#i have no idea how to respond to the ask!
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Sukuna
[Chapter 12] Reunion
â Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist
Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
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You know why heâs doing this. He has wit. He wants you to get your mind off the fact that another woman is pregnant with his child. Itâs not a fact that can be easily forgotten, but he played his cards just right. Maybe itâs that, or perhaps itâs the fact that you arenât all that bothered by the revelation.Â
In the beginning you worried about your position, but he reassured you that nothing will happen to you. So now youâre just taking the opportunity to see your family, who youâve so longed to see. Though youâll admit, youâre nervous. You wonder how different theyâll see you after they see you in the position youâre in.Â
Youâre much heavier and rounder than beforeâ Not to gloss over the fact that you carry a monsterâs babies. Will they be disgusted by you? Frightened? Or will they understand that you sacrificed yourself for their wellbeing?Â
Luckily, the worry doesnât overshadow the excitement that flows through your body. You ask Hina to help you get ready, attempting to look the best that you can today. But youâre also mindful, refusing to wear any jewelry that shows off just how much wealth is in your possession.Â
âWhy arenât they allowed in the palace?â You ask as Hina fixes your clothes. She smooths out any wrinkles visible in the clot, ensuring you look your best for the visit.
âKing Sukuna doesnât like peasants that have nothing to offer in the palace.â Hina answers without hesitation, and you almost laugh. You couldâve guessed as much. âIsnât it nice, my queen? Being able to travel outside the palace?â
âIt is. Iâm surprised Sukuna allowed it.â You comment, and she canât do anything but hum in response. She doesnât have an explanation for that. âIâm assuming I wonât be alone.â
âYouâre never alone, my queen.â She responds, which arenât the words you want to hear. Regardless, youâre excited to be outside of the palace for a couple of hoursâ Actually outside the walls, not just strolling through the garden.
âWeâll take gifts, no? To make sure theyâre well taken care of.â You suggest, as Hina finishes up.
âYes. Theyâre all in the carriage.â She informs you. Sukuna has ensured everything is perfect for today while he⌠You have no idea what heâs doing. Heâs probably figuring out how to take care of her, and you try not to think about it.
You try not to think about it because an ugly feeling seeps into your veins, and you donât want to feel it. You canât quite describe it, but itâs close to jealousy. But you wouldnât call it jealousy.Â
âDo you think theyâll view me differently?â You question, your hand going over your bump. You already know the answer. One way or another, theyâll think of you differently.Â
âYouâre a queen now, of course they do.â She says, which isnât what you need to hear. But sheâs right. âHowever, if you want me to say no, then Iâll say no.â
âNo, youâre right.â You sigh. âWhether I like it or not, Iâm someone different now.â
âAre you taking Yuuji with you?â She slightly changes the topic, wanting to cheer you up. The mention of the baby makes you smile, and you end up humming in response. You canât leave him behind while youâre meeting your family, after all, heâs an essential part of your life now. âIâll tell the servants to get him ready then.â
Needless to say, Sukunaâs presence is still present even when youâre in the carriage. Youâre accompanied by three other servants, one of them being Hina. You wanted to be alone with your family, but itâs obviously impossible. You canât complain though, this is more than what you couldâve asked for.Â
âCan we get out of the carriage before we enter the village? I donât want to draw attention.â You ask, and Hina laughs. She canât wrap her head around the fact that you donât want the people of your village to know of your wealth.Â
âIâm afraid that wonât be possible.â Hina responds, making you sigh. Maybe itâs for the best. Your feet are too swollen to walk and youâre carrying a baby thatâs months old. The news of you coming back to the village will soar either way, thereâs no point in not trying to draw attention to you.Â
âHow will you introduce him?â Hina asks, watching as you bounce the baby to keep him calm in the carriage. You smile at the baby who chews on his hands, attempting to soothe the pain in his gums.
âMy son.â You answer, hand caressing his chubby cheek. Heâs gained a lot of weight in your care, which is relieving to seeâ You can only hope that your Haru has gained as much weight as Yuuji.Â
The rest of the ride is quiet. You feel your heartbeat grow faster, excitement flourishing with the thought that youâre back home. Itâs a shame that this is what it took, regardless, youâre happy to be back home.
The carriage comes to a halt, and the door opens. Your eyes fall on the small shack that your family lives in, and your eyes well up with tears. This is it. Youâre finally home.Â
âIâll take the baby, my queen.â Hina holds out her arms to take Yuuji from you, and you donât hesitate before doing so. You need all the balance and support possible before getting out, a task thatâs difficult given your current state.
You safely get out, almost having to catch your breath at the simple task. The twins have gotten too heavy, you donât even want to imagine how hard itâs going to be on you the next couple of weeks. It almost makes you wish for them to come faster⌠But then you remember the huge responsibility that comes with that, and the pain in your lower back doesnât seem as bad.
âWhatâs all the commoââ The door to the house opens, your aunt stopping in her tracks when she sees you. Your eyes well up with tears at the sight of her, and a subtle smile coming to your face. You imagined this emotional moment where you would jump into her arms and hug her until your arms couldnât hold any more, but you canât bring yourself to even shuffle your feet.Â
She smiles, walking over to you and cupping your face. She holds back the same tears as you do before she engulfs you in a hug. You hear her whisper, âIâm so happy to see youâre okay, my dear.â
âIâve missed you.â You murmur as you hug her back. And for the longest moment you hold her, just as you imagined; until the cries from Yuuji cut the moment short.
âAnd who is this?â She asks when she pulls away, eyes falling on Yuuji. You take the baby from Hinaâs arms, bouncing him before you tell her,
âMy son.â Which she furrows her brows to. Before she can ask any questions you tell her, âHe was⌠Abandoned, and I took him under my care.â
âAnd your babies. How are you doing?â She questions, hands going to your bump. Now youâre the confused one at her words.
âHow do youââ You begin, and she lets out a sigh.
âWeâve gotten some updates from the deity. Before your condition he would often come with goods, but then you became with child and heâd send a servant whenever he could.â She explains, a small detail that Sukuna never mentioned. Something you canât be mad about.
âHow about Haru? Where is he?â You ask, eyes attempting to look inside to find him, but your narrow view provides nothing.Â
âCome inside, you canât be out in the cold like this.â She tells you, even though you have countless layers keeping you warm. You hum in response, following behind her. You worry if everyone will fit inside considering how many servants accompany you.
âHaru! Wonât you come greet your older sister?!â Your aunt shouts as you make your way inside, and you feel your heart race. You pass Yuuji back to Hina, getting ready to hug your little brother.
âHuh?â You hear his confused little voice, the biggest smile coming to your face. Not too long ago that response wouldâve taken every last bit of his energy. You walk inside the home, and you watch as your little brotherâs eyes widen in amazement.
âHaru.â You smile at him, the tears that have welled up in your eyes managing to spill. The first thing you notice is that his cheeks are chubby again. Heâs taller. Heâs smiling. He has color again. Life has been brought back to his body.Â
He yells your name as he runs over to you, hugging you as tight as he can. His arms canât hug much considering youâre much rounder. Any other time youâd pick him up and spin him around, but heâs too heavy to pick up right now.
âHow are you, Haru? Itâs been a while.â You ask him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.Â
âIâm fine!â He answers, pulling away from the hug. His eyes stare at your belly before he looks up at you. He canât help but comment, âYouâre big.â
You chuckle. âI am carrying twins.â
âTwins?â He asks, shocked at your words, and you hum in response. Though the amazement fades as his interest shifts, noticing that heâs not the youngest in the room. He points at the baby that Hina holds and asks, âWhoâs that?â
âMy son.â You respond, and the amazement takes over again.
âYou have a whole baby?â He questions and you laugh before nodding in response. Maybe youâll explain it to him when heâs a little older, but now youâll just go with that thought. âAnd youâre having two more?â
âYeah, itâs about to be a full house soon.â You answer, and Haruâs eyebrows come together.
âIs that why you donât come around?â He pouts, and you canât help but share the same reaction as him. If it were up to you, heâd be by your side always.
âYou know the deity explained this to us, Haru.â Your aunt steps in, not wanting the cheerful moment to dull down. âWe should be glad that sheâs here.â
âFine.â He huffs and puffs. âGlad youâre here, I guess.â
âNow donât get an attitude with me.â You attempt to be serious, but you canât help but have a lighthearted tone. You just got back home, you canât start scolding him just yet.
He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, making you roll your eyes. A laugh follows quickly after, realizing that youâre finally home. Youâll be gone soon, but that doesnât matter. Youâll make sure that you enjoy every last second in your home.
âIf you get an attitude then I wonât give you the gifts I brought with me.â You tell him, and his ears perk up.
âWhat did you bring?â His tone becomes more cheerful, making you laugh.
âWhat didnât I bring?â You respond, and you look back at the servants that have accompanied you. You donât have to speak, they already know that you want them to bring everything in.Â
Haru hugs you again and tells you, âIâm happy youâre back.â
âIâm happy to be back.â Your hand ruffles his hair, feeling a tug in your heartstrings at the sheer reminder that youâll be gone just as quickly.Â
âWhy donât you take a seat, dear? Your feet must be killing you.â Your aunt speaks up, and you laugh. She read your mind. âYou look like youâre about to pop any day soon.â
âIâm due in the spring.â You answer, taking up on her offer and taking a seat.Â
âSpring is just around the corner.â She points out, and you sigh. Thatâs the last thing you want to think about.Â
âHow about you guys? I hope things have been good in my absence.â You change the topic, though you already know the answer. Your aunt told you all you needed to know about their situation. Sukuna has kept them well.
âWith the deity coming around, things have been flourishing.â She tells you, and you sheepishly smile. Youâre happy knowing that your sacrifice was worth it. Not only is your Haru doing great, but theyâre seeing abundance at a rate that your family has never been able to achieve. âAnd you, my dear? How are things with the deity?â
âTheyâre⌠Good.â You say, not wanting to explain the ups and downs of your life with Sukuna. You certainly donât want to confess the ruckus that your life is in right now.
âWhatâs the name of your baby?â Haru asks as he sits down beside you. He cuddles up next to you and you welcome him with open arms.
âHina, please take a seat.â You tell her, noticing that she stands still as she holds the baby. You watch her sit down before you turn your attention to Haru, âHis name is Yuuji.â
âWhy is he trying to eat his hand?â He then questions as he watches the baby shove his hand in his mouth.
âHis little teeth are coming out, and it hurts.â You explain, and Haru furrows his brows.
âYour babyâs weird.â Haru responds, making you giggle. You shouldnât laugh, but you canât help it.
You pinch his cheek before pointing out, âYou were just like that too. You were a big crier too!â
âNuh-uh!â He yells, and you squint your eyes.
âWhat do you mean nuh-uh?! You were a baby, and I was the one taking care of you!â You scold him, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You lightly hit him in the back of his head for his reaction, making him whine in response.
No matter how big the age gap, heâs still your sibling. The arguing wonât stop, no matter how big or small he isâ You wonder if thatâs how the twins will be with Yuuji. You hope it is.
It hurts when you have to go your separate ways. It takes everything in you to not cry when Haru bursts into tears. You try to reassure him that youâll see him again soon, though youâre not sure. Youâll make sure you see him again, even if itâs the last thing you do. The thing is that you know it wonât happen until after you give birth to the twins.
The ride back home is quiet. Yuuji sleeps and you try to hold back the tears to not⌠You canât even think of the reasoning. Maybe Sukuna is rubbing off on you. You donât want to look weak in front of Hina.Â
The sun has set when you get back to the palace, and while itâs typically quiet during this time, thereâs over twenty servants around. You donât pay attention to it until you reach your room and notice a woman scrubbing the floor.Â
âHina, bathe Yuuji and bring him back to me.â You order, and the woman hums in response before quietly exiting. You stare at the servant that diligently does her task, and you ask, âWhereâs Sukuna?â
âMy queen!â She yelps before bowing down to you. You almost roll your eyes, but you shouldnât. You should be used to this treatment by now. âI donât know where King Sukuna is.â
âWhat are you doing?â You ask.
âKing Sukuna ordered for the palace to be scrubbed down before your arrival.â She answers, and you hum in response. That doesnât answer a thing, if anything, your curiosity is piqued.
âRight. Carry on then.â You tell her before entering your room. You try not to think too much about it, perhaps he just wants to prepare for the birth of the twins. However, thatâs in spring and itâs going to be a while. The palace will be dirty again by the time it happens.
âHow was it? Are you happy now?â Youâre spooked by him, too lost in your own thoughts to register his heavy footsteps. Oddly enough, Sukunaâs hands hug you from behind, bringing you into his embrace.
âWhy are people scrubbing down the palace?â You donât even bother answering his question. You donât even have to look at him to know that heâs rolled his eyes at your lack of manners.
âWhy must you know? Canât I have my place clean?â He responds, making you turn around and face him. You furrow your brows, crossing your arms to let him know that youâre displeased by his answer. He finds it cute as he looks down at youâ Oh, you really think youâre intimidating like this when youâre simply tiny compared to him.
âWhat are you hiding?â You ask.
âJust told them to clean up everything so you wouldnât see a drop of blood.â He ends up saying, and you furrow your brows. Thereâs a servant in every corner of the palace, so it definitely wasnât anything pretty.
You should be squeamish by his response, but at this point youâre used to his antics. As horrid as it is to say. You canât particularly be mad either since⌠You have a feeling that you know what he was doing.
âMust have been a massacre then.â You comment, and heâs about to nod in agreement, but he wonât. Youâre still a soft little thing, even if youâre tougher than when he first met you.
âYou havenât answered my question.â He points out, and you sigh.
âWhen can I see him again?â You ask, a question that tells him all he needs to know. He knew this would happen which is why he didnât want to let you go out, but he had to allow it.
âI donât understand your attachment to that insolent human.â He scoffs a comment that he regrets making the moment he looks down at you and sees tears welling up in your eyes. He sighs before saying, âI guess after the twins are here.â
âTheyâre my family too.â You end up saying, wrapping your arms around his large figure. Itâs an action that takes him by surprise; certainly something that he canât complain about. He hears a sniffle, and he tries to comfort you to the best of his ability. âI miss them.â
âWhat? So do you expect me to bring them here?â He tries to joke, a concept foreign to the being. He even lets out a scruffy laugh to get his point across, but you look up at him with teary, yet hopeful eyes. He immediately tells you, âOh no. Absolutely not.â
#[bonds of fruition]#ryoumen sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk sukuna#sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#sukuna jjk#sukuna x you#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#sukuna x y/n#jujutsu sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna
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to be honest â đđđđ
âiâm sorry i had a machine hooked up to me and i couldnât lie.âÂ
ęŽ starring: alex albon x girlfriend!reader. ęŽ word count: 1.4k. ęŽ includes: romance, fluff fluff fluff. inspired by and references the Does Alex Albon think he is No. 1 at Williams? | The Lie Detector video, secret (not for long, sucker) relationship. ęŽ commentary box: this idea has been clanging in my head for two weeks now, i fear đâ⏠đŚđ˛ đŚđđŹđđđŤđĽđ˘đŹđ
Alex had askedâbeggedâyou not to watch the lie detector test video.Â
You agreed, but not without teasing him about divulging some embarrassing secret. You figured it was something along those lines. Maybe they made him choose his favorite cat or reveal his ridiculous pre-race routine. Either way, your boyfriend seemed pretty serious about not wanting you to see that particular piece of content.Â
Except itâs been impossible to avoid.Â
Your algorithms are unsurprisingly fine-tuned to anything and everything Alex. Clips of his radio messages on Instagram reels, edits of him to Hamilton songs on your TikTok For You page. Youâre idly scrolling through your Twitter feed when one particular post catches your attention.Â
Itâs not even the concept of a reveal that catches your attention. No, that was to be expected.Â
What did they meanâAlex asked for it not to be mentioned?Â
Itâs one thing to keep you from watching. Itâs a completely different situation to ask everybody else to stay mum, as if purposefully keeping you out of the loop.
That would make no sense. You try to shake the thought out of your head, try to go back to doom-scrolling, but it nags in the back of your brain. Alex wasnât the type to hide things from you. The two of you were a secret to the rest of the world, sure, but there were no secrets between you.Â
Right?Â
You set your phone on Do Not Disturb. You scrub the kitchen clean. You take a scalding hot shower. None of it helps.Â
By the time youâre back on your couch, red-faced from the heat of your bath and something else entirely, you make an executive decision. Itâs easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, you decide. Alex has given you grace for much worse.Â
You pull the video up.
The guilt youâre feeling ebbs at the familiar lilt of Alexâs accent. My heart is gonna be, like, two hundred.
Heâs not even on the screen yet, but you can imagine the way his boyish smile would curve around the words. Heâs not due to visit until much later, so this six-minute video will have to tide you over the feeling of missing him. And your curiosity. That, more than anything.Â
For a moment, you nearly forget why youâre watching. Itâs so easy to be distracted by Alexâs sheer expressiveness, by the way heâs always just a bit breathless when heâs laughing. You want nothing more than to reach into your phone and will him to be seated right next to you, alleged reveal be damned.Â
Have you ever sat on the toilet so long, your legs fell asleep?, heâs asked, and you simultaneously snort with on-screen Alex.Â
Many a times, he answers, and itâs registered as the truth. But itâs more because thatâs my time to watch TikTok.
Youâre all-too aware of that habit. The petty arguments of you slamming on the bathroom door, demanding for your turn, only for Alex to shout back that heâs finishing part 32 of some movie cut up into several videos, and heâll be out soon, he swears. Itâs the type of domestic image that paints how comfortable the two of you have been this past year, even if there was nobody else to see it.Â
Did you have a celebrity crush growing up?Â
Yes, on-screen Alex responds. When prodded, he adds rather sheepishly, Erm⌠Emma Watson.Â
You knew that, too. When you first found out, you made Alex sit through the fourth movie so you could tease him relentlessly. Fed up, he had tackled you down onto the mattress during the Triwizard Tournamentâs Second Task. The ensuing makeout session had been both heated and playful. A part of you can still feel it thrumming beneath your ribs, months later.Â
Youâre scheming how to orchestrate another Harry Potter marathon just as two things happen at once.Â
First, the Alex on-screen gets askedâbaited, more likeâwith a query of And does your girlfriend compete?Â
Then, your front door swings open. The man himself calls out like he always does, âHoney, Iâm home!âÂ
Itâs an inside joke, one you canât really dwell on. Your attention is halved.Â
Youâve started out of shock, and your phone is playing on full volume. Just enough for your boyfriend to hear his own sputter of Myâmy what? from what youâd been watching.Â
Thereâs the sound of something crashing in the entryway. Later, youâll discover itâs Alex having dropped his duffel bag in his own panic.Â
Heâs at the mouth of the living room in the next second, but youâre too busy going slack-jawed at the scene in the challenge. The polygraph shoots up. The examiner shakes his head amusedly. The man on the screen fucking laughs, goading Alex, So there it is! Youâve got a girl, Albono?
âYouâre watching the video!â Alex shrieks accusingly.Â
In return, you screech, âYou told everyone about me?!â
Alex darts forward. You mentally curse his racer reflexes and his long legs as he throws himself on top of you. Heâs blissfully unaware of his own weight, and so you feel winded amid your attempts to fight back.Â
âI didnâtâtell about you,â he argues, his arms flailing as he tries to wrestle your phone out of your hands. âThatâs all I said!âÂ
Which is a damn lie, of course. You donât even see your screen anymore, but you can hear the video playing out.Â
Alex being asked, Would you say this is your soulmate?Â
Alex, without missing a beat: Yes. Without a doubt, yes.Â
The Alex on top of you groans. He buries his face in the crook of your neck like he might be able to run and hide from his answer, especially as the examiner declares, Heâs not lying.Â
You relent, hitting pause and casting your phone aside. It lands somewhere by the foot of the couch. âI canât believe you watched it,â your boyfriend petulantly murmurs against your skin.Â
âI canât believe Iâm your soulmate,â you shoot back, and he pinches your side in retaliation.Â
âSeriously,â he huffs, adjusting his positioning so that heâs not crushing you too much. âWhat happened to trust, huh?âÂ
âSlow down, Gabriella Montez.âÂ
âStop being a nerd. It makes me want to kiss you.âÂ
Youâre giggling as Alex rolls off you, flopping to the other end of the couch. Heâs all lanky limbs and furrowed brows, his glare fixed on your phone like Sky Sports has personally wronged him. You reach out to rub his ankles, and he instinctively relaxes as if his body is fine-tuned to respond to your touch.Â
âIâm sorry for watching the video,â you say.Â
Alex frowns. âYouâre not sorry.âÂ
Youâre not.Â
He heaves out a long-held sigh. âI had to do this whole thing,â he grumbles absent-mindedly. âHid my Instagram story from you and all thatâŚâÂ
âYou what?âÂ
âAnyway. Anyway.��� Alex clears his throat, his frown curling into a thin pressed line. Itâs a rueful kind of grin, one that doesnât quite reach his eyes. His tick for when heâs guilty. âI was going to tell you.âÂ
âI bet you were,â you hum.Â
Youâre not mad. Not really. You know heâs been itching to go public, has wanted you in the Williams hospitality suite for God-knows-how-long. That laminated ID card that would proudly proclaim Guest of Alex Albon.
âThey still donât know you,â he offers. This time, heâs reaching out for you. Preemptively trying to soothe some imagined annoyance. Alex tugs you gently until youâre resting between his legs, his face burying in the back of your hair.Â
âAll they know is that you exist,â he adds, âand they donât have to know anything else.âÂ
You feel a pang in your chest, one put there when youâre reminded of just how lucky you are to have somebody so patient. Someone so willing to set aside his wants for your comfort, your peace of mind.Â
âOkay,â you say, voice now softer that Alex has his chin hooked over your shoulder. âItâs alright.âÂ
âIâm sorry I had a machine hooked up to me and I couldnât lie.âÂ
You laugh. âAs long as you promise to never lie to me,â you note, nudging his ribs lightly. He lets out an exaggerated howl.Â
âI would never,â he grumbles, and you knowâyou know thatâs the truth, too.Â
You tilt your head slightly, catching the complicated expression on Alexâs face. Thereâs that hint of insecurity, that touch of guilt, that flash of impatience. But all of it eases up when you lean in, and you kiss the doubt away.Â
âI believe you,â you breathe against his lips, and heâs already smiling before he pulls you in for more. â
BONUS â
#alex albon x reader#alex albon x you#alex albon fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x you#alex albon imagine#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#f1 fluff#formula one fluff#â kae prix#â aa23#i need to tune in more to alex......#the casual long fic staring at me
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Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. âSo, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just⌠snuggled with a complete stranger?â He waited for a beat. âIn the middle of a sidewalk at night?â âYes, thatâs exactly what she did,â Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing.Â
Hahaha I can't with the old jokeđ
âA sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?â Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadnât forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. âAnd she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didnât happen.â
Of course Bucky hasn't forgotten and Sam is a "picture or it didnât happen" guy đ
Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him? âWhy the hell would I take a photo of her? Thatâs something a creep would do, and Iâm not a creep,â he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. âBut there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldnât be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.â âYouâre not going to hack anything,â Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldnât be the worst crime committed if he did. âI think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.â âNo, I didnât,â Sam said.
