#i don't think anyone would have the stomach to do that whether or not they liked their sibling/had a good relationship

[enobariasdistrict2]

why did everyone deadass act like gloss and cashmere going into the 75th games together was normal. they are brother and sister. if i was kat i would be thinking "what the fuck are they going to do if they're the only two left/if they have to watch the other die." literally any character in the games should have been thinking that. even the capitol didn't seem to acknowledge that fact (despite how upset they were over peeta's fake kid). and the siblings themselves acted like this was just a normal hunger games and they were a normal career alliance like ?????

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[cafelattaes]

afterglow | zcl

summary: in which you felt fed up with chenle and walked out after a fight, but you were uncertain whether he’d make an effort to save your relationship.

pairing: chenle x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.1k

you were having an argument with chenle. you tried to tell him that you felt a little uneasy about one of his female friends, but he downplayed your emotions and it irked you.

"don't you think you're being unfair?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice. "you're allowed to be jealous of every single person you think is hitting on me, but i'm not even allowed to feel upset that you have a close friend who obviously likes you?"

chenle responded dismissively. "it doesn't matter if someone likes me. all my friends know i'm head over heels for you. besides, none of my friends have openly told me they like me. i can't say the same to you and your so-called guy friends."

"i already rejected him," you countered, your voice rising. "how many times do i have to tell you that?"

"it doesn't look like you did because he's obviously still expecting something from you." he retorted, crossing his arms.

"i don't know how else to convince you. why do you always do this? every time i try to tell you how i feel, you always find a way to somehow turn it around on me, and it ends with you feeling more upset than i am."

"look, you don't need to worry about me. i couldn't care less about anyone who might like me. but you? you're too soft with that friend of yours. you might not see it, but it's obvious to everyone else how he hangs all over you. and you're not doing enough to stop it."

"but i don't like him, i never did and i never will. you also have nothing to worry about. why can't you let it go?"

chenle sighed, his eyes narrowing. "the same reason you can't let go of your concerns about my friend. no matter what i say, you're still upset and you're still jealous. that's exactly how i feel."

"so what do you want me to do?" you asked, exasperated.

"nothing. you can't do what i want."

"you want me to stop being friends with him? is that it?" you asked, incredulous. "will you do it for me if i ask you the same thing?" you challenged him. but chenle didn't respond; he just rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

you felt so pissed off. chenle was always so unfair to you whenever you had a fight. you almost screamed at him to get out, but then you remembered you were at his house. you grabbed your things and turned to the door. you were about to leave when you heard chenle's voice.

"you're leaving because of something so petty? seriously?" he said with a scoff.

you gave him a dirty look, your hand on the doorknob. "you were about to storm off to your room and shut me out anyway. we obviously don't want to see each other right now, so what's the point of me staying?" you didn't wait for him to respond. you immediately left, slamming the door behind you.

you knew you were being immature, but so was chenle. you weren't about to let him slam the door on you again, making you feel shitty and guilty, when he clearly didn't feel the same remorse. somehow, even when the fight was his fault, you always ended up being the first one to apologize. that made your stomach churn with resentment.

you weren't always like this. during the first few months of your relationship, you and chenle rarely fought. even when you did, they were just small arguments and you would always make up immediately. but now, almost two years into the relationship, after the honeymoon phase had worn off, things had changed dramatically. you started getting into more frequent and intense fights, and the tolerance and understanding that you had at the start had also faded.

honestly, part of the reason why you're always the first one to give in is that, no matter how angry you get at your boyfriend, you can never stay mad at him for long. you fear that if both of you remain stubborn and no one's going to swallow their pride, the fight would escalate and break the two of you apart. chenle, on the other hand, always seems to have no problem ignoring you for a long time. it only intensifies your frustration and hurt, making you feel even more upset with him than you already are.

you've decided you won't give in this time, no matter what. you're scared that he might do the same, matching your stubbornness with his own. but if he can't even swallow his pride for you, the person he claims to love most, then maybe you're better off apart.

you don't want that though — not really. your relationship, despite its flaws, means too much to you. you just hope he does things differently this time.

after leaving chenle's house, you returned to your own place. you tried to sleep, but your anger and frustration had morphed into a gnawing worry that made your stomach tied up in knots. deep down, you weren't confident that he would do right by you this time. the realization made you feel conflicted. is it really worth staying with him if this is how he consistently makes you feel?

the thought sent a wave of sadness through you. despite everything, you loved him deeply. the idea of your relationship ending made your chest tighten with fear. you didn't want this to be the final straw.

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over onto your pillow. as you cried silently in your room, a mix of emotions washed over you; love, frustration, hope and disappointment all tangled together. eventually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off into a fitful sleep.

your last conscious thought was a small hope that when you woke up in the morning, you'd see his name on the screen accompanied by an apology you'd been waiting for.

chenle sat by the sofa, his eyes fixed on his phone, waiting for your call. since you had walked out after your fight the night before, you still hadn't come knocking on his door. this was the first time you hadn't talked for this long after an argument. fear started creeping up because of the prolonged silence from you. his chest tightened at the thought that you might have finally decided you'd had enough of him and realized you deserved better. he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. as the day was coming to an end, the setting sun cast long shadows across his room, signaling the passage of time and deepening his anxiety.

he could no longer sit still and wait for you to come to him. what was stopping him from coming after you anyway? he didn't know. but he realized he had been selfish for always waiting for you to mend things all this time. chenle felt like he could lose you easily to other people; you were surrounded by many who liked you and wanted to be with you. because of that, he always felt threatened. letting you come to him first after a fight somehow gave him a sense of security that you loved him enough not to let others steal you away from him.

but he realized now how dumb that was. instead, he could end up losing you because of his inaction. he snapped out of his reverie and grabbed his car keys, walking hastily through the door.

you heard someone ring your doorbell, and you checked to see who it was. your heart leaped in both happiness and relief at the sight of chenle standing outside your door.

if you weren't in a fight with him, you would laugh at how ridiculous he looked wearing sunglasses. you were pretty sure the sun had already set and it was dark outside.

you were feeling different kinds of emotions as you stood there. relief that he had come, nervousness about what he might say, and a stubborn remnant of hurt from your fight. you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was to come as you opened the door, finally seeing him up close.

"can i come in?" chenle asked quietly. you didn't respond verbally, but opened the door wider, allowing him to enter.

you closed the door slowly before turning around to face him. chenle stood in the middle of your living room, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

you leaned back against the door, arms crossed protectively over your chest, waiting expectantly for him to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said, his voice was soft and sounded a bit tired. "i'm sorry about everything. i was only thinking about myself and took your words lightly. i kept dismissing your feelings because i was blinded by my own jealousy. i didn't realize i was hurting you." he stepped closer, gently cradling your face in his hands. "please, forgive me. i don't want to lose you over some stupid fight. i know i haven't been the best at showing it, but i love you so much."

his words caused tears to well up in your eyes. for the past 24 hours, you had felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest, each second away from him making you fear you were closer to losing him. you knew you both had much to discuss, and the way you communicated with each other needed improvement. but at that moment, you felt a surge of relief knowing that despite all the fights, chenle still loved you.

"thank you for coming to me, and i'm sorry too," you said, holding the hand that was caressing your face. "i have so many things to say... but first, can i take off your sunglasses? they're distracting." as you removed them, you felt your heart clenched at the sight. chenle's eyes were red and puffy, evidence of hours spent crying. the thought of him crying by himself made your sadness deepen, triggering your own tears as you immediately embraced him. "i'm so sorry for leaving you alone last night."

you didn't usually walk out during your fights, and your departure likely made chenle realize that this argument was unlike any other. he must have thought you had reached your limit. you now understood the depth of his fear of losing you, mirroring your own fear of losing him.

chenle encircled you in his arms, resting his head on your shoulder and burying his face in the crook of your neck. his embrace conveyed how much he had missed you.

"no, i am sorry. i deserved it," he murmured against your skin. "if you hadn't left, i probably would've done the same thing as before and not realized what i'd done wrong. you've been patient with me all this time. i'm sorry for all the times i ignored how you feel. i'll be better for you, i promise." he said, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

as you stood there in each other's arms, you both silently acknowledged the work ahead to strengthen your relationship. the warmth of your reconciliation filled the room, replacing the tension that had hung between you just moments before.

you and chenle were now cuddling on your bed. your chin rested on top of his head while gently running your fingers through his hair. the simple gesture made his heart flutter. his arm draped comfortably around your waist as he nestled against you, closing his eyes and basking in the peaceful aftermath.

as you lay there, feeling warm and loved, you felt so relieved. the tension from your fight completely melted away, and you felt even more in love.

chenle shifted slightly, tilting his head to look up at you. "i think i've figured out the secret to never fighting again."

you raised an eyebrow. "huh? what's that?"

"we just stay like this forever." he replied with a grin. "can't argue if we're too busy cuddling."

"tempting offer, but we'll get hungry eventually." chenle pretended to consider this seriously.

"then we take turns getting snacks while the other one guards the cuddle spot."

"guard it from what exactly?" he shrugged, snuggling closer.

"i don't know. cuddle thieves? it's a very coveted position, you know." you rolled your eyes in amusement.

"you're ridiculous."

"yeah," he leaned up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "but you love me." he whispered against your mouth. you couldn't help but smile and steal another kiss from him.

as you snuggled back together, you felt calm and happy. in that moment, holding each other close, you both silently promised to stick together. you knew your love hadn't just survived, it had grown even stronger.

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[hugsandharrystyles]

SUMMARY: One phone call was all it took to change the course of your sex life.

Word Count: 5k+

"You're not understanding me right. I never said the sex wasn't good."

"You essentially did," Your friend counters. "He doesn't make you cum," Her voice a little too loud to be on speaker but fortunately you were in the comfort of your own home by yourself. Harry was supposed to be at the gym.

Harry was not at the gym.

Harry was at your bedroom door listening to your conversation. He had just made it back when a very interesting conversation involving his name made his ears perk up.

"Harry is the best sexual partner I've ever had. He's so good- it's a me thing. I've never been able to... finish with someone before," You explain because you don't want anyone to think Harry was bad in bed. He's far from that. He just doesn't make you cum.

"Isn't that the whole idea of sex though? To fucking finish?" Your friend tells you.

"I've just come to terms with the fact that some of the things I like in the bedroom... are not going to be explored."

"What do you mean?" Your friend asks.

"You know, just like... rougher things- kinkier things," you say bashfully.

"Like what?!" Your friend pushes.

"I don't know. Some choking, manhandling, assertiveness- that type of thing. I would really enjoy some casual dominance anytime really."

"Oh, wow," Your friend says.

"I know. I'm a fucking freak," You sigh and drop your head to rest on your bed in agony.

"No! I didn't say that! Hey, I like that type of stuff too. Why don't you just talk to Harry-"

Harry was livid. His heart was beating faster now than any time during his workout. He was so angry with himself that he hasn't made you trust him enough to tell him how you feel. How he hasn't been able to satisfy you. He'd made you think you were a freak.

"No- look. I don't fucking care if I finish or not. The sex is so good, and I just like having him that close to me. He's not very big on... being touchy any time else, which is totally okay, but I don't want to take the time I do have him so close to me for granted."

There was a sudden dip in the bed and a body weight being pressed against you as you laid flat on your stomach. You almost screamed until you felt a hand reach around and wrap around your throat and turn your head.

Harry was behind you, on the back of your thighs, looking down at you with a look you've never seen from him- from anyone.

Your friend droned on, never noticing your silence. Harry grabbed your phone with his other hand still wrapped around your neck and took the phone off speaker, putting it up to his ear.

"Hey, this is Harry. We're a bit busy at the moment- actually we're going to be busy for quite a long moment, so don't call anytime soon." With that he hung up and threw your phone on the bedside table. "So," Harry begins after a quiet minute. "Anything you want to tell me?" He asks. He flips you around so you're lying on your back with him straddling your front, completely at his mercy. You don't know whether to cry or squeeze your thighs together.

"Harry, I am so sorry that you had to hear that. I don't want you to think that-" You're momentarily stopped when both of his hands cup your throat, thumbs under your jaw so he can control your face. He angles your head up, so you finally look into his eyes.

"Look at me when you're speaking to me," He commands. You swear your pussy purrs. You can't help but squeeze your thighs together. You have never seen Harry like this.

"S-Sorry- I'm sorry. I don't- I don't know what to say," You finally get out.

