush spreading through his cheeks. “yes, i want to be your girlfriend..” you said, he kissed you again. you kissed back, your hand resting on his chest. lost in the kiss, you levitated yourself onto his lap. he held onto your waist, still kissing you. you pulled away, giggling, “i still need my pills by the way.”

[bbydoll18xx]

How Do I Get to Heaven?

'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: angst, slurs, religious trauma, HAPPY ENDING i promise

A/N: hiii so this one is super angsty and sad. I've been going through a rough time, and this is my way of coping. I kinda touched on these subjects in 'She's Such a Good Girl' part 2, and this is similar. I was obsessed with 'Heaven' by Troye Sivan when I was like 15-16 and the lyrics hit a little too hard. If you're gay and were raised in a religious household, I suggest taking a listen.

~

“He’s a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

“Those kinds of people are going straight to hell.”

Your face remained neutral. It had to. But you had years of practice, and while you were internally sobbing at the bigoted remarks, there was nothing you could do to stop it. So you stayed quiet, and you maintained your usual look of disinterest. 

Running up the stairs, you finally make it into the safehaven of your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, trying to avoid seeming as if anything is wrong or out of the ordinary. Nothing could possibly be wrong. You were the perfect child; straight As, never in trouble, and you always were eager to help out around the house. But you were harboring a dirty little secret that threatened to rip you from the grips of being the golden girl of your family. 

Sobs wracked your body as you slid onto the carpeted floor of your room. What had started off as an innocent dinner had turned into a nightmare. Slurs were thrown around casually, and unbeknownst to your family, you were the unidentified target. Your sexuality was the reason you had become an empty shell of a person, riddled with fear of accidentally outting yourself. And the anxieties you felt were bubbling up, threatening to ruin the perfect image of yourself that you had crafted for your loved ones. 

This wasn’t the first time. And it surely would not be the last. 

Your family had always claimed to love you. Your childhood was a happy one, but you feared the truth would break everyone. And even if they found out and still claimed to love you, you knew they would always see you differently. Gone would be the girl they knew, and their eager touts would be replaced with hushed whispers. You’d forever be known as “the gay one.” And you fucking resented that.

So here you sat on the floor, trying to quiet your sobs as you mourned the loss of the life you once knew and the people who would eventually turn their backs to you. 

Summer was ending, and soon you would be fleeing back to college, where your guard could be let down just enough to show the world a glimpse of who you really were and who you really wanted to love. 

There was just one girl who you wanted to love you back.

Paige Bueckers was your best friend. And she was so very gay. 

Since meeting her at the beginning of freshman year, she had pulled you out of a darkness that had resided in you since you had realized your feelings towards girls. It did not take long for you to fall madly, head-over-heels in love with her, but you had vowed to ignore it. 

Even if there was any hope of reciprocated feelings, you knew deep down that being in love with a girl would mean having to come out to your family. And you were just not ready for that. You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready for that. 

The thought terrified you. You knew you were willingly inhibiting a possibility of incredible happiness and love, but because it was at the risk of losing your loved ones, you were shutting it all out. 

‘Fuck. I really need therapy,’ you think miserably. 

That was the understatement of the century.

~

The new school year starts, and Uconn’s campus is ablaze with excited students and the possibilities of what is to come. You are finally starting to feel like yourself again, and the second your parents leave your apartment, you don a t-shirt plastered with Diana Taurasi’s face on it. 

You could finally get your gay card back.

A loud knock rings through the empty apartment, and before you could get to the door to answer it, Paige is peeking her head through it, a huge grin covering her face. 

She wastes no time barreling through the room, sweeping you up in a hug and spinning you around. Your feet leave the ground, causing your stomach to flip, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist for leverage. 

“Someone missed me,” you giggle, feeling breathless from being back in Paige’s tight embrace. You had been dreaming of this since you last saw her, back in July. 

“Course I did,” she chuckles, voice muffled against your hair. “You glad to be back?”

You groan. “Fuck, yeah I am. Lookin’ forward to not hearing some slurs for a bit,” you say, fist-pumping the air with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “And I’m especially looking forward to not having to listen to Fox fuckin’ News,” you add, pretending to gag.

Paige’s eyes rake over you, and she pouts, already knowing how your family could be. She had listened to your endless rants and your pathetic cries for the past three years. 

“I think you should just move in with me after this year ends. That way you don’t have to put up with that shit. Then we can be together after graduation,” she says earnestly. 

This was not the first time she had proposed this idea. And while you were internally jumping at the idea, the fear of how it would look to your family made you shy away. Paige wasn’t exactly the most straight-looking girl. Living with her would make things complicated. Your covert feelings had no place in a situation like that. 

You sigh. “I’ll think about it, P,” you promise, linking your pinky with hers, as you always did. 

~

Christmas break quickly rolls around, and Paige’s words are still playing in the back of your mind. Your feelings for her had grown, as if that was even possible, and having to leave her and the safety and warmth that came with her, was agonizing. 

Sitting against the hard back of the pew in your family’s Catholic church, you look around, thinking about how these people would be okay with you burning in hell forevermore. The familiar feeling of shame creeps back into your chest, the flames licking at your wounds. 

You wanted to run and hide. You wanted Paige. 

The Christmas activities persist, and amongst the holiday cheer and piles of gifts, uncomfortable conversations emerge, and you shrink back to your room, desperate for respite.

You felt so fucking abandoned. This was supposed to be a time to enjoy with your family, and instead you were hiding.

There was one person, though, you knew would not abandon you, and that was Paige. Her presence was enough to lessen the sting of the inevitable rejection of your family, and in that moment, it was enough. 

Pulling out your phone, you dial her number, longing to hear her voice, all the way from Montana. Christmas break could not end quickly enough. 

Paige’s smiling face is soon on your phone screen, but it falls as soon as she sees the tears falling down your cheeks and your wobbling bottom lip.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asks in a hushed whisper, voice full of anger and concern. 

“They hate me,” you cry. “They fucking hate me, and they don’t even know it yet.”

Paige sighs, trying to find the right words. While she had always had acceptance from those around her, she knew how difficult it was for you to be at home, and she desperately wished to take away your anguish. 

“I love you,” she stresses. “And I know that doesnt fix your family treating you like shit, but soon you’ll be back and everything won’t seem as shitty, I promise.” 

You nod, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

She loved you. And you knew that. But you wanted her to love you in the way you loved her. For now, you would take what you could get.

“Just a few more days,” she assures, and you feel the tiniest bit better.

Just a few more days. 

~

The start of the new year always engenders change, and you had promised yourself as the clock chimed to signify it was midnight that this would be the year you would hike up your big girl panties and figure out your shit with Paige. Your senior year had to slow down, and Paige’s proposal had been in the back of your mind since August. 

If you could get over your stupid crush on her, things would be all good and dandy, but your efforts to eradicate her place in your heart were futile. You had mused it over nearly a million times. Maybe you’d eventually get over her, and maybe she would have some bizarre habit that would inevitably give you the ick, ridding you of all romantic feelings toward her. 

You could only hope. 

You pump yourself up on the way over to Paige’s apartment, encouraging words forming on your lips, leaving a trail of fog from your warm breath against the cold air. 

You knock on her door, cheeks pink from the frigid temperatures of Connecticut in January, grateful that it hides your blush. Paige opens the door, eyes wide and hopeful. She always looked so damn alluring. 

Your words leave your mouth before your chary mind could overtake you. “I want to move in with you after school ends. I can’t go back to living like that.”

Paige’s features twist into a smile, and she pulls you in for a hug. “Gonna take such good care of you,” she whispers, and you believe her. Your arms wrap around her middle, anchoring you to the floor. 

“I should probably tell you, though,” she trails, her voice getting smaller as she takes a deep breath. 

You look up at her, confusedly. “Tell me what?”

“I love you. And not just like as a friend. So if you don’t want to live with me because of that, I get it,” she mumbles, eyes trained on the floor.

Your breath quickens at the realization. Paige loved you. And the thought of being a colossal disappointment to your family and potentially cast out did not seem to matter as much anymore. Because here was someone who loved every part of you and accepted the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The look of shock swiftly morphs into one of unbridled euphoria, and without another thought, you pull Paige in for a kiss. It was filled with the pure longing and want of years of uncontrollable urges and repressed thoughts, and it nearly made all the shittiness worth it.

Pulling away, Paige links her pinky with yours again, just as she had back in August. It was an unspoken promise of love. And while you knew the journey would be inexorably difficult, Paige was worth it in the end. 

~

dang that was rough lol but thanks for reading as always:) I really hope this wasn't too triggering or anything for anyone. This has been such a nice outlet for my pain and anger, as I really don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I am here for everyone who can relate. My inbox is open if you guys ever want/need to talk

xoxo katy

[jzprncess]

the missing melody ♪

pairing : franco colapinto x singer!reader

faceclaim : various people!

summary : after several months of silence, Y/N L/N, a renowned singer, unexpectedly surfaces at a Formula 1 Grand Prix, leaving everyone wondering about her disappearance. Her arrival catches the eye of a talented rookie driver, intrigued by her in many ways then one.

part 1 out of unknown parts

warnings : some singers do not exist in this au since i might take their songs! read my note before reading!

note : first smau! Let me know in the comments for feedback! I actually had inspiration for this one. i don't think this is too long or too short, so expect the next parts to be the same length! this will be at the cota race in austin in october but with the the baku results because thats when they both got points (the william drivers). i

   ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

F1GOSSIP just posted

liked by username1, username2 and 179,293 others 

F1GOSSIP after several months of speculation and silence, y/n l/n resurfaced this weekend at a grand prix, and fans are buzzing! our sources say that y/n has always been a f1 fan but has never actually been to a grand prix! why now? did she get bored doing what she was doing? why was she gone for so long?

view all comments

username1 WHATTT?!?

username2 wait? MY QUEEN?!?

username3 where? i’m here also!! where is she?!?

username4 she’s still so pretty 😍

username5 NO WAY YOURE LYING?!!?

username6 no one understands how bad i missed y/n!!! 

username7 i almost had a heart attack oh my FUCK

username8 i’m totally not freaking out rn 😊😊

username9 i used to pray for times like this 🙏🙏🙏🙏

username10 DOES THIS MEAN MORE MUSIC? PLEASE ITS BEEN MONTHS IM STARVING!

yourusername added to their story

view story replies 

username1 we missed you y/n!

f1 hi y/n! we’d love to have you come down and join us in the paddock! let us know if you’re interested!

y/n’s pov

I stare at the text message from the F1 account on Instagram, my thumb hovering over the screen. It’s been months—months of quiet, isolation, and letting the world forget me while I tried to remember myself. I glance around the room, so used to its stillness. The familiar hush, once comforting, now feels almost suffocating. Outside the window, life goes on, people go on, and I’m here, still debating whether I’m ready to step back into it.

My eyes drift over the message again. Maybe it’s time. Time to hear the noise, to feel the movement, to breathe in more than just silence. I sigh, gathering the courage I didn’t realize I still had in me. With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and click on the message. It’s time to be out there again.

messages

I turn off my phone and place it face down on the table, the screen going black as if signaling the shift I’m about to make. My eyes wander out the window, where the grandstands loom in the distance, already buzzing with life and anticipation. A knot of nerves twists in my stomach as I realize what stepping back into the limelight really means. After months of silence, the thought of all those eyes on me again makes my breath catch in my throat.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. The air feels cool and crisp against my skin, a slight contrast to the rising anxiety inside me. Reaching for the complimentary bottle of sparkling water on the table, I unscrew the cap, the soft hiss breaking the quiet. I take a sip, hoping the bubbles will settle me.

Just as I set the bottle back down, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—someone walking toward my table. My heart skips a beat, but before I can gather my thoughts to say something, they speak first, breaking the moment.

“You must be Y/N! Hi, I’m Diana (not relevant to anyone irl), here to guide you down and give you the paddock tour!” Her smile radiates warmth, as if it spreads from her lips all the way down to her toes, instantly putting me at ease.

I return the smile, though mine is softer, still testing the waters. “Yes, that’s me.” My voice feels steady, which is a small relief.

I stand up from my seat, taking a moment to smooth down my outfit. Carefully, I push the chair back into place, making sure every movement is deliberate, giving myself just a little more time to adjust. I reach for my phone, sliding it into my back pocket, the familiar weight grounding me. Then I pick up my purse, feeling its soft leather strap slide over my shoulder as I take a deep breath.

“Ready?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nod, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves swirl inside me as I let her lead the way, stepping back into a world I’ve been away from for so long.

As we make our way through the winding hallways of the paddock, the hum of activity grows louder with each step. My heart beats in time with the click of my heels on the hard floor, and I can feel the familiar rush of anticipation building as we head down the stairs toward the grid. With each step, I mentally brace myself for the crowd—the faces, the voices, the attention. It’s been so long since I’ve been in the thick of it all, and I silently rehearse how to hold myself together.

Just as my nerves start to rise, Diana slows her pace and falls into step beside me. Her presence is steady, comforting. “If you ever want to head back up during your time down here, just let me know,” she says gently, her voice low enough that it feels like she’s speaking just to me, despite the noise around us. “The team let me know you might be feeling a bit nervous with how sudden all this is.”

Her words catch me off guard, and my heart skips a beat, warmth spreading through me. The thought that the team has gone out of their way to make sure I’m okay—that they’re taking precautions for me—feels incredibly thoughtful, almost protective. It’s more than I expected.

I can’t help but grin, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit. “That’s really sweet, thank you,” I say, my voice light with gratitude. Knowing they’ve got my back makes everything feel a little less daunting.

I smile as I hear the start of one of my songs, love story , start playing (by taylor swift) in the background. As I start to hum, my phone dings.

I took my phone out of my back pocket and looked to see a message from Williams Racing on instagram.

messages

I slip my phone back into my pocket, feeling its familiar weight settle against my hip. Turning my attention to Diana, I notice she’s mid-conversation, her voice lilting as she discusses the unusually warm weather for this time of year. The sun beats down, making the air almost sticky, and I can feel a light sheen of sweat beginning to form at the back of my neck. I clear my throat with a small cough to get her attention before speaking.

“I’ll be alright now,” I say, my voice sounding steadier than I feel. “I got invited to the Williams garage.”

Her eyebrows lift in mild surprise, and she tilts her head with a curious smile. “Oh? That’s nice. I can walk you there if you’d like,” she offers, a hint of genuine warmth in her tone as she falls into step beside me.

I nod gratefully, returning her smile. “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

As we make our way through the crowded paddock, the buzz of activity surrounds us. The hum of engines revving in the distance, the faint scent of burning rubber, and the excited chatter of fans create a sensory tapestry that is unmistakably Formula 1. The Williams garage is up ahead, its blue and white banners standing out among the sea of team colors.

Just as we draw closer, I spot a familiar figure—Mr. Vowles, the team principal, standing by the entrance, his hands clasped behind his back as he speaks with a group of engineers. There’s a calm authority in his posture, even as the hustle of the race weekend unfolds around him.

My pulse quickens as we draw even closer to the Williams garage. The flurry of activity around us feels almost suffocating, and I can’t help but notice the curious glances from passersby. It’s my first public appearance after months of being away, and the weight of those unsaid questions hangs heavy in the air.

As we approach the entrance, Mr. Vowles looks up from his conversation, sensing our presence. His expression shifts from concentration to a welcoming grin, the lines around his eyes crinkling with warmth. “There you are,” he says, his voice carrying a tone of easy familiarity. “Hello, Y/N! I’m James Vowles, but please, just call me James.”

He extends a hand, his demeanor friendly and inviting despite the bustling surroundings. There’s a hint of recognition in his gaze—like he’s aware of who I am, or maybe just curious about the singer who suddenly vanished from the limelight.

I hum softly, finding my voice as I step forward to shake his hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, James.” I offer a small smile, hoping it comes across as more confident than I feel. “Thank you for offering up your garage for me. I appreciate the hospitality.”

His grin widens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, perhaps, or a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken stories that linger between us. “Our pleasure. It’s not every day we have a special guest with such a storied background. You’re more than welcome here.”

Diana hums thoughtfully and glances at James, a playful glint in her eye. “I leave her in your care,” she says with a smile, her tone light but sincere. She then turns to me, her expression softening. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Until next time,” she adds, giving me a small wave before turning on her heel and walking off, her figure soon blending into the sea of people.

I’m left standing at the entrance of the garage, the faint sounds of machinery and chatter surrounding me as I take in the unfamiliar scene. There’s a moment of hesitation, the feeling of being out of place creeping in despite the warm welcome.

“So… what now?” I say, glancing up at James with a faint chuckle to mask my uncertainty. “I’ve never been to one of these before. No idea what I’m supposed to do.”

James chuckles at my honesty, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, I’m sure Diana gave you a good tour around the paddock and the grid,” he says, crossing his arms casually. “But how about meeting the drivers? I’m sure Alex and Franco can spare a few minutes to say hello.”

There’s a friendly enthusiasm in his voice, as if he’s eager to make me feel at home in this high-octane world. The idea of meeting the drivers piques my curiosity, and a hint of nervous excitement stirs within me.