They crack me up with all the discussion about pictures, no pictures or Hacking to get pictures đ I feel like this discussion is so spot on for the dynamic of the 3 of them đ
âListen, Iâm not saying this⌠dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesnât exist, but I do have to ask.â Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. âDid she really boop you on the nose?â If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he wouldâve cracked his teeth. âShe did. Twice.â
To be fair that does sound so silly that it sounds fake đ¤ˇđťââď¸đ
 Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didnât bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? âOkayâŚâ Sam held his side as his laughter died down. âI have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say âyouâre welcomeâ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.â
Valid đ
âWell, with that attitudeâŚâ Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasnât like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldnât help either. âIf I didnât know any better, it sounds like Alpine isnât the only one who liked her.â
Oh we have a Sherlock Holmes on out hands đ¤
Steve tried to catch his eye. âDo you like her, Buck?â
And Steve is so sensible about it đĽš
Sam sighed when Bucky didnât respond. âCan you message her? Tell her Alpineâs trying to get out to see her?â
That would be a good opener
Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. âWhat would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?â Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.
I don't think it's so wrong to ask Al in this case, it was her fault to begin with this situation, I think she would have great intelđ¤ˇđťââď¸
Steve shrugged after a minute went by. â...Itâs not a bad idea.â Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. âOr you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.â
There are decades between them and it shows in exactly that moment đ¤đ
Samâs smile fell. âItâs weird to add her on social media, but itâs not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?â
He is calling them and their old ways out rn hahah
And if he couldnât figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.
Yes!! Queen Alpine đđť
Late Night Recap
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky tells Steve and Sam about his encounter with you.
Word Count: Over 1.5k
Warnings: Mention of drunk reader, humor, attraction, Sam and Steve are good friends, a bit of grumpy!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay? And he has a crush).
A/N: Based on an anon ask and a continuation of Late Night Shenanigans. â¤ď¸ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve and Sam sat across from Bucky on the couch, blankly staring at him once he finished his story. He stared back with a scowl and was pretty sure Alpine was scowling at them, too, daring them to tell him that he was making the whole thing up about what happened earlier. That he didnât encounter a beautiful drunk stranger snuggling with his cat. That you didnât seem at all intimidated by his presence. That he couldnât get your smile or voice out of his head.
Wait, he didnât tell them that last part and he sure as hell wasnât going to.
Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. âSo, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just⌠snuggled with a complete stranger?â He waited for a beat. âIn the middle of a sidewalk at night?â
âYes, thatâs exactly what she did,â Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing.Â
âA sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?â Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadnât forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. âAnd she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didnât happen.â
Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him? âWhy the hell would I take a photo of her? Thatâs something a creep would do, and Iâm not a creep,â he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. âBut there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldnât be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.â
Was that creepy? It wasnât like he was trying to get feed to watch you or to see your beautiful face again. It was to prove to Sam that he wasnât lying about what happened, nothing more. Not that he had anything to prove. He was telling the truth. It wasnât his fault if Sam didnât believe him.
âYouâre not going to hack anything,â Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldnât be the worst crime committed if he did. âI think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.â
âNo, I didnât,â Sam said.Â
Steve held a hand up when Buckyâs fists curled. âWhat he means is weâre surprised because, besides you, Alpine doesnât usually cuddle with people right away. She likes us, but it took her time to do that.â
âYeah, well, sheâs obviously different,â the brunette mumbled, scratching behind Alpineâs ears. âAlpine really liked her.â
Alpine purred in agreement, bringing a small smile out of the former assassin. Though part of him still wondered if you put some sort of spell over his cat to get her to warm up so quickly, he knew that wasnât it. She was a good judge of character, so she had to take a liking to you since you were a friendly person. It was either that or she decided that you needed her to look out for you. And by extension that meant he had to look out for you, too. Someone had to.
Fuck, now he did feel like a creep with that train of thought.
âListen, Iâm not saying this⌠dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesnât exist, but I do have to ask.â Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. âDid she really boop you on the nose?â
If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he wouldâve cracked his teeth. âShe did. Twice.âÂ
Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didnât bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? âOkayâŚâ Sam held his side as his laughter died down. âI have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say âyouâre welcomeâ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.â
âYouâre not going to meet her or ask her anything,â Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. âBecause I probably wonât see her again.â
It didnât make sense why his heart ached so much at the thought of not crossing your path again. He didnât know you, and you didnât know him. Fairy tales and meet cutes or whatever they were called didnât exist in his world, not for people like him.
âWell, with that attitudeâŚâ Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasnât like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldnât help either. âIf I didnât know any better, it sounds like Alpine isnât the only one who liked her.â
Steve tried to catch his eye. âDo you like her, Buck?â
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, his friends would latch on that he was possibly interested in someone. He hadnât dated anyone since Leah, and his relationship with her hadnât lasted long. Was the universe giving him a chance by putting you in his path, or was he reading too deeply into it? It had to be the latter.Â
Sam sighed when Bucky didnât respond. âCan you message her? Tell her Alpineâs trying to get out to see her?â
Bucky almost laughed because he could see the feline trying to sneak out to find you. âI didnât get her number.â
âWait, you didnât ask for her number or give her yours?â Steve asked.
Bucky finally lifted his head and fought the urge to say that he wasnât the suave guy he used to be. âShe was drunk, Steve. I didnât ask since thereâs a good chance that she might not even remember me,â he answered, which somehow felt worse than the thought of not seeing you again. Call him crazy or selfish, but he wanted you to remember him. It was only fair since you were affecting him so much.
âWell, you know where her apartment building is,â the blonde smiled. âThatâs a start.â
âBut not her apartment number,â he sighed.Â
You were alert enough not to give away that piece of information, which he appreciated. Though you joked that it was how âtrue crimesâ began, did you have any idea how many laws he had broken over the years? No, how could you? If you knew, there was a chance you wouldnât run straight inside.
Regardless of what he had or hadnât done over the years, it didnât change that he didnât get your phone number or your apartment number before you parted ways.
Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. âWhat would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?â
Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.
Steve shrugged after a minute went by. â...Itâs not a bad idea.â
Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. âOr you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.â
Bucky sat up, his cheek twitching. You had given him your name. âBut wouldnât that be weird to add her as a friend?â he asked.
Because, again, there was a chance you wouldnât remember who he was. It would give him a chance to see photos of you if you shared them. Maybe get a feel for some of your likes and dislikes. Where you hung out. If your relationship status said âsingleâ like he hoped.
âŚWas he venturing into creepy territory again?
Samâs smile fell. âItâs weird to add her on social media, but itâs not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?â
âAnd thatâs the end of this conversation,â Bucky said, shooting both of them a glare to drop it.
âYouâll see her again,â Steve smiled, quickly adding, âNow thatâs the end of the conversation.â
Bucky wasnât an idiot. It would not be the end of that conversation, not now that Steve and Sam knew he was interested in someone. He shouldâve kept his mouth shut and said that he found Alpine all by her lonesome, but he didnât want to keep you a secret.Â
He wondered how you were doing. Did you have your water and aspirin like he suggested? Would you feel okay in the morning? Did you hope to see him again? He just had to find a way to see you, if only so you could see âQueen Alpineâ while you were sober.
And if he couldnât figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.
I swear, he will see his girl again. Because, yes, you are his girl. Love and thanks for reading! â¤ď¸
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes Masterlist â Ko-Fi
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YOU'RE MY FAVORITE â°â⤠kind of problem ăăă



PRECIS ă he doesn't hate you (but he think he likes it that way.)
輿ćĺ x fem!reader 1218 fluff highschool au opposite attract â kissing teasing emotional vulnerability skinship
REBLOG FOR A KiSS
nishimura riki hates mornings, loud people, and unnecessary affection. so of course, fate seats him next to you.
you â with your sparkly pens, cherry lip gloss, and the habit of being genuinely nice to everyone, including him. you talk too much, always smile like the world isnât exhausting, and keep offering him gum even though he never says thank you.
(he always takes it.)
âyou should smile more,â you say one morning, tapping the corner of his mouth with your pen. âyouâd look cute if you didnât look like you hate everything.â
âi donât want to look cute,â he mumbles.
âtoo bad. you kind of do.â
he chokes on his water.
you treat him like someone worth taking care of.
when he shows up with damp hair, you push your umbrella into his hands without asking. when he skips breakfast, you press half your sandwich into his palm. you say his name like itâs normal to look at him gently, like itâs not strange to care even when he doesnât make it easy.
and somehow, he doesnât push you away.
riki acts annoyed. at your chatter. your energy. the way you remind him to drink water like youâre responsible for him now.
but then itâs picture day, and youâre fixing his tie like itâs second nature, murmuring something about how âyouâd be helpless without me,â and he just⌠lets you. doesnât move. doesnât stop you.
when you pat his chest lightly after, like youâre proud of how he turned out, he has no idea what to do with that.
âlook at you,â you say. âpretty boy.â
he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
he gets a paper cut during class and barely reacts, but you notice.
âriki. youâre bleeding.â
âitâs fine.â
you dig through your pencil pouch. âiâve got bandaidsâwant rilakkuma or space rockets?â
ââŚrilakkuma?â
âthought so.â
you stick it on for him, then tap it once like sealing a deal. âgood as new.â
he doesnât respond. just leaves it on for the rest of the day.
âdrink water,â you tell him, holding out your bottle.
âiâm not a toddler.â
âdidnât say you were. but dehydration makes you cranky.â
he glares at you, but takes it.
(he pretends not to notice the lip gloss mark on the rim.)
when you find out heâs been skipping meals, you start showing up with something wrapped in foil.
âwhatâs this?â he mumbles.
âsomething with actual nutrition, for once.â
âyouâre acting like iâm five.â
âyouâre acting like you donât need it.â
he eats it anyway.
(you cut the crust off the next day without comment. he doesnât complain.)
âyouâre kind of like a cat,â you say once, watching him swat at a paper ball someone threw at him.
âwhat?â
âyou pretend you donât like people, but you keep showing up. and youâre grumpy when youâre hungry. andââ you grinâ âyouâre secretly affectionate when no oneâs looking.â
âtake it back.â
ânever.â
you boop his nose. he mutters something under his breath and doesnât meet your eyes for the rest of lunch.
one day he shows up late, hoodie on, eyes heavy. you donât ask questions. just tug him toward the empty music room and sit him down.
you pull out a cookie from your bag. press it into his hand.
âeat first,â you say quietly. âthen nap. iâll wake you up before class.â
he looks at you like he wants to argue, but doesnât. he eats in silence. and when he finally closes his eyes, you drape your jacket over him and keep watch.
he says your name softly, right before he dozes off.
that afternoon, he finds you by the back steps.
âwhy do you baby me?â
you look up from your phone. âwhat?â
âiâm not some charity case,â he mutters. âyou donât have to do all this.â
you shrug. âi know.â
âthen why?â
you blink at him, like the answerâs obvious. âbecause i like you.â
he freezes.
âlike, not just âyouâre tolerableâ like. i actually like you. and youâre terrible at taking care of yourself, so i do it for you.â
ââŚoh.â
âyou okay?â
he hesitates. âyou like me?â
âyes, riki.â
ââŚlike, really?â
âyouâre exhausting,â you sigh. âyes.â
he stares. then: âcan i hold your hand or are you gonna turn this into a whole thing?â
you smile. âi mean, i couldââ
he takes your hand.
you stop talking.
heâs still grumpy. still rolls his eyes when you make a big deal out of nothing. still pretends heâs unaffected when you fix his hair or lean your head on his shoulder.
but he lets you do it all.
and when he calls you âsunshineâ under his breath â quiet and honest, like the word is just for you â you pretend not to hear it, just so heâll say it again.
heâs not good at affection. not the way you are. his hands get awkward, his words feel clumsy, and he never knows if heâs doing enough.
but he tries.
he starts carrying an extra granola bar in his bag â not for himself, but for you, when youâre running late or forget to eat. he wonât say itâs for you, but he slides it across your desk when youâre too tired to smile and mumbles, âyou always feed me. figured iâd return the favor.â
you beam at him like he just handed you the sun.
he nearly explodes.
one day, itâs cold and rainy and you show up to school shivering, jacket forgotten. at lunch, you come back from the vending machine to find his hoodie draped over your seat.
you look at him.
he doesnât meet your eyes. âitâs not a big deal.â
ârikiââ
âjust wear it.â
you slip it on. it smells like fabric softener and him.
âyouâre warm,â you tell him.
âshut up,â he says, ears red.
when you forget your umbrella, he waits outside your classroom after school, pretending he was âjust passing by.â walks you home without a word. you donât bring it up, and neither does he. but the next day, he hands you a compact umbrella, still in the wrapper.
âkeep it in your bag,â he says. âyou forget stuff.â
you blink. âyou bought this for me?â
âdonât make it weird.â
you smile anyway.
he starts noticing the little things â how your hands get cold easily, how your hair gets tangled when itâs windy, how you forget to take breaks when youâre stressed.
so he does what he can.
throws a scarf at you in the morning. pulls you toward the shade when itâs too hot. slips your favorite snacks into your bag with no note, no explanation, just a quiet kind of care.
itâs not perfect, but itâs him. trying.
and you notice. of course you do.
âyouâre getting good at this,â you whisper one day, threading your fingers through his as he walks you home.
âat what?â
âbeing mine.â
he squeezes your hand. doesnât say anything.
but when you get to your door, he kisses your forehead â awkward, fast, barely a brush â and mutters, âyouâre my favorite, okay? just⌠donât tell anyone.â
you grin. âyour secretâs safe with me.â
(he kisses you properly a week later. still shy. still soft. but this time, he doesnât pull away.)
taglist is open :: @nocturnebite @cheruphic @chrrific @manaah02 @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @ijustwannareadstuff20
vi says :: i worked hard on this so i hoped you enjoyed it TT
Š callikari â all rights reserved
#ďźćďźcallikari ââââ musekari99 áľáľ ďźÂ´ď˝Ąâ˘ áľ â˘ď˝Ą`ďź#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen drabbles#enhypen scenarios#enhypen reactions#enhypen smau#kpop smau#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop fluff#enha#enha fluff#enha x reader#enha imagines#nishimura riki#enha scenarios#enha nishimura riki#enhypen nishimura riki#nishimura niki#riki fluff#riki x reader#enhypen riki#enhypen niki#niki fluff#niki x reader#riki imagines#nishimura niki x reader
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azziâs savior
a/n: this might be controversial but yall need to chill on shyanne getting waived. people are acting like sheâs never gonna be able to play basketball again damn.
3rd POV
it all started with a movie night, a normal occurrence for the uconn womenâs basketball team. it was the end of the week and to wind down, the team piled into someoneâs dorm, eyes glued to a the tv, passing around popcorn. this week, deciding to spice things up, kk had suggested theyâd watch a scary movie.
âyeah! we havenât watched any scary ones recently!â ice said excitedly.
âiâm down for whatever,â aubrey responded.
azzi, tucked into paigeâs side already, frantically looked around the room to see if anyone had another idea. to her dismay, everyone was on board with this whole scary movie idea. paige, sensing her girlfriends discomfort, gently nudged azziâs shoulder.
âhey,â she said softly making azzi look up at her, âwe donât have to stick around if you donât want to.â
âiâll be fine,â azzi shook her head, âitâs just a movie, i know none of itâs real.â
âalright, but if you ever wanna leave, let me know,â paige said, turning her head back to the tv as kk started the movie.
as the movie played, azzi had tried to convince herself that she was fine. even though after every jump scare she tucked her head further into paigeâs neck, she was determined not to be a wuss and finish watching the movie. paige, more focused on azzi than the movie, would squeeze azzi just a little tighter everytime she jumped.
eventually, the movie finished and azzi was determined to get out of there as fast as possible. she practically dragged paige out of kkâs dorm as she beelined for her own room. she was already dressed in her pajamas for the night so all she needed to do was brush her teeth and take 17 melatonin gummies to hopefully get her to sleep.
when her and paige finally got comfortable in bed, azziâs eyes stayed open, scared that if she closed her eyes for even a second, she would open them to some creepy girl standing over her. paige knew her girlfriend was scared. she also knew that azzi was petrified of the dark, so, she offered to sleep with a night light in an attempt to soothe azziâs fears.
âiâm not five paige,â azzi protested when paige asked if she wanted to sleep with a light on.
âi know, but i want you to actually get some sleep tonight,â paige responded.
âitâs just an embarrassing fear,â azzi said, âiâll be fine.â
or so she thought.
even with paigeâs hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back, arms protectively around her, azzi couldnât fall asleep for the life of her. suddenly, azzi sat up and reached for the bottle of melatonin gummies that sat on her night stand. clearly the two she had already taken werenât doing the job.
âwoah, slow down partner,â paige said, pushing azziâs hand away from the container.
âi canât fall asleep though,â azzi said, getting frustrated with her fear.
paige frowned as azzi went to lay her head back on paigeâs chest.
âwhat can i do to help baby?â paige asked softly.
âi donât know, tell me about your day or something, hearing your voice makes me feel better,â azzi said.
paige smiled softly before starting to rant about her day. to herâand azziâsârelief, azzi had drifted off the sleep and knowing that her girlfriend was okay, paige finally fell asleep as well.
it was two am when azzi had woken up from her short slumber. thankfully, she hadnât had any nightmares, but she really, really had to pee. and she was not about to go alone.
âpaige,â she whispered, gently shaking her awake.
paige stirred a little before opening her eyes, just a bit, âwhat? whatâs wrong?â she asked.
âi have to pee and i donât wanna go alone,â azzi said softly, vulnerable.
paige stretched her arms out and rubbed her eyes before swinging her legs over to edge of the bed to stand. azzi smiled to herself, wondering how she got so lucky that her girlfriend would do anything for her. azzi happily stood up as well before paige reached her hand out and laced their fingers together. just as paige was about to open the door, azzi swore she heard something in the hall.
âwait,â she stopped paige, âdid you hear that?â
paige listened for a second, âno? i think youâre just hearing things baby.â
azzi stayed still for a moment before deciding that maybe she was just hearing things and let paige open the door. azzi clutched to paigeâs side as paige led them down the hall to the bathroom.
âi swear to god if youâre gone when i come out of this bathroom weâre breaking up,â azzi said firmly.
paige let out a soft laugh, âi would never leave you az.â
when azzi finished, paige laced their fingers together once more before leading azzi back down the hall to her room. out of the corner of her eye, azzi saw something standing and shot her head in that direction before letting out a scream and throwing herself into paige.
turns out, it was just ice.
still, azzi swore she felt her soul leave her body.
âwhat? whatâs wrong?â paige asked confused and oblivious, still instinctively wrapping her arms around azzi.
âoh my god ice you scared the shit out of me!â azzi mumbled loudly, her head still tucked into paigeâs neck.
âi scared you?â ice said, her hand on her chest, âyou just screamed bloody murder!â
all azzi could do was let out a deep sigh before she lifted her head from paigeâs chest.
âcanât a girl just get some water in her own dorm anymore?â ice mumbled as she brushed past paige and azzi.
âyou good now?â paige asked, holding back a smile.
azzi shot her a death glare, âyes iâm fine,â she said as she dragged paige back to her room, âletâs go.â
when the two got back to azziâs room, paige laid on the bed while azzi sat up with her arms crossed. even though paige knew how bad azziâs fear of the dark was, she still found azziâs reaction just a little funny.
âitâs not funny,â azzi said as she turned to face away from paige.
âcâmon you have to admit it was a little-â paige started before azzi cut her off.
âno it wasnât paige,â azzi shot back, ânow donât tell me it was funny again or else iâll start crying, seriously.â
âokay, okay,â paige said as she grabbed azziâs wrist, ânot funny, iâm sorry angel.â
âyou better be,â azzi mumbled as she reluctantly laid her head back on paigeâs chest. even though she was pissed off at her, thereâs was no way in hell she would be able to fall asleep without paige by her side.
before azzi got comfy again, she reached out for the container of the melatonin. again.
âazzi,â paige started.
âplease?â azzi pouted at her, âjust one more. iâm definitely not going to be able to fall asleep naturally after that.â
paige was silent before she finally gave in, âfine, one more.â
azzi happily grabbed one out of the container and popped it in her mouth before laying her head back down on paigeâs chest. even though she had paige, her real savior of tonight was that damn container of melatonin.
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&.â â OFF THE TABLE Iâ ââ JUSTIN HERBERT.


pairingâ ââ justin herbert x single mother!oc. word countâ ââ 4.3k.
series summaryâ ââ in maya's eyes, love has been completely off the table since the birth of her son, miles, six years ago. fate disagrees with maya's point of view, bringing her justin in more ways than one.
author's noteâ ââ these chapters will generally be under 10k words. no idea how long it's gonna be, but i have several parts planned for the future <3 series warningsâ ââ 18+ mdni, smut (none in this part), oc warning [maya atkins], single motherhood, friends with benefits, discussions of guilt, mention of deadbeat dads.
read moreâ ââ justin herbert masterlistâ ââ part two.

The rumble of the car engine came to a stop as Maya pulled into the driveway of her parents' home. The right index finger of her unmanicured hand was pressed against the start/stop button, and she felt the subtle vibration under her thighs completely halt. She took a moment to gaze at the quiet street, the porch light casting a warm glow on the lawn. Streaks of gold mixed with pinks, purples, and midnight blue painted the sky, hinting at the end of a long week, yet the start of a long weekend.