"Tell me what I did to make you be afraid to trust me."

"No! Harry, that is not true at all!" You say angrily. He grips your throat a little tighter, and his eyes become a little sterner.

"Don't raise your voice at me." You audibly swallow. "Were you afraid I would be mad- hurt you?" He asks. One hand leaves your jaw to comb through your hair.

"No, Harry- I know you would never. I just- You're not really into... touching me all that much when we're not having sex, so I didn't want the only time when you want to touch me to be gone." You realized you had misworded your sentence as soon as you finished.

"You think I don't want to touch you?" He asks, and you can't tell if the anger in his voice is pointed at you or himself.

"No- I just-" You're abruptly paused when you feel the hand that was in your hair venture down between your thighs. You were only wearing panties and a big t-shirt, so Harry finds your clit very easily. You moan in surprise in grind against his hand.

"Trust me, I want to fucking touch you," he says. "I thought you were the one who didn't like all the touching," he explains.

"What- why?" You ask breathlessly, your body keening at his touch and the bit of weight he was resting on you.

"Every time I would, you would almost jump or just kind of tense up, so I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," he says and lets a finger tease at your entrance.

"N-no, you just- you make me so nervous," you gasp when he slides a finger into you.

"Why?" he demands.

"It's embarrassing," you whine and turn away from him, but he grips your jaw and makes you look at him.

"Why?" he demands again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you need to answer.

"You're so- I just find you really attractive. Anything you do turns me on, and I just get really nervous," you say bashfully. He adds another finger and curls them to find your spot. Your mouth drops in pleasure.

"You are aware that we are dating, correct?" he asks.

"Shut the fuck up," you whine and try to grind down on his hand. He gives you a pointed look.

"Be sweet to me. Don't talk to me like that," he says and very lightly slaps your face. It causes your jaw to drop and a moan to spill from your mouth. "You like that?" He asks and bends his face down to bite and kiss at your neck while continuing his movements on your cunt.

"Harry," you moan and scratch at his back. He groans into your neck and pulls his fingers from your underwear. He waits for you to stick your tongue out and take his fingers inside your mouth.

"Good," he praises and pulls his fingers from your mouth. He cups your throat with both of his hands and brushes his lips against yours. You tilt your head up and try to catch his mouth. "I want to give you everything you want," he tells you and gives you a passionate kiss.

"You do, baby," you assure him and kiss him again while wrapping your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his hair. He grabs your wrists, resting most of his body weight on you, and brings them to his lips.

"Tell me what you want from me," he demands while kissing your fingers.

"Harry," you sigh.

"No, tell me what you need from me. Don't think I don't want to do this. I am more than willing," he says with a sly smirk. You roll your eyes, and you both laugh. He becomes serious again. "Tell me what will make you cum."

"H, I don't know," you say honestly. "I've just never been able to with anyone."

"Okay," he says. "What do you do when you're by yourself?"

"What do you mean?" You question.

"How do you get yourself off," he expands.

"Oh! Um..." you blush.

"Listen," he begins and shifts positions so that he is sitting up on the bed with you in front of him. He holds your hands in his and plays with your fingers. "You have to trust me if you want this. I'm never going to push you, but I just want you to be comfortable with me," he explains. Your heart twists.

"I am comfortable with you, Harry!" you correct him. "It's just- everything is so intense with you in the best way possible." His eyebrow quirks.

"Explain."

"Like- I just feel everything so intensely with you. I don't mean to boost your ego any higher than it already is-"

"Hey!" He complains, and you both laugh.

"But you're just really fucking hot, and it's hard to be normal around you when you do your sexy stuff," you explain.

"My sexy stuff?" He laughs.

"Yeah, like your deep voice and- and your hands," his hands reach out to cusp the back of your neck.

"Yeah? What else, mama?" He asks and places a feather-light kiss to your cheek.

"Um- well, like this. I- I feel like any time you touch me, I go braindead," you explain. He works his lips up to yours and slips his tongue into your mouth, craning your head back, so he can kiss you deeply. He groans into your mouth when you suck on his tongue out of animalistic need. "I need you," you whine.

"Tell me what you want. Do you want to just keep kissing for a bit? I can eat your sweet cunt or just finger you," he suggests and paws at your breasts.

"Can we- uh-"

"What, sweetheart? Tell me."

"Can we just... dry-hump and make out some?" You ask, your face turning a dark red out of embarrassment of the vulgar language.

"Of course, honey. Come here," he says and scoots to the end of the bed so that he's leaned against the headboard. He grabs your waist and pulls you on top of him, straddling his lap. "Can I take your shirt off?" He asks.

"Of course, Harry. You don't have to be so gentle with me." He gives your face a light smack again.

"Lose the attitude," he commands, and you try to squeeze your thighs together, but you end up just grinding against his bulge making both of you moan. He kisses up your throat while his hands toy with the bottom of your shirt. "You're turned on, yeah?" He asks.

"I'm so horny, H," you whine and grasp onto his shoulders to grind against him better.

"Good," he sighs and tugs your shirt off, eyes widening at your bare tits that he's seen many times. "Fuck," he whispers. He spends a bit of time sucking and kissing at your breasts while you cradle his head to your chest.

"H, I wanna kiss you," you whine, and he finally lets up on your tits. His hand cradles your throat in a firm but comfortable grip, allowing him to move your head in any way he wants to. The tension is high when his lips finally meet yours. His free hand slides down to your ass while yours are roaming underneath his shirt.

"You can take it off," he says against your lips, and you both only pull back from each other to get his shirt off. His lips are back on yours, and his hands slide to your hips, helping you grind against him.

"Can you take your pants off too?" You ask timidly.

"'Course, baby," he says and taps your hips so you will move off him while he takes off his sweatpants. He places you back on his lap once he's just in his briefs. He's hard as a rock, and you can tell he's trying his best not to lose control. You kiss his lips softly, and he moans in surprise.

"I love you," you tell him. "And I trust you."

He smiles. "Thank you, sweet girl. I love you more." His hands move back to your hips and grinds your crotch against his while he slips his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues clash, and you both moan as his bulge presses perfectly against your core. You both breathe heavily against each other's mouths as you grind against him. "Do you feel good?" He asks, and you moan against his lips while nodding.

"So good," you tell him and claw at his chest. "Can we take off our underwear?"

"Don't have to ask, baby. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it," he assures you. You smile and crawl off his lap to slide your underwear off, and he follows quickly. As soon as he gets back on the bed, you sit back down on his lap and place him perfectly against your pussy. "Ah, fuck," he moans, and his hips flex up. A bead of precum falls from his tip, and you smile.

"I want your cock in me," you whine and grab his fat dick, trying to line him up with your entrance. Before you could slip the tip in, you're suddenly being thrown onto the bed, Harry hovering over you. "What the fuck, Harry?"

"Not yet," he says and begins to kiss down your body.

"But- you said I could have what I wanted," you protest.

"I need you to cum first."

"Harry, that's not important to me," you say with annoyance in your voice. You really did just want his dick inside you.

"It's important to me. Now, I need you to be comfortable with me. Trust me, baby. If I do something you don't like, tell me. If you want something, tell me. Got it?"

"Okay," you sigh. He slaps your thigh, and you yelp.

"You've got some serious fucking attitude tonight," he says.

"I just want you to fuck me- Oh!" You're cut off by Harry planting a kiss directly onto your clit. He spreads your legs and presses your knees to your chest to have full access. He presses his tongue as deep as it can go into your whole and curls it upwards. Your eyes cross as he tongue-fucks you. His eyes are closed in pleasure, and he's moaning like you're the one giving him head. He swirls his tongue inside you before moving to flicking at your clit. "Oh, fuck that's good, Harry," you moan and tangle your fingers into his hair.

"Give yourself to me," he moans against you.

"I feel so good, Har," you tell him, and feel a tightening in your gut that you've only ever felt when pleasuring yourself. "Harry, I feel it."

"Good fucking girl, let me make you cum," he says and doubles down his efforts on your pussy. His hands grip your thighs harshly and spreads you even further. You can't even think about where his tongue is working because of how fast he's going. His head shakes, and he moans so his mouth vibrates against you.

"I- I think I'm going to cum- don't stop," you cry and grasp his hair, holding his face hard against your pussy and grinding however you want.

"Use me," he muffles against you and just sticks his tongue out, letting you use him in any way you need. His hands reach up to tweak your nipples, and that's what throws you over the edge. You swear you black out. It's the most intense orgasm you've ever had, and you feel tears leaking from your eyes from the relief of having an orgasm from someone else. Your hands unleash Harry's hair, and your body twitches as he continues to lick at you. You close your thighs and push at his head.

"Oh my gosh," you sob and gasp for air. You cover your face with your hands as you catch your breath. You hear Harry giggle and feel him kiss his way up your body.

"Why are you covering your face?" He asks and removes your hands, resting his body weight on top of you. "Thank you, baby- for trusting me."

"Thank you for being patient with me. That was the best orgasm I've ever had," you laugh and kiss him. You both kiss for a minute before you reach down and stroke his cock, tapping it against your sensitive clit. His mouth falls agape, and his hips jut forward.

"Do you still want to have sex, or do you just want to cuddle?" He asks to be sweet, but you can see the desperation on his face.

"H, I want you to fuck me, and I want you to cum inside me," you tell him honestly, and he moans as you make his tip catch your hole. He pulls his hips back.

"I- I'm going to be honest. I'm not going to last long because I've been so fucking turned on for so long, so I'm sorry-" You cut off his rambling with a kiss.

"Harry, you are the most wonderful person and boyfriend in the world, so I don't care if you finish quick," you assure him and cup his jaw. "C'mon, Har. Put your fat cock in me. I wanna feel the stretch."

"You're so fucking hot," He moans and slips the tip in. His jaw stays dropped as he slides in further, his eyebrows furrowing together, and you can tell he's trying so hard not to cum. "Ah, fuck. Best pussy I've ever had- it's so- so fucking good," he groans and drops his head to your shoulder. His grip on your waist is bruising as he just moves your body however he wants onto his dick.

"That dick is so fucking good, H," you whine and press your heels against his ass, so he falls farther into you and rests himself against you. Your pussy is sopping wet and tight, and Harry fears he's going to cum when he hasn't even been inside of you for four minutes. He suddenly pulls out quickly when he feels his orgasm approaching. "Harry- what the hell?" You whine.

"It was too much. I'm really trying to last here, you brat," he argues and takes a moment to try and calm himself down.

"I don't care if you cum early, Harry, c'mon. Just want your dick inside me," you groan and grip his waist, trying to shove him back in you. "You told me that if I told you what you want, and you would give it to me. You're breaking your promise."

"Brat," he mutters through gritted teeth and begins to push into you again. As soon as he begins to enter you again, his hand starts to rub at your clit.

"Oh!" You moan, and your thighs tighten around him. Your hands claw at his sides as you try to kiss him through both of your moans. "I think- I think I'm going to cum again," you tell as your tummy begins to tighten again- stronger this time.

"Oh, baby, please. Please cum for me," he begs. You can feel his cock twitching in you, him on the verge of his own release. "Y/N- fuck, sweetheart. You have to cum- Baby, you gotta- I'm sorry," He babbles like crazy, and you don't understand his apology until you feel his cum start to spurt into you, and that's what tips you over the edge. You're a mess of shaking bodies, moans, and whines. "Oh, thank God- good fucking girl," he moans.

As you both begin to calm down, he relaxes himself on top of you and wraps his arms around your body.

"That was a real one, right?" He asks.

"Yes, Harry," you laugh and stroke his hair.

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again. 

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them. 

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway. 

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut. 

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit. 

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd. 

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?” 

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.” 

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face. 

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully. 

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece. 

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble. 

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting. 

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over. 

“Did you see them?” 

“See who?” 

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?” 

‘You’re not his type.’  Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.” 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it. 

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face. 

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule. 

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway. 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up. 

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’ 

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax. 

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes. 

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all  the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home. 

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them. 

“Tim…” 

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?” 

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.” 

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!” 

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week. 

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-” 

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face. 

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours. 

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not. 

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful. 

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred. 

“You never said anything.” 

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them. 

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them. 

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying. 

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-” 

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.” 

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him.  Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own. 

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself. 

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred. 

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle. 

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes. 

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued. 

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–” 

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his. 

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice. 

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money. 

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him. 

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of. 