I perk up at the suggestion, though the flutter of nervousness in my chest is hard to ignore. Meeting the drivers feels like venturing into unfamiliar territory—a glimpse behind the curtain that I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared for. I’ve spent so long away from the public eye that even casual encounters seem daunting, like I’m out of practice.

“That sounds great,” I reply, managing a genuine smile despite the unease tightening in my chest. “I’d love to meet them.” My voice wavers just a little, betraying the anxious energy simmering beneath the surface. “I’ve seen Alex race on TV before, but I’ve never actually met a driver… or been this close to the action.” I laugh softly, hoping it comes off as lighthearted rather than strained.

“Lead the way?” I add, glancing at James with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty, my hands fidgeting at my sides. There’s excitement, yes, but also the familiar weight of anxiety, making me wonder if I’ll manage to fit into this world—or if I’ll just feel out of place all over again.

f1 just posted!

liked by williamsracing, username8, and 79,277 others

f1 a little birdie told us y/n is in the williams hospitality! it looks like williams was the only team to invite y/n inside or the only team she was interested in? #F1 

view all comments 

username11 i doubt williams was the only team to invite her!

username7 why’re you making it sound like the other teams dislike her? 😭

username2 i still can’t believe y/n is outside 😧

williamsracing the little birdie is correct! she’s safe and sound with us! 💙

↳username11 does this mean she’s meeting the boys???  

↳williamsracing she’s about too! 

username3 but what does this mean musically? is she back? #imdelusional 

third pov

James had sent a message to the drivers’ group chat well before inviting Y/N to the garage, giving them a heads-up to expect a couple of guests later in the day. In the text, he made it clear that they should stay put in Franco’s room and be on the lookout for their arrival. With James’s usual eye for organization, he had made sure to emphasize the importance of keeping things discreet, hoping to avoid any unnecessary chaos in the busy environment.

Inside Franco’s room, the air buzzed lightly with anticipation. Alex and Franco were seated on the worn leather couch, chatting casually about their upcoming schedules. The conversation meandered from the logistics of travel to plans for the off-season, each driver sharing his own ideas for how to make the most of the downtime. Their words overlapped occasionally, excitement rising as they discussed possible locations for training and leisure.

Suddenly, a sharp knock interrupted their conversation. Both men paused, glancing at each other before Franco rose from the couch, crossing the room to open the door.

Franco approached the door, turning the handle and pulling it open just enough to catch a glimpse of James standing on the other side. As recognition set in, he swung the door wider, making room for James to step through. A moment later, Y/N appeared behind him, her presence drawing immediate attention as she trailed closely after James.

James strode confidently into the room, his usual air of authority softened by a hint of excitement. “There’s someone I’d like for you two to meet,” he announced, his tone carrying just a touch of mystery. With a subtle gesture, he stepped aside, allowing Y/N to take center stage, her figure framed in the doorway as the focal point of the room.

As Y/N stepped into the room, Alex’s eyes flicked over to her, and he stood up slowly. He knew of her—the whole world did—but seeing her in person, especially after her months away, was different. She held herself with a quiet determination, though there was still a hint of uncertainty in the way her gaze briefly dipped to the floor before rising again.

“Hi, I’m Alex,” he said, keeping his voice soft and extending a hand. He noticed only the slightest hesitation before she took it, her grip firmer than he’d expected.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. She met his gaze, her expression composed but carrying a guardedness that suggested she was still finding her footing. It wasn’t shyness, exactly, but a careful control—like she was reminding herself to be present in the moment.

“It’s good to see you here,” Alex offered with a gentle smile, his tone casual. “Hopefully, things are looking up.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “Trying to,” she said, her voice a little stronger now. There was more left unsaid, but she seemed willing to let the silence speak for her rather than rushing to fill it.

As Alex stepped back, Franco took a step forward, his gaze irresistibly drawn to Y/N. The moment their eyes met, the world seemed to still, and time stretched in that small space between them. His breath hitched as he glimpsed something in her expression—more than just shyness. It was a quiet determination touched by a vulnerability that tugged at something deep inside him.

“Franco,” he introduced himself, his voice unexpectedly tender. There was a softness in his gaze, as though he could sense the silent courage it took for her to be there, facing the world anew.

“Y/N,” she replied, her voice steady, yet intimate, as if sharing a secret. She held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then looked away—not out of hesitation, but as if deciding how much of herself to lay bare.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Franco murmured, the warmth in his tone matching the gentle curve of his smile. He kept a respectful distance, aware that while she exuded strength, there was still a part of her that seemed fragile, as though testing the waters.

“Likewise,” Y/N responded softly, her hands settling at her sides. She resisted the impulse to fidget, letting the moment linger between them. The silence that followed felt almost deliberate, as if it was allowing something unspoken to take root. Franco found himself drawn to the quiet resilience she radiated—a kind of beauty that seemed to unfold with every second he spent in her presence.

y/n’s pov

After a while of simple yet engaging conversation, I found myself feeling more at ease. I shared how I had always been a fan of racing, my voice growing steadier as I spoke. “There’s something thrilling about watching it unfold on screen,” I said, trying to convey my excitement.

Alex leaned in, intrigued. “That’s great to hear! It’s always nice to meet fans who really appreciate the sport.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Franco nodded, a smile on his face. “It definitely takes a lot of dedication to get here. Every race pushes us to prove ourselves.” His sincerity made me feel even more connected to their world.

As the conversation shifted to their plans for the day, Alex described the strategies for securing points in the race, his passion evident. “It’s all about timing and reading the situation,” he explained, and I listened intently, occasionally asking questions to show my genuine interest.

I relished this moment, enjoying the chance to connect with them. For a brief time, the weight of my absence from the limelight felt lighter, and I was just another fan in the room.

Just as they began to delve deeper into the day’s logistics, James cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Time to head back to the paddock area,” he announced. “The pre-race interviews are about to start.”

I felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought of leaving this conversation behind, but I nodded. “Good luck out there. I’ll be cheering for you both,” I said sincerely, glancing at both drivers, though my gaze lingered on Franco a beat longer, as if the words were meant just for him.

As I followed James toward the door, I glanced back over my shoulder, catching Franco’s eye one last time. I offered him a small, lingering smile, hoping to hold onto the quiet connection we had just begun to form, even as we braced ourselves for the chaos of race day.

F1GOSSIP just posted!

liked by username2, username9, and 93,292 others

F1GOSSIP oh? Is this just franco being his charming self or is something brewing? this is after franco got asked how meeting y/n was. If you have the full clip, please send it in!

view all comments 

username2 me when y/n announces new music #imdelusional 

username9 no! y/n’s mineeee stay back 🤺🤺🤺

username1 my reaction when i see my leftovers still uneaten in the fridge 

username3 let’s not get carried away chat

username8 they’d lowkey be cute ,no?

username4 here goes mr rizzler

username5 we think y/n giggling at this or not even knowing that he’s basically down bad? 

As I gaze out the window of the paddock suite, my heart thrums with a mix of anticipation and anxiety, waiting for the drivers’ parade to conclude so the race can finally commence. The vibrant colors of the team uniforms blur together in a whirlwind of excitement outside, a stark contrast to the stillness within me. 

I’ve spent so long in hiding—wrapped in the suffocating embrace of identity crises, exhaustion, and a profound sense of disconnection from everything I once held dear. The weight of fame had become unbearable, each flash of a camera a reminder of the lack of privacy I craved. I’d watched as my personal relationships—family, friends—slipped through my fingers, one by one, until I was left with only echoes of laughter in empty rooms.

For the past several months, my life felt like an endless loop of anxiety and depression, a tangled web of emotions that left me feeling isolated and unrecognizable even to myself. The music that once flowed so freely from my soul now felt like a distant memory, a faint whisper drowned out by the noise of my insecurities.

I close my eyes, massaging my temples gently as I let the world around me fade into a soft murmur. The noise of the paddock, the distant roar of engines, and the chatter of eager fans all blend into a soothing backdrop as I focus inward. I think long and hard about what I truly want to do, contemplating the next steps I need to take to reclaim my sense of self and direction.

Images flash through my mind—memories of laughter, music, and the vibrant life I once lived, alongside the shadows of doubt and uncertainty that have lingered for far too long. I sift through these feelings, weighing the burden of expectations against the freedom of possibility. It’s not just about what others want for me; it’s about what I want for myself.

I draw in a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I clear my mind of the noise. Slowly, I allow the weight of indecision to lift, replaced by a flicker of clarity. I envision the goals I’ve set aside and the dreams that still ignite a spark within me. With each thought, I feel a renewed sense of determination taking shape.

Finally, I open my eyes again, and the world around me comes back into focus, sharper and more vibrant than before. There’s a newfound sense of purpose coursing through my veins, a conviction that I can chart my own course and embrace the unknown. I sit up a little straighter, feeling invigorated by the possibilities that lie ahead, ready to take the next step with confidence and resolve. With all that said and done, I picked up my phone with an idea in mind.

yourusername just posted!

liked by williamsracing, username2, and 730,372 others

yourusername I’ve tried in so many ways to come back, but I always took a U-turn, doubting myself and slipping deeper into a place I never thought I’d find myself in. The past several months have been a struggle—a relentless cycle of exhaustion, anxiety, and moments of profound loneliness. The weight of the spotlight felt more like a shackle than a blessing, and I lost sight of who I am and what brings me joy.

I hope you guys miss me as much as I missed you. It’s hard to be away from the people and things I love, especially when music has been my lifeline. I spent so long in my own head, pushing away friends and family, that I forgot how vital connection is to my soul.

But here I am at a Formula 1 Grand Prix, surrounded by the roar of engines and the thrill of the upcoming race, feeling that spark igniting again. This moment is a powerful reminder of the joy that comes from pursuing what we love. I’m learning to embrace the chaos and take the first steps toward rebuilding my life, piece by piece.

So, this isn’t just a post; it’s a promise. I’m finding my way back to music, to the stage, and to myself. I can’t wait to share new songs with you, but more importantly, I want to reconnect with you all in ways that matter.

Stay tuned, because I’m not just coming back; I’m coming back stronger, and I have so much to share. 

view all comments

username1 the scream i just scrumpt and the race hasn’t even started yet!!!

username2 god answered my prayers and i’m not talking about lando world domination!

↳username10 lando we can be world champions i said!! 🧡

username3  lowk just got chills omg

username4 NEW MUSIC COMING ALERT!!!!

username5 it’s too early to be crying 😢

username6 WE MISSED YOU MORE!!

username7 you’re never alone y/n! i’m here 🤗

username8 lowk heartbreaking knowing the reason you left was due to struggles and not because you wanted to go on vacation or something 😔

username9 my queen, im deeply glad to have you back with us 💕

williamsracing ay, i see the williams team! the team will always be here for you y/n, especially when you need motivation and support! 💙💙

↳username5 ok now im sobbing

↳username11 this is deadass too cute 

↳username2 who’s cutting onions?

I shut my phone off and tuck it into my purse, sealing away any connection to the world outside this moment. No more notifications, no more distractions—just me, here. I glance around the paddock, surrounded by a sea of busy engineers, media personnel, and team members, all bustling with excitement as the race is about to begin. The walls of the hospitality suite insulate me from the noise of the crowd outside, but I can still feel the thrum of energy reverberating through the glass.

I shift my focus to the grid on the screen in front of me, watching the drivers as they line up in their spots, engines purring in anticipation. Outside, the Texas sun beats down relentlessly on the Circuit of the Americas, casting long shadows on the track. I can feel the tension building, a nervous buzz in the air as the seconds tick down to lights out.

I take a deep breath, but it’s not because of the race about to unfold. No, this moment is about something much bigger. The relief that comes with turning off my phone is like a release—a tangible sense of freedom I haven’t felt in what seems like forever .And now, watching the cars settle into position, the drivers preparing for the challenge ahead, it feels symbolic—like I’m waiting for my own race to begin.

The engines rev louder, vibrating through the floor beneath me, and I exhale slowly. The lights above the starting line flash red, one by one. My heart pounds in time with the countdown, but this time, it’s not out of fear or anxiety. It’s out of anticipation. I’m ready. As the lights blink off and the cars roar forward, I feel it—this is the start of something new, not just for them, but for me too. My own restart, right here, right now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

taglist : @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey

[juletheghoul]

if you are still taking requests for the general can we PLEASE see what would happen if reader were ever in danger or threatened or kidnapped? to see marcus’ reaction and him do whatever it takes to get them back?? and his reaction to when he does?? 😭😭 i’m shaking askingthis omg,,

You're so right for this nonny, you're practically in my head. I was working on a chapter of the General, and it's basically this so here we go!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, violence, attack on the villa - you are hurt and Marcus gets serious, hurt/comfort, creampie, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.8k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

-

Your fingers cramped, his tunic had been more damaged than you’d initially thought and what you’d imagined would only take a few minutes, had taken the better part of an hour. With his tunic mended, you used the small knife to cut the thread and blessedly stretched, wincing at the ache in your back from being hunched over. An odd feeling weighed down the pit of your stomach and it was hard to place until you realized how eerily quiet the house was. Not just the familiar quiet of night, but an all-encompassing hush that seemed to cover everything like a blanket. 

No crickets chirping, no night birds singing, even the breeze seemed to have stopped. An icy finger followed the line of your spine and when his dogs began barking loudly, it almost made you jump out of your skin. 

You ignored the unease in your stomach and reassured yourself, the hour had grown late, and all of the chores had been completed. All that was left to do was fill the water basin in his private chamber, as well as yours. The dogs still barked as you made your way through the peristyle, irritated that despite being well trained, they did not relent. It was unlike them to ignore a command from your dominus and with a frown you belatedly notice one of the house's guards lying prone. 

You gasped, rushing over to him to help him, hoping it was only the heat that had gotten to him. You turned him, struggling to reach his face when your hands felt something wet, and with a barely contained scream, you saw that he had been attacked, and had not survived. The realization hit you like a knife to the belly, there was someone in the house, someone intent on sending your Dominus to the underworld. 

Ice crawling through your veins and with your heart in your throat, you ran towards his chambers to warn him.

The halls were dark and quiet as you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, praying to Diana to bless you with swiftness, to Mars to bless Marcus’ sword, and to humbly beg Pluto to stay away. 

Diana did not listen, and a shadow caught you unawares in the dark hall outside his chamber, cutting off the scream before it left your mouth. Your vision blurred as the faceless hulk behind you all but lifted you by the throat, making you squirm in his grip until he pressed the sharp tip of his blade to your back. 

“Silence!” He hissed into your ear, pain radiating from your neck, and where his knife cut shallowly into the skin of your back. You tried to scream, to kick and struggle out of his grip but it was iron, and when he slammed you back against the wall the world turned on its head. You choked on the coughs stuck in your throat, vaguely making out the angry words he hissed in your face. 

“Where is he? Where does he keep the valuables?” The fight was going out of you, your eyes, felt like they were going to pop out of your head, and your hands had surely been weighed down with something. Warmth ran down your back. 

Your vision blurred and a sinking realization hit you. 

I am going to die here.

Everything faded for a moment before you fell, hard, onto the ground. Breathing in felt like swallowing fire, your body was so heavy, and you couldn’t be sure how much time passed before you took in the scene. The man that had attacked you was on the floor before you, his eyes open, but never to see anything again. 

“Are you hurt?” His voice is like a balm and it’s with frantic hands that you clutch at him where he’s crouched in front of you. 

“Dominus-”  Your voice comes out like gravel, your throat burning so much so, tears fill your eyes and he shakes his head, shushing you softly. 

“Quiet girl, do not speak if it pains you, simply nod, are you hurt anywhere but here?” His hand is wet with blood, but it touches your neck soft as silk. You nod your head as he helps you to stand, holding you close to his warmth, his eyes scan over all of you, frowning when he sees the blood seeping through the back of your tunic, and flowing down towards your ankle. 

“Let me see.” He lifts it, turning you in his grip and an angry sound fills his mouth. 

Your heart fills with something huge, something unknowable, unnamable. 

“Can you walk?” The strength in him rears its head, and he practically holds you up, you nod your head yes and he nods back once, pressing his bloody finger to his lip to keep you quiet before tucking you in behind him. He picks up his sword and slowly, you both make your way through his halls, hunting those who dared threaten him. He pokes his head around a corner and is confronted with a small group of his attendants, the older women, the toughest of them has a knife in her hand. 

“Hide yourselves, I will find you once the threat is removed. Go to the cellar and bar yourselves in.” He nods once and they obey, trusting him to protect those who are alive. You move to join them but his free hand holds you tight. “You stay with me, girl.”

You nod and hold onto his arm like an anchor. 

He finds them in his library, rifling through his things and for a moment your heart drops at the sight of them. There are four of them, and they turn in unison, dropping his parchments and smiling to see him alone, and worst of all, accompanied by an injured slave. 

Wordlessly they begin to circle and with your throat burning, you begin to pray once more. 

One of them advances too quickly and Marcus slices him from throat to groin without blinking. The blood splatters onto Marcus and then spreads from where the man falls on the floor and you feel as though you’re stuck in a nightmare. 

“I will give the rest of you the chance to keep your lives if you leave now.” 