She collected her keys, leaving her purse behind in the passenger's seat. Her heels hit the concrete one after the other, her muscles tensing as she pushed herself onto her feet. "Bag," she muttered to herself, turning towards the back doors of her recently upgraded Mazda CX-5. She grabbed the handle with her left hand and pulled open the door with a click. The smell of the leather interior melded with the faint scent of Miles' shampoo from his car seat. Her hand reached in to grab the bag she had packed for his weekend with his grandparents. Two of his favorite plushies, his book for the weekâCharlie and the Chocolate Factory, his current hyperfixation was Roald Dahl chapter books, and a tablet (parental controlled to hell) with access to only educational content.
The bag slung over her right shoulder familiarly, though the stretch of her blazer pulled at the left. She locked the car with a habitual double press of the lock button on her keys, then turned on her heel to approach the house. Her eyes fell upon the welcome mat, slightly askew from a day of her parents' comings and goings. She corrected it with a gentle nudge of her foot before using her spare key to unlock the door.
"Mom, Dad," she called out, her voice echoing through the hallway. The smell of dinner lingered in the airâsomething rich and comforting that immediately made her stomach growl. She pulled her heels off, bending over to set them on the rack beside the door. Her feet sighed with relief as they met the cool tile. "Miles," she sang out, a smile playing on her lips. The patter of little feet grew closer, and before she could even straighten up, she was enveloped in a warm, sticky hug.
"Mommy!" Miles beamed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He held onto her tightly, his small body wriggling against hers.
"Hi, baby," she responded, feeling his energy and love in every inch of her being. She knelt down to return his embrace fully, her cheek pressing to his soft hair. "How was school today?"
"Good," he said, his voice muffled against her neck. "We had a pizza party!"
Maya chuckled. "Wow, sounds like a great Friday. Did you save any for me?"
Miles pulled away, his face flushed. "Nope, I ate it all," he said with a cheeky grin, his breathing heavy from the excitement of seeing his mom.
Maya laughed, brushing some lint away from his striped blue and orange t-shirt. "I bet it was real good, huh?" she said, standing up. She bent down to kiss him on the forehead, her eyes catching the glint of the gold necklace her mother had given her for her birthday years ago and saved when she outgrew it, so the necklace was now a permanent part of Miles' collection.
"Where's Papa and Mimi?" Maya asked, setting the bag down near the stairs. They had picked Miles up from school on her behalf, as they always did on Fridays which she used to meet with her clients located the farthest away from her central hub of Los Angeles County.
Miles looked up at her with those same brown eyes she saw in the mirror every morning, his little face a canvas of innocence and curiosity. "Papa is in the bathroom, and Mimi is in the kitchen," he said, pointing down the hall, reaching up for her hand to guide her.
Maya's mother, Brandy, emerged from the kitchen, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her daughter. She was a smaller woman, her natural coils that matched her daughter's were pulled back from her face with an extra-large claw clip Maya recognized as one likely stolen from her collection. The twist out on her 4B hair looked fresh, saturated with her favorite curl cream that smelled of shea butter.
"Maya, baby, how was your week?" she asked, her voice warm and inviting. She turned to face her daughter, dressed in a V-neck top and flared yoga pants. Her arms opened wide, ready to embrace her.
Maya stepped into the warm hug, feeling the stress of the week melt away. "It was busy, but productive," she replied, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder. "How did the pick-up go?"
"It went well," Brandy said, pulling back to look at Maya. "You look good, baby. Did you finally get some rest?"
Maya nodded. "I had a meeting that ran late, but I managed to squeeze in a quick nap before I picked him up on Thursday." She took a deep breath, the aroma of her mother's perfume bringing a brush of comfort to her senses.
Her father, Raymond, appeared at the top of the stairs. "Look who's here," he boomed, his baritone voice filling the space. "You staying for dinner?"
Maya glanced at her watch, the digital face reading 6:45 PM. "Can't tonight, Dad. I'm heading down to that new place on Melrose for dinner and drinks," she said, reaching out to hug her father, who stumbled as Miles scrambled to hug his leg.
"Oh, okay," Raymond said, his eyes searching hers before he added. "You meeting someone?"
Maya shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "No, working again. The client I'm working with is struggling with menu items, just need to get an idea of what's out there, what's popularâŚ" she responded, watching as Miles turned to run off for the door, presumably eager to dig into his bag of activities.
"Bubba, what do you need?" she called after him, watching as he disappeared into the living room.
"Nothing, Mommy, I got it," he yelled back, immediately following up with a 'rawr' signaling he had found his dinosaur plushie.
Brandy chuckled. "He's in a loud mood today," she said, stepping aside to let Maya into the kitchen. The counters were cleared of the usual clutter, a sign that her mother had spent most of the day cleaning in preparation for Hurricane Miles. "How long do you think you'll be out tonight?"
Maya shrugged. "As long as it takes, I guess. I'll text when I'm on my way home," she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, her eyes scanning over the fridge covered in her son's artwork. And there it was, that creeping of guilt into her stomach. She knew her parents looked forward to their weekends with Miles, but she couldn't help the feeling that she was abandoning him. It was a sinking feeling that she had grown accustomed to over the years, especially when work called on her weekends.
"You're thinking too deep, Maya," Raymond said, his hand landing on Maya's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "You work hard all week, you deserve a break. Get your work done, go home, sleep inâ" before he could complete his thought, her mother interrupted.
"Don't be shy to get some," Brandy added with a knowing smile. Maya chuckled, rolling her eyes. Her parents had always been blunt about their desires for her to find someone, but she was always amused by the bluntness of it all. She hadn't had a serious relationship since Miles' dad, and even that was more of a whirlwind romance that ended with a baby and a lot of unanswered questions.
"I'm just going to check on Miles before I head out," Maya said, making her way to the living room. Her son was sprawled on the floor, the backpack wide open, its contents spilling out like a treasure chest of toys and books. She squatted beside him, her hand smoothing over his hair. "Remember to be good for Mimi and Papa, okay?"
Miles looked up at her with those big, innocent eyes. "I will, Mommy. I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too, sweetie," Maya said, her voice thick with affection. She gave him another kiss, then stood, her eyes following him as he turned back to his toys to continue playing. She took a deep breath, gathering herself.
"Okay, I'm heading out," she called out to her parents, picking up her purse and sliding her feet back into her heels. "Let me know if you all need anything, okay?"
"We're fine, baby," Brandy said, waving her off with a dish towel. "You go do what you have to do. Enjoy your weekend, honey."
Maya nodded, slipping her phone into her pocket and grabbing her bag. "Love you, Miles," she called out, her heels clicking against the floor as she made her way to the door. She stepped out into the cool evening air, the breeze playing with her hair. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet of the neighborhood before climbing into her car and heading towards Melrose.

The restaurant was already bustling when she arrived, the neon lights flickering in the windows. She stepped inside, the low murmur of conversation and the clink of glasses filling her ears. The hostess, a young woman with a sleek bob, glanced up from her podium. "Just one tonight?" she asked, her eyes scanning Maya from head to toe.
Maya nodded. "Yes, just me. Do you offer food at the bar?"
The hostess smiled, grabbing two menus. "Absolutely," she said, leading Maya through the crowded dining area to the bar. The space was intimate, with high-backed stools and a polished mahogany bar that gleamed under the soft lights. She took a seat at the corner, her back to the wall, and opened her notebook to the page she had reserved for the night's findings.
She scribbled her first observations, namely the lightingâsoft and flattering, a good balance between mood and practicalityâand the music, a mix of old school R&B and contemporary jazz that created an ambiance that was both nostalgic and modern. The bar was a blend of chrome and glass, with bottles of various liquors arranged with the precision of a museum exhibit.
"What can I get you, gorgeous?" the bartender, a man in his early 30s with a clean-shaven face and a friendly smile, asked as he approached her.
Maya looked up from her notebook and gave him a polite smile. "I'll warn you I'm a culinary consultant, so please forgive me if I annoy you tonight," she said, her voice a smooth blend of humor and apology. "Could I start with a non-alcoholic mojito?"
The bartender grinned. "Not a problem, I've had my fair share of picky customers," he joked, getting to work on her drink. "What brings you here? Just work?"
Maya nodded, watching him mix the mint and lime with soda water. "Always," she replied, her eyes taking in the freshness of the ingredients set in front of him. "I've got a client looking to spice up their menu, and I want to see what's working for others before I make any suggestions."
The bartender slid her drink over, the mint leaves bobbing at the top. She took a sip, her eyes closing as she savored the crispness of the mint and the sweetness of the lime. It was perfect, and she made a note of that. "You're in luck," he said. "We just revamped ours last week. If you're looking for inspiration, I can give you the rundown on what's selling and what's not."
Maya's eyes lit up. "That would be amazing," she said though her head turned at the sound of a guest attempting to capture the bartender's attention. "Come find me when you're free," she told him gesturing behind him. "I'll be here a while," she finished with a laugh.
The bartender nodded and moved off to serve the waiting customer, leaving Maya to sip her drink and continue her observations. She noticed the way the staff interacted with each other and the guests, the efficiency of their movements, and the presentation of the food that was being delivered. She made notes about the cleanliness of the bar and the variety of the non-alcoholic options, something that she felt was often lacking in similar establishments.
As the evening progressed, she ordered a few more items from the menu, each one carefully considered and critiqued in her notes. The bartender, whose name she had learned was Caleb, checked in with her periodically, offering insights into the popularity of certain dishes and sharing a few stories about the chefs that had created them. The conversation flowed easily between them, a blend of professional curiosity and friendly banter that had her relaxing more and more as the night went on.
The low murmurs of the restaurant at the beginning of the night slowly grew to all all-out chatter and laughter as more guests filled the space. Maya's notebook was now a canvas of scribbled notes surrounded by three half-eaten appetizers and an empty mojito glass. Caleb, the bartender, had been true to his word, keeping her informed of the bestsellers and even slipping in some behind-the-scenes gossip about the staff drama.
With the swell of guests, she decided to take a backseat, allowing him to handle the busy crowd. As the night grew later, the restaurant's energy remained high. Taking another look at the menu, she picked out a dessert to end the evening with, lifting her head to begin an attempt to catch Caleb's eye.
Her efforts proved increasingly difficult as Caleb found himself pulled in all directions by guests across a spectrum of intoxication levels, each demanding his attention. She pursed her lips, watching him juggle drink orders and good-natured banter with a skill that suggested he'd been born to this life.
As she sought to capture the bartender's attention once more, she felt a presence beside her. She glanced over to find a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark shirt and dark wash jeans, his handsome face framed by the dusting of his well-groomed facial hair across the lower half. His sandy hair curled perfectly around his ears, thick enough that she could make out layers, but not long enough that it touched his shoulders. Her second glance over his frame brought her a brief moment of shock as she took in just how tall he was. He looked at her with a friendly smile and leaned in, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the din.
"You need the bartender?" the man asked, his voice a rich baritone that resonated through the room. Maya nodded, a bit taken aback by his proximity. "I got you," he said, raising a hand to signal Caleb. The bartender nodded in recognition and held up an index finger, signaling she would be next.
"I'm Justin, by the way," the man introduced himself, extending a hand as he leaned against the bar.
Maya took a moment to appreciate the confidence in his grip and the way his eyes held hers as she took in his athletic build. "Maya," she replied, her voice a touch lighter than she intended. "Thanks for the help."
Justin nodded, his smile never faltering. "No problem. This is the busiest I've ever seen this place." He glanced around the crowded restaurant, his eyes reflecting the lights from the bar.
Maya took another sip of her drink, her gaze lingering on the group of men at the end of the bar. They were all tall and muscular, their laughter booming through the room. "You come here often?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by their presence.
"Not really," he admitted. "But when you're in town with friends, you tend to follow the crowd." He nodded towards the group, who were now looking their way.
The bartender, Caleb, made his way over, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he caught the interaction between Maya and Justin. "Another drink, Maya?" he asked, his eyes darting to Justin before returning to her.
"Dessert this time, then I'm heading out," Maya said to Caleb. "I'll do the cinnamon baklava roll-ups, to go, please. And put whatever his drink is on my tab," she added, gesturing to Justin.
Justin's eyes widened slightly. "You don't have to do that," he protested, reaching for his wallet.
Maya waved him off, her head shaking. "Consider it a thank you for saving me," she quipped, reaching in her bag to find her wallet.
Justin's hand remained outstretched, his eyebrows rising. "I can't let you do that," he said, his voice firm.
Maya chuckled, pulling out her credit card and placing it firmly on the bar. "I've got it," she assured him, her voice steady. "I'll just charge my next client extra to make up for it," she joked, her professional persona slipping slightly to reveal a playful side that matched the lightness in her eyes.
Justin hesitated for a moment before conceding with a grin. "Alright, I'll just get another Blue Moon, thanks, man." He nodded to Caleb, who took the cue to serve him up. "So, while we wait, tell me about these clients you charge exorbitant amounts for your time," he said, leaning slightly closer, his eyes sparkling.
Maya couldn't help but laugh. "It's not quite that dramatic," she said, her cheeks warming. "I'm a culinary consultant. I help restaurants and bars refine their menus, train their staff, troubleshoot, that kind of thing."
Justin nodded. His gaze was genuine, and Maya felt a flutter in her stomach. "That's pretty cool," he said. "Did you go to culinary school or something?"
Maya took a moment to appreciate his curiosity before responding. "Yeah, I did," she said. "But I realized that strictly cooking wasn't for me. I'm more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person. I like new challenges, I get to work with different kitchens and concepts. It keeps things interesting."
"So what would you recommend from this menu?" Justin asked, his eyes scanning over the list of exotic cocktails and tapas.
Maya's gaze followed his, her mind racing through the dishes she'd tried so far. "If you're into spice, the habanero-infused guacamole is amazing with the plantain chips," she said, her voice taking on a professional tone. "But if you're looking for something sweet, the churros with the caramel rum sauce are amazing."
Justin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes shifting up to take in her side profile. "I'm more of a savory guy," he said. "Did you try the chicken tacos?"
"I did," Maya said, her smile widening as she motioned to the sample to her right. "They're pretty good. The meat's cooked really nice, not too much heat. Ask for the pineapple salsa on the side to avoid getting them too soggy."
Justin's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he spoke up again. "It wouldn't be too forward of me to ask for your number, would it?"
Maya's heart skipped a beat. She had been enjoying the conversation, but she wasn't expecting this. She took a deep breath, contemplating the implications. "Maybe," she said coyly. "Depends on why you want it."
Justin leaned in, his voice lowering. "Well, I'd love to pick your brain about more of these hidden gems in the city," he said. "And maybe, if you're down for it, I'd like to take you out for a drink. You know, to thank you for the advice and to make up for the fact that I didn't pay for that last one."
Maya felt a warmth spread through her chest, his words carrying an undeniable charm. She studied him for a moment, taking in the confidence that seemed so natural to him. "Alright," she said finally, taking his phone in her hand. "Does this make us even?"
Justin grinned as he watched her type in her number. "More than," he said, taking his phone back and sending her a quick text to confirm they had connected. The vibration sounded in her purse, and she pulled out her own phone to read the simple message:
This is Justin. Looking forward to seeing you again.
Maya felt a thrill of excitement. It had been a while since she'd felt this way, but she couldn't ignore the little voice in the back of her mind reminding her of her responsibilities. She pushed that little voice to the side, taking a deep breath just as Caleb returned with her to-go dessert. She took it with a smile, feeling the warmth flood through the white plastic bag. She stood from her bar stool, taking in the height difference between herself and Justin. Her head tilted up to meet his eye contact, and she couldn't help but appreciate the way he had to look down at her, not in a patronizing way, but as if he were frozen in place, worried that if he broke eye contact, she'd vanish into thin air.
"I should get going," she said, the words feeling awkward on her tongue. "I have an early morning with a client."
Justin nodded, stepping back to allow her space to move in the direction of the exit. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe we can do this again sometime?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
Maya felt a tug at her heart, the kind she hadn't felt in a long time. "I'd like that," she replied, her eyes shining. "Have a good night with your friends."
"You too," Justin said, his gaze lingering on her before she turned to leave. She walked out of the bar, the cool Pacific air taking over the warmth that had settled over her skin. As she got into her car, she couldn't help but open up the message thread again, her heart racing as she reread his words. The simplicity of itâthe fluttering flush of crushingâwas surprisingly sweet, and she found herself smiling to herself in the quiet of the driver's seat.
Maya made the short trip home, her thoughts swirling around the encounter with Justin. She knew she couldn't get too investedâshe had Miles to think about, her career to focus onâbut it was difficult to ignore the excitement bubbling within her.

The hours of the next morning melted together as Maya spent the majority of her day with her client. The conversation with Justin lingered in her mind like the sweet scent of cinnamon from the baklava rolls. When her phone buzzed with a message from an unsaved number as she made the drive home, she felt a mix of excitement and trepidation.
It was simple:
How was your day?
Yet her heart skipped a beat as she read the message, recognizing the sender as none other than Justin. She set her phone aside, brainstorming a potential reply as she hit the highway toward Culver City. It was a simple text, but it felt loaded with potential. The weight of her son's importance in her life rested heavily on her shoulders, but for a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in the flirty banter that had been so long absent from her world.
Maya parked in her driveway and took a deep breath before responding.
Busy, but productive.
She texted back, keeping it casual.
How about yours?
Justin's reply came quite quickly after, relating to her woes and easing into a smooth conversation.
The male attention was a welcome change of pace for Maya, whose life had been seized by the relentless grind of single motherhood and career ambition. The conversation with Justin was a breath of fresh air, a reminder that there was more to her than just being Miles' mom.

Have you recovered from my interception last night?
Maya's text echoed in Justin's mind, bringing a smile to his face as he read it in the locker room. He quickly responded, playing along with the banter.
Barely.
He typed.
But I'm willing to let it slide if you give me a chance to redeem myself.
His foot tapped anxiously as he watched those three dots signaling her typing appeared at the bottom of the text thread. The anticipation grew as the message popped up:
Well, if you're feeling generous, maybe we could meet somewhere whenever you're free?
Justin's smile grew. He had hoped their encounter wasn't just a one-off fluke.
I'd like that.
He replied, trying to keep his excitement in check.
I should check my schedule, but I'll get back to you with a few dates.
The schedule in question had nearly two entire weeks blocked off between the start of OTAs and some promotional appearances and photoshoots. He figured he'd take another look at his schedule when he was home, sitting down, and freshly showered without the wandering gazes of his teammates who still circled in the locker room.
So he left it there, gathered his towel, and headed for the showers.
Leaving it there stretched on, the dates left unchecked, the promise of getting back to her forgotten. As the days passed, Maya found herself touching the edge of disappointment, scooching close to tumbling over when she checked her phone for a follow-up or even just an apology for disappearing that never came. She reasoned it was for the best, that she had Miles to focus on, and that maybe, just maybe, she'd dodged a bullet with a tall, charming man who likely had more women in his lineup than he could count.
So she threw herself back into her work, balancing motherhood and her consulting gigs with renewed vigor, trying her best to shake off the sting of "what if?".
#&. cassie writes.#justin herbert#justin herbert imagine#justin herbert x oc#justin herbert fanfic#justin herbert smut#justin herbert fluff#justin herbert x black oc#justin herbert x black!oc
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Dr. Robby x gn!reader Headcanons
Random thoughts Iâve been having about Robby. No warnings. SFW.
* We all know heâs a real yearner (for Collins in canon). Heâs a REAL yearner. Will think about that one (1) moment you had alone for weeks on end. Doesnât want to complicate things at work so he takes forever to make his feelings known. He lives on scraps for months but heâs good at rationing the memories of those quiet moments with you. When thinking about a subtle touch from weeks ago gets old, youâll smile at him by his locker when youâre getting ready to leave and that is enough for the next few weeks.
* Subtly tries to get your attention. Asks how your days off were, wanting to know if you hung out with any friends, not so subtly asking if youâre single or going on any dates. Notices when you come in late with frazzled eyes, appears with a cup of coffee or a granola bar in hand for you. Heâs physical with his coworkers (the way he manhandles WhitakerâŚ), his hand on your shoulder in a gesture of encouragement or guiding your hands with his through a procedure.
* Likes old movies. Meaning anything before (but not limited to) 1980. Cassavetes, Hitchcock, Kubrick (Dr Stangelove), Malick (Days of Heaven and Badlands), Bogdanovich (The Last Picture Show, Paper Moon, Targets), Sidney Lumet, Michael Cimino (The Deer Hunter, Heavenâs Gate, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot), some James Bond movies. Never passes on a Western. Will fall asleep in front of the TV and you have to shake him awake so he can go to bed, which heâll often protest, claiming he was just resting his eyes. Not entirely opposed to international film (enjoys the occasional Tarkovsky, and it's not pre-80s but you can't tell me Robby doesn't love Wong Kar-wai and In The Mood For Love) but most nights he needs something he can understand with his eyes closed.
* He doesnât seem like a horror lover but him taking the measles kidâs dad into the Pittfest makeshift morgue makes me think heâd enjoy something like psychological thrillers? Thrillers in general? Funny Games, some David Lynch, The Fugitive, No Country For Old Men, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974). LOVES Heat (1995).
* Reads A Lot. Taking inspiration from Noah Wyleâs various Instagram selfies with books. Will go to tiny bookstores that donât have any method to their organization, just stacks and stacks of dusty books, and always comes out with an armful. God forbid either of you have to leave the city without the other but Robby will send you selfies with the books he reads. (One time you respond with âthat hung smileâ and he teases you about it for weeks, after he gets over the initial embarrassment of it.)
* Reads before bed and usually turns his light off after you turn over to close your eyes. When you do roll over, he takes it as his cue to finish up whatever chapter heâs on. He folds up his glasses, the sound of them hitting his nightstand is always a joy to hear because it means heâs going to click off his lamp and wrap his arm around your waist.
* Has a record collection. Itâs much smaller than his book collection but still takes up quite a bit of shelf space. Going off of the 1 song he listens to in the show, he gravitates towards r&b, soul, jazz, some blues, some country (Johnny Cash, Kenny Rogers, Townes Van Zandt, etc).
* I love this man but I donât think he can grill. Burns some hamburgers once and never wheels out the barbecue again.
* At one point he definitely gets a recliner and it becomes his spot. You hate it because you canât sit with him but that doesnât stop him from pulling you onto his lap.