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian…. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left. 

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family. 

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads. 

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage. 

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used. 

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes. 

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo. 

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’  Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines. 

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair. 

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves. 

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?” 

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this! 

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt. 

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it? 

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?” 

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.” 

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?” 

“I did. So we can talk freely.” 

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.” 

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it. 

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu. 

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.” 

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live. 

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this. 

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.” 

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.” 

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains. 

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app. 

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game. 

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs. 

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway. 

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick 

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on. 

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest. 

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item. 

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.” 

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor. 

Not worthy of anything. 

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her. 

“Thank you.” 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder. 

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral. 

Just how Batman does. 

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified? 

“You did great Y/N!” 

“Looking beautiful Y/N.” 

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!” 

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils. 

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work. 

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.” 

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause. 

“...What?” 

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all. 

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne. 

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes. 

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.” 

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.” 

“At least let them change, Dick.” 

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that  it is snowing outside.” 

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms. 

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call– 

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today. 

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?” 

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet. 

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them. 

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run. 

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Protect (Luffy)

Imagine guarding Luffy’s hat.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,224

(Not my gif)

There is something you are one hundred percent certain of. In a life plagued with precariousness and anxiety, there is one truth you can always cling to.

And that is the fact that your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, always has your back.

No matter what situation you find yourself in, he never fails to brighten your day with a smile and defeat whatever foe you're facing.

Whether you're homesick, bored, or literally having your life threatened, he's always right by your side.

He guards each of his crew with a vigour that only he can. His warm smile brighter than a thousand suns as he celebrates yet another victory.

There is another thing you're certain of.

That your captain has one treasure more precious than any of his other objects.

His straw hat.

Given to him by the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, Luffy values that hat above all else.

Even at the cost of his own safety.

There's been countless times where you've watched in horror as Luffy was struck but managed to keep one hand firmly atop his hat.

It never got easier seeing him battle men quadruple his size and strength. Your stomach would clench with worry and you'd do your best to help battle the other opponents, but you always felt so helpless.

Watching him take on such intense foes made you feel proud of him and also concerned for his well being.

Although now that you've been sailing as a Straw Hat Crew member for months, you've come to realize that your captain can take on anything.

His hat, less so.

So, here you sit, quietly mending his hat as Luffy gapes at your handiwork.

"Awesome!" He grins, face alight with joy, "You're good at this, Y/n!"

"I'm just glad you're okay," you confess, carefully stitching away.

It's no secret how you feel about Luffy: everyone on the crew knows about your crush. And you have confidence that Luffy feels the same way.

It's in the little things he does. Always finding an excuse to hug you, explore new islands with you, and even share his food with you. And he never shares his food with anyone else.

So, it's safe to say he at least likes you.

He laughs, "You need to stop worrying so much!"

"You need to stop getting beat up!" You fire back, finishing your stitch. "Seriously, I'm starting to think you like pain."

He laughs, "I don't! But I got him in the end, Y/n! That's all that matters."

You sigh and motion for him to bow his head. He does and you gently set his hat back in its rightful place.

He grins up at you, "Thanks, Y/n! Let's go see if Sanji's done making supper!"

Luffy snatches your hand in his as soon as you drop your needle into your sewing kit. He drags you into the kitchen, using his devil fruit power to snatch up an apple.

"Sanji," he mumbles around a mouthful of fruit, "When's food gonna be ready? I'm hungry."

"Not yet," the cook shakes his head. "I need thirty more minutes."

Luffy groans loudly, leaning his head on your shoulder, "That's too long!"

"You have to wait!"

Luffy scrunches his nose in annoyance before dragging you outside again. Once there, he shoves the apple near your mouth, "Have a bite!"

You're surprised he hasn't eaten it all already. Opening your mouth, you take a large bite of the tangy goodness, humming your approval.

"Thanks," you start to mumble but he stops you mid sentence by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

A furious heat flushes your face at his abrupt actions.

"W-what was that for?"

He grins and swipes his tongue over his mouth, "You had juice on your lips."

You're floored, unable to respond as the kiss replays in your head. Meanwhile, he's already walking away with a giddy giggle.

~

You watch with bated breath as Luffy's hat goes flying.

He's fighting a particularly strong foe, having to use all his focus on the battle.

Without a second thought, you race after his treasure, determined to keep it safe for him. He's always doing so much for you, so you want to return the favour.

The other Straw Hats are occupied, no one noticing as you slip away to chase after the stray hat. A strong wind has blown it quite the distance, and you find it stuck on a tree branch.

You grab it, turning on your heel to trudge back to the main fight. But there's a problem.

A large group of marines stand in front of you, each one wearing a menacing grin.

"Look who we have here," the supposed leader comments, stepping forwards.

You instinctively hide Luffy's hat behind your back, grinning back ferociously.

"Gentlemen, what are you doing so far from the real fight?"

"Could ask you the same," he sneers. "What's that behind your back? Is it the infamous Straw Hat Luffy's straw hat?"

Your grip on the straw tightens.

"You're in charge of safeguarding it huh? Is that all you're good for?"

They laugh amongst themselves.

"I wonder if they'd kick you out if you failed the one task they gave you," he steps forward again.

"Over my dead body," you hiss, taking out your weapon after securing the hat to your belt. "If this hat is destroyed, then I have no reason to go on."

Before they can make the first move, you've taken down two of them, angered at their words and fuelled with the desire to protect Luffy's treasure.

The fight goes on too long.

Outnumbered, you take hits that knock you down and leave you bloodied and bruised. Maybe even with a few broken bones.

By now, you're on the ground, clutching the hat in your bloodied hands as a torrent of kicks fall on your back.

You took down well over half the marines but the few remaining are mad as hell and taking it out on you.

You barely register the outraged cry of your captain as he shouts, "Gum-Gum Gatling!"

The kicks stop as your attackers go flying, landing with dull thuds. They don’t get back up again.

Luffy is quick to rush to your side, “Y/n! Are you alright?!”

“Luffy,” you manage a small smile, shakily handing him his hat. “I protected your treasure.”

He doesn’t smile, in fact he looks angry.

“Idiot! You’re my treasure,” he shouts, gripping onto your shoulders, “And now you’re hurt!”

Confused, you stare up into his eyes, “But you love this hat.”

“But I love you more,” he shakes you again before screaming for Chopper to come and assess the damage done to you.

After you’re back on the ship, nicely bandaged and safe in bed, Luffy approaches you again. He seems less energetic than normal, dragging his feet as he comes to the bed.

“Thank you for protecting my hat. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“Luffy,” you gently clasp his hand, “You’ve always protected me.”

His eyes are wet with tears, “But-“

“I couldn’t ask for a better captain,” you reiterate, pulling him closer. “You’re all I could hope for.”

“Really?”

“Honest,” you smile, “Now come here.”

You drag him into your arms, wincing slightly. He is cautious of your injuries, gently returning your hug.

“Thank you.”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Our New Beginning

This small mini series is inspired by this anons' request here!

I found this absoloutely adorable to write and I hope that you all like it as well!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: leah and reader have always wanted to start a family and that day finally comes true.

You remember the day that you and your wife first planned to have a baby, just like it was yesterday.

For as long as you and Leah had been together, you had always been certain that you both wanted the same thing, which was to start a family and grow old together.

It was a forseeable dream that you both shared and you both knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.

"So, I was thinking," Your wife began, you were sat in your living room as the crisp autumn air filled the room, both of you sat with your fingers interwined. "I think we're ready," she stated.

"Oh, ready for what?" You couldn't hide the amusment in your voice.

"I think we're ready to start our own little family," Leah said, her eyes bright with anticpation at the thought.

You smiled and felt a surge of excitment mixed with nerves, "It's a big step, but I think so too. I can't imagine doing it with anyone else but you," you told your wife honestly.

Leah leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, "I love you," she whispered, "Lets' do this, let's have a baby," she said.

In the weeks that followed, you and your wife drove headfirst into your preparations for journey towards parenthood. You had both done extensive research on fertility clinics, consulted with doctors and meticulously planned every little detail.

You decided you would be the one to carry, Leahs' football career was at a high right now and you didn't mind putting your career on the backburner to start a family with your wife.

It was clear that you were both just excited as one another, when one day you sneakily caught Leah browsing online for baby clothes.

"Really?" You asked your wife, a hint of amusement in your voice, "We're not even pregnant yet, love" The reminder from you was gentle, at the end of the day, you knew your wife was just looking forward to starting this journey together with you.

And the fact that your wife was a die-hard Arsenal fan, so of course she would be adamant that her own baby would therefore have their own kit, be damned.

"There's no harm in just looking," Leah waved off your tone of voice, "You can't not expect me to not get them one, our baby is going to be a Gooner, following in their mummy's footsteps. Arsenal runs through their blood," she joked with you, playfully.

"What if they don't even like football?" You challenged, amusedly.

Leah gasped and clutched her hand over her heart, "Arsenal will through their blood, whether they like it or not," she declared with a certain determination in her voice.

You couldn't help but chuckle and imagine your future together with your wife, filled with football games and family outings, "They'll be the cutest little Gooner," you replied, pulling Leah into a tight embrace.

Leah's excitement was palpable, already evisioning their little one wearing a tiny Arsenal shirt, "I can't wait to take them to their first match," she exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy.

Finally, the day arrived for you both to undergo the first IVF procedure, nerves fluttered in your stomach as the two of you sat in the waiting room, your wife holding your hand in comfort.

As you both were called into the doctors office, Leah squeezed your hand, her excitement was tinged with her own nervousness, "Whatever happens, we're in this together," she whispered, her voice steady with determination.

"We're in this together," You repeated with the same determination.

You thought the IVF procedure would be the part that you were most worried about, but instead it was the the anxious waiting around for the results, that wait was the longest for sure.

Or at least it felt like it was.

Every single day with the lead up to taking the pregnancy test, the anticipation mounted and your nerves felt like they were never settled.

So many times, so many times you wanted to pick up the test and try it earlier than the recommended 2 weeks after the embryo transfer, it was hard to not do it.

You could say it was the same sort of feelings for your wife, especially when you found her up at all early hours in the morning, pacing back and forth with that small frown planted on her face that you would always teased her about, until the day where you could take the test.

You would always remember that special day, the day that changed both of your worlds' for the better.

Your dream had come true, finally.

"Le, come look at this a minute," You motioned your wife to join you, where you stood in the bathroom with a white stick balanced on the counter, the results clear as day.

2 very bold lines, you were pregnant.

Your wife was quick to bolt up from her seat on the sofa to join you in the bathroom, setting her eyes on the test as she gasped, "We're pregnant?" Leah whispered, tears of joy starting to stream down her cheeks as she stared down at the test in her hands.

"We're pregnant," You repeated, your voice trembling with emotion.

Leah's heart swelled with happiness as she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, "We did it," she murmered, the tears still flowing down her cheeks.

In that moment, all the planning, all the nerves and the waiting faded away, it was replaced with an overwhelming sense of love and grattitude for your new addition to your little family and you both couldn't wait to welcome your little bundle of joy to the world.

leahwilliamsonn and y/nwilliamson posted

Liked by liawaelti, alessiarusso99 & 87,233 others.

leahwilliamsonn: So, we've been keeping a little secret to ourselves for a while now, that we'd like to share with all of you. Our dream of starting a family together has finally become real!

We can't wait to meet you, baby Gooner ❤️

© scribblesofagoonerr

[fluentmoviequoter]

I Don't Want Easy

This is a combination of an idea I had and this request!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: When Tim leaves in the middle of the night, you don't know what happened. After you find out you're pregnant a few weeks later, you must decide whether you want to wait for the man who abandoned you or move on.

Warnings: angst, pregnancy (r is pregnant), discussions of divorce, brief mention of fainting and hospitals, mention of cheating, there is a fluffy ending with comfort I promise

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: I feel like this could have been better and longer, so I may continue it later!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You’re used to being alone when you wake up. Today, though, feels different. The house is silent and there’s no sign of Tim.

Four hours before, Tim moved silently through the shadows of your home to gather his things. His Metro captain texted him an urgent SOS, a signal to go undercover. You know that Tim has been undercover before, but the current case requires a certain disconnection. Tim can’t tell anyone, not even you, his wife, that he is leaving or where he is going. Uttering a single word would jeopardize numerous lives, and despite Tim’s guilt about leaving you, the lingering idea of being the reason for the death of his fellow officers convinces him to stay quiet. Tim kisses your forehead and whispers an apology before he slips out, unsure when, or if, he will see you again.

