#i haven’t had an actual meal in three weeks help me

[the-casbah-way]

this dissertation got hands

[klemen-tine]

Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

Part 2

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot. 

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting. 

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs. 

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it. 

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?” 

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and– 

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.” 

“Dami!” 

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing. 

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair. 

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life. 

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about. 

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham. 

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne. 

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.” 

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.” 

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book. 

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.” 

“Jay, I swear to God.” 

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.” 

“Little wing–” 

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.” 

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words. 

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs. 

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?” 

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–” 

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!” 

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched  Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present. 

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it. 

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee. 

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle. 

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’ 

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason. 

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?” 

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass. 

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze. 

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission. 

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home. 

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here. 

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine. 

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight. 

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over. 

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child. 

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance. 

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing. 

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away. 

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them. 

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why. 

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here. 

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder. 

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.” 

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up. 

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others. 

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred. 

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home? 

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence. 

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered. 

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking. 

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea. 

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.” 

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector. 

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?” 

In the L/N Manor 

Y/N walked  the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere. 

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm. 

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it. 

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham. 

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him. 

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window. 

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl. 

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?” 

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face. 

“Did F/N do this?” 

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?” 

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice. 

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!” 

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory. 

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.” 

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.” 

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go. 

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip. 

“Guys, you’re scaring me.” 

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move. 

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing. 

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor. 

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages. 

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” 

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably. 

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–” 

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands. 

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.” 

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.” 

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say. 

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–” 

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile. 

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. 

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. 

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different. 

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his. 

“I-I should change first–” 

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.” 

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something. 

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted. 

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, ���I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty. 

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air. 

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about. 

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family. 

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like. 

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick. 

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.” 

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman. 

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers. 

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.” 

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper. 

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say. 

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly. 

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-” 

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance. 

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–” 

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family. 

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly. 

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.” 

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.” 

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.” 

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.” 

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in. 

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.” 

“Language.” 

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company. 

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!”  Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.” 

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper. 

“Just… just please don’t do that again.” 

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

[inlovewithl3vi]

hello i hope your life is very good! may u do how the brothers' would react to seeing mc just randomly staying in their room all day in their bed, not even eating to the point that they've started to lose a lot of weight. sorry for any English mistakes and I hope you have many blessings!

I’m so sorry it took me forever to respond to this!!! I’m horrible at writing anything that’s a lil sad, because then I get sad. I’m gonna try my best though! I also decided to write the brothers separately, I’ve never done that before so I guess I’m just gonna try it and see if I like it. This also might be a little ooc but whatevs.(P.s. i hope your life is good too!)

Lucifer

✧ It started when RAD went on break for a while, about three weeks. It was only supposed to be one, But problems started and now it’s three.

✧ You started to stay in your room more, only coming out to eat or on occasion to do something with someone if they asked.

✧ He doesn’t notice when you start missing breakfast. His brothers sometimes sleep in too, he understands that your only human.

✧ He only worries when you haven’t been at the table at breakfast or dinner.

✧ He’s a little embarrassed too, since he didn’t even notice until the third week has started and you haven’t been seen for 3 days.

✧ This definitely raises red flags in his head, he knows humans are fragile compared to demons.

“MC? I know you’re in there…” he knocks on your door, waiting for some kind of response. When he doesn’t get any he just opens the door and walks in. It doesn’t even matter if it’s locked, he’s still gonna open it.

✧ When he walks in he just kinda stands there. He can notice a change in you, not just the fact that Your body looks physically different but also that he can tell your exhausted.

✧ Eventually he walks up to your bed and sits on the edge of it.

✧ You’re playing on your DDD and look up. You already know what it’s about.

“MC… what’s wrong?”

✧ You look up at him and see a mix of worry and sadness on his face. You immediately feel bad, not realizing that he cared that much.

“Nothing, im Fine” you shrug and look back at your DDD. “No you’re not.” He takes it out of your hand gently. “I can see you’ve lost weight. You also look just so… drained” you sigh, knowing you have no choice but to explain.

“I’ve just been so busy with work at RAD I’ve just kinda been on autopilot. I guess I just… crashed”

✧ He sighs and wraps his arm around you when you sit up.

✧ You’re not used to that kind of attention from Lucifer, so you decide to enjoy it while you can.

“You should have told me MC… you’re only a human, your body needs these things you’ve been putting off.”

✧ You nod, knowing he’s right.

✧ In the end you talk to him more and agree to get help when you need it this time.

✧ He also makes sure you’re eating well, he doesn’t enjoy seeing you in a worsened state.

✧ You actually make him promise he’ll be more careful about overworking himself and skipping meals, since he’s also a little guilty when it comes to that kind of stuff.

Mammon

✧ With him you don’t last long doing that.

✧ He notices almost immediately. The fact that you’re not there at breakfast to remind him why he goes to RAD in the first place, to see you when your in class together. To make you laugh at stupid jokes he makes, to just be there with him.