* He gets so possessive. Truly cannot stomach the idea of anyone else wanting you, and itâs worse when youâre having an argument and all he can think about is the possibility of you leaving him. If he even thinks anyone else is looking at you heâll snake an arm around your waist or lean down for a quick kiss. Loves hand holding because it always fends off wandering eyes.
* Before Covid, heâd play poker with Abbot and a few other friends. They were all pretty busy so poker night was limited to once a month at most. Abbot is really good at bluffing and Robby tanks every game because his face turns red when heâs excited or upset with his hand.
* Robby teaches you how to play poker. And various other card games. He'll sit with you at the kitchen table and teach you the rules and the hands. Plays with you to teach you but wins every round. "I didn't say I'd go easy on you."
* When he has a bad day, he gets quiet. He'll lay with his head in your lap just to be close to you. It can be hard to be with an emotionally constipated man at first. He doesn't let you in, he subconsciously self-sabotages his relationships with his lack of communication. His silence has brought many challenges to the relationship. After a while, after the honeymoon phase and many nights going to bed angry, it gets easier. Robby still doesn't like to talk about what's bothering him but he seeks you out for comfort. Maybe he'll talk about the last book he read and how he thinks you'll like it or a record he's been looking for but can't find.
* Has a pair of slippers he wears around the house. Itâs been years and theyâre starting to fall apart but he refuses to buy a new pair yet. If you buy him a new pair he wonât wear them.
* Eventually takes a lot of candid pictures of you on his phone. He had a film camera he used quite a bit like 15-20 years ago but slowly stopped using it. So he has the photography skills (somewhat) but it takes him a while to get the courage to sneak pictures of you.
* You find a collection of his old photographs and it genuinely shocks you. Since when was he a photographer??? Heâd never mentioned it before. He has boxes of photos from his residency (hardly any feature him, though) and lots of Pittsburgh when he first moved there. You beg him to start taking pictures with his film camera again. Another box is filled with photos of you. He likes to document memories this way because it gives him a physical reminder of it happening. Those dates werenât just a dream. Theyâre real. He doesnât spend a lot of time taking photos, though. Heâll snap one or two when the moment is right and not bring it up again. He likes to live in the moment with a little souvenir of it.
* Keeps a little photo of you in his wallet. No matter how long youâve been dating, catching a glimpse of it when he opens his wallet for his debit card makes his heart stutter.
#michael robinavitch x reader#michael robinavitch#dr robby x reader#dr robby#the pitt x reader#the pitt
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Father's Faults
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader
Summary: Tim is distracted by his memories of his father, so you find an unprecedented way to keep him focused. After he lashes out at you for overstepping, he realizes that you understand and have your own memories to battle. Rather than bonding over that, you accept what's been between you since you first met.
Warnings: discussion of child abuse, domestic violence, Tim and r have a lot of childhood and job-related trauma, angst to fluff, confessions and kisses
Word Count: 3.8k+ words
A/N: @nevereclipse inspired this with magnificent ideas about Tim and a traumatized reader. I hope you like it!!đ¤
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
Thereâs a scuff in the dashboard of Timâs shop. Itâs been there for as long as you can remember, but thereâs something different about it today. Tracing the ragged scrape marks with your eyes, you try to come up with a story about how it got there or an explanation for its appearance. Anything other than acknowledging the tense silence in the car or your partner's tight grip on the steering wheel.
â7-Adam-100,â dispatch radios, âthereâs an active home invasion in your area.â
â7-Adam-100 responding,â Tim replies, dropping the radio after he finishes.
You donât speak, opting to look out the window as Tim drives to the address with the blue lights spinning. Part of you feels like you should know whatâs bothering Tim, but heâs not exactly easy to read, nor is he willing to admit that something is going on. So, until - or if - you can deduce whatâs making him so distant and easily angered this week, youâll give him the room and the quiet he clearly desires.
âSide gate is open,â Tim says as he parks beside the neighborâs house. âWeâll use it for entry, split up and clear the house. Iâll go right.â
âYes, sir,â you reply, opening your door.
As you follow Tim through the gate and duck under windows lining the side of the house, you focus on the job. Timâs back muscles are tense beneath his uniform, and if you arenât careful, youâll think about him and let your guard down. Entering the broken back door, you tap Timâs shoulder before you turn left into a small dining area. With your gun raised, you move quickly but carefully through the room. A crash sounds down the hall, so you press your back to the wall and move toward the noise, keeping your steps light and breathing quiet.
Tim exits a door behind you, and you drop your gun as soon as you realize itâs him. Moving together, you prepare to enter the room where the intruder is shouting demands.
âOn three,â Tim whispers, covering the door so you can enter. âOne. Two. Three.â
He pushes the door open, stepping into the doorway as you move inside.Â
âLAPD!â you announce. âPut your hands up!â
The large man - whose boot likely matches the shoe print on the back door - bares his teeth at you before he turns to the woman guarding her son. Theyâre both sporting bruises and a wound at the womanâs hairline drips blood down her cheek.
âLet me see your hands!â you demand, stepping toward the man.
Tim doesnât move, his eyes bouncing between the suspect and the young boy cowering behind his mother.
âItâs my house,â the man says.
âNot anymore,â the woman interjects. âWe have a restraining order.â
With his jaw clenched, Tim lowers his gun and steps forward. âLast chance. You walk out with us or you can keep being a coward and weâll drag you out.â
The man sneers, turning toward Tim as he prepares to lunge. You holster your weapon quickly, pulling your taser out instead. Pointing it at the larger manâs chest, you shake your head.
âIs that your son?â you ask. âDo you really want him to remember you like this?â
He hesitates, then swings. Tim ducks out of his reach at the last second, and you depress the trigger on the taser, sending 1,500-volt pulses through his body as he folds in on himself and collapses.
Tim steps over the manâs leg to cuff him, and you set your taser down to approach the manâs son and his ex-wife. The boy clings to his mother but looks up at your shield with a small smile.
âWeâre Code 4, need an RA at this location,â Tim alerts. âOne in custody.â
âThis card has my number on it,â you say, offering a large cardstock square to the woman before you. âThereâs also a list of numbers on the back that can help support you during this time. The domestic violence hotline can give you information about keeping your address private and hopefully preventing something like this in the future.â
âThank you,â she replies. âHe just showed up out of nowhere.â
You pull a tissue off a nearby table and offer it to her, watching her son as she presses it to her bleeding forehead. The ambulance is only a few minutes away, but you kneel to check on the boy.
âLetâs go,â Tim murmurs, hauling the abusive father to his feet.
âI need an ambulance!â he moans. âShe tased me.â
âYou will be seen, but youâre trespassing.â
âI canât walk,â he argues.
âThen Iâll drag you,â Tim snaps.
The man stands then, his head hanging toward his chest as he pulls his feet rather than taking normal steps. You notice that Tim has his hand on the handcuffs rather than the suspectâs arm. Tim's past, you remember. Tim has been in this situation before, he knows precisely what this mother and child are thinking, and thatâs why he reacted like he did. There has to be more to it, though.
Tim is thinking about something and he endangers himself every time the thought surfaces.
âBradford is all yours,â Angela says, shaking her head as she exits Wadeâs office. âI know heâs going through some stuff, but how do you deal with him when heâs like this?â
âWhatâs he going through?â you ask, looking through the glass door.
âItâs almost the anniversary of his dadâs death,â she explains. âI understand being a little touchy, but-â
âWe took a domestic call this morning,â you complain, pressing your thumb and forefingers against your eyes. âI didnât realize the date. I should have told him to let someone else handle it.â
âHeâs a cop, he can handle the job,â Angela assures you. She looks at Tim and sighs. âI just⌠none of us can get through to him. Itâs like heâs holding himself hostage in his own memories.â
âI- Iâll see what I can do,â you offer.
âDonât beat yourself up if he wonât talk. And donât take anything he says this week personally.â
âYou ready?â Tim asks, exiting Wadeâs office.
âYeah,â you answer, nodding to Angela as you follow Tim back to the shop. If heâs thinking about his dad too much, maybe you can give him something else to consider.
The corner store is silent as you walk down the center aisle. At midnight, the building is empty, the radio is off, and the cashier sits silently at the register, earbuds in as she stares at her phone. You should find the silence enjoyable after being yelled at by Tim four times in one night. Instead, it makes you uncomfortable, desperate for something to happen.
âAha,â you murmur when you find the small selection of cleaning products.
Itâs probably a bad idea, you think while you fill the small, handheld shopping basket with various items. You tried to get Timâs mind off his dad, and their strained past, but none of your attempts were successful. He thought about you long enough to yell, accuse you of overstepping, and make vague threats to discourage you from attempting to make small talk with him. But even then, he retreated into his mind as soon as you agreed and fell quiet again.
âUh,â the cashier mumbles when you place the basket on the counter. âIs this⌠you good?â
You look at the odd collection of items ranging from candy and a Dodgers sweatshirt to twine and a spray bottle, smiling. âYeah.â
âWhatever you say.â
Tim glances at your bag as you place it on the floorboard of the shop but doesnât say anything. Youâll let him reach his own conclusions about its contents for now. After double-checking with Angela this morning, you learned that there are two days until the actual anniversary of Tom Bradfordâs death, and you plan to help Tim through the next forty-eight hours, no matter what it takes.
Now that you've been reminded of the date, itâs clear that Tim is thinking about his father. His tight jaw, distant stare, defiant act of threatening an abusive father, and how he stands at least a foot away from everyone, even if itâs someone he knows and trusts, it's all indicative of his trauma response. Thinking back to yesterday, you remember that he stiffened when you touched his back during calls, and it all begins to make sense.
Tim has a tell, you discover. When heâs thinking about his past, his nostrils flare. You will never admit to watching him that closely, especially not to someone like Angela or Nell, who are convinced youâre in love with him. Yet, you observed him enough yesterday afternoon and during roll call to confirm your suspicion. Even as you watch him now, his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and his nostrils flare quickly.
âWhatâs your opinion on stop and frisk?â you inquire.
His hand relaxes as he furrows his brows and asks, âAs a policing technique or in general?â
âPolicing.â
âSo, Terry stops. I think that if thereâs reasonable suspicion and no bias it is a useful and protective tactic.â
âInteresting. How can you tell if thereâs bias, though? And what makes suspicion reasonable?â
âWhat are you doing?â Tim asks.
âIâm making conversation, getting opinions, learning,â you list dramatically. âIs that so bad?â
âWhen weâre in this shop, weâre partners. Iâm not your personal podcast.â
âThat would actually be really nice,â you reply. âAnyone ever told you your voice is soothing?â
âStop.â
âItâs just a question!â
âStop.â
You lift your hands in surrender and turn into your seat properly again. Tim drives through a green light, sees a father walking his son into a playground, and the look returns. You sigh and pull your bag open.
âWhat was that?!â Tim exclaims, swerving slightly as his right hand raises to his face.
âItâs water,â you answer, shaking the spray bottle. âI need you focused. I canât worry about you or weâll both get killed.â
âFocused? I am your superior!â Tim argues as he wipes his hand on his pants.
âThen work with me,â you plead.
âWhat makes you think Iâm unfocused?â he inquires.
âYouâre thinking about other things. Just⌠keep your mind in this shop today, and I wonât spray you again.â
âIf you like this job you wonât spray me again,â Tim amends.
âIf thatâs what you need to hear.â
âShe bought Wesley a tie with lobsters on it,â Angela tells Nyla.
âMy dad has a tie with fish,â Lucy says. âWhatâs wrong with that?â
âYou called?â you interrupt as you follow Tim to the detectives' desks.
âYeah, we need you to run down a lead,â Nyla answers. âUnless youâd rather hear about Lucyâs dadâs ugly ties.â
âHey, I chose some of those ties! Fatherâs Day is coming up if you want to know where I got them,â she offers.
âOh, I already bought James a gift,â Nyla answers with faux disappointment.
âWhat lead?â Tim asks.
Standing behind Tim with one hand behind your back, you spray him without anyone noticing. He turns his head toward you, his eyes warning you to stop. You smile, nodding along with Nylaâs explanation.
âI am not a cat,â Tim whispers as you exit the station.
âThen take the hint,â you reply softly.
Nylaâs lead was indeed helpful, and you deliver a new suspect to the station before you return to patrol. In the shop, you hold the spray bottle in your lap as Tim drives. When you move your fingers toward the top, Tim slams on the brakes and snatches it out of your hand.
âYou donât get to decide what I think about!â he exclaims. âIf youâre so worried that I canât do this job right now, then get out and go back to the station.â
âTim, thatâs not what-â
âIt is not your business,â he continues. Loudly. You flinch, but he's too mad to notice. âIt is not your place to be my therapist and tell me to only think about good things or to stay in the moment. Whatever it is you think is on my mind is not worth this!â
You take several breaths, watching Timâs chest heave.
âI know itâs almost the anniversary,â you say, forcing your voice to stay level as you press your palms against your thighs. âYour dad⌠he clearly got to you, your childhood affects you. And thatâs okay. Iâm not saying to forget everything or let those experiences become meaningless.â
âThen let it go.â
You look down at your hands as Tim drops the spray bottle beside your feet and begins driving again.
âIâm sorry,â you offer after several minutes. âIt was affecting you, and I thought giving you something else to think about would help.â
âNot your call,â Tim grumbles.
Nodding, you locate the scuff on the dashboard, staring at it until your vision blurs.Â
âHowâd that mark get there?â you whisper.
âWhat?â Tim asks, glancing toward you. âI donât know.â
âThere were marks on my momâs dash, too,â you say. âNobody knew how they got there. Nothing we would admit while my dad was around, anyway.â
Timâs eyes find you again, his gaze different. But youâre still looking at the scratched plastic.
âIt was like a switch was flipped,â you confess. âOne day, he was at a recital, cheering on his baby. And the next⌠there were marks on the dashboards and new scars that- that I didnât ask for. So, I have an idea of how painful the memories can be, how far and how fast they can drag you under until it feels like youâre drowning. I went about it wrong, and I can see that now, so Iâm sorry. But my intentions are still the same. I donât want to sit by while a memory of being hurt keeps hurting you.â
Tim doesnât reply as he shifts his eyes back to the road. You donât watch him during the remainder of your shift to know if his nostrils flare or if his breathing returns to normal after his outburst. What you do know is that if Tim is willing to let himself be controlled by memories, you canât stay close enough to watch it happen.
Scrolling through your notifications as you exit the station, you let your body run on autopilot as you make your way home. Youâre nearly across the parking lot when someone says your name. You stop and look up, surprised to see Timâs full attention on you.
âLopez thinks you were flirting with me,â Tim says, leaning against the tailgate of his truck.
âWhen?â you ask. There are several feet between you, and youâd prefer to keep it that way.
âWell, she says it pretty often, but the spray bottle. She noticed that my back was wet, saw it in the shop, put it together.â
You nod, holding your phone with both hands so you donât fidget and expose how uncomfortable you are.
âCould we talk?â Tim asks.
âNot if itâs about me flirting with you,â you reply lightly.
Timâs lips quirk up. âNo. Iâm pretty sure Iâve seen you flirt, and that wasnât it.â
âThen, what do you want to talk about?â
âWhat Iâm not supposed to think about.â Tim slides his hands into his front pockets and shrugs. âI should talk to someone, not just retreat into who I used to be, dissect what could have been different. I just thought⌠If Iâm going to talk, I need to tell someone I trust. Someone who understands.â
âAnd thatâs me? Last I heard, I was overstepping and needed to let it go.â
Tim nods, stepping back toward his driverâs door.
âBut,â you call after him, âif youâve changed your mind, we can talk.â
Timâs house is warm, comfortable, manly, and everything you expected. Yet, itâs awkward as you lower onto his couch and watch him move in his kitchen. Itâs oddly domestic, but the connection between you and Tim is hanging on by a thread.Â
âIâm not mad at you,â Tim says suddenly. With his hands spread on the counter, he watches you. âI shouldnât have lashed out like that. I⌠my mind feels like my archenemy some days, and I fight that battle alone. You tried to help, and I didnât know what to do. Iâm sorry.â
âNo one knows the mess weâre in,â you agree. âThe voices in my head say Iâm being paranoid, but I know it will pull me under someday if I let it. You donât have to apologize, Tim. I get it.â
âI donât know what hurts worse, letting go or remembering,â Tim adds, walking to the couch with two glasses. He sets one in front of you, then sits beside you. Thereâs not as much distance between you now, but the vulnerability makes it feel like youâre exposed face-to-face.
âYou were right,â Tim admits. âIâve been thinking about what happened when I was a kid, wondering where everything went wrong, trying to identify something I could have done differently. Now that heâs gone, I guess Iâll never know.â
âTim,â you breathe out, your heart breaking for him. âThat was not your fault. None of it was because of you.â
âYouâve never wondered?â
âI didnât say that.â You lift your glass, holding it between your hands to look down at it. âI used to lay awake at night trying to figure out what part of me was so broken that someone would do that to me. Especially someone I loved and who was supposed to love me.â
âBut itâs not our fault,â Tim repeats. âItâs theirs.â
âAnd we canât save everyone.â
âWe shouldnât have had to save anyone. Not even ourselves. I think back now, and I donât remember my dad ever hitting my mom. He was verbally abusive, threatened to go farther, exhausted her emotionally and mentally. I tried to stay between him and Genny.â
âFrom what Iâve heard, you protected Genny from more than the bruises,â you offer. âYouâre an incredible person, Tim.â
Tim smiles, turning his head toward you as his elbows rest on his thighs. âWas that flirting?â
âYouâll know when Iâm flirting, Bradford,â you answer with a smile.
âWhen I was deployed, there were a couple guys whose wives divorced them,â Tim begins. âI found myself wondering why my mom didnât do that. My dad would disappear for a week or so here and there. She could have left, but she didnât.â
âI think moms try to fix everything in the only way they know how. If my mom even knew, she never showed it. But, I wondered the same thing. 20/20 hindsight, I guess.â
Tim empties his glass, then says, âThank you.â
âFor what?â you inquire, setting your cup beside his.
âThe stuff in my locker? No one else would have put it there.â
You duck your chin to hide your smile. âItâs what I wanted when I was stuck in this cycle as a kid. I had panic attacks for a while. Music, something comfortable to wear, something rough to hold and ground myself with, and snacks I wouldnât get otherwise felt like an escape to a world where I was safe, different.â
âI saw a therapist who told me to find âa portal to a better worldâ when my PTSD was at its worst,â Tim says, leaning back against the couch, his hand falling toward you. âI was reliving memories that were killing me, and couldnât figure out how to stop the bloodshed long enough to discover Narnia.â
âNarnia?â you repeat. âI didnât realize you were a man of taste.â
âNext time, you wonât try to distract me with sports.â
âNo. Although, Iâd prefer a world where there isnât a next time.â
âThatâs a world weâd have to make.â
You lock eyes with Tim, shifting closer to him as the soft hum of his air conditioner fills the room.
âAre you okay?â you whisper, brushing your fingers against Timâs.
âWould it sound like I was flirting if I said I am now?â he questions, leaning toward you as he smiles.
âMaybe,â you admit. âBut would that be such a bad thing?â
âI donât think so.â
âMe neither. After all, you trust me and I understand.â
Tim rolls his eyes at your teasing, and when you inhale, preparing to continue, he raises his right hand to your face, holding your jaw. You silence, watching Timâs eyes.
âI donâtâŚâ he begins. âI donât want to be crutches.â
âTim,â you breathe. âWeâre not showing each other our scars to learn how to support each other. Iâm telling you who I am because you make me better. You help me see who I am now, not who I force myself to see in the mirror. You arenât my salvation, but I think you could be something.â
âIâve lived in fear for most of my adult life that I couldnât love someone, that I could tell them the truth about everything, about me. With you⌠telling the truth is as easy as breathing.â
âBreathing before, after, or during a panic attack?â you clarify.
âWhy are we even having this conversation?â Tim jokes, shrugging. âYouâve been flirting with me for years, you clearly want me.â
âThen I guess itâs up to you,â you reply. âWeâre at the edge, Tim. Itâs your call. Are we going over the edge or running back to safety?â
âTell me something about yourself,â Tim requests, pushing your hair over your shoulder.
You hum, dragging your fingers along his forearm. âI thought I was undesirable until I was, like, mid-20s.â
âWhat changed?âÂ
You shrug. âPut on the uniform, met a few badge bunnies, I donât know. I still feel it sometimes.â
âWith me?â
âNo,â you whisper. âBut I think you see more than my face. Your turn.â
Tim licks his lips as he thinks. âYou know all my secrets now.â
âThen tell me something that isnât a secret.â
âI didnât think Iâd be able to fall in love after Isabel. Not until a few years ago.â
âYou had a girlfriend?â
Tim laughs. âWhat else changed a few years ago?â
You trace your own life back one year, then two, then⌠âOh. Me?â
âOh. You,â Tim repeats. âI was also called Reaper in the Army.â
âThatâs so much cooler than falling in love with me. Howâd you get that name?â
Timâs lips are mere inches from you as he asks, âIs that really what you want to focus on right now?â
âPromise you know weâre not crutches?â you request.
Tim takes your hand and says, âI know. Youâre clearly more of a walker.â
You huff, but Tim closes the distance - finally - and kisses you slowly. With his hand on your face, your hands joined, and your knees against his thigh, you forget everything except Tim Bradford and the future you want with him.
He pulls back first, searching your eyes before you drop your chin and kiss a scar on his neck. Tim takes a shaky breath as you sit back on your socked feet. Youâd felt so out of place when you first arrived, and now youâre not sure you want to leave the comfort and seclusion of Timâs home and his arms.
âYou know weâre not going to be allowed to ride together anymore, right?â Tim asks.
âYeah. Now we can do so much more,â you reply.
âSuch a flirt,â Tim murmurs.
âIâm here for you,â you remind him. âNo matter when, no matter what.â
Tim smiles as he pulls you closer. âProve it.â
#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x y/n#tim bradford x you#tim bradford fic#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford oneshot#tim bradford#the rookie x reader#the rookie abc#fem!reader#hanna writesâŻ
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Ok I thought of something silly:
Thereâs an old lady NPC running a grocery stand in Okhemaâs Marmoreal Market, Demetria.
Reader and Dan Heng are there to do a little shopping (they have to feed themselves, after all) and Demetria shuffles a few extra pomegranates into their bag, on the house.
Demetria: âFor you and your husband.â đ
Readerâs too stunned to correct her that, yes, theyâre in a relationship with Dan Heng, but not married.