As you walk through the house later, you notice some of Tim’s essential belongings are gone. There’s no note, no messages, and you feel a deepening sense of dread. Tim has been stressed lately, and you know that he can struggle to deal with his emotions. When you see that Tim’s go bag is gone, you know somehow that Tim is gone, and not just for the day. The sunrise illuminates your home and the absence of your husband… perhaps your new normal.

✯✯✯✯✯

Six weeks later, you’re pacing in your kitchen as Angela ends a phone call.

“Nothing,” she sighs. “No one in the division has heard from him since, uh, since he left you,” she tells you.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly.

“Hey, no matter what happens, you’re not alone, okay?”

Angela pulls you close before hugging you. The timer on your phone chimes a moment later, and Angela nods before leading you back to the bathroom. A pregnancy test lies in wait, and you clutch Angela’s hand in one of yours as you flip it over.

“It’s positive,” you whisper.

“And?” Angela asks.

“I’m really happy, I think. But I also don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t keep waiting for him, Angela.” “He may not be gone, not from you,” Angela soothes. “He’s disappeared suddenly before.”

“For a day, Angela! It’s been a month and a half. Tim isn’t coming back.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

You chew your bottom lip before asking, “Does Wesley know any good divorce lawyers?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Within a week, you have the papers to file for divorce on grounds of abandonment. Your lawyer is confident that if Tim can’t be found by the LAPD, he won’t contest the divorce. You, however, can’t seem to find the courage to sign the papers and return them. After another sleepless night worrying about Tim and what you’ll do without him, you call your lawyer and tell her you’ve changed your mind.

“Keep the papers, okay?” she says. “And if you change your mind and want to file them later, give me a call.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Four months later, your stomach is proudly showing your baby bump. The divorce papers are still sitting on your table, and you look at them every time you walk past them. Rubbing your hand over your growing bump, you wonder what happened to push Tim away so thoroughly and so suddenly. With your due date growing closer and your future on the line, you know that you need to file the papers, but you can’t.

Across town, Tim and three other Metro officers stumble into the station. They’ve been working nonstop, living in violent environments, and moving around so frequently that they often didn’t know where they were when they tried to sleep.

“There’s one more house to purge,” their captain says. “If we can hit it today, you can all go home and sleep easy.”

Tim sighs before leaving the station yet again. The case is closed by the end of the day, but Tim doesn’t know if he should or can go home. You’ve been alone for so long; Tim doesn’t even know if you are still his wife.

After checking into a nearby hotel, Tim gets comfortable for the first time in too long, but his thoughts keep drifting to you and the emptiness beside him.

You wake with a start as glass shatters. The sun is rising, and you rush into your closet to call 911. They promise that an officer is nearby and will arrive to help you soon. With your hands clutched protectively over your stomach, you wait for the familiar sound of sirens. Angela will insist that you stay with her until your house is secure once again. Your thoughts are ripped from Angela and her protectiveness as someone walks into your bedroom.

“LAPD!” an officer yells from the front door.

The man in your room rushes back out, and you hear the following commotion as he’s placed under arrest. Standing shakily, you try to calm down before you exit the closet.

“Bradford,” an officer says when he sees you.

Tim turns, and his shoulders drop, like he’s never been more relieved. When his eyes drop to your bump, however, the tension returns, and his eyes widen. You watch his fast-changing reaction, and when it meets your fear from the break-in and the stress of being pregnant alone, you feel like you may faint. As you extend an arm toward the wall to steady yourself, one of the other officers moves toward you and yells for the paramedics. When they enter, and push Tim back, he can’t look away from you and the small crowd separating him from you. Your hand isn’t visible from his position, but he looks down at his wedding ring and wonders if you still have one on, too.

“How far along are you?” a kind EMT asks.

“Uh, 17 weeks,” you answer.

Tim calculates quickly and realizes that you got pregnant just before he left. Or after. Because you are safe, though you agree to go to the hospital to get checked out, Tim leaves before you do to return to the station. He won’t admit that your reaction to seeing him again drove him away, not to anyone at the station. Your reaction causes him to think that you don’t want him around, and don’t need him, so Tim will stay gone.

“Tim!” Angela calls when he returns.

“Hey, Lopez. I need your help,” he replies.

“I heard the call over the radio. How much do you know?”

“More than I’m supposed to, I’m sure.”

“What are you going to do about it?” “Move out. Permanently.”

“What? Timothy, are you out of your mind? She needs you! She’s been miserable the past four months!” “Because of me! I made her miserable because I didn’t think I had another choice, and I won’t do it again. I have a choice now.”

“Tim, you have to go home and talk to her.”

“She has other people now, Angela.”

Angela stops quickly, and the look in Tim’s eyes saddens her.

“You don’t think you’re the father?”

“It’s been a long time since I left,” Tim says softly.

“She wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that. But if she knew that I left her, and left me, too…”

“Go home and talk to her,” Angela demands. She knows the truth and knows that Tim needs to hear it. “Trust me for once.”

When you get back from the hospital, everything is a blur. You’re upset because someone broke into your house, emotional because of the pregnancy hormones, and confused about why Tim was here, acting like an ordinary patrol cop after disappearing for months. Everything hurts, inside and out, yet you don’t know how to deal with it without Tim.

Someone knocks on the door, and you assume one of your neighbors saw the police car drop you off and wants to check on you. You are incredibly wrong; you realize when you open the door and see Tim. He freezes with his hand poised to knock again.

The sight of you causes Tim to panic. He suddenly can’t find the words to say, because none of them seem good enough to explain himself and make you see that he still loves you. His sudden silence reads as disinterest, and his lack of comfort causes your emotional, stressed, confused body to react poorly. Your stomach flips and you leave the door open as you rush inside. Tim watches your face change before you run inside, and he doesn’t hesitate to follow after you.

Tim enters the bathroom beside you and gathers your hair in one of his hands as the other presses against your spine.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I got you. I’m not leaving this time.”

Your breaths grow shallow, and Tim pulls you close until you have both calmed down. Once your breaths begin to match his, Tim moves to see your face, and you ask him to take you to the kitchen for water. He agrees and keeps both hands on you as he helps you stand and leads you through your once-shared house. As you prepare a glass of ice water, Tim notices the papers on your table. He reads the names at the top and hates himself for waiting so long to try to talk to you; he should have come straight home and shown you what you mean to him.

“Do you- do you want me to sign these?” Tim asks as he raises the petition.

When you see him holding divorce papers, and offering to sign them because he thinks that you want him to, tears blur your eyes, and your water falls to the floor. Ice cubes and water spill across the kitchen floor, and you sink to your knees in the puddle to gather the broken pieces. It’s symbolic, and your tears multiply as you realize that your life is similarly spilled and broken.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls as he enters. “Don’t.”

He lowers his hands to help you up, but you don’t move. Tim sits in the water beside you and waits for you to come to him. The moment your head hits his chest, your tears slow. Months without Tim didn’t change anything, you realize; nothing important, because he can still comfort you with a touch and cares about you and your safety.

“What are you doing here?” you ask against his shirt.

Tim sighs before telling you about the case. He doesn’t leave anything out, because you deserve the truth, but he doesn’t complain when you cling to him during his account of the most dangerous moments. He came home, and that’s what matters now, but you have something to explain to him, too.

“I didn’t sign the papers,” you admit. “Couldn’t. When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want to do it alone, but I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone but you. Tim, you could’ve come home the moment you returned.”

“No one would have blamed you for leaving. Anticipating it was better than being blindsided by it.”

“So, what now?” you ask.

Tim kisses your cheek, and you turn to look at him before giving him a proper welcome-home kiss.

“Now,” he says against your lips. He pulls back and continues, “Now, we start where we left off, and I do what I should have done four months ago.”

“What’s that?”

“Not leave. You, both of you, are never going to be alone again. I promise.”

You nod and move your hands over his shoulders to pull yourself closer. Your bump gets in the way, and Tim chuckles before murmuring that he’ll have to get used to that.

“Let’s go,” Tim says before lifting you from the wet floor. “Lopez is probably calling you.”

“Tim. This won’t be easy,” you say. “We both missed a lot.”

“I don’t want easy. I want to be married to you and learn to do it all together, no matter how long that takes. Anything you want, it’s done. You want room, say the word.”

“I don’t want room now.”

“Then let’s go catch up. Want me to order food?”

“That or cook in a wet kitchen.”

“What do you and the baby here want?”

“Daughter,” you interject. Tim hums in question and you smile before explaining, “We’re having a girl.”

[drunkinyourbenz]

ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU

☆ SYNOPSIS: your parents' excitment about the election results left you with a pit of dread in your stomach. luckliy for you, you had billie, who helped you through it all.

☆ RELATIONSHIP: billie eilish x fem!reader

☆ WARNINGS: angst, comfort, politics, right wing family, implied homophobic family, long distance relationship (during tour)

☆ REQUESTED? yes, anon

☆ NOTE: hi my loves, i saw this request and just had to write it right away (literally wrote it in half an hour lmao) for anyone needing comfort as well as the anon who requested this, i hope you're doing okay. i'm not from america, but i'm also deeply dissapointed about the election results, and i feel for all of you who are there. i hope i did this request justice, i don't have a family who's like super against my views so i hope this is okay <3 anyone with family celebrating like the readers is in this story, please imagine me giving you the biggest hug rn, i hope you're coping okay. my dms are always open if you want to talk about anything at all, i love you all, please stay safe <33

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2k words

you and billie had been dating for a while now, and she made you happier than anyone ever had before. she was your other half, and without her you would feel incomplete. you weren’t on tour with her, much to both of your disappointments. but you’d had personal things that took up your time at the start of tour, so the plan was that you’d join her once she came on tour to your city, and you’d join her for the rest of tour. despite not being on tour with her, your mind always drifted back to her, she had a permanent residence in your heart. 

so naturally, on election night, you sat in your room thinking about her. you wanted nothing more than to be held by her in this moment, you’d slipped away from dinner as soon as you could, but you could still hear your family’s excited chatter coming from downstairs. the fact that they were happy about the way it was going, the way they wanted a future that was so drastically different from the one you had in your mind… it stung. your parents genuinely wanted a future that you weren’t sure whether you had a place in, and you didn’t really know what to do with that information.

you were trying to stay off social media, to stay away from the news, because you knew it wouldn’t help you—you couldn’t change a thing. but every few minutes, you’d end up switching back to the tab on your laptop with the live updates, feeling a sense of dread settling in your stomach. you couldn’t quite comprehend how so many more people had voted for him, the man who made you genuinely fear for your future. 

so finally, you texted billie. you needed her comfort, even though it would just be her voice over a call. you needed her. 

can i call you??

billie replied not long after, her text simple. 

bils: ofc baby

her contact calling you came up on your screen before you could even move to call her, and you automatically accepted the face time. her face popped up on your phone after a moment, and as well as the tiredness from tour you’d been seeing so much of lately, she looked just as crestfallen as you. the two of you shared the same opinions on this, and you knew how much billie cared about it. 

just as the call loaded properly, you heard a loud cheer from downstairs, and you couldn’t stop the grimace that appeared on your face. billie’s lips curved down in a soft, sympathetic frown, “oh, baby.” 

a sigh left your lips, the sound somewhat defeated, “i just… i don’t know how they want that. it feels like they want a future that i’m not safe in–” billie cut you off with an understanding sigh, she knew that if she let you keep talking, you’d simply spiral. she knew what you meant, you felt a rift between you and your parents, you felt unsure of what that meant for your relationship with them. billie herself had never experienced it, with her own family being supportive and sharing her views, but she had always been good at comforting you. 

“i’m so sorry, baby. you know that me and my family have always got you, no matter what, yeah? we’ve got your back, we’re always here for you. all of us.” 

your lips curled into a soft pout, her words lessening the sadness you were feeling. “i love your family.”

she smiled softly at you, “and we love you. always.” 

you cracked a small smile at her words, the disappointment behind your eyes still very much evident, but you felt an overwhelming feeling of love for the people in your life. even if your blood-related family didn’t understand, you had your chosen family. that small fact that you had your people, who agreed with you on these things, it helped to soften the blow of your parents wanting the country to go down such a different path than you did. only slightly, but it helped. you felt the pain dull slightly. 

the two of you stayed on the phone for a while, billie distracting you from your parents downstairs by telling you about the tour so far. obviously, she was also upset about everything going on, but she knew you needed this support and that was more important than talking about it. she just wanted you to feel okay. you could feel the emotions hanging around both of you even through the phone, but you appreciated that she wasn’t mentioning them right now. you’d have plenty of time to talk about the election later, once you didn’t feel so despairing about the future. 

after about half an hour of the two of you just talking, you decided to ask her something. 