“To what end? You’ve seen our faces, you will just come looking for us.” One of the braver ones spits it back in his face, looking to the others for support. They advance but he doesn’t let them close enough to hurt either of you. You see why he’s earned his reputation firsthand, and your brain rebels against itself. Part of you is terrified to see such violence outside the arena, in the place that is your home no less. Another part of you though, rejoices to see him fight for his house, for you. His sword moves swiftly, as fluid as water as he cuts his way through them with terrifying ease. 

He drips in their blood, unfeeling, unseeing, until there is one left on the ground, clutching at his wounds. 

“Mercy, I beg of you!” He holds his hands up, eyes shining with a fear you have never seen. 

“The time for mercy has passed.” He blocks your view, but you hear the sound of flesh parting, a sickening gurgling sound, and then silence. 

You stand there in the dark room, still as a statue until he blocks your vision again, his bloodied hands holding your face softly. He says nothing, only holds your gaze and you cannot help but press yourself close, gripping onto his arms if only to convince yourself that he is healthy and whole before you. 

Wordlessly, he leads you away from the gore of the room. He completes his circuit of the house, finding the guards that survived the attack as well as other attackers, none of them having survived their attempt. 

He thanks them for fulfilling their duty to protect and orders them to dispose of the gore corrupting his home. He orders them to find the others hidden away, to let them know the house is once again safe. Your hands tremble, but you cannot be sure if it’s from fear or from the way he has not let you go since this whole ordeal began. You look down as he speaks his commands, to see the way his hand sits on your hip, wrapped around you, pressing you close to his side. The blood on his hands has seeped into the fabric of your tunic, it is smeared all over your arms and your neck. You swallow and the pain is still there, and when you shift his hand tightens around you, pressing into the shallow cut and you wince. 

He feels the way you shy away from the pain, and promptly dismisses his guards, advising them that fresh water and linens are to be brought to him at once. 

“Come girl, let me tend to that.”

-

The shaking does not stop, neither does the feeling of ghostly fingers wrapping themselves around your neck. Neither does the pain. Your fingers itch to do something, but with your Dominus cleaning and bandaging your wound, you can do nothing but stand in front of him, and tremble like a leaf. 

He does his best to soothe, but his gentle touch and soft words can only do so much. There is anger in you, a sharp clawing desire to break something, to hurt those that hurt you, those that snuck into his house like rats to do naught but harm. If your throat didn’t hurt so much, you’d scream. His lips bring you back though, where they press to your back when he is done bandaging you up. 

You watch him, wild-eyed with the blood still pounding in your ears, and wonder how he can be so calm, cleansing the blood off his skin like he’s done it a thousand times. But hasn’t he? The reality of him becomes crystal clear, this was nothing to him. His eyes are focused on the task at hand, they move methodically, dipping into the water and scrubbing at his face, and his arms. He undresses to the skin and continues his ritual, only looking to you once he is satisfied with his state. 

“Come, girl, undress.” Your body falls into its usual rhythm, obedience. 

You strip, careful of the wound and your neck, and once nude, you walk over to him. Silently, he dips a new cloth and sets about his task. Your face is first, gently but thoroughly cleaned of every drop of blood. Your arms next, and then your neck. You wince, but stay still. Handprints that had seeped through and marked your hip, your back, all of them wiped away like they’d never been there. He crouches and follows the trail of your blood where it had slid down the swell of your ass, down the back of your leg towards your ankle. Not a drop is spared, and then he is done.

“Thank-” It's a harsh whisper that comes out of your mouth, and he doesn’t let you finish the sentiment.

“Do not speak, I would not have you in pain. Your throat must heal and the more you speak the longer it will take.” He pressed a soft kiss to your brow, but you held him close, cold all of a sudden as you stood there in his chamber, both of you bathed in moonlight and damp from the cloth. He lets you clutch to him, lets you press yourself into the cage of his arms, and wraps you up in them. He is the cure, you do not tremble when he holds you like this. 

An ache builds, the need for comfort, for warmth, for affection. For love, whispers a tiny little part of you, a part you ignore. 

You stand on the tips of your toes and press your lips to his, hoping he can sense what you need. 

“Are you not in pain?” His fingers curl around the long line of your neck, feather-soft, holding your gaze as you try to kiss him again. You nod, but try again anyway and he holds you still. You mouth the words, exaggerating the shapes of them in your mouth so he will understand. 

“I need you.”

He searches your eyes and is satisfied with what he finds, nodding once and then finally giving you his mouth, his tongue, and the loveliest of sounds from deep in his chest. 

You take charge and push him to sit on his bed, guiding him to lie on his back and he follows where you lead, arranges himself exactly how you want him, and lets you climb onto him. You straddle his waist, fitting his hardening cock between the lips of your sex. He bites his lip, eyes focused on the way you rock yourself along his length and despite giving you control of this encounter, his hands land heavy on your hips. His fingers dig in, sliding up to hold onto your breasts, both fingers pinching and stroking at the peaked tips of them in the way he knew you liked, the way he knew would turn your cunt into a fountain of arousal. 

“Use me, girl, do what you need, take your pleasure.” One hand stayed on your breast, the other went to his lips and he dipped his thumb into his mouth, wetting it before sliding it between where the head of his cock peeked out from between your legs and slipped it over your clit. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth, the pain in your throat mingling with the pleasure between your legs. 

You bend forward, pressing your mouth to his with an urgency that claws at your very being. The desperation isn’t just in you though, there’s something of the caged animal in Marcus, a tremble in his fingers when they dig into the meat of your hips that conveys an itch to take control. You need this now though, so with his tongue in your mouth, you lean forward and lift your hips enough to give your hand room to grasp the weeping head of him, and notch it at your soaked entrance. 

It’s almost too much, the way he fills you, the slick head of him almost too deep. His cock twitches and you cannot help but clench around him, your cunt flooding with waves and waves of arousal for him. His hands are charged like the air before a storm, roaming from your thighs, to your hips, up to thumb and strum at your nipples. Moans and whimpers slip out despite the pain in your throat. 

You roll your hips, the pressure against your clit radiates out and the pleasure builds. It makes you frantic, the slip of him inside made all the better with the way you soak his lap. You speed up, chasing the friction and the pleasure just there, despite the burn in your thighs and the sweat beading on your brow with the effort of your movements. 

“That’s it girl, fuck me-” Your stomach drops with the dark thrill of him letting you take, your nipples so sensitive under his thumbs, it’s almost painful. You want to go faster, but you’re losing steam, and you let out a sigh in frustration, pushing past the discomfort. 

“Come, let me give it to you.” His hands slip around your back, and he pulls you forward, so you lie onto his chest folded into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you, fully, holding your arms to your sides so you can do nothing but take, and then he gives. 

He plants his feet, and thrusts up hard, and fast enough to make your mouth fall open in a silent scream. 

“This is how you want it, hard, you want to feel this cock for days don’t you girl?” He grunts out the words, and despite the red, violent haze of his love, you cannot help but marvel at the strength in him. 

“Yes, please Dominus, don’t stop-” It comes out whispery, into the crook of his neck but he shudders all the same, and somehow, he fucks up into you harder. You turn to liquid in his arms, shuddering when the climax hits you hard as a punch to the gut. He lets out a guttural sound, but fucks you through it just the same, drawing out the orgasm until it takes him under. 

He comes hard, rope after rope of his release painting your insides. Hot and messy and it almost makes you purr like a cat.

He lets go, both of you breathing hard, and sticky with the sweat of exertion. 

“Give me a few minutes.” He breathes hard, while you press soft kisses, and kitten licks where the salt of him collects, “I will fuck you again, I am ravenous for you, girl.” His hands reach down, and grab at the meat of your ass and you smile. 

“Yes Dominus.” It doesn’t hurt as much as it did, and you’re sure that by morning, you’ll be right as rain. 

-

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[puppetwoman17]

Magic Billy headcanon coming through!

You know all those comics where magic is taken away from its users? And most of them are really weak or get constant headaches?

Yeah, I decided to crank it up cause Billy full on dies. As in he will drop to the floor and his body becomes a husk. There’s not even a little memory twitch from his fingers. The boy is GONE.

Now, I’m thinking this could be because when someone is chosen to be the Champion, their soul is automatically turned into magic. They’re still a person, but they’re kind of like a puppet. This could be a thing before they’re born, like a destiny sort of thing, or immediately when they speak Shazam’s name the first time.

Whichever ones the case doesn’t matter tho, cause Billy knows it. He feels how different his soul is. This isn’t a commonly known thing tho. No one in the magic community knows this because the details are hush hush.

So imagine, someone(maybe Waller, maybe Luthor, cause apparently anyone can just waltz into the rock 🙄), finds a way to take magic away, whether it’s by subjugation of the rock or some kind of magic suction spell. Doctor Fate wilts in his seat, not able to talk as much. Zatanna, Giovanni, Constantine, Xanadu, Specter, what have you, they all hold their heads and do their best to keep standing up—

Billy falls to the floor. He’s not blinking. He’s not breathing. He’s not speaking. He’s not moving. The boy’s just gone.

Diana falls to the floor to cradle his head in her lap, feeling for a pulse, lightly slapping him to wake him up.

Clark is motionless standing up. He says slowly and with dreading horror:I can’t hear his heartbeat.

This jumps the heroes into a frenzy. The magic users go through the books they have on the Champion; his duties, research on the RoE, etc. There’s nothing on this. Nothing at all.

The rest of the League put him in the medbay immediately, trying to see if there’s anything normal that they can do. But without a heartbeat, their options are limited.

Some time later, they decide to split. A larger team will do what they can to bring Magic back, and the rest will stay at the Watchtower. The magic users already suspect that this has something to do with Magic anyway, so it’s a win win.

It takes a couple days, but magic is returned to its users and the worlds at large. Billy jolts awake in his bed to a bunch of hysterical heroes and his first words are: how’s the Rock?

Yeah, the JL is not happy. They want an explanation. Surprisingly, the magic users do too.

Billy tells them with hesitant eyes, about his soul, about how he is essentially nothing without magic. He is magic, as closely related to the center of it(RoE) as anything else.

Unfortunately, this only seems to aggravate his friends. Now he’s apparently convinced them that he’s a puppet for forces beyond their reach and a slave to the system, which is pretty funny cause he’s already a slave to the foster system and he is, in fact, one of those “forces behind their reach”.

Even the magic users are uneasy about this, which says a lot cause whenever Billy tells the league something hair-raising, they just nod their heads.

Billy is not left alone for the next few weeks. It’s torture.

[junespriince]

Wally: I sit here today because my uncle retired and you guys just dragged me in here, I didn't have a choice. I was working my own city, the Titans, and sometimes helped other heroes and now I have to work here and come to almost daily meetings? How can I get fired? Can marrying your son in Vegas make you let me leave? I want out of this.

Bruce: the dimension overlord said you must be here, we need a speedster or balance will be distributed.

Wally: how about you disturb deez nuts old man. I don't give two donkeys pucks about this "balance" when I'm forced to look at my two biggest enemies all day.

Oliver: I know Barry raised you, but could you have manners kid?

Wally: can you stop getting pegged by my therapist?

Oliver, blushing as if the league doesn't already know this:

Wally: no? Okay, then shut up.

Bruce: this is a bit excessive, West.

Wally: says the guy who fights his ex father in law/enemy shirtless. I don't know about you, but if my son grandfather challenged me to a duel the shirt stays on.

Bruce: how?

Wally: what does "dating your son" mean to you? Self proclaimed greatest detective over here lady and gents, give him some applause for being stupid. Though, with all the smart women you attracted I guess it has it charms to a certain group.

Clark: a lot of sass today, huh?

Wally: and rightly so Mr. Kent—

Clark: kid, you've known me for years and marrying my kid, it's uncle Clark now.

Wally: sir, I was raised my a Midwestern woman, it's sir, ma'am, and whatnot, deal with it. Anyways, it's rightly deserved, I'm losing a lot of precious time spending it here because Gotham's playboy bicycle decided now he'll have a standard and not fix this problem by helping the dimensions asshat get laid. Do you understand how much this cut into my personal life outside of heroing, Bruce?

Bruce: well—

Wally: shut up sir, you don't because unlike you I don't have a son I was blackmailed into adopting that can run the business, no, I'm an average man here working a real job, and trying to make time for my boyfriend. We get it, you're an emo furry with a tragic backstory that makes it hard to emote, well bucko guess what, I had shitty parents, uncle Hal thinks I have no friends, and what else... OH yeah! I was stuck in the speed force trying to get out and everyone I loved stop trying to save me and assumed I was dead. So, fire me!

Bruce, and his ego™: no. Balance needs to be kept.

Wally: I will make you regret this choice.

Both of them glaring at each other:

Diana: well, at least meetings will be interesting.

Hal: in my defense you didn't have friends over when I visited so how was i supposed to know...

Oliver: didn't Barry told you one time to come because Wally was at my house having a sleepover with Roy?

Hal: ... Okay I'mma be so real right now, I heard come over and the rest was white noise.

Wally: ew. I'm right here.

Hal: kid, hush, the adults are talking.

Wally: ... I'm 29, dude bye. I'm done with this. *Gets up and leaves*

Arthur: he has grown up so much.

Bruce, who knows Wally at his worst teen years: yeah, he's gotten worse.

Oliver: so about this fighting shirtless with your ex father in law.

Bruce: so about you getting pegged by our therapist.

Oliver:

Bruce:

Oliver: I hate you.

Bruce: yeah, yeah, love you too idiot.

[sgiandubh]

I've never seen Caitriona act so rude before. Does she hate sitting next to Diana that much?!!!!!!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/claraisabelcampohermoso/764950813192978432/blogger-of-the-day-sleepwakerepeat3

Dear Act So Rude Anon,

Hush, sweet summer child, don't show this very enlightening .gif to BIF & Co., lest they'd have a stroke:

It's fact that moderator was probably the most boring in the history of mankind. And annoying - how could that even be? 🤷‍♀️ So C was displeased and she dismissed her, the exact same way you'd dismiss a gnat, or something.

Btw, I think it has little to do with 'Erself (who is her own, one of a kind, unsufferable Self), and much to do with S and the distance between the two musical chairs, that suddenly shrank.

I wonder why, Anon: we all know (probably because we have been told so, until we got the trots) - THEY CANNOT STAND EACH OTHER, NEVER COULD.

[lady-ace]

Injustice Spectre

(Injustice Ghost, Part 3. Heads up for general injustice stuff. I spent a while researching some characters, so i hope this won't be too OOC.)

The soul haunting the watchtower was appearing more and more frequently, though seemingly too shy to approach.

The little boy, who's name nobody knew (as he didn't tell anyone, and everybody didn't want to ask), was nicknamed 'Little Warrior' by Diana after they met. Little Warrior was, for some reason, less hesitant to approach Diana than all the others, especially Clark. Everyone could noticed how the spirit would startle whenever Clark made sudden moves, or how he would flinch if he came too close.

They decided not to question it.

The boy was also starting to speak to them more often, something that brought the superheroes joy. Even though the ghost didn't speak too much, he always tried to help. More than once he was caught floating around the kitchen, baking something for them, be it cookies, cupcakes or sometimes even pies.

/ / /

Some time later, Dinah was heading to the recreation room of the watchtower after a long day of watch duty, and spotted the TV on.

The lights of said room were off, only the brightness of the TV was lightning up the place, giving away that someone was sitting in front of the TV, watching it.

Dinah couldn't help but watch curiously as the mysterious 'Watchtower Ghost' sat in front of the screen, watching the news with what she assumed must be a longing look.

The news that day were nothing special, just announcing that it was generally peaceful all round, with the occasional news that a rogue was caught thrown in.

'I can't disturb him' is what she decided on after seeing the boy hugging his knees, looking up from the floor to see what the news that day would tell him about the world.

She left quietly, leaving the phantom to his thoughts.

/ / /

Everyone was worried for Captain Marvel, magic users moreso. The hunt for Circe was long, and the visits to the watchtower were brief or even inexistent (in the other two remaining Marvels case, they refused to rest until they found Cap), searching nonstop for the witch who was believed to be responsible for the world's mightiest mortal's disappearance.

It was a call that gave Diana, the only on-duty and available hero at the moment, the information that the hunt was over.

“We found Circe.”

Constantine uttered from the other side of the call.

“She's in a abandoned warehouse in Fawcett.”

Zatanna adds, whispering as well.

“We're waiting on the ceiling, a part of it gave away.”

This time, it was Captain Marvel Jr's voice.

“Hurry, please.”

Mary Marvel murmured, a note of urgency clear in her voice.

“On the way.”

Was the princess' response, as he sprinted away to the zetas, leaving for Fawcett as fast as she could.

As the Zeta started and Diana went in, the ghost, still invisible at her side at the Zeta, smiled.

“I can finally see them again.”

Little Warrior thought, the scenery of the watchtower now gone, and in its place only the vision of Fawcett's streets remained.

/ / /

“Do you see the runes a little better there?”

Mary asks Zatanna and Constantine —who were on the other side of the old warehouse's destroyed roof— with the league communicator. She's hiding with Freddy in the part of the roof that's front facing Circe, meanwhile Zatanna and Constantine were on the other side, trying to take a better look at the runes, and what could they mean.

“No, but i swear this bloody circle is a locating spell of some kind.”