âŚShould I note that pomegranates are often a symbol of fertility? đ
Nevermind that Vidyadhara are unable to reproduceâ
Sweet as Pomegranate
Summary: While shopping for supplies in Okhemaâs Marmoreal Market, you and Dan Heng encounter Demetria, an old woman running a grocery stand. After she mistakenly refers to you both as a married couple, you're left flustered, but Dan Heng remains his usual composed self. The encounter ends with the old woman giving you extra pomegranates, and offering her blessings for your "union." Though you're embarrassed by the misunderstanding, there's a quiet comfort in the bond you share, even without labels.
Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Fluff, Light Humor, Mild Embarrassment.

The bustling Marmoreal Market in Okhema was a mix of colors and scentsâvendors calling out to passersby, fresh produce piled high, and the air thick with the chatter of travelers and locals alike. Dan Heng and you moved through the maze of stalls, your destination set but still taking in the sights. The two of you didnât often spend much time on leisurely shopping trips, but today felt different. Perhaps it was the quiet calm between you, the sounds of the market filling in the spaces of a shared silence.
âDo we need anything specific?â you asked, glancing up at Dan Heng, whose sharp gaze had already scanned the nearby stands for anything of value.
He nodded, his tone as composed as ever. âWeâre running low on supplies. Iâll leave the rest to you.â
That was Dan Hengâs way of leaving the choice to you. He didnât care much about food selection, so long as it kept them fueled for the journey. You smiled, feeling a little more at ease in the lively chaos of the market.
You approached a stall tucked at the corner of the market, an old woman with silver hair and a warm, wrinkled face sitting behind a counter stacked high with fruits. She looked up as you approached, her bright eyes twinkling with something mischievous.
âWell, well, if it isnât the quiet young man and his lovely companion,â she greeted, her voice carrying a touch of playfulness that immediately put you at ease. âCome to get some fresh pomegranates, I suppose?â
You blinked, your thoughts a little slower to catch up. You werenât sure how she knew your names, but you didnât have much time to dwell on it.
âYes, please,â you said, nodding. âWeâll take a few pomegranates.â
The elderly woman smiled as she carefully plucked the ripe fruits, placing them into a woven bag. Her hands moved with the practiced precision of someone who had spent countless years at this task.
As she reached for a few more, she added in a voice just low enough that only you and Dan Heng could hear, âFor you and your husband.â
You froze. The words hung in the air, unexpected and startling. A blush crept up your neck, and you opened your mouth to correct her, but the words caught in your throat. You were too stunned to explain the mistake that had just been made. You glanced at Dan Heng, who remained perfectly composed, his usual impassive expression unreadable.
The old woman didnât seem to notice your hesitation as she shuffled a few more pomegranates into the bag. âFor good health and good fortune, yes? A lovely couple like you deserves to have something sweet.â Her smile was warm, and her eyes sparkled with something playfulâor perhaps knowing.
You blinked, not quite sure how to respond. It wasnât that you were uncomfortable with the idea of being thought of as Dan Hengâs partner. It was just⌠the husband part. You werenât married. Not that the idea hadnât crossed your mind a few times, especially during the quiet moments you shared with him on the Astral Express. But there was a certain weight to the word, something formal and unspoken, that made you hesitant.
But Demetria was already wrapping up the pomegranates, slipping them into a bag with a wink. âOn the house,â she said, her tone as light and teasing as ever.
You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. âNo need to argue, dear. Consider it a gift for your lovely union. Blessings for the future, hmm?â
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you looked over at Dan Heng, your thoughts racing. How would he react? To your surprise, his face remained as unreadable as ever. There was no sign of discomfort, amusement, or annoyanceânothing to give away what he was thinking. He simply nodded politely, accepting the bag of pomegranates with the same quiet composure he always held.
You felt your heart race, unsure of what to say. Finally, you managed a soft, âThank youâŚâ
Demetria winked again, then turned to Dan Heng. âTake care of them now, wonât you? A man should always take care of his spouse.â She said it with the kind of certainty that only comes from a lifetime of experience.
Dan Heng, ever the enigma, merely gave a small nod. "I will." His voice was calm, but there was something else in itâsomething you couldnât quite place.
Once you were out of earshot, your embarrassment finally broke free, and you turned to Dan Heng with a small laugh. âWell, that was⌠unexpected.â
Dan Hengâs response was as measured as always. âItâs not uncommon for people to assume things,â he said, his eyes catching yours for the briefest moment before he turned away. âWe should head back.â
You couldnât help but smile a little at his nonchalant attitude. His reserved nature hadnât allowed him to clarify anything eitherâheâd let the old womanâs words hang there, unanswered. But despite the awkwardness of the situation, there was something comforting in the way Dan Heng remained unfazed, even in the face of a misunderstanding.
The two of you walked side by side through the market, the pomegranates quietly swaying in the bag between you, as the weight of the words settled in your mind.
Perhaps you weren't married. But that didnât make the connection between you and Dan Heng any less meaningful. And maybe, just maybe, you both could share a quiet understanding about it, without needing to define it with labels. For now, youâd leave it as it wasâlike the fruits you carried, ripe with promise and yet undefined.
And as for the old womanâs blessings⌠youâd let them be a little joke between you, something sweet, like the pomegranates themselves.

#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#fluff#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#dan heng x y/n#light humor#mild embarrassment#dan heng hsr#dan heng honkai star rail#dan heng#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai x reader#honkai x you#honkai sr x reader#x you#x y/n#x you fluff#x y/n fluff#character x reader#character x y/n#character x you#x gn reader
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âšStolen peck?âš | Choi Seung-Hyun



third part in series "Course in Chemistry"
âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš
âš Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader
âš Warnings: mature language, sexual tension, teenage awkwardness and embarrassment, light discussion of intimacy and consent, some emotional sensitivity around academic self-worth
âš Summary: the reader reluctantly agrees to be tutored by awkward and quiet Seung-Hyun, she fullfil her side of the deal to be the one teaching him lifeâs more intimate lessons
âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš âš
âThereâs a lot more to attracting girls than just looking good and throwing out some lazy flirtation,â you said, arms folded. âSure, that works on some people, but if you want to really be seen â like, remembered â you need more than surface-level charm.â
Seung-Hyun swallowed. âHow much more?â
âKissing, for example.â You leaned forward slightly. âIf youâre good at it â and I mean really good â a girl will lose her breath and assume that what youâve got going on with your mouth is just the beginning. Trust me on that. And Iâm going to teach you.â
âKiss you?â His voice cracked at the end, eyes wide.
You nodded. âUnless you'd rather keep practicing on your textbooks.â Honestly, you wouldnât be surprised if he had.
âN-No. I just... I donât know if itâs a good idea. I mean, I donât even know you that well. What if you, like, have some disease? And I didnât even take a mint, and I kinda donât want my first kiss to beââ
You cut him off with a quick kiss. A single second. He jolted back like heâd been electrocuted.
âWhat the hell, Y/N?!â
âYou didnât die, did you? Sit the fuck back down.â You rolled your eyes.
âYou kissed me without asking!â
You raised an eyebrow. âSeriously? That was barely more than a preschool peck. And what did you think this deal meant? Iâm not about to hand you a fucking textbook on kissing, flirting, or sex. This is your part of the deal â like the grammar drills are mine.â He opened his mouth, but shut it again. He knew you were right.
âIf it makes you feel any better,â you added with a smirk, âmy first kiss was in first grade. Some kid with a runny nose smeared his snot all over my cheek. Be grateful you didnât get that.â
He laughed, and some of the tension drained from his shoulders. âSorry, I was just⌠surprised.â
âItâs okay.â You patted the spot next to you. He sat, more relaxed this time.
âSo⌠was it okay?â
You snorted. âYou mean that blink-of-an-eye moment where our lips barely touched? Yeah, sure. Iâm Niagara Falls.â
He laughed, hand dragging nervously through his hair. The silence between you both stretched for a few beats before you spoke again.
âIâm going to kiss you again. And this time, longer.â
He looked at you and nodded, slowly.
âRelax. And for the love of God, breathe, Seung-Hyun.â
You shifted closer. His breath ghosted over your face, warm and shaky. You hadnât expected to be nervous â it was just a kiss â but something about this felt strangely intimate. No tongue. No grabbing. Just⌠a kiss.
You pressed your lips to his again. He froze, but softened a little under the pressure. He was trying, but not responding. You pulled back.
âNow I want you to kiss me back this time.â
âHow?â
âJust do what I did. Mirror it. Your body knows what to do â itâs instinct.â
You kissed him again, slower this time, giving him space to respond. This time, he did â hesitantly, but sweetly. He was picking it up. Fast.
âThat was good,â you said softly. âVisual learner, huh?â
He shrugged. âI guess, when it comes to⌠physical stuff.â
âFigures.â You didnât know anyone whoâd learned to dance from a textbook.
âReady to move on?â
He nodded.
âOkay. This next oneâs like a middle school make-out. Nothing intense. Just follow my lead.â
You explained: kiss for a few seconds, pull back slightly, tilt left. Repeat. Then tilt right. It was a pattern. One he could follow.
He leaned in slower this time. He was watching your mouth, and this time, you could see he wanted it.
Your lips met again, and this time it felt⌠right. Natural. He responded in rhythm. No overthinking. Just instinct. His hands stayed stiff at his sides, though. You noticed.
Without speaking, you reached for one and guided it to your mid-back. His fingers spread automatically. Warm. Steady. The pressure of his palm pulled you closer.
There was a subtle taste of apple juice on his breath, barely there â like a memory lingering.
You let yourself melt into the kiss. His confidence grew. You felt his hand press firmer against your back. Your body leaned in naturally, mouth beginning to part, ready to go furtherâ
âand then your phone blared, violently yanking you both back into reality.
You scrambled for it, saw the name: Jae-mi. Perfect timing.
âI need toâŚâ
âYeah. Itâs okay,â Seung-Hyun said, straightening his shirt with shaky hands.
âWhat?â you snapped, answering the phone.
âGUESS WHAT THAT BASTARD YOUNG-BAE DID!â Jae-mi screamed. âYou know how I got the whole drama club to vote for me for âBest Studentâ in the yearbook? Well, guess what, heâs screwing the lead actress and telling everyone I had HERPES in sophomore year. HERPES, Y/N!â
You blinked, stunned. âAre you sure?â
âYes! I have no votes now! Theyâre all voting for him! My life is over!â
âIâll be there in fifteen,â you sighed, already grabbing your bag.
âHurry!â
You hung up. âI have to go,â you told Seung-Hyun.
âEverything okay?â
âYeah. Girl drama.â You gave him a small smile. âIâll see you next time.â
â
âSo⌠how was it?â Jae-mi was relentless the next day as you sat on the bleachers.
âHow was what?â
âSmart and awkward â Seung-Hyun.â
You smirked, thinking about his flushed cheeks, his warm hands. âIt was fine. We didnât do much.â
Jae-mi raised a brow. âWhat did you do?â
âKissed.â
âLike a makeout?â
âKinda.â
âTongue?â
You snorted. âDoes he look like he can handle tongue?â
âFair point.â She hummed and went back to her textbook. âWhenâs your next session?â
âTomorrow evening.â
â
You stared at the cover of the book on the desk. Your stomach twisted.
âA 7th grade English book?â you said slowly.
âI think it could help.â
âFor a 7th grader.â You glared. Was this a joke?
âI talked to Mr. Kim,â Seung-Hyun said. âHe gave me some of your test papersââ
âYou what? Thatâs a violation of my privacy!â
âI was trying to help! And I think I found the issue. Youâre fine with future tenses. Itâs the past and present that trip you.â
You stared at the book again. It looked childish in your hands. Weak. You hated how it made you feel â stupid. Small.
âI donât want it.â
âY/N, stop being stupid. Itâs just a textbook.â
His words slammed into you. Did he even hear himself? You looked away, blinked hard.
People always said you were dramatic. Overreacting. But something about this just hurt.
âCan we do something else?â you asked, quietly.
He hesitated. âThis⌠this was the plan.â
âIâll just go, then.â You got up, grabbed your bag. But he followed.
âWait!â he said quickly. You turned.
âWhat?â
He looked nervous again, shifting, hands gripping the ends of his sleeves. âWhat about your part of the deal?â
You stared at him. His flushed cheeks. The way he couldnât meet your eyes. Maybe you did need to burn off the sting. A distraction.
You put the bag back down. âOkay,â you said softly. âCome sit.â
He did.
âWhat... what are we doing?â
âTongue.â
His throat bobbed again. âOh. Okay.â
You scooted closer. âIâm going to kiss you.â
He was ready for it this time.
When your lips touched, you immediately tasted mint. That little shit planned for this.
He kissed you back gently, awkwardly. One hand hovered uselessly, the other gripped the headboard. You pulled away.
âI donât know what to do with my hands,â he admitted.
âThatâs okay.â You took one hand and placed it on your back. The other, to your cheek. Warm. Steady.
âYou okay with touching me?â
âDo you not want to touch me?â
âI-IâŚâ He exhaled. âI do. I want to know.â
You nodded. âThen trust me.â You leaned in.
This time, when your lips met, neither of you hesitated.
You leaned in again, and this time, Seung-Hyun didnât hesitate. The nerves were still thereâyou could feel them in the slight tremble of his fingers on your backâbut he kissed you like he was listening. Not just to your words, but to your rhythm, your breath, the way you tilted your head and parted your lips like an unspoken invitation. He took it.
Your lips met and lingered. You deepened the kiss slowly, coaxing rather than commanding. His lips softened under yours, no longer stiff with uncertainty. When you parted your mouth just slightly, he mirrored you. His tongue brushed against yoursâa little clumsy, hesitant, but thereâand you let him feel what it meant to truly kiss someone, not just perform it.
You reached up and threaded your fingers into his hair, letting your nails gently graze his scalp. He shivered under the touch. Encouraged, he pulled you just a bit closer, hand pressing into your lower back, holding you like he was afraid youâd vanish if he let go. He was learning fast. His other hand, the one cupping your cheek, shifted slightly, thumb brushing against your skin with something that felt almost reverent.
You smiled into the kiss. He tasted like mint and something inherently boyish, like the vague sweetness of fruit and chapstick. You tilted your head and deepened the kiss again, letting your tongue slide over his just briefly before pulling back enough to breathe. His eyes were wide, his lips slightly swollen and parted, pupils blown with surpriseâand something else. Want, maybe.
âGood,â you murmured, voice husky from the intensity. âThat was good, Seung-Hyun.â
He looked like he was trying to find air. âYouâre... Youâre really good at that.â
You gave a short, amused laugh. âIâve had practice.â
He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to your lips again. âCan we... do it again?â
The question came out shy, almost embarrassed, but the way he looked at you told you he wasnât asking just for technique. You didnât answer with wordsâjust leaned in and kissed him again. Slower this time. Deeper. His mouth responded in kind, more confident now, his hand exploring with more intent, spreading heat wherever he touched. His fingers flexed on your back like he couldnât decide if he should pull you closer or hold still and memorize everything.
This kiss lasted longer. You felt yourself sinking into it, melting into the way his body molded to yours, his mouth moving with increasing ease against yours. When he kissed you this time, it wasnât just copyingâit was intuitive. He was getting it.
Eventually, you pulled back again, both of you breathing heavily. There was a beat of silence between you, charged and thick.
âYou okay?â you asked softly.
He nodded. âYeah. I just... I didnât think kissing could feel like that.â
You smirked. âThatâs because youâve never done it right.â
He laughed, eyes bright, cheeks still flushed. âIâm starting to think this tutoring thing might be the best decision I ever made.â
You raised a brow. âDonât get cocky. Weâve still got work to do.â
His lips quirked into a crooked smile, one that made your chest feel unexpectedly tight.
âThen Iâm ready for the next lesson.â
You kissed him againâslow, deep, unhurried. You wanted him to feel it, really feel it. The way a kiss could pull someone under like a current. And he was feeling it.
This time, Seung-Hyun didnât just reactâhe responded. His hands were more assured now, one at your waist, the other still cradling your cheek. His tongue moved cautiously, but with intent, matching your rhythm. The room felt smaller, warmer. His body pressed against yours and you let it, your knees nearly brushing.
Thatâs when you felt itâsomething shifting between you, not just metaphorically. He flinched slightly, as if even he only just noticed it, and you felt the sudden tension in his muscles.
Your lips broke apart, barely a breath away from his, and your eyes fluttered open.
His eyes were already wide, panicked. He realized youâd noticed.
You bit back a grin, but the slight twitch of your mouth gave you away.
âOh my god,â he whispered, pulling back suddenly. âIâI didnât mean toâI wasnâtâshit.â
He pushed off the bed so fast it almost made you fall back, stumbling across the room and fumbling to adjust his sweater lower. His face was beet red.
âSeung-Hyun.â You laughed, sitting up properly.
âIâm sorry!â he yelped, waving his hands like you were accusing him of something criminal. âI didnât plan for that to happen! I swear!â
You couldnât hold back the chuckle that bubbled up, genuine and amused but not unkind. âRelax. Itâs literally a natural reaction.â
He shook his head frantically, already halfway to the door. âIâm gonna go splash cold water on my face. Or jump off the balcony. Havenât decided yet.â
âSeung-Hyunââ You stood up, crossing your arms with a smirk, but your tone was softer now. âHey. Come on. Donât be dramatic.â
He turned back slightly, cheeks still burning. âYouâre laughing at me.â
âIâm laughing because youâre cute when you panic,â you said honestly.
That only seemed to make it worse.
âGod. Kill me.â
You stepped forward, stopping a few feet from him, still giving him space. âLook. It happens. Like⌠all the time. Youâre a teenage boy and we were making out. What did you think was gonna happen?â
He opened his mouth to answer but clearly had no idea how to justify himself. You watched the gears in his brain try and fail to spin fast enough.
You shrugged, casual. âIâm not grossed out. Iâm not offended. Youâre fine.â
He groaned and hid his face in his hands. âIâm never going to recover from this.â
âSeung-Hyun, itâs just a boner. You didnât confess your love to me or trip in front of the whole cafeteria.â
He peeked at you through his fingers.
ââŚThatâs not comforting.â
You laughed again, walking over to pat his shoulder gently. âGo. Splash water. Breathe. Then come back and weâll talk about boundaries next time so you donât sprint across the room like I lit you on fire.â
âNoted,â he muttered, still dying inside.
âAlso?â you added, smirking as you turned toward the door. âIf you ever want to try kissing like that again⌠I donât mind.â
You could practically hear the steam rising from his ears as he fled down the hallway.
Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath
#fanfic#bigbang#big bang#choi seunghyun#choi seunghyun scenario#t.o.p bigbang#choi seunghyun x reader#top x reader#course in chemistry
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- Variant Sickness -
Invincible Variants x Fem Reader! Sick scenarios with some other random thoughts sprinkled in.
Includes: Sinister Mark, Omni Mark, Mohawk Mark, Veil Mark (Shiesty Mark), No Goggles Mark, Viltrum Mark
Word Count: ~2k
Warnings: Dark Themes, Violence, Yandere Behavior
Sinister Mark
-Heâs unhinged, but does care in his own way.
-He would prefer it if you at least enjoyed some of your time with him. Doesnât have to be all the time though.
-Will always carry you normally. Typical hand on back and under legs whenever he picks you up. Wonât carry you any other way so donât ask.
-Ironically, he does not like when you cry. For any reason.Â
-If someone was the cause of your tears then theyâre dead.
-But if he was the reason youâre crying then heâll feel a pang of⌠something. Â
-âStop crying. I didnât know you were so sensitive.âÂ
-This roughly translates to: âCalm down. I didnât mean to upset you.â
-Heâd wipe your tears away with his gloved thumb. And once you calmed, heâll go back to his normal behavior.Â
-Which is inconsistent. Some days heâs cold and distant. Other days he wants your attention solely on him.Â
-He believes he deserves it. After all, youâre his.Â
-Wonât admit when heâs wrong. Ever.
-If you end up sick, you wonât get any special treatment from him. He expects you to be able to take care of yourself.Â
-If you end up really sick, like bedridden, he just gets...quiet. And looks at you with a frown. You have no idea whatâs going through that head of his.Â
-Youâll have to tell him to take you to a hospital to get help, and he will. He canât help you, so someone else should. Itâs the one time heâs sensible.Â
-Well, kinda.
-Heâs not above threatening anyone that tries to touch you, including the doctors that are trying to help.Â
-You quickly learn that maybe itâs better to not visit hospitals. That looming presence of his puts everyone, including yourself, on edge.
-Once youâre better, things are back to normal.
-Heâs an okay conversationalist. It depends on his mood. Talks with him are usually brief and straight to the point. If you ever ask him why he kidnapped you, heâd have a cold smile before responding.
-âWhy? Because I love you.âÂ
-That makes you frown. You are unsure of his definition of love.
Omni Mark
-Typical hand on back and under legs carry. Heâs very gentle whenever he picks you up.
-He hates when you cry. It bothers him a lot.Â
-The last thing he wants to do is upset you. If heâs the cause of your tears then heâll frown before apologizing. If not, then heâll comfort you.
-He doesnât demand your attention, but he does enjoy it when your attention is solely on him.Â
-Heâs a good conversationalist. You can talk to him about anything and he has some type of input.
-Can be terrifying at times though. Youâve seen him fight before, and heâs ruthless. That keeps you up at night.
-How someone can be so uncaring towards others, but gentle to you is mind boggling.
-If you question him about this, heâll respond simply.
-âDonât worry about that. Just know that I love you.âÂ
-How comforting.
-He speaks his mind, but will refrain from telling you everything he thinks. He likes when you see him in a positive light.
-Heâll admit when heâs wrong, but what he says normally has a reason behind it. So itâs difficult to even determine when heâs âwrongâ.
-Whenever you fall asleep at a table or on the floor at night, youâll wake up in your bed in the morning.
-If you end up sick, youâll have to assure him that youâre fine. And heâll take your word for it.Â
-Will still keep a close eye on you though.
-âYouâre not eating.â
-You looked up from your food when you heard his comment.