“bils?” 

“hmm?” she hummed, looking up as if she could sense the importance of what you were about to say even through one word. 

“do you… do you think i could join you on tour a bit earlier than planned? i just don’t know if i can stay in this house for any longer, it’s just–”

“of course.” 

her instant, firm reply cut off your rambling and you sighed in relief, “thank you–”

“don’t thank me, darling. i just want you to feel safe.” she paused, thinking, “you could join us on the minnesota dates, if you want. there’s two days there, so it gives you more time to get here. i can book you a flight–” 

you smiled at her considerate words, the way she was taking everything into account. oh, how you loved her. “that sounds perfect. and don’t book first class this time, jesus. i can put up with an economy flight, i’m used to them. plus,  i get to see you at the end of it.” 

she smiled warmly, “mm, you do. and then i’m wrapping you up in a massive hug and never letting you go, because i love you.” 

you giggled softly at her words, “i think i’m looking forward to seeing maggie more, actually.” 

billie rolled her eyes fondly, her mother just adored you. “i don’t blame you.” 

the two of you talked into the night, and were still on the call when you woke up. you weren’t aware that you’d fallen asleep, and you probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for her soothing voice.

it was now the early hours of the morning, soft sunlight streaming through the curtains you’d forgotten to shut. the house had gone silent by now, your parents finally asleep, and you felt a tiny bit of peace just laying there in the silence. you looked at the screen for a moment, simply admiring her pretty sleeping face, the way her eyelashes fluttered slightly and her chest rose and fell with each breath. this time in a few days, you’d be in her arms again. 

you let out a soft sigh. the country may be falling apart by the seams, but you had billie. you had her, so you’d be okay. 

[deonsx]

Teacher/Student Relationship With Bsd Men

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Kunikida, Ranpo

Content: Smut, Fem!Reader, Fluff, Nsfw, Rude Talk

Not:You've both been of age for a long time

Dazai Osamu

• He's definitely a philosophy teacher and likes to fill people's minds with his theories

• You were the one who took the first step in your relationship, he rejected you the first time but you didn't give up that easily, you flirted a lot to get him and finally he agreed to be with you but of course he didn't want anyone to know about it, that's how your secret love started

• He wasn't one to hide it during classes. He would approach your desk and constantly ask you questions "S/o what do you think about this?" It was really difficult to teach the lesson with him

• This brunette definitely has a classroom fantasy..he calls you to his classroom after school is over..he likes to fuck you on his desk while the light is shining on you while the surroundings are orange with the setting sun

• Students are suspicious of his relationship with you, because even though Dazai has a secret love life, he is constantly watching you in class and does not forget to wink from time to time

• No, copying is forbidden, even if you are his lover, any copying will translate into extra fantasy punishments for him to fuck you at night "You need to know that no exceptions will be made for you" he just thought about the punishments he will give you at night as he took the cheat sheet and left

• He is definitely a man who loves making love. You heard from the gossip in the class that he had many girlfriends in the past, so he is very experienced, he likes a slow and sensual sex, and you had your first love 8 months after you became lovers, you forced him.. he was waiting for you

"Nghhh~!!" You wrapped your hands in the sheets as he pushed his full hardness into you. "Why did you cheat, dear?" He spoke with his tongue while leaving a wet line on your chest, all the way to your belly button. As he continued his hard thrusts, your surroundings were now completely blurry for you. How did you get to this point, how many times did you cum now? 5? 6? You don't remember, "You look really beautiful, you like me fucking you, right..?" "osamu--!!!" you screamed as he gave you quick strokes on your sweet part. The knot in your stomach quickly broke and a new one was added to the ejaculations you can't count

“I don't want anything like this in my lesson again, my love, is that understood?”

Chuuya Nakahara

• In my opinion, he would be either a German language instructor or a mathematics teacher

• He is definitely a very disciplined teacher and when you first confessed your feelings to him, he punished you and with that confession, he made the exams difficult for you and did not show even the slightest tolerance

• The first day your relationship with him, that is, the cold wall he built against you, started to melt was the day he got sick and neglected to come to school. You ran away from school that day and went to your teacher's house. He was angry when he saw you, but he couldn't say anything because he almost fainted

• You babysat him the day he was sick and made the ice in his heart melt. After that day, everything seemed to be a little more rosy for you. Chuuya avoided you mostly outside of class, but after weeks, he accepted his feelings, even though it was undisciplined and inappropriate for him, he avoided running away every time was bored

• he is really watching you all the time whether he is in class or not he stays near your class and watches the boys who talk to you (Those boys will fail his class) he is very jealous and may even give them a punishment

• Now let's get to the main point, how about sex? Do you have fantasies? How long after did he accept it? He's definitely the best at his job. He's committed to pleasing you. He doesn't have any perverted fantasies, but he won't say no to fucking you in the classroom. You had your first love 1 year after your relationship started and you definitely felt like you were in heaven that night

"Tell me, my love..." you barely heard his words as my legs were shaking. He had you sit on his dick and was making you solve math problems on the table in front of you.. "I-I don't know chuuya~!" Your brain became more fuzzy with every second as he thrust into you "Nghhh~~!!!" Chuuya slowly wrapped your hair from your wet skin to his hands. "My love, this is not the answer." You tried to get up while your legs were shaking, but when Chuuya's hand quickly pulled you back, a harsh moaning sound was heard

"If you continue like this, you will make me fuck you until the morning”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

• he is a physics teacher and teaches a lesson like death

• Everyone is trying not to fall asleep in his class. He is a very strict teacher and is the type of person who always takes a student to the blackboard. He keeps giving advice because he is an extremely religious teacher

• Now, if we look at it from a serious perspective, he definitely does not talk to his students outside of class, although the reason is not known, as if it were a rule for him and no student goes beyond this rule

• You didn't confess your feelings for him! (THIS IS A FIRST!) because you were really afraid of his reaction, instead of confessing to him, you constantly prepared meals in containers and gave them to him anonymously, and every morning there was a brand new note on his food: "You are very serious today, Mr. Dostoyevsky" "I hope you will notice my admiration and passion for you” "I can't stop thinking about you" or more spicy notes. It took months for these notes to flow, and although Fyodor hated it at first, months later he was waiting for those notes with a grin on his face every time

• He finally found you, but of course he wanted to see the person who wrote him these notes for months. He knew you were a student, but you didn't expect him to find you, and even though you denied his allegations against you, he knew everything from the beginning, he just laughed and you saw him smile for the first time, making your face turn red "All those notes were sweet"

• He definitely plays a sadistic role in sex and has many fantasies he only sees fit to make you suffer if it gives you pleasure and of course there is a safe word between you two that he stops when you tell him "Are you okay darling...did it hurt that much?"

• Yes, he is the one who thinks about having a secret relationship and sometimes acts like you don't exist in class. When you said you were upset about it, he never did that again

"ahhhh~!!" You were in the teachers' lounge, school had already closed and you couldn't hold back a moan as Fyodor continued to slam into you "You want to be known by others, slut" he grinned as he continued to thrust hard into you and hit your sweet spot "You want everyone to see and watch us like this, right..you are so naughty" his long white fingers He grabbed your waist hard and continued whispering to you with sweat running down his forehead

“The school is ours all night long. You can moan as much as you want, dear”

Nikolai Gogol

• He is a biology teacher and he doesn't even care about his lesson. He usually dozes off in class and doesn't care even if the students complain

• he sleeps all the time. Usually, his classes are the last classes of the day, so after he falls asleep, no one knows when he wakes up. One day you rejected the invitation of your friends and when school ended, you stayed in the classroom, covered his with your shawl, left a kiss on his white hair and left him there that day

• The next day, Nikolai must have found out who that shawl belonged to, because he called a student to his office for the first time, all the students said that someone had made him angry, because otherwise, why would Nikolai do something he has never done and care about his job? Yes, he found you and you saw him more serious than ever that day, but instead of saying anything harsh to you, he just thanked you

• From that day on, Nikolai never slacked off, he taught in a straight and disciplined manner. Even though the whole school was shocked by this situation, no one, including you, understood what changed him... But you were happy that you could listen to his conversations now. Weeks later, he started talking to his students

• you were always watching him in classes and after a while, it was like a bond formed between you, like an invisible rope... and he was the first one to confess after months. Your flirtation probably lasted more than 2 years, but eventually your relationship started

• Oh boy, he's a beast in bed, he's gone beyond his laziness limit, you've never seen that laziness again, he likes to film everything that happens with you so he can use it later if he needs it at school, he's got a fast and serious speed

"Smile my love~!!!" While he fucked you from behind, he tangled his hand in your hair and asked you to look at the camera "Nikolai~!! stop it this is too much...~!!!" nikolai moaned as the rapid thrusts continued their course "Fuck! You're so tight darling~~" you weren't even sure how many photos and videos you took with the camera, your mind was so blurry and you were on the point of fainting

"The night is just starting, my love, I love watching you"

Kunikida Doppo

• We already know that he is a mathematics teacher! And one of the very strict ones!

• He's the toughest on this list...because he's actually a gentleman with 58 ideals and a math teacher, and you're a student so you can't meet most of his ideals

• It's impossible to talk to him. He doesn't listen to the students unless there is a "math question" and walks away. In the eyes of the students, he is a rude and self-aware person. It was obvious that you couldn't talk to him normally, so you took the hardest option, Private lessons

• Now you don't think that this guy gives private lessons in a completely random way? He has criteria for students and yes, you spent months to meet them and just to take these private lessons and you got that chance again, he still has a long way to go before you, even if you try to flirt with him during lessons, he is definitely a heavy disciplinarian and quickly gets off topic

• You confessed to him after 2-3 months and of course it wouldn't be easy, he threw away all his lessons with you..and now your job had become twice as difficult, but since you thought his ideal woman would be an intelligent woman, you focused on your lessons and gained as much knowledge as him, of course it did not go unnoticed by him and finally started talking to you again

• He gave you a chance and you went to the movie night. After that chance, you went on more dates and eventually you started a relationship and yes, of course, your relationship was secret, it was unthinkable otherwise

• How is it at night? He is definitely a trick when it comes to romance that will attract your woman in the best way. He has learned fantasies just for you (maybe he wants to see you in different positions:0)

You were tied to your bed with your hands handcuffed. Kunikida was trying out a fantasy he was curious about on you again "Do you feel nice, my love?" He had the decency to ask you as he slowly moved in and out of you and he nodded. You bit your lip to moan as your hair clung to your face. "I want to hear your Ssshhh voice" As he slowly accelerated, his wrists started to hurt and it would probably leave scars tomorrow

"Fucking you like this... makes me feel so good"

Ranpo Edogawa

• He is a mathematician and he is definitely the best at his job. No one at school recognizes him as a teacher. He is known as the genius teacher of the school and has enough knowledge to teach all other subjects

• Yes, the fact that he is smart does not eliminate his most important feature of laziness, he is a complete sleepwalker, but he rarely skips classes just

• He is a teacher who is comfortable enough to give you the answers to your grades in exchange for bribes, that is, things like snacks, and he is the most comfortable among them

• If his heart is running on junk food, then you will bribe him every day for the opportunity to talk to him, but of course you will do it without making it look like that

• You started bringing him small snacks every day, each time saying "Ranpo-san!!! Look what I got you?" "Special candy day!!" "I bought it from your favorites" he continued like this every day, even though he always made sure you passed your classes, what you wanted was much more than grades

• Although it wasn't easy for him to give you a chance, it didn't take him long to ask the girl who did so much for him and that's how you started dating, of course it was a secret relationship again. After spending months with you, Ranpo rented a house with you and now you started staying with him

• You make love every night..he is very lazy but how can he miss it when such a beautiful woman attracts him..slow and sweet sex will satisfy his pleasure

"F-fuck my love, keep going~~" while you were jumping on his swollen dick, he was breathing his hot breath into the cold room. His face was red and his eyes were narrowed. "Nghh~ You like this, right, Ranpo? You can beg, my dear" Ranpo laughed hoarsely, although not very loudly, at what he said and his cold hands held your hips

"I'm punishing you to bounce on my dick all night long my love, thank you for this pleasure"

Enjoy!