Came Constantine's hushed response. The symbols and runes on the ground all around Circe glowed a vibrant pink, contrasting against the darkness of the warehouse. Circe seemed to be reading her grimoire, of which floated in front of her, probably trying to add the finishing touches to whatever spell she was trying to perform.

“Can you try to read the page she's on without being spotted?”

Freddy suggested, and Mary agreed with his idea, nodding at him. It could be risky, as to be spotted would lead to an fight without Wonder Woman as backup, but it could also lead to a major advantage of knowing what the witch was trying to do, making them have the upper hand.

“I could try, i’m not really sure. It's a bit far away.”

Zatanna answered, peeking a bit over her hiding spot to try and see what Circe was looking at her grimoire.

“..It's supposed to track something. Yeah, you were right.”

Zatanna agreed, now retreating back to her hiding spot.

Just then, the brief click of two golden boots sounded behind Mary and Freddy. Wonder Woman has arrived.

Circe, on the ground, seemed to jolt, her grimoire shutting closed suddenly, and her head snapping towards Diana.

“Shit, our cover's blown.”

Freddy hissed, looking at Diana. How has Circe already seen her? She came so silently, too!

Diana shook her head as Circe grinned from where she stood.

“Aw, the little princess came out to play? How gracious of you.”

Circe commented, now looking at Diana as if daring her to come fight.

“I'm going down.”

Is the warning they got, as the amazon dropped down from the rooftops and in front of Circe, who opened a portal where the grimoire flew into, before closing.

There was an audible sigh from the other side of the communicator — No doubt coming from the british sorcerer — as he, too, dropped down the rooftop he was hiding in, along with Zatanna, who dropped not too long after.

“It's just the two of us,“

Mary noted, meeting her brother's gaze.

“Ready to find out where's Billy?”

Freddy smiled.

“Hell yeah.”

They both dropped down in the same time, and now, Circe was surrounded.

“Never fighting me all alone, are you, princess?”

Circe snarked, summoning magic that enveloped some debris nearby, turning it into a mighty bear, who growled as it leaped in her defense.

“Let's see how you like it when i even the numbers.”

Once again, more debris got transformed into other animals — a wolf, a tiger, and a goat— all of which launched themselves in the sorceress' defense.

And so, the fight began.

Zatanna and Constantine held the wolf and the goat back, meanwhile Mary and Freddy fought the tiger.

The feline jumped at Jr, trying to claw him, as he dodged and punched back.

The predator was thrown back by the force, giving Mary the opportunity to make a small bolt of lightning hit it. It growled in pain, running towards Mary this time, leaping at her with arms open, claws out and jaws ready to clamp down and bite.

It didn't get the chance, as both of the Marvel siblings punched it square in the chest, the magical animal falling down, becoming debris once again.

The siblings looked up just in time to see Zatanna and Constantine finishing off their own foes with energy blasts, as they, too, became normal debris.

All that remained was Circe and Diana.

Diana lauched a kick at Circe who dodged expertly, pink magic swarming her hands as she shot a beam of magical energy at the demi-godess, who reeled back at the attack, but went in again.

Both of them continued to trade blows, until the other four of Diana's teammates came out on top of their battles.

They all surrounded the sorceress again, until the runes on the ground suddenly grew brighter, a small, pink light shot off the runes, going towards something behind Wonder Woman.

Circe's grin grew.

“Would you look at that? The princess decided to give me a gift. Why, thank you!”

She said, with an amused tone. The others all looked behind Diana, only to see..

It was a ghost.

No normal ghost, Billy's ghost.

He floated in place, as the pink light circled him, giving away his location. It was clear the spirit was trying to be invisible but couldn't, his hands grasping at his hoodie anxiously.

For a moment, everything was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“BILLY!”

Came Mary's scream, as she rushed to her twin's side, ignoring Circe and the looks of surprise on the faces of the others present. (Except for Freddy, he, too, rushed to the spirit's side.)

“What happened to you?”

She gasped, looking at the spirit of her brother who was looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“M-Mary?”

Came her twin's croaked response, as blood pooled on the corners of his would-be eyes.

The only thing that stopped her from fussing any longer was the voice that came behind her, snapping her back to reality.

“They lead what i wanted right back to me. Isn't that just sweet?”

Circe declared, looking as smug as the cat who got the rat.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

Mary demanded, her voice booming as all the rage she kept for the sorceress who kept her twin away from her boiled within her.

The witch had the guts to giggle at her.

“And why would i tell you that?”

She taunted, and before she could blink, both Marvels were upon her.

She couldn't almost get a single spell in with the barrage of punches and kicks the siblings were dealing, the speed of mercury proving to be way too fast, even for her.

When she finally got to make a magic shield to distance them from her, it was almost immediatly broken, and she was face to face with the amazon.

“The lasso.”

Jr mentioned, looking at the Amazon.

“We need to know how to bring him back to normal.”

Diana nodded, as the Marvels went in again, this time trying to hold Circe still while Zatanna and Constantine helped.

Not soon after, the lasso of truth was upon Circe.

“What did you do to him!?”

Mary growled at the sorceress, who struggled against the lasso, even as it burned her.

The ghost floated closer, now on Mary's and Freddy's side.

“I switched him with an alternative self.”

Is the response she came with, clearly still trying to not tell anything of value.

“Why did you do it?”

Freddy was the one asking this time, looking at Circe as if challenging her to lie to him, even though she physically couldn't.

“He's a version of the champion who has weakenned ties to his patrons and cannot support the living lightining, he's basically a foutain of divine magic waiting to be grabbed.”

Circe hissed, still struggling against the lasso of truth.

“Champion?”

Escaped Diana, in surprise. The only person who she saw being referred to as that was..

“Captain Marvel. Shazam's and the gods' chosen.”

Circe snarked, looking at the surprise in the amazonian princess' eyes as she looked at the ghost she'd come to know.

“Little brother?”

Her voice had a slight waver to it, and the ghost flinched back at the nickname, and tried to almost fold into himself to seem smaller than he already was.

“How do we reverse this?”

Mary started the interrogation again, staring at Circe with hate.

Circe laughed. Laughed as if this was all a game, and she won.

“That's simple. You don't.”

Is her answer, with a tone of finality. As if she was certain.

...and the lasso allows no lies.

“The spell can only be reversed by the one who casted it, and i am never. NEVER. Reversing it.”

Circe grinned at them, she grinned happily and smugly and how Mary wanted to punch that stupid grin right off her face—

Billy put his hand on her arm.

He looked at her like she was a precious gem he'd lost, and was sure would never be found again, and yet—

“Mary?”

The ghost of her brother looked at her and then at Circe. Mary was sure she must have looked downright murderous after Circe's comment. She didn't want to think how she must have scared Billy.

“Stop, please?”

Billy asked, and it broke her heart. This really was and wasn't her brother. Even as a ghost, he doesn't want Mary to kill Circe. Mary could have laughed at this, yet, she couldn't bring herself to.

Mary wordlessly looked up to see Freddy and with his knowing gaze (he knew, he understood.) and the others, concerned, sad, surprised.

“..We'll bring her to the watchtower's cells. We'll find a way to bring Marvel back.”

Said Zatanna, breaking the silence, opening a portal and going in along with Constantine and Wonder Woman, who looked back a bit before entering.

This wasn't going to be easy.

/ / /

Grief was a weird thing.

The brother Mary knew was gone. Off to another universe.

But, at the same time, he was here, in hers.

The spirit of his brother, who came from a fucked up version of reality where Superman became a dictator and the league became the supreme power to rule the earth, killing those who opposed them.

Mary knew it must be as weird to Billy as it is for her to come to terms that this isn't technically my sibling.

They both lost their siblings unexpectally. Neither of them got to say their goodbyes. To hug their twin.

One moment, they were there. The next, they weren't.

Mary still couldn't bare to see herself in the mirrors when de-transformed (regrettably, it also hurts sometimes seeing Billy, knowing her twin from her universe is gone and will be gone forever) to the point both her and Billy agreed to cover up all mirrors.

It was more than weird just.. losing your twin. Just like that, you won't ever see them again.

...

Mary talked to Billy again.

It was a bit comforting to have someone who knows what you're going through.

He lost his Mary. As she had lost her Billy.

He was not my universes' Billy, but he was still my brother, my twin.

Is what Mary decided.

Billy is not replacing her lost brother, just as she isn't replacing his lost sister.

But they could still be family.

/ / /

It turned out, even though Billy couldn't transform into Cap anymore, he still wanted to be a hero.

“I want to help. I NEED to help. I did too much damage already.”

He still had the gods' blessings, just a little bit weaker. He could still fight for what was right—for a better tomorrow, for a better world— with his family by his side.

And thus, Marvel Eido was born. (from the greek word Eidolon, meaning ghost, phantom or apparition.)

The brand new member of the Marvel family, coming from another universe.

(And that is it! This last part fought me all the way. I might make an 'extra' scene/oneshot and maybe elaborate more on why Circe switched Billy with Injustice Billy, but, as of right now, this will be it. Thanks for reading! :) )

[simpingforheros]

Guide

Fluff - 💗

Hurt/Comfort - ❤️‍🩹

Angst - 💀

Spicy but Not Smut- 🥵

Smut - 🔥

Dark - ⛓️

Disclaimer: While I do my best to label any and all trigger warnings in my posts, I would like ask that yall take a good look at any warnings before you read anything online. Minors DNI as I intend for all my stories, whether NSFW and Dark or Fluffy and SFW, to be for an 18+ audience. While I do my part as the writer to accurately give trigger warnings and label my content appropriately, please be conscious of the triggers and take care of yourselves.

Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Bring Me To Life (Arkham Knight! Jason Todd X Female! Reader) 💀❤️‍🩹⛓️ (One Shot, either a future series or rewritten someday)

Corruptions (Arkham Knighy! Jason Todd X Female! Reader) 💗❤️‍🩹🔥⛓️ (part two to Bring me to Life)

Jason Todd Headcanons 1 💗🔥⛓️

Jason's Girl ?? (Jason Todd x Female! Reader) 🔥💗

Jason’s Wife?! (Jason Todd X Female! Reader) (part 2 to Jason’s Girl??)🔥💗

Gifted with Love (Jason Todd x Female! Reader)🥵💗

You Belong to Me (Hush! Jason Todd X Female! Reader) (Coming soon)

Safe (Gotham Knights! Jason Todd X Female! Reader) ❤️‍🩹💀

Blurb 1 🥵

Barbara Gordon

Clark Kent

Conner Kent

Diana Prince

Cole Cash

Oliver Queen

Dinah Lance/Queen

Roy Harper

Lay All Your Love On Me (Roy Harper x Single Mom! Female! Reader) 💗🥵 ((coming soon))

Barry Allen

Wally West

Martian Manhunter

Starfire

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Bruce Banner

Natasha Romanoff

Sam Wilson

Clint Barton

Bucky Barnes

Yelena Belova

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Wade Wilson

Eddie Brock

Logan Howlett

Miguel O’Hara

Sunny X Miggy Series (Grumpy! Miguel O’Hara X Sunshine! Reader) 💗❤️‍🩹 (Retired series from old account)

Bi-Han

Moonlight Lies ( Bi-Han X Female! Reader) 💀🔥 ((coming soon))

Noob Saibot

Hanzo Hasashi (not the child)

Kuai Liang

Tomas Vrbada

Clearing the Smoke (Tomas ‘Smoke’ Vrbada X Female! Reader) 💗🔥❤️‍🩹💀 ((coming soon))

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Takeda Takahashi

Kung Lao

Raiden

Liu Kang

Shang Tsung

Reptile

Ashrah

Sindel

Mileena

Kitana

Tanya

Li Mei

Cyrax

Sektor

[muiitoloko]

Is there a sequel for “who are you” (Lionel and reader)? I feel like you could explore more that plot

Title: The Lion's Lair

Summary: Lionel’s carefully controlled world begins to crumble as a seemingly ordinary woman sparks a fire he cannot extinguish.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: It took me a bit, but I finally cranked out a second chapter for this series! Now, just sit tight and prepare to wait another thousand years before the next one drops 😅.

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Lionel spent the next few days in a state of restless unease, unable to shake the memory of your encounter and the strange, unexplainable connection he felt toward you. It gnawed at him, keeping him awake at night, haunting his thoughts during the day. The vision of your smile, the touch of your hand, the whisper of the name "Richard" all played in a loop in his mind, teasing him with a truth just out of reach.

Determined to uncover the source of this unsettling familiarity, Lionel began to investigate you with the same relentless precision he applied to his business dealings. He had his personal assistant, a sharp and efficient woman named Diana, discreetly look into your background. She quickly discovered that you were a student working multiple jobs to make ends meet, including waitressing and delivering pizzas. But beyond that, there was nothing remarkable, no hidden connections or secrets that could explain the intense reaction Lionel had to you.

Still, Lionel couldn’t let it go. He found himself visiting the places where you worked, always keeping a discreet distance. He didn't approach you, didn't even speak to you. He simply watched, trying to decipher the mystery you represented. It was unlike him to be so fixated on anyone, let alone someone as ordinary as a pizza delivery girl. Yet, the more he saw you, the more convinced he became that you were anything but ordinary.

One evening, unable to sleep, Lionel sat in his study, the room dimly lit by the flickering flames in the fireplace. He sipped a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid burning a trail down his throat, but doing little to ease the tension coiled inside him. He stared into the flames, his mind drifting back to that moment in the rain, when you had knelt beside him, shielding him from the downpour with your coat. The memory was so vivid, so powerful, that it made his chest tighten with a longing he couldn't explain.

As the fire crackled softly, Lionel found himself whispering your name, his voice hushed, as if afraid to give voice to the feelings churning within him. "Who are you, really?" he muttered to himself, frustration lacing his tone. He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the liquid burning his throat as he set the glass down with a heavy thud.

The room seemed to close in on him, the silence oppressive. Lionel pushed himself out of his chair, pacing the length of the study, his thoughts racing. He was a man of action, used to taking control of every situation, yet this...this was different. You were different. And he hated the way you made him feel so unmoored, so vulnerable.

With a frustrated growl, Lionel ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots in an attempt to clear his mind. "This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself. "You're acting like a lovesick fool, Lionel."

But no matter how much he tried to dismiss it, the truth was undeniable. He was drawn to you, inexplicably, irresistibly. And it terrified him.

Lionel picked up the phone with a determined grip, his fingers hovering over the keypad for a moment before he dialed the number for the pizzeria. The familiar chime of the ringing line did nothing to calm the restless energy coiled in his chest. He inhaled sharply, trying to compose himself, but his heart continued to race as he waited.

"Giovanni's Pizza, how can I help you?" a cheerful voice answered on the other end, the sounds of the bustling kitchen in the background.

"Yes, I'd like to order a pizza for delivery," Lionel said, his tone betraying none of the tension he felt. He quickly scanned the menu in his mind, though it hardly mattered what he chose. His true focus was on who would be bringing it.

"Sure thing! What would you like?" the person asked, a touch of enthusiasm in their voice.

Lionel hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then rattled off an order. "I'll have a Margherita pizza, extra cheese, with a side of garlic bread."

"Great choice! And the address?"

He recited his address, the penthouse suite in one of London's most exclusive buildings, his voice steady despite the anticipation building within him.

"Your order should be there in about thirty minutes," the employee informed him. "Thank you for choosing Giovanni's!"

Lionel ended the call, his hand lingering on the phone for a moment as he stared at the screen, lost in thought. He knew the chances of you being the one to deliver his pizza were slim—after all, it could be anyone on the delivery roster that night. But he couldn’t shake the feeling, the hope, that it would be you.

Pacing the length of his opulent living room, Lionel’s mind raced with possibilities. What would he say if it was you at his door? How could he explain his sudden interest, his relentless need to unravel the mystery that surrounded you? He had never felt so uncertain, so completely out of his depth. And yet, there was a thrill in the uncertainty, a challenge he found himself eager to face.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, each second dragging out longer than the last. Lionel poured himself another glass of whiskey, sipping it slowly as he tried to calm his nerves. But the fiery liquid did little to ease the tension that gripped him. His mind kept drifting back to that brief moment in the rain, the way your hand had felt in his, the way your voice had soothed the storm raging inside him.

Finally, the intercom buzzed, jolting Lionel from his thoughts. He crossed the room in two quick strides, his heart pounding in his chest. He pressed the button to answer, his voice steady as he spoke. "Yes?"

"Pizza delivery for Mr. Shahbandar," came the reply, and Lionel felt a jolt of recognition at the sound of your voice.

It was you.

For a moment, he was frozen, caught between the desire to act and the uncertainty of how to proceed. But the moment passed quickly, and Lionel composed himself, a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

"Come on up," he replied smoothly, pressing the button to unlock the door. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he moved to stand by the door, his mind racing with the possibilities of what might happen next.

As the elevator hummed to life and began its ascent, Lionel took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions get the better of him—not when you were so close, not when he had finally found a way to see you again.

You stood in the elevator, the soft hum of the machinery barely audible above the pounding of your heart. The polished walls reflected your image back at you—damp hair from the rain, a few stray drops still clinging to your jacket, and eyes wide with confusion. You had just delivered dozens of pizzas that night, but none had made you as anxious as this one. Why would Lionel Shahbandar, of all people, order from Giovanni’s? Was this just a strange coincidence?