-âOh. Well I forgot to mention I canât smell anything. Or taste anything.â You mixed the soup with your spoon. âI think that has something to do with the cold. I should be fine though-â
-âIf you donât eat, Iâm taking you to get some help.âÂ
-You quickly finished your food.Â
-You'll also get special treatment from him while sick. Lots of check ins, and soft kisses.Â
-You try to push away from him so he wonât get sick, but he seems unbothered.Â
-âI doubt I can catch anything you have.â
Mohawk Mark
-Carries you normally, but youâll be thrown over his shoulder a lot when heâs in a rush.Â
-No warning on his part either. You could be in the middle of something important and he just grabs you.
-Loves when you compliment him. But why are you complimenting him anyway? His ego is big enough.
-If you end up sick, heâll be kinda rude about it.Â
-âCould you sneeze somewhere else? I donât want whatever the fuck you have.âÂ
-Youâd frown before responding.
-âCan you even catch what I have?â
-He isnât risking it. Itâs the one time he wouldnât kiss you. You could have a simple cold but heâll treat you like you have the plague.
-If you end up even worse, fever sky-high, heâd panic.
-Shit Shit Shit!
-Best doctors he can find, along with a little threat sprinkled in.
-âIf she dies, Iâm killing every single one of you.â
-You get better. And scold him afterwards.
-âStop threatening people Mark, those doctors were just doing their job.â
-âJust making sure you were a priority. Also a thanks would be nice.â
-Always speaks his mind. Always.Â
-Heâs a pretty good conversationalist. He actually has some sense in that head of his once you filter out all the crazy.
-He demands your attention a lot. However if you call him out on that, heâll deny it.Â
-Donât pressure him into admitting anything. Youâre usually met with a snide remark or an eye roll if you do.Â
-He wonât ever admit that heâs wrong.Â
-Also you have no privacy.Â
-âHey, whereâd you put my- Stop screaming it's just me. Whereâs my suit?â
-âMark! Bathrooms are locked for a reason! Get! Out!!â
-He says that itâs all about him. But he does value your opinion.
Veil Mark (Shiesty Mark)
-Loves your smile. When you smile, he smiles. Though you canât really tell when heâs smiling-
-How he carries you depends on your mood. Itâs usually the typical carry, but if youâre lazy heâll offer a piggyback ride.Â
-If you canât reach something, for example something high on the top shelf, heâll grab it for you. But sometimes heâll just lift you up and you can grab it yourself.Â
-Heâs a great conversationalist. Loves to talk, so you can ask him about anything. If youâre friendly with him, then a lot of playful banter would ensue.Â
-âWould you still love me if I was a worm?â You jokingly ask him. Heâd laugh before responding.Â
-âFuck no.â
-Always speaks his mind.Â
-If you end up sick and you brush it off as nothing, then he wonât worry about it. Heâd still help you out though.Â
-But he wouldnât kiss you.
-âNo offense but I donât want anything youâve got.â Heâd tell you. Youâd either frown or agree with him.Â
-Now if youâre really sick? Heâs concerned.Â
-âOh fuck, youâre not looking too good. You okay?â He asked you.
-âYeahâŚjust feeling under the weather. I need to sleep it off.âÂ
-âYou slept all yesterday too. Letâs at least get you checked out.â
-You get special treatment from him when youâre sick. Though heâs probably not the best at it.Â
-âThanks for the soup,â you told him. As you put the spoon in your mouth your face went blank.
-âIs there something wrong?â He asked. You smiled.Â
-âThe middle is ice cold.â
-Whoops.
-Well heâs trying, so you canât be mad at him.Â
-Once youâre better itâs back to the usual routine.
-Heâll admit when heâs wrong. Itâs not a big deal for him at all.Â
-Loves when your attention is on him. Itâs a huge ego boost. If you ignore him though then thatâll leave him upset.Â
-All he wants is just some of your attention, is that too much to ask?
No Goggles Mark
-Carries you normally when flying, but is open to trying new things.
-Occasional piggyback carry when heâs not flying, and you can even sit on his shoulders if you want.
-Loves when you laugh. Itâs his favorite thing about you. If you rarely laugh then heâll try to make you laugh more often.Â
-If you refuse to laugh though, thatâll leave him sad.Â
-âAwww, you never laugh. Am I really that bad a boyfriend?â
-âYou kidnapped meâŚ.?!â You reminded him.Â
-He knows. He just thought youâd be happier by now.Â
-He loves to talk, so he's the best conversationalist. Always speaks his mind, and talks to you about everything.
-Though you may not be able to get a word in edgewise before he decides to do something.Â
-He desperately wants your attention. Youâre his favorite person after all. If you ignore him too much, then heâll act out.
-Heâll probably fly faster so youâre forced to grip his neck tightly. Or heâll do something heinous so your attention is solely on him.Â
-So give him attention to prevent these things.Â
-If you end up sick then heâs concerned for you. Special treatment? Yes. Lots of kisses and lovey-dovey stuff like that. He doesnât care if you're contagious.Â
-If youâre really sickâŚthen he panics.Â
-If youâre in his world, then heâll probably ask his dad for help. If you're in your world, then thatâs a guaranteed visit to the emergency room.Â
-Speaking of his father, Omni-Man doesnât really like you.
-âMark. You should have picked someone moreâŚcompliant. Sheâs a distraction.â
-âI think sheâs great! You just donât know her well enough yet Dad!âÂ
-Anyway, heâll admit when heâs wrong. He knows heâs not always right.Â
-Also quick to apologize too. He doesnât like when you hold grudges against him. He loves you too much.Â
Viltrum Mark
-Carries you normally. Hand on back and under legs. Itâs effective, so why change it?Â
-However, if you ask him to carry you another way then he might consider it.
-He loves when your attention is on him. Whenever he has your undivided attention, it always leads to other things. Whether it be some honest conversations or just some passionate romance.
-Heâs a good conversationalist with you specifically. Normally he doesnât talk a lot, but that never stops him from speaking his mind. He will always speak his mind.Â
-Heâs just more action-oriented. Prefers to hold you against him and kiss you more often than he says he loves you.Â
-Itâll be difficult for him to admit when heâs wrong, because he's pretty adamant.Â
-But if you bring up some good points in an argument that even he canât overlook, then heâll consider your words.Â
-Any sign of sickness from you, I mean just a cough, and itâs off to visit the doctors.Â
-Especially if he took you to his world. Viltrum has amazing healthcare, and heâs not risking you getting sicker.Â
-If itâs on your world then youâll still have a hospital visit, along with a remark from him about how incompetent the doctors are here.Â
-âI think you just scared them,â you told him. You vividly remembered how he floated slightly off of the ground before leaning in to speak to one of the doctors face to face. That specific doctor left the room with pure terror in their eyes. âYou can be pretty intimidating.â
-You rarely end up bedridden, because he normally notices the symptoms right at the beginning. But on the rare occasion that youâre really sick, then heâll be worried.
-Heâll do a good job at hiding that fact though. You could feel like you're dying and heâd have the most calm expression before speaking to you.Â
-âYouâll be alright. Just trust me.â
-Thatâs pretty comforting to hear.
-Once youâre better, youâre under a lot more scrutiny from him. He needs to make sure that never happens again. After all, he loves you.
~
I wrote this while sick. Hm, wonder where I got my inspiration fromâŚ
#invincible variants#writing#fanfiction#fem!reader#invincible#invincible season 3#invincible x reader#invincible x you#mark grayson#yandere#omni mark#sinister mark#sinister invincible#viltrum mark#viltrumite#mohawk mark#mohawk invincible#nogogglesinvincible#nogogglesible#veil mark#shiesty mark#omni invincible#capevincible#variantsxreader#mark variants
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what's your favorite forcefem premise? (like, circumstance in which the forcefem occurs, if that makes sense)
Incredibly hard question!
Tonally my preference always goes to Humiliating yet Loving- but premise wise there's nothing but amazing things to choose from-
But if I had too pick right now...
Losing a Bet! Which gets escalated as "he" seems to like it~
I love it when there's plausible deniability at the start, "it's not like I want this! They're making me do it!" And the bet is a very simple, grounded, and silly way of it!
Then I love it when it slowly escalates!
Not due to anyone putting on a lot of force- but because the girls boundaries slowly get pushed and pushed and she's not pushing back
She's enjoying this- a lot- she'll never admit it- but she doesn't need to
The look on her face when she first put on a skirt is all the forcefemmer needs as a go ahead to plan what makeup she'll need to buy for her~
The bet, is in my eyes, the most elegant trans wishfufillment scenario out there, I don't think I've ever since an execution of it that I didn't love
And gently pushing someone's boundaries as escalation is just good manners~
#gonna try to post more again#will be slow#some things are-#*heavier*#on my mind then i wouldve liked#but ill try to pick it up#since i do really enjoy talking about these things#a lot#and i need to internalize that#and lock away fears of judgement from those that arent supposed to see these thingies anyway#thank you for reading cutie <3#gosh...#i reslly do make a bigger deal out of everything then it is#plus i imagine myself bigger then i am#but itll workitself out!#for now just gonna try to slowly start having fun with the blog again!#(and this ask is like one of the favourites ove gotten#always forget just how much i love talking about myself/feeling im educating people#love other asks to bits too of course but for a lot of em i simply have no idea how to respond! go make your own posts and send them to me!!#gosh#.#i-like-talking#forcefem#asks open!#thanks a lot anon <3#..#thx for reading all this cutie!
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Hi. I was wondering if you could point me to resources or forums thatâll help me explore kink. Iâve been holding myself back for a long time and now I donât even know where to start or how to find community
hi anon, sorry it took so long for me to respond, I've been traveling!
there are a few things you can do. I'll start with what i did, but this is going to vary by country and location. I recommend you start by making a fetlife profile. fetlife is basically kinky facebook, but you don't have to put any information you don't want to on it - I'd just recommend not using a picture of your genitals as your profile picture, those tend to get autobanned from groups.
then, go look for "events" and filter by location - try nearby cities if your area doesn't turn up at first. what you really want is a "munch", which is going to be a group meeting in a public space for kinky people to mingle. you can also filter by education, but I recommend munches first, just to meet people so you can get an idea of what the community is like.
depending on your city, munches can differ by age (35 and under is typically called TNG/The Next Generation - I personally dislike what they stand for, but it's an option depending on your age), interests, gender/sexuality, and location. some are free, some ask you to purchase food from the venue, some ask for donations, and some cost money. the majority take place at bars, which can be an obstacle.
as someone new coming in, particularly if you're young and/or seem to be a woman at first glance, you might get a lot of attention. I'll just suggest that you do NOT play alone with anyone immediately, and people trying to encourage you to stay isolated from the community is a bad sign. anyone trying to say their way is the One True Way is a bad sign.
I played with someone at my first party, which I had been invited to via the munch. At the party, there were DMs who could help if anything went bad.
if searching like this doesn't get you results, I'd suggest going to a local sex toy store, or other adult store, and ask about local kink communities, if any exist. unfortunately my kinky student from Brazil stopped coming in, or I'd ask how to find a community there because she said it's much harder to find people.
I'd also think about what you're interested in and what your limits are. when I first showed up at 18, I freaked people out by saying "I'm up for anything" - in my head, that meant I was interested in discussing most things, or dipping a toe in, but I didn't know how deep kink could go. The boundaries of "anything" were spanking, flogging, and caning for me, along with D/s stuff I barely understood. so, to avoid my mistake, I definitely recommend having some specific things you want to try and ask questions about.
before the lacigreen weirdness happened, she was a really competent sex educator (if not the best for medical advice) so I'm going to point you to this video for a really brief overview. the only thing she gets wrong is that she misses one of the words in BDSM - it's an acronym that stands for six words: bondage, discipline, Dominance/submission, sadism, masochism.
the words kink and bdsm are often used interchangeably, and they mostly are, but you can be into kink without being into D/s, for example.
please feel free to send more specific questions if you want!
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Bittersweet Memories: Something Sweet

George Clarke x Reader (Series)
There was something sweet - until it all fell apart. Years later, a viral video stirs up a past neither of them ever quite let go of. In the city where they both changed, something is quietly rising again.
warnings: soft angst, emotional miscommunication, heartbreak, swearing, slow-burn
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
series | masterlist | previous part | next part
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
Part Two: Something Sweet (2300+ words)
I didn't expect anything to come from it.
One of my closest friends Maisie - who worked at my bakery with me - came up with the idea on a slow afternoon.
It started as a bit of a joke - just filming something fun to pass the time.
Maisie grabbed her phone and filmed the process of me making a small vanilla sponge cake - and dressing it up with a pink crumb coat, and fresh strawberries.
She spun slowly around me as I worked, catching shots of me mixing the batter, sliding it into the oven, and later, piping the delicate swirls around the cake's border before placing the strawberries just so.
At first, I was awkward in front of the camera, but eventually I loosened up - it was just my best friend filming me after all. I slipped into a casual commentary about how to get the perfect piping swirl and which nozzle to use, proudly showing off my nerdy baking side.
We ended the video laughing, each grabbing a fork and digging into the cake, each flashing a smile and thumbs-up to the camera before stopping the video.
Afterwards, I went home and fell asleep, thinking nothing more of it.
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
The next morning, Maisie came barreling into the bakery, clutching her phone - our usual coffee orders noticeably absent from her hands.
"Two million!" She blurted, instead of her casual good morning paired with my iced strawberry matcha.
I blinked at her, half asleep - it was early, so early the bakery had yet to open to customers, "what?"
"Views!" She shouted, shoving her phone in my face. It was the silly TikTok we'd filmed yesterday. She quickly swiped to another app, showing me our Instagram, "and 10,000 likes! And it's still climbing. You're famous now. London's very own cake girl!"
I stared at the screen, stunned.
"I literally just piped swirls," I mumbled.
Maisie laughed like I was being ridiculous, "well Y/N, the internet's in love with your piping then.
Before I could respond, a knock echoes at the bakery door.
I raise an eyebrow at Maisie, silently asking the question - who could that be? No one else is scheduled today. She shrugs, just as curious.
I step toward the door and spot a women standing outside, wrapped in a deep red scarf, clutching a matching bag against her chest. Her breath fogs the glass as she peers in. When our eyes meet, she offers a small wave.
Frowning slightly, I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing against the cold metal of my key clipped to my lanyard. I unhook it with a click and twist the lock open.
The door creaks open with a gust of wind that smells like wet pavement and winter air.
"Hi there," she says quickly, smiling in a way that feels both nervous and determined. "I'm so sorry to bother you - I know you're not open yet, but I saw your TikTok last night and it's my daughters birthday - and I just know she would love something like that. I was hoping to talk about a custom cake?"
I blink. She's older than I expected - maybe late forties - with kind eyes and lipstick that matches her scarf. Her fingers are red from the cold, clutched tightly around the strap of her bag like it's anchoring her to the moment.
"Oh!" I say, realising I have yet to reply - I glance back at Maisie, unsure, "we're not quite open for the day yet, but-"
"We can open early - squeeze her in," Maisie says brightly, already stepping around the counter with that breezy confidence she wears like an apron. "Come in, come in. You'll freeze out there."
The woman lets out a relieved breath and nodes, stepping into the warmth of the shop as Maisie hurries around, making sure everything was set up correct.
I waited at the door for a beat longer - my mind flickering of what this could mean for the bakery - understanding the post may have just changed Gracie's Bakery life.
With a smile, I flick the sign over to face open to the outside.
I turn with a twirl and make my way to the front counter, grabbing the claw clip from my apron and quickly putting my hair up.
"Thank you so much," the women says again, as I come face to face with her at the counter, "I've got my daughters birthday dinner tonight and she sent that video of the vanilla sponge - and well, I thought it would be such a great gift for her."
Maisie gives me a pointed look, one eyebrow raised in a way that says see? viral genius. She grabs the clipboard with the order forms and slides it across the counter to me like a magician presenting a trick.
With sly movement, the clipboard finds itself in my hand, "alright lets talk cake." I say with a grin.
"Name?"
"Catherine," the woman says, settling into the space like she's been here a hundred times already. "Catherine Leigh."
"And for the cake?"
Catherina leans in slightly, eyes shining, "something beautiful. Elegant. But with personality, you know? Maybe floral - she loves flowers."
I smile and give a nod, already picturing colour palettes in my head.
"Flavours?"
"Lemon and raspberry, if you can," Catherine says, smiling at me now. "And oh fresh cream - like the video, it just looked so fresh. Light but special."
I nod. "We can definitely do that."
And just like that, we're talking sponge textures and frosting options. For a moment, everything fades - and my dream feels like it has come true.
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
By the next night, the social media posts continued to grow alongside our follower count - I was never one to care for how many followers I received but I knew this would be justice for my bakery.
I was still in dazed shock as I scroll through the TikTok comments on the post.
Then I see a comment that makes my breath catch in my throat.
georgeclarkeey: this looks unreal
I blink. Hard.
Of course I had kept up with his social media - still wanting the best for him but I hadn't checked it in over six months. He had continued to grow since our break up two years ago; collab videos, brand deals, interviews, and meeting the sidemen which I knew he had always dreamed of.
I just didn't expect him to see the video.
I didn't even know he followed the bakery social media TikTok account.
I begin to type out a response and think maybe just liking the comment just to acknowledge it.
But I think back to the times when I felt put down - and I leave it there.
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
The dream keeps growing - every day the crowd spills though the door, never thinning for long.
Maisie's flat out at the coffee machine, pouring tiny hearts and ferns into foamed milk for anyone who orders a slice of cake or baked dessert from the glass cabinet. Meanwhile, I've been flooded with custom requests -wedding, birthdays, baby showers. It's overwhelming, but in the best way. Like... maybe this is actually happening.
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
Another week has passed, and Maisie has posted a few more videos and photos on social media, and somehow we end up on food blog of 'Top 5 Hidden Dessert Spots in London". Maisie and I joke that we're famous now, but underneath the jokes is a pulsing hum of something I haven't felt in a long time: pride.
It's a thundering Friday when the door chime rings and my past walks in.
I don't see him right away. I'm wiping down a tray behind the counter, humming to myself a Taylor Swift song when I hear the voice.
"See look Arthur, that's the cake I was telling you about. The TikTok one."
My stomach flips.
I lift my head.
And there he is.
George.
The two years felt like nothing as I recognised him right away - the only difference being he grew in a little more facial hair - but he looks older, more confident.
He's standing in the middle of my bakery, damp hair from the rain, next to a dark brunette who is hanging a jacket up on the coat stand. They're followed in my a third man, clutching a camera in his right hand, as he left hand was brushing off rain droplets.
I freeze in my spot.
George hasn't seen me yet. He's bent down, looking at the display case with the cake slices like a normal customer, chatting with his friend Arthur, totally unaware that he's just stepped into a place he probably didn't mean to find.
Maisie walks out of the back kitchen and freezes herself when she spots the customers.
Maisie never got the chance to meet George as she only appeared into my life a year ago when I opened the bakery - but oh has she heard of him. The first time I had spoke about him was a classic; we were having a girls night with two too many wine bottles when the conversation of our ex's got bought up. Maisie spoke about the dating pool and how she was just having fun since her girlfriend just broke up with her. And well I, expressed how a boy broke my heart and I hadn't been interested in dating since.
Maisie sidles up next to me and mutters, "No way. Is that -?"
"Yup."
"Did you invite him?"
"Nope."
"Do we hide?"
Before I can answer, he looks up. Our eyes meet.
He goes still. His smile falters. His friend Arthur still talking away about something. But there's a beat - just one - but it's long enough for the air to shift.
"Y/N?"
I force a smile. "Hey."
He walks up slowly, the cakes and pastries in the case long forgotten.
"You work here?" he asks, voice soft.
I raise an eyebrow, assuming he knew I worked here - thinking to myself if this was a setup.
"I kind of own the place," I say. "Welcome to Gracie's Bakery."
A smile reaches his lip, "oh the same name as your - "
Before he can continue the sentence, I shut it down with a response - not wanting to think of certain memories, "yeah you're right."
A small amount of tension emerges into the air, his friend finding a beat to say something, "George you're right this place does look good."
"Not bad for a hobby, " I say, staring at George before I can stop myself.
His smile falters a little more. "And I deserved that."
I shrug, pretending to smooth the corner of a take away box - in case they select some treats. My aim is to try busy myself to leave the conversation - but George doesn't catch on.
"I didn't know this was your bakery, " he says, eyes still on me.
"I figured. Otherwise I doubt you'd have walked in."
His mate, Arthur, still oblivious to the tension calls out, "George, this cake is insane. We've got to get a full one next time." I turn, wondering how he had gotten cake already but see Maisie stood with our sample tray and tongs.
I turn back to my box and George nods at his friend but never looks away from me. He's looking at me, as if he's trying to figure out if I'm still the same me he once knew.
For a moment, I think he might say something else. Something real. His eyes flicks down, then back to mine. Like he's weighing it. Like he wants to step closer but isn't sure if he's allowed.
But instead, he just says, "It's good to see you."
"You too."
He hesitates, lips parted like there's more - always more - but the moment passes. He glances toward Arthur who is looking at the sample tray in amazement, and lets him know with a nod of the head he'll be waiting out front.
George turns back to me, and nodes like we've just completed a transaction instead of shattering every nerve I've been stitching back together for two years.
And then he leaves.
The bell chimes behind him.
The bell chime alerts his friend that he has left, and he realises he only has limited time left in the bakery.
"Oh shoot - can I actually order a full cake of this sample for pick up in a few days?" Arthur abruptly says.
I give a nod, still in shock of the individual who just left.
"Yeah of course, any special occasion?"
"Oh my friends are just reaching a milestone on their podcast." He replies.
We exchange a quick conversation, as I fill out the order form - organising as to what he wants.
Before he leaves, he asks the question, "and sorry I never got your name - the cake baker is?"
I give the boy a smile, "Y/n."
With a simple one word, his face shifts and it's like something clicks in his mind.
"Oh Y/n? - Yeah that makes sense - Oh thank you, I'll be back soon." He stutters out as he hurries to the door.
And I just stand there, confused about it all.
My mind wandering to George.
Wondering is he knew before he came in. Or if the universe is just cruel enough to bring him back like this - sweet, sudden and completely unplanned.
Just like the first time.
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
and welcome everyone to Gracie's Bakery!!... you'll find out later why that is the name hehe.
And yes there has been two whole years between this chapter and the first so they haven't seen each other in awhile...