Tags!!~~

@lunaaka @zbriia @hiddensideofmoon @cupidszvlvr @skelitea @cocodrilofeliz @n1chxyaaenthusiast @muichiroismylove @camillesartbook @eggcoreloser @mizuxii

[woso-dreamzzz]

School

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You have a bad first day

The school is fancy.

It's private (the only one that Magda and Pernille could find on short notice) and you get put into a fancy uniform.

Magda thinks that a school blazer is too much for such a little girl to be wearing but it was the uniform policy so she bought it. You look incredibly grown up, perhaps too grown up for the little baby that used to sleep in her arms and cry when she hid your dummy.

Now though, she's the one crying.

"Magda," Pernille whispers," Smile. You're going to make her cry too."

Magda doesn't really think you need her help for that. You cling to her hand tightly, scuffing the ground with your fancy new shoes. You flinch every time a child goes past you and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth.

Magda puts on the biggest, fakest smile she can manage and tries to look encouraging.

You give her a weak smile back before shuffling forward and then back towards her again.

"Hallo!" A stern looking woman says from the classroom door.

"Hallo," You whisper back.

Magda stiffens when the woman gives you an odd look. She knows why though. You speak German very well but on certain words, you have the tiniest of accents and it's clear that this woman picks up on it.

Magda tightens her grip on you as Pernille talks to the teacher.

"Hey," She says," I love you."

You look towards the classroom where kids your age are running about and screaming.

"Don't want to," You whisper," Morsa, I don't want to."

"I know," She says," I don't want you too either but we're both going to be very brave and get through today."

"No," You say," No, I don't want to be brave. I want to go home." The little crinkle in your brow appears and your bottom lip wobbles.

"It's okay," Pernille joins you both now, cupping your face and smoothing out your crinkle," Just a few hours and then we'll pick you up and we'll go back to training."

You sniffle. "I want to go to training now."

"I know," Pernille says," But you've got school first."

You huff and look back at the classroom and the stern lady waiting for you.

"The sooner you start school, the sooner you can leave," Morsa promises you and that's enough to get you moving.

Two hours into your school day, you decide that you don't like it at all.

Your classmates are mean and the little boy who sits next to you pulls your hair and spits. It's very gross.

Your teacher isn't nice either. You don't think she likes you either. She's kind of mean and speaks very quickly to you as if to catch you out with something.

Your German is good and Momma and Morsa have been teaching you to read at home but it's a little slower reading in German than your other languages.

You know you can read Swedish and Danish well because Momma and Morsa focus on that at home and you can read English too because sometimes Jessie and Niamh would help you while you sat on the bench with them.

You didn't really have anyone to read German with but you know how to read in your other languages so it's kind of the same and all you need to do is sound out the words.

You don't know why she's picking on you because everyone else is struggling too. It's not your fault.

"We speak German here. Not English," She says a bit spitefully but, strangely, in English when you pass her for breaktime.

That makes an icky feeling appear in your stomach and you sit by yourself at break on the playground.

Your other classmates seem to have picked up on the weird atmosphere your teacher has created around you because nobody comes to play with you.

You've never really had much interaction with kids your age so you're not too sure whether you should invite yourself into someone else's game or wait for them to invite you. You don't want to make people not like you more.

So, you sit at the very edge of the playground and dig at some weeds with a stick. You want to go and play football with the boys but you saw them turn away another girl who wanted to play earlier so you stay far away.

Your day doesn't really get better because after break your teacher is still very mean and she gets an annoyed and somewhat angry look on her face when you burst into tears.

She sends you by yourself to the reception lady, who takes one look at you and gives you tissues to dry your face before calling Momma and Morsa.

The receptionist woman is nice and you wish she was your teacher instead of the mean woman because she shares half her chocolate bar with you while you wait.

Momma and Morsa come quickly, still in their training kits and you burst back into tears all over again.

You curl yourself into Momma and sob. "Don't want to do school anymore," You choke out," Don't make me. No more!"

Momma hushes you softly, tucking you into her so you have some semblance of privacy. She picks you up too as Morsa spits venom at the poor reception lady who, quite graciously, accepts it in her stride.

"So mean," You explain to Momma as you both sit in the car," She's so mean. Momma, she's picking on me." You tug off your blazer and pull at your shirt. "I don't want to go back."

"I know you don't," Momma says," But-"

"No!"

Morsa opens the door and slams herself into her seat in annoyance. "That foul, foul, pathetic excuse for a teacher," She bites out," I told you, didn't I, Pernille? That I got bad vibes off her?!"

"I know, Magda," Momma says quietly," Let's just get back to training and discuss it tonight..." She jerks her head towards you and you know that means this conversation will be had when you're in bed and asleep.

You wish they would include you but you also know that this conversation will be long and boring with lots of adult topics that will probably get confusing.

"Hey," Morsa says, wiggling your knee as Momma starts the car," We're going to head back to training. Your gloves are in your practice bag, if that will make you feel better?"

You nod.

That would make you feel better.

[yuri-is-online]

Jade desperately googling and reading threads about mer x human pregnancies before he even dates yuu.

It differs from species to species, usually fem mer x male human results in viable pregnancies, there are a two articles about eels and humans, but none about morays.

His hope is dwindling, and the general consensus about deep sea folk relationships with humans isn't very good.

I HC that male mer x female human pregnancies don't last very long. After the sperm makes contact with an egg, it'll need a few months of growth before it's expelled from the body and put into the sea. Those kinds of couples usually have one child at a time, it depends on the number of available eggs.

Modern day people in twst have aquariums that are made to hold the clutches in a safe environment away from predators. The aquariums can be used both underwater and on land. After 'hatching' the babies are translucent, they are kept in the aquariums until they gain colour. Once they have enough colour they are let out.

The smallest aquariums need to hold at least one human adult, so that a parent can interact and communicate with their clutch during the growing process.

I think I read a post/fic with a similar headcannon to this? Long long ago, perhaps even before I even downloaded Twisted Wonderland. I don't fully remember... but it is something I have been thinking about a decent bit ever since you sent this ask because it raises so many questions.

I think it makes the most sense in human x mer relationships for one or the other to take a transformation potion and move onto the land/into the sea. In these cases pregnancy/egg laying would go as it would "normally" but what you're suggesting made me think about what would happen if a couple got it on raw in their normal forms and not transformed. Would that result in a viable pregnancy? If it did would it produce the sorts of offspring you are suggesting or would it result in some sort of hybrid child, barely held together by their own magic?

The aquariums are a good idea, the story seems to suggest that Jade and Floyd had other siblings once but they didn't make it. Their mother's obsession with checking up on them and teaching self defense makes a lot of sense if you think of that... she lost most of her babies, she wants the two she has to remain safe (i bet she's going feral rn, let Mama Leech into the enclosure S.T.Y.X. she'll put Malleus in his place ٩(๑`^´๑)۶) My question is whether or not that would interfere with the development of the eggs, especially on land. The deep ocean is very cold, recreating that on land could be problematic. With how few merfolk seem to bother with land (Azul mentions not many people bother with the free program in Book 6) there likely wouldn't be much of anyone thinking up a solution to this problem so few people have.

But Jade has that problem. Or will, he's sure of it but that's a minor detail- point is this is a problem he's actively thinking about. It keeps him awake at night, Jade strikes me as someone who would do a lot of research about this. It's part of how he loves, pouring through a pile of scientific articles that was slim to begin with but feel irrelevant now. None of these help him understand his chances because he is from the deep sea, Jade might be hardened towards the death of his siblings but he thinks of his own children and a rage unlike any he's ever known begins to stir in the pit of his stomach. Later, much later when he is explaining this all to you he will brush it off as him considering your human sensibilities, but the truth is written plain on his face. This little aquarium he has made was a solution painstakingly crafted with help from his own obsessions. It's the most important terrarium he has ever made because it will contain the most precious of all life forms, ones he watches grow in awe as he coos softly. These children were wanted long before they were ever born, their parents loved them to the point of invention and every second up until they hatch and forever after.

[wosoamazing]

Boys Will Be Boys Have No Excuses

Beneath the Surface | Leah Williamson x R

Warnings: Anxiety & Symptoms of Anxiety, Bullying

Notes: Based off this request. Sorry it's taken a while but I hope you all like it, also if anyone has any more requests for this series let me know. (As always don't know if I like it but yeah) 1.6K words

“Hey Bubs,” Leah said as she walked into the nurses office, and the pit in your stomach only deepened, you’d totally forgotten that your Mum had gone away, because she had a physio conference which she had to present at in Germany, Leah picking you up meant your [lan was ruined. You knew your Mum would let you have a mental health day without asking you the reason, because you would eventually answer her, however Leah wouldn’t, and you didn’t want to tell her, it was just some teasing that you were seriously over reacting too. You couldn’t keep faking though because you knew Leah would see right through it, so you had to be fine, and you’d have to do your school work and swim stuff and hopefully because you were doing work and not lying around she wouldn’t get annoyed at you.

The next morning you felt anxious, your head ached, you’d cried yourself to sleep, the dread of having to return to school, and see everyone, and face whatever the boys had to say overwhelmed you and you were scared. Trying to reduce the risks of whatever could happen, you didn’t eat breakfast, hoping that way the unease in your stomach wouldn’t turn into something more. You knew Leah wouldn’t let you stay home, so there wasn't even a point in asking, you knew she wasn’t happy having to pick you up when you were fine and in all honesty you felt guilty for making her leave training for you, so you figured you’d just have to push through, it was only a little bit of anxiety, it really wasn’t a big deal. 

However as you got further from home the feeling of unease built and it was harder to ignore the twisting in your stomach, but you didn’t know whether to ignore it or tell Leah. You didn’t want her to think you were faking, which she probably would think, but you also didn’t want to be sick in the car. But it was all just in your head anyway, you’d be fine, you just needed to stop being stupid and pathetic. However at the next set of traffic lights your stomach rebelled. Your throat burned as you brought up a mix of stomach acid and water, Leah was quick to lean over the centre console to grab you a sick bag from the glove box, handing it to you, before she hesitated, not really knowing what to do next. The light turned green and she did a U-turn, heading back home.

“Do you want me to pull over or do you think you’ll be okay until we get home?” Leah asked, her voice breaking slightly. You didn’t respond, too mortified at the fact you’d just thrown up all over the car and yourself, it was just some anxiety and now you’d ruined Leah’s day.

“Do you want some water?” Leah asked, trying to do anything helpful at all and you just shook your head, as much as your mouth tasted disgusting, you were sure you’d be sick again if you had some water.

The rest of the drive was silent, and as you pulled into the driveway Leah handed you the keys which you gratefully took, rushing out of the car and to the door, placing the keys on the hallway table before running upstairs to have a shower.

-

Whilst you were showing Leah called your Mum as she cleaned out the car, which thankfully wasn’t too bad as most of it ended up on you.

“Hey, how are you?” Maddie asked as she answered the phone. “Currently cleaning vomit out of the car.” “What. Why? What happened?” Leah sighed heavily, “I don’t know, yesterday I had to pick her up because she was feeling sick but she was fine, she didn’t have a fever and she acted normal once we were home, even did her school work. So I figured she would be okay to go to school today. We were about half way there and she just threw up no warning. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have just assumed she was fine” “Babe, it’s not your fault. It’s no one's fault, it just happens, do you think she is isck or do you think it’s something else?”“I don’t know, maybe something else, I mean she seemed to get more agitated as we got closer to the school but I don’t know if I’m just overthinking things,” “Okay, maybe we should talk to her, but Babe I’m really really sorry but I have to go, the presentation is about to start, but call me later, please,”

-

You stood in the bathroom, wondering whether you could just risk running to your bedroom to get clothes, having forgotten some in your rush to get clean.

Mother Williamson: I’ve left some clothes for you outside the bathroom in case you forgot some. I’ve also put some things in your bedroom for you that you might need, but I’ve also got the couch set up for you if you feel up to coming down. I don’t mind which you choose, just please call out for me or come down if you need anything.

You opened the door slightly and there sat some trackies and a hoodie, it was your favourite set, a set Leah had gifted you, and you felt guilty for not telling Leah you were going to be sick, she clearly cared about you but it was obvious she didn't want to overstep.