You quickly dismissed the latter. Shahbandar wasn’t the type to crave late-night pizza deliveries from a small, unassuming pizzeria. He was a billionaire, after all. Men like him didn’t eat pizza—they dined at five-star restaurants where even a simple Margherita was a gourmet experience. You snorted at the absurdity of the situation, the sound of your own laughter comforting you somewhat as the elevator slowed to a stop.

But then, if it wasn’t hunger, what was it? Had he wanted to see you again? Maybe he wanted to thank you for what you did in the rain, though that seemed unlikely. Lionel Shahbandar didn’t strike you as the kind of man who indulged in gratitude or even acknowledged help from someone he considered beneath him. You chewed on your lip, trying to reconcile the image of the powerful tycoon with the vulnerable man you’d seen that day on the street.

The elevator beeped, breaking your train of thought as the doors slid open. You straightened your shoulders, holding the pizza box a little tighter as you stepped out into the opulent hallway. Thick, plush carpet muffled your footsteps, and the scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air. Everything about this place screamed wealth and power—two things Lionel Shahbandar undoubtedly possessed in spades.

You reached his door and hesitated for a moment before raising your hand to knock. Before you could make contact, the door swung open, revealing Lionel standing in the doorway, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His sharp features were softened by the dim light of the hallway, but the mischievous glint in his eyes remained unmistakable.

"Good evening," he said, his baritone voice smooth and deliberate. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his hooked nose casting a slight shadow over his face. "I see my pizza has arrived."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. It wasn’t the voice of a man simply accepting a delivery—it was the voice of someone who was in control, who knew exactly what he was doing. You forced yourself to remain composed, offering him a polite nod as you extended the pizza box toward him.

"Here you go, Mr. Shahbandar," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Your Margherita pizza, extra cheese."

He took the box from you, but instead of stepping back to let you leave, he lingered in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you. "You seem surprised," he observed, tilting his head slightly. "I take it you didn’t expect a man like me to order pizza?"

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The truth was, you weren’t impressed by the grandeur or the man before you. If anything, you were more confused by his actions, by this odd encounter. So, you decided to be honest, even if it meant risking his disapproval.

"To be honest, no," you admitted, your voice steady. "I wouldn’t have pegged you as a pizza guy, especially not from a place like Giovanni’s."

Lionel’s smirk deepened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, but perhaps I’m full of surprises," he mused, his tone teasing. "Or maybe, just maybe, I was in the mood for something a bit more... down to earth."

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his attempt at charm. "Or maybe you just wanted to see me again," you countered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Lionel’s expression didn’t falter, but you noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or curiosity. "You’re quite perceptive," he remarked, his voice softening slightly. "And maybe you’re right. Maybe I did want to see you again. Is that such a terrible thing?"

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Lionel Shahbandar wasn’t a man who admitted things easily, and the fact that he had said it so openly left you momentarily speechless. You shifted your weight, suddenly feeling the awkwardness of the situation. What were you supposed to say to a billionaire who might have just admitted to being intrigued by you?

"Well," you began, trying to find your footing, "I guess that depends on why you wanted to see me."

Lionel’s gaze didn’t waver. "I wanted to thank you," he said, surprising you again with his candor. "For what you did the other day, in the rain. I’m not used to people helping me, let alone someone like you."

There was something in the way he said those last words—someone like you—that made you bristle. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or the implication, but it didn’t sit well with you. You crossed your arms, giving him a steady look.

"Someone like me?" you repeated, a challenge in your voice.

Lionel seemed to realize his mistake, and for a moment, he looked almost apologetic. "I didn’t mean it that way," he said quickly. "I just meant... you didn’t have to do what you did. Most people wouldn’t have."

You relaxed slightly, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook completely. "Maybe," you replied. "But I did, and you don’t owe me anything for it. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other, the tension thick in the air. You could see that Lionel was used to getting his way, to bending people to his will with nothing more than a smile and a few well-placed words. But you weren’t impressed, and you weren’t about to let him charm his way out of this.

Finally, Lionel let out a small, resigned sigh, nodding his head slightly. "Fair enough," he conceded. "But if you ever find yourself in need of anything—a favor, a job, anything—don’t hesitate to ask."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture even if you weren’t sure you’d ever take him up on it. "Thanks," you said simply. "But I think I’ve got it covered."

With that, you turned to leave, but Lionel’s voice stopped you just as you reached the elevator. "By the way," he called out, "you never answered my question."

You turned back to him, frowning slightly. "What question?"

He gave you a sly smile, the kind that made you think he was always a few steps ahead. "Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice low and almost conspiratorial.

You hesitated, unsure of what he meant. But then, you remembered that strange feeling of familiarity, of warmth, when you’d touched his hand. The same feeling that had left you so unsettled.

Instead of answering, you just gave him a small, knowing smile before stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, you caught one last glimpse of Lionel Shahbandar, standing in his opulent hallway with a curious expression on his face—an expression that told you this wasn’t the last time you’d be seeing him.

You pressed the button to go down, the soft hum of the elevator beginning its descent. The momentary relief of leaving Lionel's presence was interrupted when the elevator suddenly halted, the doors sliding open once again. Your eyes widened in surprise as Lionel Shahbandar stepped into the small, enclosed space with you. He carried a casual air about him, but there was something in the way he moved—an unspoken confidence that made you instantly alert.

You couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of apprehension, a natural reaction to being alone in such close quarters with a man you barely knew. Lionel seemed to notice your unease, his sharp eyes catching the brief flicker of uncertainty that crossed your face. Yet, instead of addressing it, he offered you one of his signature mischievous smiles, as if daring you to relax in his presence.

The doors slid shut behind him, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft whir of the elevator as it resumed its descent. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep your gaze focused anywhere but on the man standing so casually beside you.

"You seemed in a bit of a hurry to leave," Lionel remarked, his tone teasing. "Were you planning on charging me for that pizza, or was it a gift?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized you had completely forgotten to take his payment. You glanced at him, trying to gauge whether he was mocking you or simply making light of the situation. His expression was amused, but not unkind.

"I—uh—I forgot," you admitted, your voice a little flustered. "That was my mistake."

Lionel let out a soft, rumbling laugh, the sound of it vibrating through the confined space of the elevator. "Not every day I get free pizza," he mused, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

You took off your pizza bag and opened it, pulling out the receipt and handing it to Lionel. He glanced at it, his expression casual as he reached into his wallet. Without much thought, he handed you more than what was listed, his voice smooth as he said, "Keep the change. Consider it a tip for a job well done."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. His nonchalance made it clear that the amount was nothing to him, but it still felt strange to accept such a generous tip from someone like Lionel Shahbandar. Still, you thanked him politely, tucking the money into your pocket.

As you turned to put your backpack back on, the elevator suddenly jolted, throwing you off balance. The lights flickered and then went out completely, plunging you both into darkness. You barely had time to process what was happening before you let out a sharp scream, instinctively reaching for the nearest object to steady yourself—Lionel.

"Bloody hell!" Lionel cursed as you wrapped your arms around him, your fear evident in the way you clung to him. He could feel your rapid breaths against his neck, the way your fingers dug into his shoulders as if you were trying to anchor yourself. He was used to being in control, always composed, but the sudden darkness and your panicked grip on him sent a jolt of something unexpected through him.

"Relax," he said, his voice a low, soothing rumble in the confined space. "It's just a power outage."

But you didn’t seem to hear him, your mind too consumed by the fear that had taken hold of you. Elevators were one of your biggest anxieties, and being trapped in one with no light and no idea of when it might start moving again was pushing you to the brink.

"Hey," Lionel’s voice was closer now, the warmth of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine. "It’s okay. I’m here."

You cursed under your breath, hating the situation and hating even more that you were forced to rely on this man, this stranger who seemed to exude control in every aspect of his life. The last thing you wanted was to be vulnerable in front of him, but your fear left you with little choice.

"I hate elevators," you muttered, your voice shaky as you tried to steady your breathing.

Lionel chuckled softly, his hands moving to rest gently on your arms, as if to reassure you. "You don’t say," he teased lightly, though his tone held a hint of concern. "Well, I can promise you that nothing bad will happen while I’m here."

There was something in his voice, that mix of mischief and genuine reassurance, that made you want to believe him. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of trust in him, something you hadn’t expected. The darkness pressed in around you both, heightening the tension, and you were acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies—the way your chest pressed against his chest, the strength of his hands as they held you, the heat radiating from him.

"I’m not letting go," you whispered, a mixture of defiance and fear in your voice. "Not until the lights come back on."

Lionel’s breath hitched slightly at the closeness, and he couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips. "I wouldn’t dream of asking you to," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down your spine. "Besides, I quite enjoy having you this close."

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and despite the fear still gnawing at you, his words sparked something else—something more primal. You were aware of the intimacy of the moment, how your bodies were pressed together in the dark, how his breath warmed the side of your neck.

You scoffed lightly, feeling the absurdity of the situation despite the darkness enveloping you both. “I bet you enjoy any woman clinging to you like this,” you remarked, your voice tinged with both annoyance and a hint of amusement. The words were meant to deflect, to take control of a moment that felt increasingly out of your hands.

Lionel didn’t disagree. You could almost hear the smirk in his voice when he replied, “Well, I’m not usually one to complain.” His baritone voice, rich and smooth, carried a warmth that made your stomach flip, despite your best efforts to resist his charm.

But before you could respond, the elevator jolted again, this time with more force. You gasped, your body tensing as you instinctively buried your face against his shoulder. The fear you had tried to suppress surged back with full force, your breath catching in your throat as the darkness seemed to close in around you.

Lionel’s hold on you tightened. “Hey, it’s alright,” he murmured, his voice a calm anchor in the sea of your rising panic. His hands moved soothingly along your arms, trying to steady you, but it wasn’t enough. The fear was too strong, too overwhelming. You couldn’t focus on his words, couldn’t stop the spiral of anxiety tightening its grip around your heart.

And then, in a sudden shift, Lionel’s voice turned sharp, almost commanding. “Quiet,” he growled into your ear, the word rolling out with a mixture of irritation and authority.

The command caught you off guard, freezing you in place. It wasn’t just the tone—it was the familiarity of it, the way it seemed to cut through the fog of panic like a knife. For a moment, you couldn’t understand why you obeyed him, why the mere sound of his voice made you still. But something about it felt... known, as if he’d spoken to you like this before, in another time, another place. The sensation filled you with irritation, a flicker of defiance sparking to life within you. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to disobey him.

The tension between you was palpable, thickening the air inside the cramped elevator. Lionel’s body was warm against yours, his breath hot against the side of your neck. The command had done something—had shifted the dynamic in a way that made your pulse race, not just from fear but from something far more primal. You felt the heat of his hand as it slid down your back, his fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, holding you close.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spoke again, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Good girl,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine, not of fear, but of something darker, something you couldn’t quite name.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm chaotic and erratic. You wanted to pull away, to break the hold he had over you, but the dark intimacy of the moment rooted you to the spot. The elevator was a world unto itself, a small, confined space where nothing existed but the two of you and the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

You clenched your hands against the front of his shirt, your knuckles brushing against the hard muscles of his chest. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, heady and intoxicating, mingling with the warmth of his skin. You hated the way your body responded to him, the way the proximity made you hyper-aware of every movement, every breath, every beat of your own heart.

“Why does that sound so familiar?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, the question slipping out before you could stop it. The words were laden with confusion, with a strange, unsettling sense of déjà vu that you couldn’t shake.

Lionel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You felt the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled beneath his clothes as if he were holding himself back from something, from some unspoken impulse. His nose brushed against your cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from your ear. “Because,” he said, his voice husky and low, “I think we’ve done this before.”

The words sent a shockwave through you, a jolt of recognition that left you breathless. The way he said it, the certainty in his tone, made something click into place deep inside you. It wasn’t just the fear that had you holding on to him—it was something far deeper, something that went beyond logic or reason. A connection, ancient and powerful, that neither of you fully understood but both of you felt.

Your fingers tightened their grip on his shirt, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The elevator was still and silent now, the earlier jolts having subsided, but the atmosphere between you was anything but calm. The silence stretched, heavy and charged with unspoken words, with the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you.

Lionel’s grip on your neck tightened, just enough to make you aware of it, to remind you of the power he held in that moment. But he didn’t push, didn’t force the issue. Instead, he simply held you there, close and tense, as if waiting for something—for you to make a move, for you to break the tension that had been building between you since the moment the lights went out.

But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. Because, despite everything, despite the confusion and the fear, there was a part of you that didn’t want to. A part of you that craved the closeness, the intensity of the moment, even as it scared you. You wanted to push him away, to regain your composure, but the truth was, you were just as trapped by your own emotions as you were by the darkened elevator.

Lionel leaned back slightly, just enough to bring his face level with yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, warm and inviting, but he didn’t close the distance. He didn’t kiss you, didn’t break that final barrier. Instead, he waited, watching you with those sharp, calculating eyes, the ones that always seemed to see too much, to know too much.

The tension was unbearable, a heavy weight pressing down on both of you. You could feel it in the way your heart raced, in the way your breathing hitched, in the way your body reacted to his presence, even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to stop whatever was happening before it went too far.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breath as you felt Lionel's presence so close, almost suffocating. "If I'd ever been with a billionaire," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'd definitely remember."

Your breath mingled with his, the air between you thick with tension. Lionel’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing your words, trying to decipher the layers of meaning beneath them. His hooked nose cast a slight shadow over his face, making his expression seem even more intense.

"So what is it then?" Lionel whispered back, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "This connection between us… Is it just a figment of our imaginations? Or is it something more?"

You resisted the urge to step back, to create space between the two of you. But in the confined darkness of the elevator, there was nowhere to go. His hand on the back of your neck was firm, possessive, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

"Maybe it’s destiny," Lionel suggested, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. "Maybe we were meant to find each other."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head despite the heat radiating between your bodies. "Destiny?" you scoffed, the skepticism clear in your voice. "That’s bullshit. I don’t believe in that sort of thing."

Lionel’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker. "So cynical," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against the nape of your neck, sending an unbidden thrill through you. "But if it’s not destiny, then what is it? Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we’ve only just met?"

You didn’t have an answer for him, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. The way he spoke, the confidence in his voice, as if he was certain that there was more to this than just chance, made you uneasy. But you refused to let him see that. You were determined to hold your ground, to show him that you weren’t someone who could be easily swayed by his charm, his wealth, or his words.

"I don’t know what this is," you admitted, your voice low and measured, "but I do know that I don’t believe in fairy tales or fate. Life’s too messy for that."

Lionel’s grip on your neck tightened just slightly, enough to make you aware of it, to remind you of the power he held in that moment. His breath was hot against your skin, and you could feel the tension in his body, coiled tight like a predator waiting to strike.

"Messy," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of disdain. "Yes, life is messy. But sometimes, the mess leads to something... worthwhile."

You scoffed, refusing to be drawn in by his smooth words. "Or it just leads to more mess," you countered, your tone sharp. "You might be used to getting what you want, Lionel, but I’m not something you can just… acquire."

His eyes darkened at your words, a flicker of something dangerous flashing through them. For a moment, the air between you crackled with unresolved tension, the heat of it almost unbearable. But instead of backing down, Lionel leaned in closer, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from yours, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.

"Who said anything about acquiring?" he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Maybe I just want to understand why you’re different. Why you’re the first woman in a long time who hasn’t fallen at my feet."

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and it ignited a spark of defiance in you. You refused to be another notch on his belt, another conquest in his long line of lovers. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the pull between you, the way your body responded to his nearness, to his voice, to the intensity of his gaze.

"I’m not here to entertain your curiosity," you replied, your voice steady even as your heart raced. "And I’m not interested in playing your games."

Lionel’s smirk returned, but there was a hardness to it now, a hint of frustration mingling with the desire in his eyes. "You think this is a game?" he asked, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "Because if it is, it’s one I’ve never played before. You’re not like the others, and that makes you... interesting."

His words hung in the air between you, laden with meaning you weren’t sure you wanted to unpack. But before you could respond, the elevator jolted again, the lights flickering back on as it resumed its descent. The sudden brightness was almost blinding after the darkness, and you blinked rapidly, your grip on Lionel loosening as the tension was momentarily broken.

He stepped back, his hand sliding from your neck to rest briefly on your shoulder before he let go completely. The look in his eyes was still intense, but there was a flicker of something else there too—something that made your heart skip a beat.

"We’re not done, you and I," Lionel said quietly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Not by a long shot."

You didn’t respond, couldn’t find the words as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the lobby. You stepped out quickly, eager to put some distance between yourself and the man who had so thoroughly unsettled you.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Lionel Shahbandar was right. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You put on your pizza backpack and walked quickly to your motorcycle, shaking your head in confusion. The tension in the elevator still clung to you, wrapping around your thoughts like a stubborn fog that refused to lift. As you reached your motorcycle, you grabbed your helmet, fitting it snugly over your head. You couldn’t help but mutter to yourself, “Damn destiny… as if that even exists.”