See you next time,
mwah x
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââšâšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
taglist x
@mothersversiononly @whisperturnedecho @lovingaphroditesworld @reidyourpalms @liz140569 @swizzlemynizzle @wherethezoes-at @clarkeyzzz @swiftlyjo @madforgeorge @smzyyx @graceln4 @norrizzandpia @heyitsmefall @oliviaohanessian1 @clarkey4life @dopeysunflowers @hey-there9-its-me @ooostarwarsfandom501st @canyouseethesainz
#british youtubers#george clarke#sidemen#george clarkey#george clarke fanfic#george clarke fics#george clarke x reader#george clarkey x reader#uk youtubers#bittersweetmemories#the internets girlfriend#the internets girlfriendmasterlist#theinternetsgirlfriend#theinternetsgirlfriendmasterlist
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(Part 3) Lin Ling's guide to becoming an emotional support civilian [YANDERE EDITION]
[TO BE HERO X] x [LIN LING]
[Part 1; Part 2 can be found here!]
Context warning: Cursing, falling
Author's note: Oh, thank god I'm done. This ballooned way past my expectations, so I'm really glad to be done! I hope you guys enjoy!
Once again, thank you @kiraisrika for the idea! [ And to my friends! if it weren't for their love bullying I wouldn't have finished so fast! ]
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Lin Ling was awestruck.Â
His cheeks were on fire, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, but how could he not be!? His queen, his idolâhis goddessâwas standing right there! In front of him! They were breathing the same air! Oh god, he canât breatheâÂ
âWelcome to True Love Recipe at our live venue! I'm your substitute host for today, rank 249th hero in the Association...Eye of Truth, Enlightener!â Huh? Lin Ling turned to Miss Juan, and from her facial expression, he could tell she was just as confused as he was.
Enlightener continues, âWelcome, Nice, Moon. This show is called True Love Recipe. As the name suggests, behind every romance lie hidden stories not known to outsiders.â Miss Juan was growing more frantic, pointing and slamming her hands down on the table. He was stuck in an awkward spot to either go over there and help her or continue to stand behind the couch, waiting like a sitting duck. âDamn Nice and his puppy eyes,â he thought to himself, staying put.Â
âSo, today, we'll test just how much you understand each other.â Gesturing to them with his cup of tea, Lin Ling can now finally see the mask drop slightly for Moon, her eyes widening. âNice, how many total commercials has Moon starred in? And what is their total runtime?â Oh, easy, 134 commercials with about 285 minutes and 48 seconds.Â
âWhat kind of stupid, nitpicky questions are those?! Is he asking for a fight or something?â Or not, judging from Miss Juanâs reaction.Â
After a beat of silence, Enlightener smirks, âSince your love is so perfect, I'm sure you wouldn't forget such details.â He goads. Getting a bit nervous for Nice, he clapped inaudibly to try to get Niceâs attention while mouthing the answer. â134 commercials with about 285 minutes and 48 seconds,â he mouthed on repeat.
âIn totalâŚâ
134 commercials with a total of 285 minutes and 48 seconds! Câmon!
âIn total, there are 134 commercials.â
Yes!
Nice turned his attention to Enlightener, who stopped mid-sip of his tea to stare at him with shock. âThey had a total run time of 285 minutes and 48 seconds.â Behind them, on the big screen, giant pink letters appeared, spelling out the word âBINGO.â Lin Ling let out a stubble-sigh of relief. If he knew his fangirl's knowledge of Moon would come in handy, he would have started stanning her mouth earlier.
Moon turned to Nice, whispering something to him, but Nice responded loud enough that Lin Ling and the Mic could hear. âOf course, you are my girlfriend after all.â He says, his eyes empty as he smiles back at her. âRight,â he thought to himself, with all that happened earlier, the fact that the Moon is his fake girlfriend slipped his mind.
Recovering from his shock, he pressed on, his confidence returning in full force. âFor the second stage, let us play a game.â Suddenly, a little spot of light appeared on his chest before a string emerged from the spot, connecting Nice to a small machine in the middle. From the looks of it, it looked like a lie detector. âTruth or dare?â Enlightener smirks.Â
âHonesty is one of the most important qualitiesââ
âDare.â
âHuh?â
Nice offered him an embarrassed look. âSorry, I didnât mean to interrupt you, but to answer your question,â There was a certain sharp glint in his eyes as he smiled at Enlightener, as if daring him to contest him on this: âI choose dare; I hope you donât mind.â
Enlightener gritted his teeth, his smirk wavering to a scowl. âWell, Nice, I actually do mind. Before you so kindly interrupted me, I was just about to go on about how important honesty is in maintaining relationships, so tell me.â The scowl has now reverted back to his smirk, but he canât help but compare it to baring teeth. âIs Moon really your girlfriend?âÂ
Nice blinks, âOf course she is?â
All eyes turned to the machine. The machine spluttered for a little bit before a giant question mark appeared on its surface. âItâsâŚhalf correct?â The man seemed as confused as everyone else (excluding Nice), and at this point, Lin Lingâs lips were raw from how much he was biting them. Everyone turned to Nice for an explanation, but all he did was sigh, as if expecting this outcome.Â
âI wanted to do this in a more private place, like at the cafe we had our first date at, or at my apartment, butâ he waved helplessly at the machine. âThe cat is out of the bag, I suppose.â Standing up, he neatly dusts himself free of any dust before turning to a stunned Moon. Bowing at exactly 90 degrees, he looks her dead in the eyes as he asks.Â
âMoon, will you be my wife?âÂ
Instantly, everyone in the room exploded in shock. Not even Moon can hide her startled âHuh!?â She backs away from him, her hand covers her gaping mouth. Nice smile at her reaction, gently taking both her hands into his own. âI understand if this is a lot to you, but,â Drawing back to his full height, he continues, âI canât help it. I have fallen for you deeper and deeper every day, and it pains me that you arenât fully mine, so will you marry me?â
âI-I-â
âStop!â Enlightener screeched, slamming his cup down on the ground, âDon't get complacent just yet! There's still a third stage you have to pass!â Lin Ling held back on the ground. Of course. The heart screen door to the left cracked open, smoke billowing out, and in the white smoke was the silhouette ofâŚa man?
The man stepped forward into the light, the smoke dissipating with each step he took. Lin Ling can feel his throat tighten up as he finally realizes who it was.Â
It canât be⌠âBoss?â He muttered to himself. Nice snapped his head over to Lin Ling, but before he could say anything, Enlightener continued. âHe was once an entrepreneur, but now he's been pushed into a corner like a trapped beast. He owes all of this to you, Nice! Nice, your entire hero persona is a product of his team's commercials! Not only that, but you've driven him to bankruptcy! Youââ
âWhen are you going to pay me?â Just hearing his voice sent a shiver down his spine. When he was fired, one of the many thoughts going through his head was outside of âHoly shit, what should I do? I only have enough money to cover half a month of rent. I am so fuckedââ was âAt least I never have to work, see, or even think about my boss ever again!â Think again, past Lin Ling! Because there he is! Standing in⌠ripped frog armor?
âWhat is my life?â he thought for the 1 millionth and 1 time. As he questioned all his life choices and what led up to this situation, he failed to pay attention before a BOOM and CRACK could be heard. Whipping his head around, he can see Enlightener on the ground, rumbling surrounding him, and a crack in the pony wall behind him.Â
Snapping his head back to his ex-boss, black tendrils of fear began to swim around him as his face twisted in anger. âI can't go out of business. I don't want to go out of business!â His inky black hands were shaking with rage. Whipping out a whip made from fear, he bellows, âYou owe me a final payment! Pay me!â His whip lashes through the air as he runs towards Nice, his arm raised high, ready to send a devastating blow when-
Nice punches him.
He is knocked out cold.Â
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They were back in the van, speeding on through on the busy highway. Lin Ling had his eyes closed, resting his head against the cold windowsill. With such an anti-climactic fight, all the adrenaline has left his body, leaving behind an aching exhaustion. If it werenât for the bumps in the road waking him up periodically, he would have fallen asleep right then and there.
Nice was curled up by his side, his face agitated. After confirming with Lin Ling that the man he punched was Lin Lingâs asshole boss, he was 1 second away from flying out of the car and giving the man a second round of ass-whopping. It was due to Lin Ling and Miss Juanâs combined efforts that they managed to keep him in the car. Lin Ling didnât know why he hated his boss so much (perhaps he had experience with bad bosses before?), but he was too tired to ask. So now they ride in silence back to Heroâs tower.
Arriving back at Niceâs barren apartment, Lin Ling lazily threw his shoes on the ground haphazardly, and Nice picked them up and arranged them neatly near the entrance. âDo you have any pillows I can borrow?â He asked, yawning halfway through his question. His eyes were drooping now, and he desperately wished for a bed to crash on. A couch works, too. Honestly, the floor was also looking mighty tempting the longer he looked at it.
âPillows?â Nice ask from behind, his arms pulling him back into his familiar embrace. âYeah? Iâm going to need them to sleep on the couch.â Nice stared at him before laughing. Lin Ling stares at him in sleepy confusion. If he had the energy, he would have rewound the conversation back in his head to see what he missed. But now, all he can do is stare at Nice so he can explain himself. âSilly little thing,â he coos, grinning, âYouâre not sleeping on the couch. I have a perfectly sizable bed we can use!â Floating up, he tugs on Lin Lingâs hands, leading him behind the statue toward a bed on the ground, surrounded by water.
You know what? Sure, why not? Lin Ling was too tired to fight. Nice as he pushed him gently onto the bed. Unconsciously letting out a sigh, his tired body sank into the feather-light mattress. He can hear Nice giggle slightly as he burrows his head into the pillow, and like an ostrich, he ignores him completely in favor of pulling the blanket over himself.Â
In one second flat, he was out like a light.
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Lin Ling woke up gradually.
The first thing he could register was warmth. The second was someone behind him, their arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. It was⌠pleasant. Pleasant enough that he was about to drift off back to slumber if it werenât for the sound of a cameraâs shuttering and someone angrily grumbling to themselves.Â
ââStupid Treeman company, stupid Miss Juan, stupid Nice. Lived with the guy for years and yet never once told me he had a boytoy.â
Nice, boy toy? What?
ââMiss Juan has to let me go now with these pics! Ugh, I canât wait to revisit Bali and take a nice, long vacation there.â
Lin Ling slowly opened his eyes before immediately shutting them, hissing in pain at the sudden flashbang. The personâa girlâcursed out in shock at his sudden movement. He blinked multiple times, his eyes getting used to the bright room they were in. Once he blinked away all the blurriness, he looked to where the person wasâ
âMoonâŚ?âÂ
Moon blinks.Â
âMoon!â
Nice startled awake as Lin Ling jumped a good foot in the air, landing his ass in the cold water surrounding the bed. His heart was beating out of his chest, and the ice-cold water definitely shocked his system awake. âMoon!â Say something! âHi! I didnât know you lived here!â YOU IDIOT.
Both Nice and Moon are now staring, one concerned and one deadpan, at him. Lin Ling's face was hot all over, and he didnât need a mirror to know he was blushing bright red. âDo you feel okay, Lin Ling?â âThis is who you chose to cheat on me with?â They both said it simultaneously. Nice whipped his head in outrage at Moon held up her head while she looked back at her phone, clearly losing all interest in the conversation. âSave it, I donât care, because!â Her scowl turned into a large grin, and a pop song rang on her phone. âThat means I can leave!â
Miss Juan answers the call, âMoon, what is itââ
âMISS JUAN, NICE IS CHEATING ON ME; THAT MEANS HE BROKE THE CONTRACT, RIGHT?â
Lin Lingâs eyes widened as he desperately scrambled out of the stream of water. âWait! No! Weâre not like that!â He tries following, but with her quick strides and Nice pulling him back on the bed, soaking wet and all, he can only stare forlornly as she walks away, screaming into the phone. Or he would be if Nice didnât put his hand over his eyes, blocking his sight.
Of course, âNice, can you move your hand?â
Nice hums above him, as if actually considering the question at hand, âWould you continue to look at Moon if I do?â He asked, his tone playful but with a sharper edge. âI mean, yeah?â If sheâs in the room and talking with him, what is he supposed to do? Not look at her? Nice hand tighten over his eyes. âWrong answer!â Lin Ling groans.
âCan you at least let me go to the bathroom? I feel disgusting right now.âÂ
Nice sighed, as if it physically pained him to remove his hand, letting light enter back into his world. âFine.â He brightened up again, though, as he began to haul Lin Ling back onto his feet. âLet me show you where the bathroom is! Donât worry, you have your own toiletries and everything.â Huh, he didnât even think of that. Stepping into the bathroom, he had to admit it was nice, the white, futuristic, minimalist decor finally working in a roomâs favor.
Looking at the fancy toothbrush holder, he spots a bright yellow toothbrush, sharply contrasting with the other two paler toothbrushes beside it. Squinting, he almost rubs his eyes because no way atâsâ
âIs that my toothbrush?â
Nice nods. âMpmh! We got it in yesterday!â
â...please get out.âÂ
Shooing a stubborn Nice out of the bathroom, he quickly sped through his morning routine. (He grimaced slightly when he stepped out of the shower, realizing he would have to change back into his old clothes as he didnât bring any fresh ones.)
Stepping out of the steaming bathroom, the white hung loosely around his neck; he was both half surprised and half not when Nice (who was apparently standing guard outside) lunged to his side before promptly attaching himself to him like the needy Koola that he is. He can see a few wet droplets dripping onto his white locks, but he doesnât seem to mind, letting out a relieved sigh. âYou smell good,â he mutters, digging his nose into his throat.
Before Lin Ling could even think up a reply to that comment, his stomach growled, drawing both their attention to it. Nice blinked at his stomach before promptly dissolving into a fit of laughter. It wasnât even a polite little chuckle or even a giggle, no! It was a full-blown fit of laughter! Lin Ling could only stare in shock as the man laughed himself to tears, holding his stomach in for support.
âWhatâWHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT!? I DIDNâT HAVE DINNER LAST OKAY!?â
Nice held up his hand as he desperately gasped for air between laughter. After a full minute of this, Nice was finally able to pull himself together, wiping away the tears from the corner of his eye. âSorry, I wasnât laughing at you, I was justââ He sombered a little, pulling himself up to his full height. His arms were still wrapped around Lin Ling, but he couldnât help but shiver slightly. âI just realized I hadnât felt surprised in a long time.â
And if that didnât break his heart. Hesitantly, he slowly pulled Nice into his own arms, reciprocating the hug. He can feel Niceâs body freeze, his hands around him like they didnât know what to do.Â
âIâm here.â He says simply.
Nice was quiet for a second before, like invisible strings being cut, all but melted into his hug. âThank you.âÂ
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Breakfast was awkward. They sat at the long dining table, Moon on one side, Nice and him on the other end. He was trying to enjoy his breakfast, but with Nice breathing over his shoulder and Moon alternating between glaring at Nice and staring at him hard like he was some kind of puzzle to solve, the food tasted like cardboard to him.Â
âSo,â Moon starts, her voice cutting through the tense air like butter, âYour Niceâs boyfriend?â
Oh, thank god, a chance to fix this misunderstanding. âActuallyââ
âNone of your business, nosy. Also, your elbows are on the table.â Or it would be if Nice didnât cut in, his tone colder than Lin Ling has ever heard it. Awkwardly realizing his elbows were on the table, he hastily changed his posture while Moon huffed, looking him dead in the eyes as she deliberately splashed some sauce onto his white shirt. He can see Niceâs eyes twitch, zeroing in on the stain.
âUh-huh, anything else, your highness? Perhaps you would like me to cease breathing too, since itâs so rude and untidy.â The tension was back in the air, and it was stronger than ever. Nice rolled his eyes. âYou leaving would be pretty great, actually.â He snipped back. This comment was what tipped Moon over the edge as she turned a bright red. Standing up and slamming her hands down the table, she screams, âAND WHOâS FAULT IS THAT!? I DIDNâT SIGN UP TO BE STUCK TO SOME POMPOUS, ARROGANT, ASSHOLE LIKE YOU! Iââ
âActually,â He cuts her off, slicing his Eggs Benedict perfectly in half. âYou did. Deal with it.â
Holy shit. Lin Ling whipped his head towards Nice, his mouth gaping wide in horror. âNice.â He hissed, horrified. Nice, like a liar, calmly turned to Lin Ling, his face the picture-perfect face of innocence that screamed, âI did nothing wrong ever in my life.â âYes?â His voice honey-sweet. Before he can tell him off for that line, because honestly, what the fuck was that!? The doors burst open, and out came Miss Juan, surrounded by the men in black suits.Â
Miss Juan took the chance to survey the room before nodding. âGood, youâre all here. We can get down to business then.â Pulling out her tablet, she continues, âSince Nice is little, you two have been trending on FOMO, so that means we have to capitalize on it!â
Moon's eyes widen in horror as Nice tenses, his hands tightening over Lin Lingâs. âNoâŚyou have to be kidding me.â
The shark-like grin on Miss Juan's face tells everyone that no, she isnât kidding.
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.
Wreck has been doing great.
His apartment was littered with beer cans; he doesnât have the energy to get out of bed most days, and his phone has been glued to his hands 24/7 for even the slightest chance that Miss Juan or, heaven forbid, Nice himself, finally picks up theirs and answers all his texts and emails. (Most of them came at 3 am when he was drunk off his ass and desperate.)
When he was 22, freshly graduated with a performing arts degree in hand, and his best friend at his side. He thought they could take on the world together. Ha, what a joke. The minute Nice got popular, they tore Wreck from his side and tossed him away like he was just another piece of trash on the street. Itâs not like he didnât massively help contribute to Niceâs popularity or anything, he thought angrily to himself, rewinding the latest video of True Loveâs Recipe.
Itâs been months of Wreck sitting on his ass in his filthy apartment. (If Nice were still here, he would have wrinkled his nose before he smiled that smile that promised him hell if he didnât clean up right this second. He would always help.) He was going stir crazy, and nothing helped. Running doesnât help him (Nice would always complain, but heâd follow him during his route regardless), and none of the recent media has caught his eye (Nice loved shooter games and would deny it every time).
âI canât help it. I have fallen for you deeper and deeper every day, and it pains me that you arenât fully mine, so will you marry me?â THUNK The empty beer can slides pathetically off the TV as it glitches, no doubt because of his powers (Nice banned horror movies because of it, even though they were his favorite.) âYeah right.â He mocks the screen. Heâs about to grab the remote to rewind the video again when he hears a ping. A text.
Lunging for the phone, his eyes shake as he opens up his phone. Please let it be Nice, please Nice, pleaseâit was Miss Juan. He sighs, dropping his forehead onto the phone. Fuck, he thought humorlessly, of course. Shaking his head, he opens up the test to see-
âHEâS GETTING MARRIED!? TODAY!?â
There was more, but his vision was blurred. 2 months. 2 months of no contact, no nothing with no prior warning, and 2 months of worrying and sitting on his ass, and this is how heâs supposed to figure out his best friend since diapers is GETTING MARRIED!?
Suiting up and running out of his apartment all went past in a flash. Civilians were screaming as their screens started glitching and buildings began unraveling, but he didnât care. The only thing running around his mind was Nice and how he was getting married, and he didnât even think to text him! Even if their entire relationship was fake, doesnât he, as Niceâs best friend, deserve to know from the man himself!?
Before he knew it, he was at the park where the ceremony was taking place. The music was loud and grating, paparazzi and fans everywhere taking pictures, and ahead of them all, under a white floral wedding arch, stood him.
âNICE!â He roared, pointing his sword at him. All sounds around him fuzzed into background noise, and his vision tunneled in on Nice. He was wearing a suit, obviously tailored to harken back to his normal hero wear. It was white, with gold lining and a flowing, white cape. Nice turned to him gracefully, as if expecting him to show up.Â
âWreck,â He greets back pleasantly, as if he didnât ignore all his texts and calls from him for 2 months straight. âI should have known youâd crash my wedding. Just because you like Moon too doesnât meanââ Oh no, you donât.
In the back of his mind, he can vaguely recall a script attached to the text sent to him earlier, but he didnât even open it up before rushing straight over here. Good. He thinks viciously as he swings his sword at Nice, rock tendrils sprouting out from the ground, splitting him and Moon up. He advances, lunging himself forward; he swingsâNice blocks it with his arm while the other comes up and tries to uppercut him.Â
It was a danceâa familiar dance of sweat and blood, of bruises and cuts. He knows how the song goes; he roughs up Nice, throws out some one-liners, perhaps threatens a civilian or two, but he would always let Nice shine. Let Nice have center stage as he dances in the background, propping him up. Nice always wins. They have danced this dance a million times; they know how this goes.
But, seeing Nice standing proud and tall and happy while heâs been sinking in worry. Something snapped within. Fuck the music, fuck the dance; he wants Nice to pay.
He savors the looks of surprise on Niceâs face as he tanks the punchâhis sword slicing through his shoulder. Nice grunts, looking at him with newfound caution. He backs up, his feet off the ground, ready to fly. âWhat are you doing?â He hissed, Wreckâs laugh. Nice throws a punch; Wreck dodges. âMe? What have you been doing!? My texts, my calls, my emailsâall ignored!â Before he can respond, the sound of a portal opens. Moon jumps out, kicking him in the head.Â
Moonâs saying something about lifelong regrets or whatnot. Wreckâs not listening. Because right now, right in front of him, a man walks over to Nice, concern clearly visible, and Nice smiles. Itâs real. (He hasnât seen it in years.)Â
His vision goes red.Â
âYOU!âÂ
The ground erupts, rocks ensnaring the man in a cocoon. âLin Ling!â Nice yells. Before he can do anything, the roots take them into the skies, far above the clouds. Moon joins them. Nice, Nice, Nice, standing across from him, angry. Out of all their thousands and one fights, Nice was never angry. He feels like laughing. He feels like crying. âLet Lin Ling go, Wreck.â He says through gritted teeth. His hands are balled up into fists.
âNot before you answer my questions, Nice.â Beside him, the cocoon cracks open, revealing the manâLin Ling, bound together. He squirms, trying to get out of his restraint. He stills, however, when Wreck points his sword at him, the blade dangerously close to his neck. Nice flinches. âWho is he!? Why havenât you been answering my texts!? Why do you look soâŚsoâ happy?Â
Nice looks away, his lips pressed to a thin line. âWe can talk after this; just let Lin Ling go.â Wreck tightened his grip on his sword. He can hear Lin Ling gasp as it drew closer to his neck. Yeah, right. âAnd give you another chance to ignore me!? No. You are going to answer my questions here and now, or God help me, I will kill this man. Nice.â
Nice, flinched back as if he had been struck. âDonât make me choose, Wreck.â
âWHAT!? SO BETWEEN HIM OR ME, YOUâLL CHOOSE HIM OVER ME!?â
His look gave him all the answers he needed.