-

“Hey,” Leah said softly as you walked into the living room, deciding to ease her guilt and go down, Leah also gave good hugs that made you feel better, and you could do with one of those currently.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled before tears started to roll down your cheeks, and she held her arms out, directing you to come to her, and you did, you sat down next to her and pulled your knees to your chest, before hiding your face in her shoulder, and your tears turned into sobs.

“You’re okay bubs, I’ve got you,” Leah said softly as she began rubbing your back with one hand and placed her other hand on the back of your head protectively as you cried into her, “I’m not mad, I promise, and I’m sorry for making you go to school when you clearly weren’t feeling well,” you continued to cry into Leah as she held you tightly, murmuring calming words to you occasionally.

-

“What’s going on with you?” Leah asked you as she continued to run her fingers through your hair, having decided you’d calmed down enough to ask you the question, your head now rested in her lap and a blanket covered your body. You just shrugged in response. “Is there something happening at school? Swimming? I’m not mad and I won’t be mad I just want to help, but to do that I need to know what is going on,”

“Some of the boys have been saying things to me recently and then yesterday they made a list of the hottest girls in the swim team and they put me last, said I was too ‘muscular’ for a girl and that I looked like I was pregnant sometimes. Which wasn’t really bad but everyone saw it and it was embarrassing, and they have been saying things about you, and Mum and Cait, because you’re Lesbians and um, he-he kept telling people I made up stories about my past to get attention and sympathy and when we did those persuasive speeches the other day he asked the teacher when I finished whether we got marks taken off us for claiming to have personal experience with things we didn’t,” you spat out before pausing briefly, “but can we please not talk about it? I don’t want to, not right now at least,”

“We can talk about it later, I won't force you to talk about anything but we will have to talk at some stage, okay?” She replied, trying to hide the fact she was fuming, “But I also want you to know that what he is doing isn’t right, and you have every right to feel this way, I promise you we will fix this,” she told you and you nodded softly.

“What do you want to do the rest of the day?” Leah asked as you had brunch at one of the cafes near your school, you just shrugged your shoulders as you took another bite of your sandwich. She’d told you that you weren’t going to school that morning, you had a meeting with Josh the head of sport at 8:20 and then you’d leave. You think she still felt guilty about yesterday's events, however you weren’t complaining, the school said they were investigating this issue and as this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this and been the main culprit it would be more than likely he would be kicked out of the sport program if not the school, however his parents were quite rich and he was a good swimmer, you couldn’t deny it, so you doubted whether that was actually true, realistically there was probably more chance of him staying then going. The deputy principal was also being investigated as he was the point of contact for several other complaints about these boys, but mainly just the one and he had swept it under the rug.

[zhaobear]

a perfect match

PAIRING : sung hanbin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, college au, barista au, mild enemies/rivals to lovers au, sick fic

WORD COUNT : 4310 words

SUMMARY : you and sung hanbin complement each other perfectly, whether it's behind the coffee bar or during late nights in your dorm building. however, companionship quickly turns to competition as the end of the year approaches — and with that, the glorious title of employee of the year. but when hanbin falls sick, you decide you can put your feud aside for one day.

WARNINGS : profanity, brief mentions of drinking, one slightly heated kiss, mc is competitive, hanbin is messing with her, jiwoong is just there, injeolmi toast reference, there are interspersed flashbacks in italics & one tense change!

AUTHOR'S NOTE : helloo making my zeroseblr debut!! thank you so much to anyone who reads i hope you enjoy <3 a huge huge thank you to @jayflrt and @s7toru for the support and encouragement, i don't think i'd be publishing this without them!

“HANBIN DIDN’T COME IN TODAY,” Jiwoong says in lieu of a greeting as soon as you enter the back of the store. 

You flip through the café’s records book, noting down your time of arrival. Jiwoong can yap about Sung Hanbin all he wants, but you won’t let that stop you from getting paid. 

“What does that have to do with me?” You shoot back, tying up your apron.

Jiwoong shrugs. “You guys are close, right? I thought you’d know what’s up.”

You scoff. You and Hanbin may have been close once, but that was before he started coming for your position.

“Keep it up, Hanbin!” Jiwoong claps Hanbin on the shoulder as he finishes taking a customer’s order. “Engaging with customers and making them feel connected to the store is one of our most important values.” 

“Thanks, Jiwoong,” Hanbin beams, the sight of his dimples causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach, for whatever strange reason. That is, until Jiwoong’s next words. 

“With how much improvement you’re making, you might just be up for Employee of the Year.” Jiwoong winks. Your jaw drops to the floor. Jiwoong doesn’t notice your mouth hanging open and simply returns to making drinks like he didn't just shatter your entire world. 

“What the hell!” You call out indignantly. “Why would he get Employee of the Year?”

Jiwoong turns to look at you like he’s just remembering your presence for the first time. 

“Well, Hanbin’s been learning very quickly since he joined. He’s made a lot of improvement and the customers love him.” 

“He served a frozen sandwich the other day!” You cry out. You remember it clearly — the customer had approached you with a furious glint in her eyes, demanding to know why her sandwich wasn’t heated. Hanbin had popped up behind you to apologize for his mistake, and a blush immediately overtook her face as she shoved the sandwich into her mouth, claiming she preferred it frozen anyway. 

“That was last week! I’m a changed man now,” Hanbin insists.

“The award should not go to him,” You splutter at Jiwoong. “I can talk to customers too!” You shove Hanbin away as the next customer in line approaches the register. 

“Hi, could I please get an iced matcha latte, and a—”

“Hi, how was your day?” You interrupt loudly. Jiwoong slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle a poorly-contained laugh. The girl’s eyes go wide as she takes in your expression, her gaze flitting nervously between you and the door, like she’s considering bolting out of the shop. 

“Sorry, don’t mind her. She means well,” a smooth voice interrupts. Hanbin slides back to his position on the register, his hand circling your waist as he gently eases you to the side.

You huff. “I can handle myself on register!” 

Hanbin’s hand shifts to your lower back as he leans over to whisper to you. “You’re staring the poor girl down like she just murdered your family. I got this.” 

True to his words, the girl visibly relaxes when Hanbin takes over and begins to make conversation. Your cheeks grow hot at the gesture. You should be angry, but Hanbin’s hand is warm on you and his shoulder is knocking into yours and you can’t seem to think straight. 

Hanbin leans close again, and your brain short-circuits.

“I’m coming for your award,” he breathes cheekily into your ear. 

The giddy feeling in your chest immediately dies on the spot. 

You scowl at the memory, your knuckles turning white as you tie the strings of your apron tighter. Jiwoong raises an eyebrow, reminding you of his question. 

“I’m not speaking to him anymore.” You have to hold back from crossing your arms like an angry child. 

“You were fighting him over the register on Wednesday,” Jiwoong points out.

“A lot can change in three days.”

Jiwoong sighs. “Seriously, do you know what’s up? He hasn’t called or texted at all.” 

That makes you pause. Ever since your current feud with Sung Hanbin, he became particularly more committed to “beating” you at work, whether it was clocking in earlier than you, going beyond the necessary opening requirements, or covering more shifts than usual. For him to not show up to work without any prior notice or explanation — maybe there is something wrong. 

You relent. “I’ll go check up on him after my shift, okay?” 

A Cheshire grin spreads across Jiwoong’s face. “So much extra effort,” he muses. 

“We live in the same building,” you deadpan. You check your hair in the small mirror on the wall before heading to the front of the store for your shift. 

“I didn’t even tell you to go check up on him!” Jiwoong calls to your back. You give him the finger in return. 

“Hanbin, open up!” You yell, pounding on his door for what feels like the millionth time. You press your ear to the wood, but hear absolutely nothing. 

“I can see your Snap location!”

Then, a rustle. 

You hear the creak of a bed, and the sound of soft footsteps gradually approaching closer. The door swings open, revealing Sung Hanbin in his pajamas. 

“You were in bed the whole time?” You shriek. “Jiwoong was worried sick! He was acting like you dropped off the face of the Earth when you didn’t contact anyone!” 

Hanbin wordlessly turns around, making a beeline away from the door. You huff, following him inside his dorm without another thought. 

“You’re just going to leave when I’m talking to you? Look, I get it if you don’t want to interact with me, but you shouldn’t ghost your manager. Isn’t that—”

Hanbin stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door shut on you. Realization dawns upon you when you hear retching from the other end. The puzzle pieces slot into place — his glazed eyes, paler-than-usual face, and complete lack of energy. 

“Hanbin?” You ask, your voice softer than before. No response. “Do you need any help?” 

“No,” Hanbin whispers faintly behind the door. 

“Okay,” you respond uneasily, “but I’m staying here until you come out.” 

You take his soft sigh as affirmation, and immediately pull out your phone to text his roommate. 

you: wya??

taerae: staying w my aunt for the weekend taerae: why whats up?

you: hanbins sick

taerae: oh shit taerae: well. gl to him

you: 😭 you: do you have medicine

taerae: no 😂 taerae: wait actually taerae: check the bottom drawer on my desk

you: found it ty

You gather whatever medicines look helpful from Taerae’s drawer, then grab water from the fridge. Soon enough, you hear Hanbin moving behind the door, followed by the flush of the toilet and water running from the sink. He emerges from the bathroom, his face glistening with water droplets. He looks tired in a way you’ve never seen before as he trudges past you and collapses at the foot of his bed. 

He groans softly at the hard surface, but makes no move to get up. You crouch down to the ground, pressing your hand against his forehead in concern. 

“Hanbin,” you gasp. “You’re burning up.” 

Hanbin makes a pitiful noise, shifting so he’s pressing his flushed cheek to the cold tile. You loop your arms through his and haul him to his feet. 

“You missed the bed,” you try to joke, but even you can hear the terribly masked worry in your voice. Hanbin slumps onto the mattress, and you carefully pull the covers over him despite his small sounds of protest. He’s clearly not concerned enough to do anything more, so he mutters incoherent nonsense under his breath and then closes his eyes. 

You can’t help the minuscule twitch of your lips at the sight, but you turn back to the medicine bottles before you can allow yourself to dwell on it. 

Once you’ve arranged an assortment of pills and the water, you gently shake Hanbin, whose eyes are still shut. 

“Sit up,” you urge, tapping his shoulder. Hanbin cracks open an eye, sulking. Regardless, he complies, sitting up and fully opening his eyes. “Take these.” 

His frown deepens, but his gaze scans your face and he obeys without another word. 

“How long have you been sick like this?” 

Silence. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” You try instead. Hanbin pauses, like he’s taking a moment to genuinely think about it, then shrugs blankly. “Hanbin, you have to eat!” 

“Not hungry,” he mumbles. 

“This isn’t up for debate,” you shoot back. “I’ll go grab you something, so stay here, okay?”

Hanbin nods, sinking back into bed. You shoulder your bag and search for his phone and keys, finding them on his desk. 

“Here,” you say, tucking his phone under his pillow. “Call me if you need anything. I’m taking your keys so you don’t have to let me in. Take a nap, and I’ll be back soon.”

Hanbin only buries his face further into the pillow. You refill his water and adjust the room temperature before slipping on your shoes at the front. You helplessly turn back to look at him once more, like a compass straying north. Then, you leave. 

When Sung Hanbin first walked into Say Yes! Coffee with a stunning resume and even more stunning smile, you recognized him instantly. 

You had met Hanbin in the beginning of your sophomore year on a Thursday night, when the noise from the room above yours was becoming unbearable. 

You had stormed up the stairs in your pajamas, too tired to care about appearances as you incessantly knocked on the door. When the door opened to a man clad in all black with an unnervingly handsome face, you faltered slightly. However, the sight of the dim lights and red solo cups behind him rekindled your anger, and you immediately began to tell him off. 

He was holding a party on a Thursday night, for god’s sake, couldn’t he at least have waited until the weekend? As you continued on about the lack of consideration for those with Friday morning classes — however small the number may be — your voice got stuck in your throat when the man responded with a dazzling smile. 

“Cute,” he had said, causing you to flinch in shock. He agreeably promised to keep the noise down, and with your face heating up from a mixture of embarrassment and surprise, you turned around and left without another word. 

You didn’t see him again after that incident, but true to his word, the noise was considerably softer in the following parties. When you saw him again at your workplace, you weren’t even sure if he’d remember you. 