You scoffed at the idea that Lionel Shahbandar might be anything other than a calculating, smooth-talking tycoon, a man who knew how to get what he wanted—whether it was a rare piece of art or a woman. You could easily imagine him saying those same words to countless others, each time with that same mischievous glint in his eye. The notion that he might have somehow stopped the elevator just to create that charged moment crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. “He’s the type who’d do anything for a thrill,” you muttered, shaking off the remnants of the encounter.

With a firm twist of your wrist, you started the bike, the familiar rumble of the engine grounding you as you pulled away from the luxury building. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening under the dim glow of streetlights. You weaved through the quiet city, your thoughts still churning.

You weren’t impressed by Lionel Shahbandar. Sure, he had that air of power and confidence that might make others swoon, but to you, it was just a facade. Beneath the charm and the wealth, you knew there was a man who thought he could manipulate anyone into doing what he wanted, someone who was used to getting his way with a wink and a well-timed compliment.

The further you got from his opulent world, the clearer your thoughts became. You weren’t just another woman for him to add to his collection, and you certainly weren’t about to let him get under your skin. The night air whipped past you as you rode, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the heat that had built up in that dark elevator.

As you navigated the slick streets, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a sense of resolve. You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in whatever game Lionel Shahbandar was playing. You had your own life, your own goals, and no time for the likes of him—no matter how charming he tried to be.

By the time you reached your next delivery, you felt more like yourself again. You parked the bike and removed your helmet, smoothing down your hair as you glanced at the building in front of you. It was nothing like Lionel’s posh penthouse, just a regular apartment building where people lived their normal, everyday lives.

You grabbed the pizza from your backpack, giving yourself a little shake to fully dispel any lingering thoughts of the man who had, for a brief moment, unsettled you.

“Just another customer,” you told yourself firmly as you walked to the door. “Just another delivery.”

And with that, you pushed Lionel Shahbandar out of your mind. You had work to do, bills to pay, and a life that didn’t involve playing games with a billionaire who thought he could charm his way into anything—or anyone.

Lionel shut the door behind him with a heavy thud, his hand lingering on the polished wood as if it could somehow anchor him back to reality. For a moment, he simply stood there, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts that he couldn’t quite control. The encounter in the elevator had left him rattled, more so than he wanted to admit. He had dealt with countless women before—flirted, charmed, seduced—but never had he been left feeling so... exposed.

He pressed his palm to his chest, where your touch still seemed to burn through his skin, a lingering warmth that he couldn’t shake. The memory of your breath against his neck, the way your body had pressed against his in the darkness—it was all too vivid, too real. And yet, it was more than just the physical connection that haunted him. It was the sense of familiarity, of something ancient and inexplicable, that refused to leave his mind.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his tousled, gray-blonde hair. His fingers trembled slightly as they raked through the strands, betraying the calm facade he was so determined to maintain. Lionel was not a man who lost control, especially not over a woman—a pizza delivery girl, of all things. And yet here he was, leaning against the door of his own home, trying to catch the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d lost.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed himself away from the door, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the pizza box on the kitchen counter. He had forgotten about it the moment the elevator had stopped, every thought consumed by you. Now, the sight of the mundane object only served to deepen his irritation. It was ridiculous—he was ridiculous. To be so unnerved, so off-kilter, by something as simple as a touch, a look, a fleeting moment in the dark.

Lionel crossed the room in quick, determined strides, his movements sharp and purposeful. He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the counter, the same one he had poured from earlier, and filled a glass to the brim. The amber liquid sloshed over the rim as he lifted it to his lips, taking a long, steadying sip. The burn of the alcohol was a welcome distraction, a familiar sensation that helped to dull the edges of his tumultuous thoughts.

As he set the glass down, his eyes drifted back to the pizza box. He knew he should eat something, but the thought of food made his stomach churn. Instead, he focused on the memory of your face, the defiance in your eyes when you’d called him out, the way you hadn’t been impressed by his charm or his wealth. It was maddening—and oddly exhilarating. He wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like you.

“Someone like you...” he murmured, echoing his own words from earlier. There it was again, that sense of something more, something deeper that he couldn’t quite grasp. It was as if you were a puzzle piece he didn’t know was missing until now, and the realization left him both intrigued and frustrated.

Lionel pushed the pizza box aside, his appetite for anything other than answers completely gone. He moved to the large windows that overlooked the city, the glittering lights of London spread out before him like a sea of possibilities. But tonight, they offered no comfort, no solace. He could only think of you, and the way you had looked at him in that elevator, the way you had seemed to understand something he hadn’t even begun to process.

He hated it. Hated the way you had gotten under his skin, the way you had made him feel—vulnerable, exposed, human. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in years, and he didn’t like it one bit.

But even as he tried to push the thoughts away, to bury them under layers of logic and reason, he knew it was futile. You had ignited something in him, something he couldn’t easily dismiss or ignore. And that realization was terrifying.

Lionel took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes narrowing as he gazed out at the city below. He had always considered himself a lion—a predator who knew how to hunt, how to get what he wanted without ever losing control. But now, for the first time in his life, he felt like the prey. And the sensation was as exhilarating as it was infuriating.

He let out a slow, measured breath, his mind racing with possibilities. There was no denying it—he needed to see you again, to understand what it was about you that had thrown him so completely off balance. But he also knew that he couldn’t rush it, couldn’t force it. This was a game, and he needed to play it carefully, strategically.

A slow smile spread across Lionel’s face, a dangerous glint sparking in his eyes. He might be rattled now, but he was still Lionel Shahbandar. And if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he always got what he wanted in the end.

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the liquid burning its way down his throat. Yes, this was a game—a slow burn, a challenge unlike any he had faced before. But he was more than ready to play.

And as for you? Well, you might not be impressed with Lionel Shahbandar now, but he was determined to change that. One way or another.

With that thought, Lionel set the glass down with a decisive clink, his mind already working through the possibilities. He would find a way to see you again, to unravel the mystery you represented. And when he did, he would make sure that this time, it was you who was left breathless, left wondering, left wanting more.

Because if there was one thing Lionel Shahbandar knew how to do, it was how to make an impression. And he had no intention of letting you slip away so easily. Not when there was so much more to discover, so much more to explore.

Yes, this was only the beginning. And Lionel Shahbandar was ready to see where it would lead.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

JUST ONE?

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you reject George everyday but he never gets the hint Warnings: none Note: in my head this was going to be way better lol

you internally groaned when you heard your name being called from across the corridor

you turned around and saw George weasley running up to you

he did this every day, it was a routine

"go out with me?" he asked, slightly out of breath

"well good morning to you too, George! no" you smiled sarcastically, turning him down once again, for the upteenth time

"you sure?" he raised his eyebrows

"yep" you nodded

"not even just one?"

"not even just one"

-

you sat with your friends in the great hall, eating breakfast when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you didn't want to look but you saw your friends giggle and stare in awe

you shifted in your seat to look at him, seeing George standing behind you, a stupid grin on his face as he held out a bouquet of colourful flowers out for you

"will you go out with me?" he asked

you sighed as you shook your head "no thanks"

"alright" he nodded, the smile never leaving his face

you turned back and saw your friends giving you weird looks

"what?" you questioned

"why won't you say yes to him? those flowers were beautiful!" your friend, Faye, whispered

"fine" you huffed, tuning back seeing George walking away

"George!" you yelled out, making him turn back, brushing hair out of his face

he came back to you, is smile widening as you took the flowers

"here you go, Faye, since you like them so much" you said giving them to her

"thanks, George" you looked back at him, letting him know he can leave

"have a good day!" he waved before going away

"don't you feel bad for him? he does this every day and you say no, yet he still has that smile on his face" your other friend, diana commented

"he obviously doesn't like me, guys, he's just doing it to tease me" you rolled your eyes

"tease you for what? do you like him?" Faye wiggled her eyebrows, putting the flowers on her lap

"no, I don't know why he keeps doing it, he can't take the hint" you huffed

-

George refused to give up, growing up with one of the most popular guys in the school meant he picked up how to ask a girl out

Fred had girls coming in droves just to look at him, while George had to chase to get her to even talk to him

that's one of the reasons he kept asking you out, if he gave up- that would mean he didn't have an excuse to talk to you, to be in your presence.

but the other reason is because he noticed the glanced you would give him, he saw the way you'd blush when he started talking to loudly

he knew there was some sort of feelings there that he held onto, making him believe that you will one day you'd say yes, and that he'd never let you go when you finally say yes

so he walked up to you as you sat in the library

he sat next to you after grabbing a random book

"what are you doing?" you whispered

"reading" he mumbled, focusing on the book

"I didn't know you could read upside down" you chuckled, looking over at his book

his face flushed as he quickly flipped it around

"thanks" he muttered

"so, will you go out with me then?" he smiled, speaking too loudly for madam pince's liking, earning an aggressive hush

"you're going to get us kicked out" you scolded him quietly

"so yes?" he beamed

"no- it's always no" you replied, frowning at his smile growing wider

"ok, enjoy your book then"

-

you were sat in class next to Faye when you looked over at George, a table away from you, scribbling on his paper, Fred was next to him, his wand out as a piece of paper formed into a bird before it started flying around the room as McGonagall was turned to the board

you shifted in your seat, facing away from George when you noticed him going to look at you

you watched from the corner of your eyes as he leaned over, putting the paper on your desk, next to your arm

you looked down as he sat down properly, turning to McGonagall

hogsmeade this weekend? it said, in messy handwriting

you took your quill and wrote back

no, George

you gave it back to him and noticed Fred looking over too while shaking his head, whispering something in his younger twins ear, making him frown

-

"just one! then I'll stop"

"when are you going to stop, George? I've never said yes and I never will" you sighed, looking up at him tiredly

his smile slightly faltered before it came back

"I'll stop when I know you mean it" he shrugged

"when I mean what?" you tilted your head

"when you say no" he spoke happily

"I really like you, I have for a long time, Lee told me to go for it and Hermione told me you talk about me sometimes so i just figured that you...yeah." he continued sheepishly

"you're not pranking me?" you questioned, seeming a little shocked

"No" he shook hi head vigorously "no, I would never do that! I promise, I like you, I do!"

you stayed silent, thinking for a moment when he spoke up again

"so do you really mean it? when you say no?" he asked, stepping closer to you

you hated that Hermione told him, you knew she was probably trying to help the poor boy you've rejected countless times but she didn't have to out you like that

"No" you replied softly

"do you want to go out with me then?" he smiled gently

"sure"

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

[syppys-den]

The DC Universe as vines

John Constantine: Hey bro what do you want to eat?

Etrigan: THE SOULS OF THE INNOCENT~

Jason Blood: A Bagel

Etrigan: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jason: (glances at Etrigan) two bagels (smugly)

WHO’S THAT POKEMON!? (shows Superman silhouette)

IT’S PIKACHU!!!!!!

IT’S CLEFAIRY! (shows Captain Marvel)

FUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

Madam Xanadu: if you are here speak to us

Deadman: JUST A CITY BOOIII!!!! BORN AND RAISED IN SOUTH DETROI-

Bruce: this is… so dumb…

Clark: the higher I am the better I can see

Bruce: you can- you can fly-

Clark: hush now gregory! I am searching!

Diana: like I really wanna teach yoga and zen and overall centeredness but I also like to really kill and STAB people on the weekends!

Kara: hey! How you doing? Well I’m doing just fine! I lied. I’m dying inside-

IDK: hey do you have any shaving cream?

J’onn: no i don’t like the way it tastes

IDK: wait you eat shaving cream?

J’onn no why would I eat it if I don’t like the taste?

Bruce: hey let me see what you have!

Damian: A KNIFE!

Bruce: NOOO!!!!!

Bruce: In the winter I like to dress in a cozy black jacket shirt and jeans~ in the summer I wear the same thing because I look good in black and I’m willing to suffer!

Lex: I didn’t ask to be born perfect. I demanded it.

Gordon: Detective this is a crime scene

Bullock: WHAT IS THIS THE MURDER WEAPON!? GET OFF MY DICK!!!

J’onn: Oh yeah I can do a pretty good human! (transforms) ahem Hel-lo! I-have-a-job! I’m going to work!

Krypto: yeah that’s pretty good!

Hippolyta: Son?

Diana: Yes Papa!

Hippolyta: How old are you?

Diana: I am three Papa!

Hippolyta: Take this knife, go hunt bear

Diana: Just one?

Hippolyta: Ho ho!

Kilowog: How does it feel to be the worst cop ever huh!? Sinestro: shutupyourmothabuysyoumegabloksinsteadolegos!

Kilowog: You fuckin take that back y-

John Constantine: Hey there demons it’s me, ya boi

Kara: EARTHLING TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER!

Lois: (sigh) this is him (shows president Luthor)

Kara: Oh ma gaw- I’m so sorry!

Lois: I’M SORRY FOR US-

Dick: We uh… don’t know who killed him…

Damian: May I make a suggestion?

Dick: WE’RE NOT GONNA CUT HIM OPEN PHIL!

Damian: YOU GUYS ARE BORING!

Kara: I may suffer from anxiety and depression but I’m still a queen

Bruce: (looking at the Joker’s body) He’s dead…

Dick: (Nudges Clark’s shoulder)

Clark: “Not the dickhead!” what do you want me to say!?

Diana: I’m so bored!

Clark: I wish Ryan was here!

Arthur: HEY GUYS!

Both: RYAN!!!

John Constantine: I was thinking I could do some magic!

Jason Blood: You!? Magic!? Charles! It says TALENT show!

Bruce: Show me the Police Sketch! What the- what the hell is this?

Eel: ART. Okay!

Bruce: OW FUCK!

Gordon: WHO’S THERE!?

Bruce: NOBODY FUCK OFF!!!

Harley: what would you do if there was a child right in front of you?

Joker: dgfghjfdkjsdiuj!!!

Harvey: I’m attorney Doug, you need a lawyer? Well don’t call me! I’m busy!

Lois: Who the fuck are yiou?

Clark (as Superman): Who the fuck are yiou?

Lois: I asked you first!

Clark: I asked you second!

[be-with-me-so-happily]

There At The Box

ONE SHOT

|| Prev - The Grammys ||

Summary: After reuniting at the Grammys, it is now time for the Brit awards, where Harry has been nominated for four. He has invited YN to join him, and she will do whatever it takes to be there for him, as long as she can make it.

A/N: Finally got this out, over a week later. But it's here. Legitimately didn't think there'd be a part 2, but how could I not when our boy won 4 for 4 Brits?!?!

Warnings: Some explicit language, airport troubles, alcohol consumption

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm sorry Ms. YLN, but we had to delay the flight."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to take deep breaths and not completely lose it on this innocent attendant.

"How long will it take?"

"I'm…not entirely sure. It could potentially take a couple of hours…"

"This isn't happening." You mumble, throwing your face down into your palms as you sit there, helpless, in your seat on the airplane. "Diana, Peter, can you do anything? Please tell me you can do something."

Your manager and assistant give each other worried looks and it makes your heart sink.

Unfortunately, you had a prior commitment earlier in the day in Edinburgh, but told him that you would fly out as soon as it was done. You planned to have your outfit, plus hair and makeup teams, there on board with you and head straight to the venue from the airport. Everything seemed to be scheduled out nicely and going accordingly. Until now, that is. Because the jet you had managed to rent seems to be having some sort of mechanical issue, and is keeping you from being exactly where you want to be. Right by Harry.

You just got back with Harry, practically six days ago. He somehow, through the magic that comes from him being Harry Styles, managed to get you a seat at his table for The Brits. You were so honored, and happy, and excited that he wanted you there with him, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"We're working on it, YN."

"There's just not much-" Peter gets interrupted by a swift elbow to his side by Diana.

"We're working on it."

You're never a diva, at least you try your hardest not to be, but this is the one moment you wish you had the capacity to demand that everything gets fixed and figured out so that you can get what you want.

"I know you're trying." You sigh. "Just… let me down easy once you know for sure."

You stand as best you can on the airplane, while your stylist zips up your dress and your makeup artist applies things to your face during commercial breaks.

Everyone around you is already buzzing over Harry's first win of the night, for Best Pop Act, when Peter begins to hush them down and turn up the volume on the television. It's the second award Harry's nominated for, and you're already on the edge of your nerves.

"So the Brit Awards goes to…" Lucien Laviscourt begins, asking his co-star for a drumroll as he opens the envelope. "The man that just does not stop. Harry Styles."

The camera shows Harry's head drop and a wide grin immediately appear on his face. He yells a little 'lets go' as he stands up and makes his way to the stage. You can tell his emotions are already building as he looks down at his second award.

"Umm, thank you again. Umm… I wanna start by, umm, I wanna thank my family for being the most supportive, understanding, patient, loving, umm, family that I could've ever asked for."

He goes on to thank his mum, and the crowd goes wild when he mentions the other members of One Direction. As if you weren't already gutted to be missing out, that part pains you. To be there in that moment would be absolutely thrilling, and if it were not now safely carrying you and your team to the destination you so desperately want to be at, you'd be cursing the plane for making you late.

"I'm really, really grateful for this and I'm very aware of my privilege up here tonight, so this award is for Rina, Charley, Florence, Mabel, and Becky. Thank you so much."