Oh
He understands.
Heâs been replaced.Â
He laughs.
27 years. 27 years of being friends, of being the person Nice turned to for support. When his parents kicked him out, he was there. When Nice went through his depressive episode, he was there. When Nice wanted to be a hero but was too nervous to do it alone, he was there. He was always there. Ready and happy to be his backup dancer. Because all he ever wanted was for Nice to be happy, in the spotlight.
But it didnât matter. 27 years, and it didnât matter.
âWHAT DID I DO WRONG!?â He screamed. âWAS I NOT GOOD ENOUGH!? WHY WASNâT I GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!?â
âNo! Wreck! That isnât it!â
âTHEN WHAT IS IT, HUH!? I WAS THERE FOR YOU! I TRIED SO HARD, AND YET NOTHING. NOTHING I DID OR SAID COULD MAKE YOU SMILE YET.â He swung his sword at Lin Lin. âHE COULD. WHY WAS HE THE ONE TO MAKE YOU SMILE LIKE THAT AGAIN!? WHY COULDNâT I MAKE YOU HAPPY!?
His parents were right, he realized; he couldnât do anything right. He couldnât even keep his one friend, the one light in his life, happy.Â
There were tears in his eyes, and he couldnât see anything properly. His heart was both aching and empty, and it was all too much. With one last look at Nice, he dispelled the structures around them. Everyone screamed. Moon opened up a portal and clung to his side as everything collapsed between them.Â
The last thing he saw was Nice swooping in to save Lin Ling.
And then he fell.Â
#to be hero x#tbhx#tbhx nice#tbhx lin ling#to be hero x lin ling#to be hero x nice#emotional support civilian#tbhx moon#to be hero x moon#tbhx wreck#to be hero x wreck#yandere nice#Yandere to be hero x Nice#Yandere tbhx nice#Nicest#Nice x Lin Ling#Niceling
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DEALER
Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Summary: Your dealer boyfriend Tommy asks you to meet with his business partner for a little exchange.
A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER OMG. This has been in the drafts for like a year if you can believe that. I need to thank my beautiful friend Sini (who is unfortunately not on tumblr đ) for proofreading and encouraging and constructively criticising. I already have an idea for a second part to this so let me know if you want it ! also my ask box is open so come talk to me!!
Word Count: 4.2k
Warnings: 18+, DUBCON, semi-public, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, Tommy getting cucked over the phone; mention of guns, violence/blood, drugs, criminal activity in general
It was another one of those nights. Tommy had come home with a fresh, open gash on his forehead and busted lip. Your heart dropped down to your stomach the second you laid eyes on him. You immediately rushed over, inspecting the wounds with his face in your hands. He assured you it was nothing, that he was fine, but you still practically dragged him upstairs to let you patch him up.
You sat him down on the bed and stood in between his legs, inspecting every scratch on his face like you had a doctorate in medicine.
âI hate this, Tommy⌠You know how much it scares me.â He hissed in pain and winced as you dabbed some disinfectant to the gash, you mumbled an apology
âItâs fine, sugar. I promise. Iâm fine.â He reluctantly let you clean him up, probably thinking it would shut you up, but his nonchalance always felt like a stab to the heart.
âI mean it. You never tell me anything and you come home late with all these cuts and bruises. Of course it scares the shit out of me, what do you expect?â
Even though you didnât say it directly, he knew what you were referring to. Youâd had this conversation with him countless times before, like when you had noticed his knuckles all cut up, or the bruises he could hide under his clothes, or when you realized that he carried his gun with him wherever he went. He would just tell you the same things over and over. It wasnât exactly his dream career, but itâs fine. Itâs just business, itâs not as dangerous as you think. This is all just part of the job, itâs what pays the bills. He knew you worried about him anyway, despite how many times he told you not to. He could see that sad glint in your eyes every time he came home late at night to find you awake on the couch, and knew you had pictured the worst. He knew what it meant every time you hugged him a little tighter at the door before he left. You loved him. You needed him.Â
He gently grabbed your wrists, his large hands easily encircling them. He gazed up at you with softened eyes.
âLook at me, sugar. Itâs just the job. I can handle it, you know that. I told you that a million damn times.â He was using that tone he always uses when he wants you to calm down. And it always works. That soft, gentle whisper with the right amount of certainty and assuredness. He couldâve told you the world was ending in that tone and it wouldâve been okay. âAnd I know you donât like seeinâ me hurt and all, but Iâll be fine. You donât need to be worryinâ all the time. Iâm strong, I can take it.â He said the last part with the hint of a smirk crossing his bloody lips, a subtle tease in an attempt to lighten the gloomy mood that hung in the evening air.Â
âIâm still gonna worry, Tommy.â He noticed the quiver of your lip and the faint sheen of a tear in your eye that threatened to spill down your cheek. He sighed and pulled you into his lap. Your limbs immediately curled around him as naturally as an instinct, and his responded in kind. He stroked your back soothingly, whispering how much he loved you, how he would always come back to you and would never leave you. He squeezed your thighs, kissed your neck, the comforting whispers turned into little gasps, and the night ended with your clothes on the floor, and the two of you tangled up in each othersâ bodies.
Nights like those were a common occurrence- heâd come home all bloody, youâd patch him up, then youâd hold each other until the sun rose. You werenât afraid of him, you were afraid of what he did. You knew exactly what they would say- what did you expect? You shouldâve ran for the hills the second he told you about his whole business. Naive little girl. It could only end in tears, if not much worse. You knew you shouldâve ran. But you didnât. They didnât know what you knew.Â
They hadnât been there on the night you met, at the bar you worked at. They hadnât seen the way he protected you from a creepy old drunk customer who wouldnât leave you alone. They hadnât seen his charming smile when he met your parents for the first time. The way he shook your fatherâs hand confidently, and hugged your mother, kissing her cheek politely as he welcomed them into your apartment. They hadnât seen how heâd slaved all day in the kitchen, preparing a meal that would impress them. The way he wouldnât let you lift a finger to help him, insisting that you let him handle everything so you could relax. He told them he was a contractor, that he worked for his brother. It wasnât exactly a lie, that was his front- his âlaundromatâ.
Youâd seen his hands balled up into fists, scars adorning his knuckles from throwing punches, but those were the same hands that brushed away your tears and held you with such tenderness whenever you needed them to. You had overheard strings of foul threats flowing so freely from his lips when he took calls in another room and hoped you were out of earshot, but those were the same lips that whispered sweet nothings to you on Sunday mornings while you were still half-asleep, curled up in his arms.
It was getting late and Tommy wasnât home. You held out on dinner in the hopes that he might be back in time for you to eat together, but it was another one of those nights. You were standing at the sink, cleaning the small array of kitchen utensils you had used to prepare your own meal when the buzz of your cell phone cut through the silence in the house. His name lit up the screen, and you answered.
âHey.â
âHi, baby. You okay?
âYeah, I'm good. Just finished dinner. You on your way home?â
âNo, uh, not yet. Iâm a little tied up here.â
âOh⌠Is everything alright?â
âYeah, no, itâs fine, sugar. donât worry âbout me.â
Normally you wouldâve rolled your eyes at his mantra, but his tone was hesitant. You knew he was building up to something, and you knew you wouldnât like it.
âTommy, what is it?â There was a moment of silence and he sighed audibly through the phone.Â
âI uh⌠I need you to make a delivery for me, honey. You think you could do that for me?â
âA delivery?â for a moment it didnât register. Then the penny dropped, and you fell silent, frozen in place.Â
âI know, baby, I know. I would normally get one of the guys to do it but none of them can right now. I know itâs a lot but I wouldnât be asking if it wasnât important. Please, baby.â There was shame oozing from every word.Â
âWhat am I delivering?â
For a moment there was more silence.
âItâs probably better if you donât know.â
The package was hidden in a nondescript grey shoe box, tucked into the corner of the closet, where he had directed you to look. A brown paper parcel, wrapped in layers of tape, giving no indication of its contents. The weight of it felt like a grenade in your hands. It could have been a grenade, for all you knew. You elected to carry it inside the box to avoid suspicions. The chances of anybody seeing you with it were slim, but your mind was spinning with visions of flashing blue lights and cops and handcuffs.
You stopped the car, right where Tommy had instructed you to. The place was exactly as you had imagined it- a dark alleyway, lit only by your headlights and the dull glow from a flickering streetlight nearby. Grimy exposed brick surrounded you on each side, slick with the rain that hammered down on the hood of your car. Aside from the constant drum of the downpour, it was silent, the archetypal place for an interaction like this. You picked up your phone and hit the call button on Tommyâs contact, lifting the phone to your ear. After a few moments, the dial tone stopped and his voice came through the speaker.
âEverythinâ alright, sugar?â
You peered out at your surroundings through the teary glass of the windshield.Â
âYeah, um.. Iâm here, but I donât see anybody.â
âJust wait, heâll be there soon, okay?â
âI donât like this, Tommy. Why does it have to happen at the set of a slasher movie?â
You heard him chuckle lightly through the phone.
âSâjust to keep you safe, darlinâ. Donât want nobody seeinâ you.â
You let out an unamused laugh. Right, no witnesses. Perfect.Â
A sharp knock on the fogged glass snatched your attention. You dropped the phone and a small scream escaped you. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your hand, slick with sweat, moved to roll down the window. You knew immediately that this was your guy, just from looking at him. He was tall, although hunched over slightly to peer into the car, broad shoulders bending to lower him down.Â
âYou Tommyâs girl?â
You stared up at him like a deer in headlights, frozen in the driversâ seat. You nodded slightly, practically trembling with fear. He opened the passenger door and sat down in the seat beside you.Â
You stared at him in silence for a moment, watching his dark brown eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips, then from your lips to your chest, then from your chest to your hips. The sides of his lips curled up into a sly smirk before his eyes met yours again. âI knew he was sendinâ me some presents but they ainât normally this cute.â You broke eye contact, weary of giving him the wrong impression as remembered what you were here for and reached into the backseat to grab the shoebox.
âI um.. I have it.. What you want..â You shoved it towards him, desperate for him to take it, get out of the car, and for all this to be over. His eyes fell slowly from yours to the package in your hands as you offered it to him. He took it from you, took one look at the parcel inside and nodded, seemingly satisfied with it. Then he placed it on the dashboard of the car, and turned back to face you.
âHe tell you âbout my payment?â
Payment? Tommy didnât say anything about that. And shouldnât he be paying you for the delivery? Dread was filling your stomach as he sucked in a deep breath, evidently reading your wide-eyed expression as confusion. The glint of a pistol caught your eye, the silvery metal glinting in the weak light. You gasped at the sight of it as he took it out of his pocket, and placed it in the cupholder and held his hands up, reading the virginal fear in your eyes. âLook, I ainât gonna hurt you.. Donât wanna mess up that pretty lilâ face of yours. But I ainât leavinâ this car without some kinda deal.âÂ
With shaking hands, you started to search for the phone you had dropped onto the floor beneath the driverâs seat, seeing Tommyâs name still on the screen- the call was still active. You held it to your ear.
âTommy w-whatâs this about a payment? How much do you owe him?â
Another moment of silence. Your heartbeat was ringing so loud in your ears, you barely heard his voice coming through the speaker.
âJust go with it, baby.â
The metallic clink of your passengerâs belt caught your attention,Â
âTommy, h-heâs-â
â know, baby. Just go with it.â
His darkening eyes burned into yours. âPut him on speaker.âÂ
You obliged, and for the first time, you allowed your eyes to explore him. His mannerisms were like Tommyâs, as was his tall nose and intense gaze. Your thighs were pinned to each other, a guilty fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you watched his veiny, calloused hands unbuckle his belt while he spoke into your phone, his voice low and gravelly.
âSent me a real pretty one, brother. Real cute.â His voice addressed Tommy, but his deadly gaze was fixed on you.
âReal sweet, ainât she, Joel?â Tommyâs words crackled through the speaker, and your heart dropped. He set you up for this.
When your eyes met back with Joelâs, he patted his lap. You knew what to do, his instructions were clear. You climbed across the centre console shakily, arranging your knees on either side of his thighs. You held yourself slightly above his lap. The thought of another man touching you in this way felt wrong, like a magnetic repulsion was holding you back from him. He rested his hands on your hips, letting out a soft sigh as his eyes roamed your body, your chest, your waist, your hips, your thighs.Â
âWork of art, Tommy.âÂ
âYeah, sheâs somethinâ else.â
You bit down on your lower lip hard as your heart twisted with angst and fear in your chest. Joelâs hands squeezed at the flesh of your hips, eliciting a soft gasp.
âRelax, darlinâ. I wonât bite.âÂ
âIt's okay, sugar. He ainât gonna hurt you. Promise.â
âCourse not. Your man would kill me if I did.â You doubted he was exaggerating. With that, he pulled you down into his lap, leaving no space between you. A small whimper escaped your lips, the rough texture of his jeans teasing you through your panties. âThis the first time youâre deliverinâ for him?â You nodded. He raised his eyebrows, his intoxicating gaze travelling across your collarbones, down to your chest. Joel took the phone out of your hand and placed it in the cup holder, next to his gun. His hands gripped your thighs and gradually moved up under the hem of your skirt, stroking your skin. He brought his lips to your neck, his facial hair scratching against the skin. âGot a lot to learn âbout this trade.â His rough hands travelled up to your centre, rubbing you softly through the fabric. He let out a low whistle, feeling the dampness between your legs. âMore into me than you let on, ainât you, darlinâ?â Â
A soft sigh came through the speaker of the phone, a sound you knew well.Â
âShe ainât as innocent as she looks, brother.â A sharp pain stabbed at your chest, hearing Tommyâs voice. Heâs allowing this? He isnât infuriated by just the thought of another manâs hands all over you? Touching you in the place only his hands are allowed to go? The thought enraged you, but you only had the resources available. So you rocked your hips and let out the sweet little whimper you had been holding in, Joelâs thickening hardness beneath you caressing every nerve. He let out a small grunt too, the same grin playing on his lips as he watched your hips grind into his.Â
âThatâs it. There you go, just relax. Ainât gonna hurt you.â
His hands snaked around your waist, squeezing it as his lips met your collarbone, decorating it with his light and lustful kisses, fanning the flames that were growing between your thighs. Your head rolled back, he mumbled against your skin, âGonna give you a lilâ souvenir, darlinâ.â He sucked lightly on the skin at the base of your neck, eliciting another soft noise from you.Â
âBest not be markinâ up my girl, Joel.â
âToo damn late. She likes it, donât you, sweetheart?â
You nodded, mumbling a soft âMhm,â loud enough that Tommy could hear, and you knew he did. His groan came through the speaker, and you could see the vision clearly. His head rolling back and resting on the back of the couch, jeans at his knees, and his hand wrapped around the base of his hard cock, but not moving it to savor his release for later.Â
Joelâs thick fingers tapped your thigh, directing you to sit up. You lifted your hips, whimpering desperately at the loss of friction.
âDonât think I can wait much longer for this.â He grumbled as he pushed his jeans down to his knees. You looked down to see the huge tent he was pitching beneath your lap, and his hand palming it. His lustful eyes were trained on yours, his jaw slacking as he took in your features, his voice reduced to a desperate whisper. âReal fuckinâ pretty.âÂ
His fingers tugged at your panties and you let him pull them down, his fingers immediately returned to your heat, your jaw slacked at the sensation of them tracing your clit without the limits of the cotton. âLike that, huh?â
âWhat you doinâ to her, brother?â
âJust playinâ with her lil clit.â
âYou like it, sugar?â
Joel saw your mouth opening to reply to Tommy and applied more pressure, eliciting a gasp from you.Â
âI love it.â your voice came out breathy and ragged from the pleasure as his fingers drew circles around it.Â
Joel withdrew his hand from your clit and tugged his boxers down to his knees, letting his erection spring free and slap his tummy. The length of it almost reached his belly button. He wetted his lips with his tongue, his carnivorous eyes gazing up at yours.Â
âYou ready for me, darlinâ?â
You nodded eagerly, feeling him lining himself up for entry. He pulled your hips back down hard, and you cried out from the stretch of the intrusion and tried to squirm, but his big hands restrained you, holding you still against him. All you could do was whimper desperately, your nails carving deep crescents into his shoulders while your arousal soaked him. Joel picked up your phone and held it up to your jaw.
âTell him how big it is.â His tone was commanding and dominant as his eyes watched your expression intently, watching how your features contorted in both pain and pleasure.
âSo fuckinâ big, Tommy.â
His groan rattled through the speaker of the phone
âBigger than mine, baby?â
Joelâs rough hands squeezed your thighs hard.
âYeah.â
âFuck.â
The corners of Joelâs lips twitched up into that same cocky grin as before, his hands travelling up to your hips and pulling them against him, then pushing them back out again, urging you to move. You immediately obliged. You ground your hips slowly against him, still adjusting to his size. Little grunts of pleasure escaped him as he watched you, his jaw tense and clearly holding back.
âCâmon, darlinâ. Iâve heard you can do way better than that.â The same pain stabbed at your chest, the thought of Tommy going into detail about your sex life to his brother filling your mind with hot, white rage. So you showed him exactly what he had heard about. Your hips moved faster, feeling every inch of his manhood reaching your depths- deeper than Tommy ever could. You let your noises grow louder, let them drip with lust and pleasure, and made sure your boyfriend could hear it through the phone- made sure he could hear the difference.Â
Joelâs teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, his facial hair scratching you lightly as grunts of pleasure rumbled from his throat. He guided your hips with his hands, occasionally bucking up into you, jolting louder whimpers out of you each time his head dug even deeper.
âTight lilâ pussy. My brother ainât stretchinâ you out enough? Feel like a damn virgin.â
Tommyâs voice came through the speaker at that.
âTight, ainât she?â
Joel growled, his dark eyes watching as you swallowed him up over and over again.Â
âWonât be for long.â
He started to buck his hips, fucking you from below. You stopped moving, letting him use you, take what he wanted. Grunts and whimpers fell from both of your mouths, and the windows of your car became cloudier than they already were, save for a desperate handprint and a drop of condensation trailing down from it. Joel was still holding the phone to your ear, letting your noises drip through the phone. The audio was clearly enough fuel for Tommy, his heavy breathing giving you the perfect indication of what the scene was like back home.
âFuck, you sound so pretty, baby.â Tommyâs voice was gravelly and soaked in desire. You gushed down below but not for him. Your eyes met Joelâs again, and you began to move, your hips meeting his half way. His head fell back against the headrest, his predatory gaze trained on you. His rough hand moved from your hip, up under your shirt and his thumb rolled over the stiff bud, before grasping your breast roughly.
âYou gonna tell him how good it feels, darlinâ?â he nudged your cheek with the phone, urging you to speak into it.
Your voice had become a trembling, whining mess. âFeels so fuckinâ good, Tommy. So good.âÂ
âYeah? I fuck you better than he does?â You nodded in response and Joel nudged your face with the phone again, silently commanding you to verbalise it.
âYeah, so much better.â You heard Tommy groan in pleasure and knew you had to dig deeper to get back at him for getting you into all this. Although a part of you wanted to thank him- it really was better. âFuck, so much deeper. So much harder.â
Joelâs hips started pumping up into you roughly, his grip on you getting tighter, possibly leaving bruises under his fingertips. You moaned as the pain blended with the pleasure he was giving you as he held the phone back to his own mouth.
âYou gonna let me fill up your girl, brother?â
âYou better fuckinâ not, Iâll fuckinâ kill you.â
Joelâs eyes burned into yours, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. You looked at him and nodded, and he immediately hit the red button on the screen, then tossed your phone to the empty driverâs seat beside you. Both of his hands gripped your hips tightly, and sweat dampened the skin of his thighs.
âBounce on it for me.â You did. The car started to shake with the force of your movements. If this part of town wasnât so empty, youâd be expecting a knock on the foggy window from a cop. âYou gonna let me fill you up? Donât let him scare you, he ainât gonna lay a finger on neither of us.â
You nodded, picking up the pace of your hips to meet Joelâs quickening thrusts. His tip kissed your cervix over and over and you cried out from the sensation. He snaked his strong arms around your waist and pulled you closer so your chest was flush against his.Â
âYou want that? You wanna go home to my brother with it all leakinâ out of you? Bet heâd hate that.â
You nodded, your eyes were locked onto his and you could feel that flame in your stomach turning blue. You whispered, your voice dripping with lust.
âWanna piss him off real bad.â
Joelâs teeth gritted as his cock twitched inside you, and with a few more thrusts he erupted, painting your insides white with his release. You fell apart at the same moment, gushing around him with loud whimpers. The force of the orgasm wracked through your body and shook you to your core. He didnât give you much time to recover before he tapped your thigh, silently commanding you to pull off him. With your body still trembling from the force of your release, you moved back to the driverâs seat and watched him as he tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled his belt.Â
âPleasure doinâ business with you, sweetheart.â
He picked up his pistol out of the cup holder and tucked it back into his pocket before taking the box and turning to open the door. But your mind weighed heavily with the exchange, so you stopped him.
âWait..â Joel turned to face you, an impatient expression written on his features. â..What did I just deliver?â He stared at you for a moment, not following. âThe package..?â He looked down at the box in his hands for a moment before offering it to you.
âOpen it.â
Cautiously, you reached out and took it from him. With slow hands you opened it and started to tear the brown paper wrapping off the parcel, and were met with another paper package inside. But this one was white and blue, with bold letters sprawled across it, spelling out the word âsugarâ. Your brows knit together in confusion as you picked it up.Â
ââŚThe fuck is this? Coke?â
You held it up to let Joel see what was wrapped up beneath the paper. He shrugged nonchalantly.
âSays itâs sugar.â
You stared dumbfounded at the small white bag in your hand. It obviously wasnât the white powder you thought they sold. And what, Joel couldnât buy his own groceries? The same vile dread filled your stomach when you concluded that the sugar was just a prop. There was no delivery- your body was the exchange. Joelâs eyes clearly read the realisation on your face and his lips curled up into a smug smirk as he placed a cigarette between them and opened the passenger door, stepping out into the rain.
âSee ya round, sweetheartâ
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