However, Hanbin’s eyes had instantly lit up. “Pajama girl!” He’d exclaimed, and your smile dropped. 

From then onwards, your relationship had taken a turn. Jiwoong began scheduling the two of you for almost every shift together, allowing you to witness every step of his journey — from training, to slowly taking over register, to becoming a pain in your ass. It almost made you sentimental, thinking about how much you’d gotten to see. 

With the increased shifts came increased shenanigans during breaks, from ridiculous drink concoctions to espresso shot chugging competitions. Eventually, these were followed by unexpected knocks on your door and boba runs between classes. 

Hanbin would let you into the dance studio, smirking at your reactions in the mirror whenever he caught you staring as he practiced. You allowed him to tag along on your trips to the library, even though he would use the soundproof study room to loudly poke fun at you while you would fret over your lab reports and problem sets. 

Despite the vast differences in your majors, you still had the common denominator of a shared dorm building. This was clear every time Hanbin would knock on your door to drag you to his upstairs parties to expand your social circle, or when you would knock on his to deliver successful baking experiments. 

In your second semester, he joined you in a General Education class that he absolutely did not need to take, and you started going to his open dance classes despite your severe lack of coordination. 

So perhaps Jiwoong was right, maybe you were incredibly close — until the possibility of Hanbin winning Employee of the Year became real enough to scare you, until you decided it would be easier to hate him. (Was it Employee of the Year that you were afraid of, or something else?)

You reenter Hanbin’s dorm with a giant thermos of steaming hot soup, an extra blanket, and an assortment of items from the nearby drugstore. You dump the contents onto the table, wincing at the amount. You may have gone slightly crazy and swept nearly everything off the shelves at the pharmacy, but you convince yourself they’ll be necessary. 

When you enter his room with the food, you’re surprised to find that he’s already awake. His brows furrow slightly at the sight of you.

“I brought you soup,” you explain, nodding at the bowl in your hands. “Eat.” 

While the Hanbin 30 minutes ago was so sluggish he could barely keep his eyes open, this Hanbin is uncannily alert. His eyes dart back and forth between you, the soup, and the medicines scattered across his desk. He opens and closes his mouth, like he’s searching for the right words. 

“Why’re you doing this?” A strange question to settle on, but you smile at him softly. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t understand,” he replies, his gaze wary. 

You frown. “You’ve done the same for me. Remember when I got super drunk at Matthew’s and you brought me home?” 

Hanbin goes silent. 

Things like this between you and Hanbin are never questioned — they always go without saying. He threatens you at work, but he still picks you up when you drink too much. You fight him over the register, but you still sit next to him in class and watch him from the back of the dance studio. You’re still here, because you know Hanbin would be no different. 

“You don’t owe me for that,” Hanbin blurts out, red creeping up his cheeks. 

“I don’t think of it like that. I’m here because I want you to get better,” you say, holding out the bowl of soup to him. A peace offering. 

Hanbin hesitates, then accepts it, blowing on it to cool it down and taking a sip. He hums in satisfaction, then shovels the rest down his throat within a minute. You gape. 

“Slow down,” you scold, remembering the vomiting from earlier. You feel a pang of guilt realizing how hungry he must’ve been, motionless in his bed without the energy to eat. 

Hanbin grows more lethargic on his second bowl, his eyelids beginning to sink. He catches himself just before he can allow himself to doze, and you frown. You can’t help but wonder why he’s fighting sleep when it’s what he needs the most — his half-lidded eyes stay focused on you, and then it hits you. Maybe he wants to be alone. 

You take the bowl back and pull the covers over him, noting with a twinge of satisfaction that some color has returned to his face. 

“I’ll clean things up and then head out so you can get some sleep,” you tell him. Although something deep inside you longs to stay, to stick with him until you’re sure that his fever is gone, you stand up from the chair. 

However, Hanbin grabs your elbow before you can fully turn away. When you look at him, there’s a plea behind his eyes that he doesn’t seem keen on voicing. Even when he’s sick, he’s strong, tugging you back towards him until you’re sitting at the edge of the bed. 

“Do you want more soup?” You ask, unsure of what he needs from you. 

Hanbin shakes his head. “Stay,” he mumbles, so faint that you barely hear it. 

Oh. 

“Sleep,” you coax him gently, your heart squeezing at his request. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Hanbin searches your face with a hint of desperation, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sparkle in his eyes. (Did Sung Hanbin always look at you like you had hung the moon and stars?) 

You don’t have to think about it for too long because Hanbin seems to find whatever he’s looking for in your expression and finally closes his eyes. Sleep pulls him under within minutes, evident in his deeper breathing and the loosened tension in his body. 

You brush some of his hair away from his forehead, softening at the lines of his face, more youthful and relaxed with the rest. 

In a few minutes, you know you’ll have to clean up, restock the fridge, and find a damp washcloth to reduce his temperature. But you allow yourself a moment to stare, brushing his thumb with your cheek. 

Even while asleep, Hanbin leans into the touch, like a flower searching for sunlight, and you flinch. You return to your chair next to his bed and watch him until the sun rises, your heart a jumbled mess. 

“Jiwoong.” Hanbin calls out one morning towards the end of his training, when the three of you are opening the store. 

“Hmm?” Jiwoong shoots Hanbin a brief glance before going back to busying himself with the espresso machine.  

“Why do you always schedule me and Y/N together?”

You turn at the mention of your name, perking up with curiosity. Jiwoong’s brows furrow, almost as though the answer is obvious. 

“Y/N is efficient, in pretty much all ways possible. She can make the most drinks in the least time possible, without compromising quality. She’s also great at responding to unexpected situations,” Jiwoong explains. You grin at the compliment but stay silent, sensing he has more to say. 

“Hanbin, you’re slower and sometimes you freeze up during mishaps. But you’re good with customers. You know enough about coffee to make recommendations. You’re perceptive, so you’re first to know when we need to restock. All of which Y/N tends to fall short on. Which is fine, of course, because neither of you is perfect.

“But what one of you lacks, the other one makes up. You’re imperfect separately, but a perfect match together.” Jiwoong puts a pause to his grandiose speech to fish for the keys in his pocket. “Anyways, I’m going to unlock the door now.” 

You shoot Hanbin an incredulous look, despite the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. Hanbin looks equally confused, but his gaze softens when you make eye contact. The smile he returns is so tender that you have to look away, your face burning like a star. You go back to wiping down the counters, and avoid thinking about Sung Hanbin and how incredibly red his ears were. 

When Hanbin wakes up, you’re reminded of his training days from all those months ago, of his shy but earnest demeanor, unafraid to reveal his struggles and ask for help. 

This Hanbin is similarly vulnerable, allowing himself to be open and show you weakness. Allowing you to help him. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Hanbin’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you flush, shaking yourself out of your nostalgia. You press the back of your hand against his forehead, sighing in relief. 

“Drink this, it’ll help," you say, avoiding his eyes as you hand him a glass of orange juice. “Your fever finally broke.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m sweating balls,” he rasps, kicking off the blankets you’d piled on top of him. He chugs down the juice and rubs at his eyes. “What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday evening. You pretty much slept through the whole day,” you grin.

“Did you stay since yesterday?” A hint of guilt flashes across Hanbin’s face. 

“It’s fine, I got some work done,” you wave it off, gesturing to your computer propped open on his desk. “Taerae’s gonna be back soon, so I’ll head out, okay? I texted Jiwoong for you, so you’re not working tomorrow. There’s some extra soup in the fridge, so heat that whenever you want.” 

You start to gather your things, but Hanbin catches your wrist. His expression is abnormally serious, his eyes piercing holes into yours. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” You use your other hand to check his forehead again, but he stops you.

"I need you."

Your mouth falls open. “What?” 

Hanbin quickly catches himself. "I need you — to drop this Employee of the Year thing. Jiwoong already told me he's giving it to you."

You're still stuck on the first three words of his sentence, but when the gears in your head finally turn you gasp. It's a lot to process and you shake your head, wondering if you even heard him right. How long were you fighting for an award that was already yours?

"I thought you wanted to win," is all you can think of saying.

Hanbin smiles, warm and soft in a way so familiar that your heart aches. “Y/N, I don’t care about Employee of the Year. Go out with me.”

You find yourself at a loss for words, but Hanbin doesn’t seem to mind as he continues.

“I know I still have a lot to learn, and I didn't even care about the award that much. I was mostly just teasing you, so can we please stop fighting over it? Or else I’ll seriously think you hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you,” you choke out. 

Hanbin chuckles. “I figured that now. No one spends this much time and effort on someone they hate.” 

“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are you serious?” Hanbin tugs you by the hands, enough that you’re sitting on the edge of his bed. All traces of humor vanish from his face as he stares at you intently. 

“Y/N, I like you. I thought you were cute ever since you showed up at my doorstep in your pajamas. And I’ve been hopelessly obsessed with you ever since we started working together. Does that answer your question?” 

Fireworks explode in your chest as you think back to Jiwoong’s old words. 

What one of you lacks, the other one makes up. 

When Hanbin is sick, you take care of him. When Hanbin forgets to eat at the dance studio, you bring him food. And despite all your incessant fighting, Hanbin covers for you at the register. Hanbin invites you to parties when you’re cooped up in the library for too long. Hanbin sends you his notes when you doze off in class. 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you begin to put together the little moments of your relationship. You were a perfect match the whole time, just as Jiwoong said, only you hadn’t truly realized the weight of his words. You itch with the need to do something, but your hands are still tightly grasped in Hanbin’s and you can’t think of much else to do than to lean down and press your lips to his cheek. 

Hanbin makes a small noise of surprise at the contact, his hands slackening around yours. You flush at the warmth of his skin against your mouth, feeling as though you’re floating somewhere above the stars. When you pull away, Hanbin’s eyes are closed, lashes fanned against his cheekbones and face tilted upwards like he’s hoping for more, or savoring it. His eyes are glassy when they finally open, eliciting a giggle from your throat. 

“I like you too,” you grin, “if that didn’t make it clear.” 

Hanbin smiles then, so wide that you can see his whisker dimples. He pulls you down and on top of him, burying his face in your neck. 

“Let me kiss you properly,” he whispers into your skin. You separate from him enough to read his expression, eyes widening at the sudden sharpness in his gaze. His eyes flicker between yours, before darting down to your lips and fixating on them. 

“Won’t your mouth taste horrible?” You tease, but you’re already leaning in. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs against your lips before closing the distance.

A thousand firecrackers flare up in your body when his mouth meets yours. You gasp when his tongue slips into your mouth, leaving behind the pleasantly surprising taste of orange juice. 

Sparks fly where his skin touches yours, multiplied by a thousand when he cradles your cheek and deepens the kiss. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. The soft groan that emits from Hanbin causes a jolt of pleasure to shudder down your spine, and you instinctively tug harder.

You pull away far too soon to catch your breath, breath hitching at the string of saliva between both your lips. 

“Gross,” you lie, but Hanbin’s eyes only darken. 

“I wanna do that again.” He leans in again, but you veer away before you can allow your judgment to blur. 

“You have to focus on getting better first!” You swat at his hands. 

Hanbin pouts. “I’m way better. Stellar, actually.” 

“You can kiss me in two days.”

Hanbin’s answering smile is blindingly bright, even though you didn’t say anything particularly funny. 

“What is it?” Your pulse races at how he looks at you — like you’re made of every precious thing in the world, like you’re a dream made alive. 

“I think this might be the happiest day of my life,” he answers. As he grins at you with the warmth of the entire sun, you realize the fluttering behind your ribcage was never a new feeling — you were just as enamored with him when you first met. 

You smile back, bigger than you’ve ever smiled at Hanbin, watching his gaze turn awestruck as a red-hot blush creeps up his cheeks and neck.  

“I think it might be mine too.” 

[karajaynetoday]

nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently. 

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next. 

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes. 

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls. 

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily. 

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes. 

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass. 

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react. 

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge. 

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.” 

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight? 

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze. 

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins. 

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.” 

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

– 

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake. 

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids. 

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you. 

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense. 

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack. 

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy. 

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind. 

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires. 

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor. 

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you. 

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.  

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

… 

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump. 

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you. 

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible. 

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably. 

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you. 

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably. 

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat. 

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves. 

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves. 

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room. 

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”. 

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath. 

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders. 

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.” 

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you. 

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room. 

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face. 

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you. 

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face. 

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs. 

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder. 

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.