Your eyes water as he mentions his 'privilege' and honors the women who were looked over for nominations in that category. If ever there were to be someone, other than one of them, to win, of course it should be him. He is such an ally, and supporter, and even though you don't feel as if he should apologize for winning, your heart is so warmed at how humble he is. How willing he is to give the spotlight to someone else.

The group cheers on for the next few awards, and you join in when Wet Leg wins their second. Shouts ring out when Harry wins this third Brit award for Song of the Year.

With each win, or even glimpse you get of Harry, your heart is torn further into two. You're so proud of him, and happy for him, but you are also simultaneously filling up with guilt that you can't be alongside him, or even just in the room, to support him. You know he won't be mad. You know it's not your fault, and he will understand. But you can't stop it.

The entire cabin of people laugh as Harry walks off stage to kiss Lewis Capaldi, and as the jet finally pulls into the hanger. But you can't help the sadness it's causing alongside the joy.

Finally in the car, and on your way from the airport, you huddle between Diana and Peter as Stanley Tucci presents the nominees for Album of the Year.

"And the winner is…" Stanley opens the envelope and takes a big breath, you holding your own as your hand squeezes the phone. "Harry Styles. Harry's House."

The three of you scream out, watching from behind the screen, as Harry heads back to the stage, for his fourth and final time.

Tears begin to form and Peter quickly hands you a tissue to not ruin the hard work your team put into your makeup look.

You watch on, as he hugs and laughs with Stanley, expressing how much he loves him as soon as he lifts the microphone. All the emotions, and probably a small amount of alcohol, fueling his bright smile.

"This, uh… this night has been really, really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home, I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you." He takes a breath for a moment as he looks down to the crowd of fans and peers, causing you to feel that even though his mind is most surely swirling around, that this moment is really sinking in. But what's sinking in more and more for you is the fact that you aren't there. "I’m so, so proud to be a British artist out there in the world. I’m so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m gonna hand it over to Tom and Tyler. Thank you so much for this, I’m so grateful. Thank you.”

You hand the phone to Diana, watery eyes and a smile displayed on your face. You missed it. In person, at least. But, as pained as it makes you, you are still going to show up for him. And you are going to celebrate with him the rest of the night.

"Well, to the after party it is."

You make a mental note to give your styling teams extra long vacations soon, because their magic has enabled your hair to stay in place and the usual stress-induced sweat to stay at bay.

You do what you can to catch your breath as you prepare to step out from the back seat of the car, and head into The Box.

A deep breath, followed by another, and as soon as the door swings open you are bombarded with bright flashes of light.

Your security guard guides you inside and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and your ears to adjust to all the new noise.

Instantly, and almost instinctively, your attention is drawn to that beautiful, loud laugh that you know so well, and you barely make out the figure of a very happy Harry Styles, beaming from the events of the night. All the sadness, guilt, and pain melt seeing him so joyful, and is replaced with pride. Pride, and the desperate need to be by him now.

You push your way through the crowd, and as you find yourself a few feet from Harry, who has yet to see you, your body is halted as Lizzo stands in front of you.

"Hey honey!" She exclaims, exuberantly. You attempt to glance past her for a moment, and when you look back you find her expression has quickly changed. "I thought you were gonna be at the award ceremony, what happened?"

"Don't even get me started…" You begin to scowl at how things unfolded earlier, but quickly wave it off, not wanting to slip back into that negativity. Especially since you're there now.

"Damn. Well, I missed you!" She states, wrapping her arms around you. Another glimpse of Harry sets your heart fluttering as you pull away from your friend's embrace. "Harry really missed you."

"I'm here now." You reply.

"YN… he's a little drunk…"

You let out a loud laugh, finding humor in the fact that it doesn't come as a shock to you.

"I figured as much."

"Yeah but, like… he was really bummed you weren't there." She replies, as solemnly as possible in such a loud, vibrant atmosphere. "And he had a few to drink…"

"Okay…"

You glance past her again and this time meet Harry's gaze. You give Lizzo a quick smile and maneuver around her, rushing up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Hey there superstar! I'm so proud of you!" You exclaim, pulling back to meet his gorgeous, yet glazed over, green eyes.

"You didn't come." He states, a frown appearing between his brows.

Your eyes grow wide and your heart stops. That was not even close to a reaction you thought he would have. You smile though, hoping to ease the tension that you feel coming on.

"I'm sorry. The-"

"You didn't come!" He repeats suddenly, the furrow between his eyes becoming even more intense, causing a tightening in your chest.

"Harry… I was trying…"

"You coulda told me you weren't coming."

"I was trying! I texted you, Gemma, and Jeff!" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was a little busy…"

"I know, Harry." You reply through gritted teeth. You understand that alcohol is playing a role here, but his attitude is still not warranted. But this must be what Lizzo was trying to tell you. Or potentially warn you about.

Harry shakes his head and looks to the ground, the frown almost permanent on his face.

"This was supposed to be an amazing night." He sighs, swirling around the contents in the glass he has in his hand.

"What the hell? You just won four Brit awards! How is this not an amazing night?"

"You should've been there." He scowls, causing your jaw to clench and your entire body to tense.

"This isn't fair."

"No. It's not." He runs his free hand through his hair, annoying you in the way that it still manages to fall back into place perfectly. Especially at this moment.

"I think… I think you should walk away." You utter, your heart hurting and your eyes beginning to water.

"Fine." He quickly replies, turning around as fast as the words left his mouth, and walking in the complete opposite direction of where you stand.

You could fall over right there, feeling as if you were just punched in the gut. This is not how that moment was supposed to go. Or this night. It was not even a consideration that he would be upset. You thought he would understand, but he didn't even let you explain.

So, not only were you not able to be there to cheer him on when he won, but now you aren't even able to celebrate with him at the party. A sinking feeling enters your mind. One that causes your feet to instantly head in the direction of the exit.

The worry you had, before the breakup, comes creeping back in. What if he thinks this is too difficult to do with you?

Your plan for escape was foiled before you even made it to the front door. Rhian and Hester from Wet Leg managed to grab your attention, by grabbing your arm, and pulled you into their conversation with the rest of the band.

It's not that you really minded talking with them, especially since you wanted to extend your congratulations anyway, but your mind keeps wandering back to your conversation with Harry. The interaction has left you in a less than ideal mood for celebrations.

Your eyes wander around the room, and land on the man you always seem to want to find in a crowd. Your breath hitches when you see he is looking right back at you. The expression on his face is no longer of anger, or frustration, or whatever he was feeling that left you two needing some space. Now, his features have softened, but still don't display any positivity.

Rhian's laugh catches your attention again, and you turn back to focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you. At least the people close by are happy you're there.

You suddenly feel a presence appear next to you and turn to the side to see Harry's saddened expression meet yours.

"Hello friends! Congratulations again." He states, removing his arm and embracing each of them for a moment.

"Thank you Harry! For everything!" Rhian giggles, turning to Hester as they gush over how unbelievable their wins were. You remember that feeling. It really doesn't change, even when you win another award, and you love seeing how happy they are. They deserve a fun night. Truthfully, so does Harry. So you decide to return to your previous plan of getting out of there.

"I think I'm going to call it a night everyone." You state, keeping your gaze on the girls, but noticing Harry's shoot right over to you.

You give them all a hug, shooting a polite smile to the man next to you, and turn to head to the exit.

You feel an arm snake around your waist and squeeze your side, which makes you slow your speed dramatically.

"Can I have a moment with you…" Harry whispers, his lips close enough to your ear that you feel his breath on your neck and it makes you shudder. "Before you go? Please?"

You manage a nod and let him guide you to a corner that seems to be a lot less crowded, and a tiny bit more quiet.

He stands in front of you, leaning against the wall beside him, and drops his head.

"YN, I'm…" He sighs, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck. His eyes flicker up to yours, and you determine that the expression you saw earlier was one of sadness. "I'm… I'm really, really sorry."

Surprise fills you, because so does frustration.

"Harry, I don't think you know how much I wanted to be there for you tonight! My damn flight got delayed and we tried everything to get here on time!" You exclaim, your breathing labored due to your quick response.

"I know. Peter just told me." He replies quietly, dropping his head again to look down at the floor.

"But you should've listened to me. I thought we were going to talk about things when they bothered us, but you wouldn't even hear my simple explanation for why I wasn't there tonight! How is this even going to work between us if this happens not even a week after we get back together?" You blurt out.

Harry immediately straightens up and your chest tightens. You didn't mean to let that all out. Not there at least. But, you promised to communicate with him and if he isn't going to, then you will. Although, you never truly meant to question the reunion of your relationship.

"Fuck, YN, I'm so fucking sorry." He answers, a shakiness and hint of worry in his voice. "It was a crazy night. I was so grateful when I won, and genuinely happy that I did, but each time I got sad that you weren't there. And… maybe I got a little worried."

"About what?"

"That… it's so fucking stupid… that you changed your mind about coming because… maybe you changed your mind about me."

He pulls his lips inward and closes his eyes, giving you a moment to cover your mouth in an attempt to hide the unintentional laugh that threatens to come out. You don't mean to, but you find it funny that after your little confession at the Grammys, he would question whether you still want to be with him. And that you had the same worry about him.

"Harry…" Your palms cup his cheeks, holding his face in front of yours, waiting for him to open his eyes. "Hey…"

He pries them open slowly, and you can feel his body relax under your touch.

"There was, and is, nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side, cheering you on." You smile, swiftly being matched by his delicious, dimpled grin.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have… reacted that way. And I should've listened. I'm an idiot. I just missed you. So much." He states, moving his hands to grab your waist and drawing you closer to him. "So, so much."

"I missed you too." You bite your lower lip. "But we have got to be better about talking to each other."

"I know. I will. We will." He sighs with a small smile, and his nervousness makes you giggle.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you too. This really is an amazing night."

"Good." You place your hands in his chest, tracing the outline of the tattoos peeking out from his top. "But you know… I am still a little upset with you about something…"

His eyes go wide with shock and maybe even a little guilt, which you quickly want to squash.

"I saw you kiss Lewis, and then Stanley Tucci!"

Harry's expression immediately changes as he lets out that loud laugh that you can only fall in love with more each time you hear it.

"Well, you weren't there…" He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink as his gaze flickers down to your lips.

"Hm. I think I need to take back what's mine." You immediately reply, feeling a heat and need for him quickly growing inside. "Let's leave."

"What?" He chuckles, staring into your eyes as if to gauge your sincerity. You give him as lustful a look as you can, without being too obvious, and another grin quickly appears across his face. "Let me finish my dri-"

"Take it with you…" You whisper, your fingers traveling up the nape of his neck into his curly locks. You lick your lips, leaning closer to his, and press them firmly together.

"Jeff?" Harry shouts, swiveling around to find his friend. "Call the car. We're heading out!"

Main Masterlist

•••

If you like what I post, and want to just send some extra support, I have a ko-fi account. Even the smallest amount is greatly appreciated. There is no obligation or expectation to donate, because I am honestly just so grateful that you're here! 💗 Bee xx

•••

Overall: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @sagcas-latte @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @theroosterswife24 @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @qualitygiantshoepsychic @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @fool4him @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @harrylover47 @carey86 @woanderry

If your name is blue, I couldn't tag you

[suzdin]

Jackson: a Joel Miller fanfic

(Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: You’re taken into the town of Jackson, Wyoming after being captured by members of the council. Unfortunately, one of your captors isn’t too fond of you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in 30s), angry broody Joel, dom!Joel, smut, semi-public sex, rough sex, dubcon, unprotected p in v, graphic depictions of sex, minimal fluff, some angst, enemies to lovers, mention of loss, mention of violence and weapons, hematolagnia

——

“What exactly are we going to do with her, Tommy? Let her loose only to run back and tell ‘er friends where we are? Huh?”

The voice that drifts in from two rooms over is low, velvet, southern. You hadn’t heard an accent like that since before—well. Since before everything happened.

“We can’t just kill her, Joel, she didn’t want to be with those men!” a second masculine voice responds. “She’s as much a victim as—“

“As who? Diana? ‘Fore she killed her?” the first voice growls. Deep, dark, like ragged silk to your ears.

You feel like the conversation you’re overhearing was meant to be hushed. You also feel like they don’t care that it isn’t, prolonging your torture that much more before they get around to actually killing you. Your hands strain uselessly against the ropes binding you to the chair, and your lip throbs where a third person—a woman—busted it with the butt of a rifle.

You just wish they’d get on with it instead of arguing about it two rooms over.

A third voice chimes in, and you recognize it as belonging to the woman who gave you your still-bleeding fat lip.

“Maybe we could bring her in. Let her prove her worth. We could always use another hand in the work force,” the woman says.

“‘Specially now that Diana’s out of commission? Sure. Bring her in, feed her, give her a bed to sleep in. Why not, Maria?” the original voice quips back.

There’s a settling of air and everyone falls silent for a moment.

“It could work, Joel,” Tommy says. “The man you killed—the one with the red jacket—he made her kill Diana. Saw it with my own eyes. She didn’t want to. She was scared for her life.”

“Should be scared for her life now,” Joel responds.

You whimper and continue to struggle against the restraints, but they’re too tight, too expertly knotted against your skin. You feel the sobs wanting to break free of your lungs, expanding to a tight pressure in your chest, but you choke them back. You don’t want to give the man—Joel, they called him—the satisfaction of seeing you scared; of begging for your life.

“I can hear you, you know,” you call out boldly.

You hear the shuffling of multiple pairs of boots on cracked, dusty wood, and then a large shadow darkens the doorway of the room you’re in.

“Good,” Joel says, his face contorted into a scowl. His dark eyes study you. His hair is dusted with gray, sweeping into the scruff peppering his jaw. You guess he’s probably in his mid-fifties, but judging by the muscles you see moving beneath his clothing, you can tell he’s still in ridiculously good shape.

He’s tall. And broad. There’s a rifle slung across his torso and his wide shoulders flex under the flannel he’s wearing as he removes the gun to point the barrel straight at you.

A hand shoots out from around the edge of the doorway to grab the rifle: Tommy’s.

“Joel…” Tommy says, softly.

You make a meager, pathetic sound, unable to keep your fear in check if only for a moment, but it’s enough for him.

Joel doesn’t take his dark eyes off of you as a single corner of his mouth quirks into the ghost of a bemused smirk, nor do they move when he lowers the gun to his side.

“Who were those men?” he asks, stepping further into the room. Tommy follows suit and Maria is not far behind. “Where’d you come from?”

“Nowhere. I mean—a camp, about five miles from here. Just the four of us. They had been talking about raiding here for weeks, before they actually…” You swallow the hard, painful lump in your throat. “…attempted it.”

“And the men?” Maria asks.

“Found me wandering the roads in Colorado, after…” you trail off, inhaling as a wash of memories come flooding back. “After my grandparents were killed. By clickers. We had a cabin for years, just outside of Boulder. Burnt it to the ground when—when the attack happened. A lantern got knocked over.”

Joel’s eyes bore tunnels into you. You can feel the disdain rolling off of him in waves that almost seem to darken the room around you. For you, or for the men whose names you never even bothered learning, you aren’t sure. Both, probably.

“What was the plan?” Tommy asks you, stepping next to Joel.

“To use me as a decoy so they could sneak in,” you say. “But it all went to shit when they were spotted and they panicked, so they gave me a gun and told me to just start shooting. I didn’t want to do it, I swear, I…” You can feel your resolve slipping, the tears threatening to breach, so you dig your fingers into the wood so the pain can distract you. “Didn’t even think I’d hit anyone, I’m such a shit shot—”

You swallow, again.

“I was about to turn the gun on them when…” You cast your eyes to the woman standing between the two men. “…when I got knocked out.”

The three of them exchange glances. Silently deciding your fate. Eventually, Maria takes a step forward.

“What’s your name?” she asks, so you tell them.

“Nice to meet you. This is my husband, Tommy, and his brother, Joel. Welcome to Jackson,” she says. “You’ll help out around town in whatever way you can. You won’t leave these walls without an escort. Won’t do anything we don’t give you a direct order to do. Is that a deal?”

You nod. “It’s a deal,” you reply, your throbbing, swollen lip quivering. “Look, I’m sorry about… about Diana…”

You feel Joel move before you actually see it, the shifting boards beneath your chair the only indication that his massive frame is moving into your space. Your breath leaving you when you realize what’s happening.

His large, rough hand whips out to grab your chin in an iron grasp, and he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. His lips are parted in a partial snarl, and if it’s even possible, the slope of his chest and shoulders appear even broader from this angle, a single vein popping out of of his neck like a lazily winding river in flesh.

The pressure of his hold around the bottom half of your face causes more blood to seep out of your busted lip.

You think he might break your neck. Might snap it in half and be done with it. There’s something wild and chaotic and furious behind those eyes, and the look of him coupled with the fact that he’s still gripping you to the point of pain shouldn’t be turning you on right now, but it is. Heat pulses deep in your core—from the fear, from the pain—and you almost whimper in his grasp. It isn’t audible, but when his fingers readjust slightly, you think he may have felt it.

“She was a friend. A real asset to the community. Don’t you speak her name ever again,” he growls, his hand unmoving from you, the squeeze unrelenting. “Got that?”

You nod, or try to. And you do whimper for real this time.

He lets you go, not saying another word, stalking out of the room like some caged animal recently set free. Tommy and Maria give him a wide berth as they watch him go.

When he’s out of sight, they start undoing the restraints.

——

Jackson isn’t so bad compared to where you were. It isn’t the comfy cabin in the woods with your grandparents, but it’s better than sleeping on dirt. You at least have a cot to yourself in one corner of the mess hall, which is more than you thought they would be willing to give you.

The people are friendly for the most part. Tommy and Maria decide, for your well-being, not to tell people what you did, but you think some of them probably know anyway. Still, they accept you as one of their own, as long as you hold up your end of the work. Which you do, gladly.

You’re mostly assigned to stable duty, taking care of and tending to the horses and the barn. Sometimes, you help out with food preparations or cooking, and occasionally they just sort of toss you wherever they need an extra hand. It’s hard work, but it’s nice, and it keeps you busy whenever you can’t get the unmovable force that is Joel Miller out of your mind.

He has an adopted daughter named Ellie. He’s fiercely protective of her, doesn’t like when you talk to her—hates it, in fact, has told you so multiple times—even though she’s keen to talk to you as often as possible. She’s a foul mouthed little spitfire, but you enjoy your conversations with her when you do manage to escape the sights of Joel, which isn’t often.

You see him frequently, skulking about town, toting that rifle at his back, glaring daggers into you every chance he gets. He’s barely spoken three words to you since the day you were captured.

It’s a cool spring evening when you spot him and Tommy coming back from a run. You can tell right away that the mood is dour; you can read it clearly on their faces, tell by the way Tommy is slumped slightly in his saddle. Maria goes to greet them, and as Tommy slips from his horse, you think you see blood on his shirt, but you’re not sure.

He disappears with Maria a moment later, and Joel grabs Tommy’s horse by the reins to lead them back toward the stables. You think about helping him, but you also don’t want to get in Joel’s way. You especially don’t want to be alone with him right now.

As he turns, you think you spot blood on him, too.

You head to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needs any help. You confirm that they don’t, and so you wander back outside as the sun is just starting to dip below the horizon. You turn down the street you know Joel and Ellie live on, as you are want to do sometimes, hoping to steal a glance of Joel when you’re pretty sure he isn’t looking. He isn’t there, now, of course, but this is one of the nicer streets in Jackson, so you enjoy walking it when you have free time.

Ellie finds you and comes racing to your side. She asks about her dad and you tell her you saw him a few minutes ago, heading to the stables and that he’ll probably be home soon.

She starts telling you about a girl that she likes at school, about her classes, about everything. You laugh and smile along with her, offering advice when she asks about how to talk to the girl she has a crush on. Ellie may be less than half your age, but she’s probably your only friend in Jackson, so you always enjoy your chats.

“You should come have dinner with Joel and I sometime,” she says, and you politely decline.

“Sorry, um—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell her.

“I don’t know why my dad doesn’t like you.”

“No clue,” you say back, although it’s a lie. Ellie may not know the reason, but she can sniff out a lie from a mile away. You’d like to tell her, but you don’t want to tarnish her image of you.

The telltale waft of food aroma finds your nostrils and you let her know that the two of you should probably head to the mess hall to have dinner. You know you can’t sit with her, though. Joel would never abide by it.

“Sure,” she says. “But let me go get my jacket real quick. Gettin’ kinda fuckin’ cold out here.”

You tell her you’ll meet her there.

As she turns to leave, you tuck your hands into your jeans pockets and begin walking towards the mess hall. It is getting a bit chilly, so you increase your pace to brisk; the only sound you hear are your heavy footfalls against earth.

You veer to take a shortcut around the back, down an unlit alley way, not really looking where you’re going because you’ve already memorized the route. The enticing aroma of food draws nearer, and you can’t wait to quell the hunger pangs you’re feeling after having worked a long day tending to the horses.

You’re so oblivious to your surroundings that you don’t notice the shape in the dark until a large, vice-like hand is swallowing your arm in its grip, and you try to yelp, but a second hand claps over your mouth before you can, and a body—large, firm, broad—is pushing you up against a wall.

“Thought I told you not t’talk to my daughter,” you hear a voice say, and you don’t need to confirm who it is before your eyes have a chance to adjust to the dim lighting: it’s Joel.

He smells like sweat and blood and woods. You notice a spray of crimson on his flannel, bits of it flecked on his face. He lowers his hand away from your mouth and pierces your soul with his obsidian eyes.

“Maybe tell her to stay away from me, then,” you snap back. Joel’s front is still pressed firmly against you. It’s enough to make you want to rub up against him like a cat in heat.

“Already have,” he responds. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

“What did you tell her about me?” you ask.

“Nothin’ she wouldn’t have been able to work out on her own,” he replies. “She’s a smart kid.”

You swallow. So she knows about Diana. You aren’t sure if they were close, but the thought hurts you all the same.

“She is,” you agree.

You try to untangle yourself from his grasp, but he holds true. A soft growl escapes from his throat.

“Need to go. Dinner time.”

“Not ‘til I’m done with you.”

“What do you want me to say, Joel? I’m sorry? I tried that. Didn’t work. So can we just move on, please? Like it or not, I’m here for a while,” you say, feeling emboldened.

He doesn’t answer you. Not right away. That same ghost of a smirk you remember from the first day returns, hooking the edges of his lips into an upward curl, and something passes over his visage, raw and hungering as he stares at you.

“I notice you lookin’ at me a lot. Got somethin’ you need to tell me?” he asks, his face inches from yours. You can feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

You shake your head at him. “N-not particularly,” you say. “Are you hurt? You’re covered in blood.”

His smirk widens and it’s the first time you’ve seen him where he isn’t glowering at you. “Ain’t mine,” he says. “Tommy and I were attacked on the road, but we fought ‘em off.”

Your eyes go wide at that. “Oh my god! Are you both okay?” you ask, true concern coloring your words. You had developed a fondness for Tommy and Maria in the weeks you’ve been living here. And Joel, of course.

“We’re fine. Other guys ain’t, though,” he replies.

You notice his grip on your arm hasn’t relented yet. You twitch under his hold.

“Can I go now?” you press.

“Told you I ain’t done with you,” he replies.

“What do you want, then?” You push against him impatiently, and he rumbles deep in his throat, the sound going straight to your core. You were already wet just from the way he has you pinned against this wall, but the sound he emits only makes it that much worse.

“Think you know what I want,” he says, his voice husky and dripping with desire. He presses his hips into yours, and you feel the hard press of his cock against your center. His hand moves to your throat. “Think you been wantin’ it, too.”

White hot heat pools in the pit of your stomach and you arch against him on instinct. He groans. “Mm. Was I right, baby?”

“Yes—yes. Joel. Fuck.”

“Been wantin’ it since that first day, haven’t you? Could tell by the sounds you made when I grabbed you. And now you walk around here like—like some saint. Like some goddamn angel. Like nothing ever happened.”

His hand squeezes tighter around your throat.

“Answer me,” he commands.

“Y-yes. Yes.”

“Good girl,” he says, unbuckling your pants. “Now turn around.”

You do as he asks without question because it’s Joel and he commands that type of respect. Because you’ve wanted this. Dreamt about it every night with your hand between your legs.

You feel him crouch behind you and his hands move to your hips, thick fingers hooking into your jeans and underwear to yank them down your legs in a single motion, leaving you exposed.

His hands swim up your backside, cupping you, squeezing your ass into his heavy palms. Your skin prickles against his touch, against the cold air.

“Mm. Now bend over f’me, pretty girl,” he says. “Show me that pussy you been wantin’ to get filled.”

You whimper at that, and bend as far as you can without falling over, spreading for him. You’re already drenched, your slick running down your inner thighs.

You thought Joel hated your guts, wanted to kill you, and now here you are pressed against a wall, pants around your ankles, with him at your back.

He might still hate you, though.

He bends forward, mere inches from your leaking, throbbing sex, squeezing your hips together under his hands to get you to clench in front of him, which you do.

“Mm. Such a pretty fucking cunt. This all for me?” he asks.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say.

He says nothing further, pulling you against his face so he can take your cunt into his mouth, tongue lashing out at your seam, licking a slow stripe from your clit to your opening. You buck into him and moan, pushing against the flat of his tongue.

He pulls away a second later, and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “That feel good, baby?” he growls, his voice thick with sin.

“Y-yes, fuck. Yes.”

He grins, but you can’t see it. Then he’s pushing back into you, tongue penetrating your hole, drinking you slowly, one hand coming around to stroke your clit under the pad of his finger. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, the way your legs tremble as he makes you feel good in every way you don’t deserve, least of all from him.

He rumbles into your core from all the sweet noises you’re making for him, for Joel, your hands scrabbling for purchase against the wall.

He turns you now, your back to the wall, spreading your pussy with one hand while the other dips a finger into you. You can see his knuckles, raw, swollen and cracked, as his teeth graze your clit. The sight of it makes you moan and roll forward, slipping your fingers into his soft, dark curls for grip.

He buries himself all the way to the last knuckle, finger crooking to hit the sensitive spongy spot at the back of your tunnel, and when you make more sounds of approval for him, he sinks another finger in.

“You like that, angel?” he asks, lips brushing your core. You make some kind of inaudible noise in response, urging him to continue.

A smile splays his lips, his gaze drunk and sparkling with lust. He fucks into you with his fingers, sucking and nibbling at your clit, and you’re impervious to stop the way your legs shake against him, already so close to falling apart.

“Oh god, Joel—“

He increases his speed, fingers somehow achieving that perfect angle each time, his mouth doing all sorts of delicious things to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck, I’m about to come—“

He makes another deep noise against you and that’s enough to send you over the edge, the orgasm tearing through you without relent as you grind shamelessly against his face. He rides out your orgasm until he feels you’ve had enough, moving away, remaining on his knees before you.

He grabs your arm and pulls you down to his level, fisting a handful of your hair, guiding your mouth to his lips still slick with your cum, tasting yourself there, which sends more fire straight to your core. He licks at the inside of your mouth, kissing you with urgency, hungering.

“On all fours,” he commands, his words drenched in a heavy growl, and you oblige him.

You hear the metallic zzzzt of a zipper behind you, followed by the shuffling of fabric as he works his jeans and boxers down his legs.

You can’t help but crane your neck over your shoulder to look, to see him—you’ve been wondering all this time what he looks like—and you aren’t at all surprised to see the heft and girth of it, a monster between his legs, weeping precum for you.

He notices you watching and shoves you forward again.

“Turn around,” he says, lowly.

He grips himself at the base and glides the head of his cock through you, gathering your slick, before notching himself at your opening.

“You ready, pretty girl? Think you can handle this cock?”

“I know I can,” you reply with a whimper.

“Know you can, too,” he agrees.

He lines his hips up with yours and presses into you, slowly stretching you, and you gasp at the way he splits you open, an aching and delicious sting. He sinks himself to the hilt and holds there a moment, pulling back out just as slowly, and then slapping his hips roughly forward again to plunge himself deep inside of you in one blinding go.

You cry out at the intrusion, and you feel a broad hand circle your throat. “Shut up,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Gonna— mmm— gonna get us caught.”

He begins to pump into you steadily, keeping one hand to your throat, the other planted firmly on your hip. You’ve never had anyone fill you up like this before, each thrust bumping your g-spot, making you whimper for him.

“Makin’ such pretty noises f’me,” he drawls. “Such a good girl.”

He thrusts into you, every motion of his body as he slams into you from behind accentuated with his own ragged breaths and grunts, his finger tips digging into your skin, marking you. Claiming you.

You want to be claimed by Joel Miller. Owned by him. You want people to give you the respect Joel receives simply because you belong to HIM. God, you’ve wanted this since day one, but were too scared to even talk to him.

As your noises grow louder and more dizzying with every thrust, the hand on your throat tightens that much more, making you delirious with pleasure. His grip is firm, unyielding, yet he knows what he’s doing, how much pressure to use, how to read your body for signs that it’s too much.

His fucking is so angry and so primal, but he’s still giving you exactly what you want, and you aren’t sure how you’ll ever be able to recover from this. How you’ll be able to stumble into the mess hall after this, delirious and completely fucked out, to sit down by your lonesome and pretend Joel Miller didn’t just fuck your senses straight out of you.

“You’re doing so good, baby, takin’ this cock so well. Takin’ everything I can give you,” he groans.

You can barely breathe anymore, the anger and power of his thrusts removing all the air from your lungs. His hand moves from your throat to the tangle of your hair, tipping your head back with his fist. Your noises are loud and erratic now, and he no longer seems to care.

“Gonna come again f’me, baby? On this cock?” he growls darkly.

“—y-yes, Joel, god, yes…” you manage to spit out, your vision going blurry.

If it’s even possible, the way he slams into you becomes even harder, quicker, angrier, and a sound unlike any you’ve heard yourself make before claws its way out of your lungs. You come again, euphoria crashing through you like a freight train, like a drugged out high; your walls clenching down around his length, every ripple of muscle sucking him even deeper, hitting that sweet spot to prolong your orgasm as long as you can.

“That’s it. That’s it, angel. Come for me as you take this cock,” he growls. “Like a good fucking girl—“

A guttural roar bubbles up from Joel’s chest, his ruts stalling harshly as he rams as hard as he can into your pulsing cunt once, twice, then pulling out at the last second to spray hot, thick ropes of ejaculate across your bare ass.

He lets you go, sinking back onto his calves, and you fall to the ground beneath you, panting and still shaking from the release you were just gifted.

“You okay?” Joel asks, placing a shaky hand on your leg.

“Better than okay,” you reply, burying your face in the crook of your elbow. Laughing. Your pulse is drumming hot between your ears, but you think you hear him laugh, too. The first time you ever have. It’s like music to your ears.

He zips himself back up and cleans the spend on your back with a handkerchief. After a moment for you to collectively gather yourselves, he helps you to your feet. Even helps you unfurl your clothes and fix your hair.

“C’mon,” he says in that velvety smooth southern drawl. “Let’s go have dinner, if anythin’s left by now.”

You laugh, smiling, trying to regain your composure as you follow Joel to the mess hall. Together.

[daemonmage]

Ok here is a loose drabble thing for my DC Earth:

Earth-H-704

(This is gonna be a lot of nonsense with no cohesion, that will have to come later. Just need to get these ideas on paper.)

(Inspirations are the Justice League and Justice League Unlimited shows. Also quite a few Justice League comics)

- Clark and Bruce meet before anyone else and work together before the Justice League is formed (world’s finest)

- during this time Dick gets taken in by Bruce and Alfred and starts being Robin

-Barry and Hal meet and become friends, they also help each other out from time to time

-Diana comes to America as a diplomat but quickly establishes herself as a hero (she also meets Steve)

-J’onn J’onnz is already on Earth and is acting under his human identity as John Jones. He’s desperately trying to settle into earth and find his place here. He’s working as a detective.

- Arthur has decided enough is enough and also acts as a hero via guardian of the sea stuff.

- well to be honest everyone is establishing themselves during this time. It’s essentially the coming of the age of superheroes.

- Despite working with Superman every once in a while Batman and Robin are still technically a myth.

-So is Arthur who has only been caught on camera like 5 times.

- Diana and Clark end up working together over something in Metropolis.

- This leads to them becoming friends and working together more often.

-Clark introduces Diana to Bruce. They end up working together on a few things and settle into this dynamic. (Trinity)

- eventually a massive invasion happens that causes the main seven to group up and fight against these guys. (Super friends one could say… no it’s the Justice League!!)

- So for the most part they think it’s a one and done sort of deal but incidents keep happening that force them together. (Barry and Bruce working together on a case, Hal and Clark stopping meteors from crashing into earth, Diana and Arthur and J’onn work together to set up safety for aquatic life and talk about how the feel a bit out of place in this new world they find themselves in)

- eventually the Justice League properly forms after another invasion happens and they all work really well together.

- It’s the Trinity (founders (Clark and Diana lure Bruce in by claiming needing help) (he knows they don’t really need his help but he can’t deny them anything)) that properly set up the Justice League. Just with the seven as members for now but willing to add more.

-They all settle into this new arrangement well, and they get that Justice League building built.

- after a few attack attempts Bruce gets the Watch Tower built and then they all settle up there. (He’s attached now, he will never admit it.) (Diana and Clark know.)

- after this several other members are added (Dinah, Oliver, Zatanna, Red Tornado, Shayera, Carter…. Many more)

Basically this is it for now.

Other things that don’t really fit into the timeline yet but do happen:

- there are so many Green Lanterns. The Oa realized earth is a hotbed for universal chaos and recruited even more Green Lanterns for that section of the Universe. (Because I love John Stewart, Kyle Rayner, Jessica Cruz, just a lot of them.)

- Technically there was already an age of heroes that came and passed (Alan Scott and such) but they all either disappeared or went into hiding. (Listen I loved the image of Bruce and Tommy watching Alan fight in Batman: Hush. It felt so weirdly inspiring and I can also imagine Clark sitting down and watching The OG Flash be a superhero.) (I might change this and make these guys a separate universe but I love them so it’ll stay like this for now)

- MORE SIDEKICKS (Roy!! Wally!! Donna!!)

- Dinah and Oliver power couple!

- secret identity shenanigans

That’s all for now might add more later