✧ He notices when you’re not at dinner either, not having you there to defend him when his brothers get a little carried away with making fun of him. Or to tell him his new scheme sounds good, but it’s not actually the best idea (you’ve probably had that same conversation so many times, but he’ll still take your advice)

✧ So after 5 days he can’t take it. He’s seen that you started online classes and that nobody has seen you around the house at all.

✧ He decides to take matters into his own hands and get into your room.

✧ I would recommend opening it when he knocks, because he WILL break it down.

He immediately starts asking questions. “Hey! MC what do ya' think your doin?” You look at him as he comes in, not even giving you time to go back to your bed after getting up to let him in.

“What do you mean?” You rub your eyes a little, clearly having been asleep moments prior. “I mean look at ya! You’ve clearly lost weight. And I mean don’t take this the wrong way… but yer face don’t look to human no more” you just stare at him blankly. “What” your expression doesn’t change as you look at him. “You look like some kinda zombie… why haven’t you been eating? Ya kinda look like you haven’t gotten much sleep either…” you shake your head a little before speaking “I was just asleep” he rolls his eyes at your response “what for the first time in a week? When did you eat last? I haven’t even seen ya out of your room”

✧ You go back and forth with him for a moment, trying to get him to believe you’re fine.

✧ It doesn’t work though. But I mean, were you really expecting it to?

“I guess with the combination of having so much homework and being in a new place it just caused me to… I don’t know… crash? I guess I have been ignoring my needs” you look away from him when you explain.

✧ His gaze softens when he looks at you.

“MC… ya know you could have told me. I’m your first! You’re supposed to go to me for these things!” You can’t help but chuckle a little at the slight pout on his face.

✧ Eventually you and Mammon talk a little more and he decides he’s going to help you talk to Lucifer about how much work teachers give you. (Since it really is an inhuman amount) and although he can’t fix the fact that you were just thrust into a literal brand new world, he decides he’s gonna do everything in his power to make it better for you.

Leviathan

✧ As much as I love him, he wouldn’t notice at all.

✧ In fact it took his brothers mentioning it before he noticed you were never at any meals they had together.

✧ He debated going into your room to check on you. He was so nervous to upset you, since whenever he shuts himself into his room it’s for a reason (mostly because he doesn’t wanna be disturbed).

✧ Eventually he found himself standing outside your door.

✧ He knocked gently, silently hoping that you wouldn’t respond. That was until he heard a quiet “it’s open” coming from inside.

✧ Although he was nervous, and quite honestly didn’t wanna do this at all, you always checked on him so it was time to return the favor.

“MC?…” he calls out as he walks into your room.

✧ He finds you in your bed, trying to keep your eyes open as you play on your DDD. You don’t even acknowledge him when he walks up to you.

✧ He debates just walking out again, just acting like nothing’s wrong.

✧ That’s until he notices that you’ve clearly lost a bit of weight, and you don’t look like you’ve slept in a week.

“MC… I just came to check on you. Uhm- are you alright?”

✧ He mentally curses himself. Obviously you weren’t ok.

✧ You look up from your DDD and can immediately see concern on his face.

“Levi-“ you start to say you were ok but stop yourself. You know you’re clearly not ok, and you can’t really deny it.

“I- uhm… It’s something stupid, I’m sorry for making you worry. I guess I just got a little carried away with shutting myself in my room.” You look away from him when you talk.

“It’s not stupid if it makes you shut yourself away like this” he’s nervous when he talks, he’s almost surprised he didn’t stutter. “You… you told me that when I shut myself away it’s not stupid.”

✧ You sigh and smile a little, knowing that you helped him before so maybe you should let him help you.

“I- I think I’m homesick” it’s almost shameful to admit. The fact that you miss your family and friends, even though you have a good life here.

✧ He nods, acknowledging your problem.

“I can’t fix that… but uhm… you said that hiding in your room away from your problems isn’t a good thing, I’m not sure how to make you feel better… but uhm you can always come in my room you know. Just… take care of yourself” he mumbles slightly, clearly nervous about saying something to comfort you.

“Thanks Levi” you sit up and lean on his shoulder, He’s internally freaking out but somehow remains calm on the outside as to not scare you away.

✧ You decide to get up and eat something before heading to his room.

✧ You had decided to take him up on his offer and go into his room.

✧ When you get there he’s playing some sort of game, silently focused on what he’s doing. He looks over at you before immediately going back to his game, already knowing why you’re there.

✧ You crawl into his bathtub bed and pull some blankets over you. The calming sound of the clicking of his controller slowly makes you more tired than before.

✧ For that moment you don’t feel as homesick, you promise to take care of yourself better. Mostly so that you can be around your second family in the devildom.

Satan

✧ He notices almost immediately that you’ve been skipping meals and not coming out of your room.

✧ Even though he notices he decides to let you figure out your problems on your own, since he knows sometimes people just need a day or two away from people.

✧ But when it lasts more than two days he’s immediately concerned.

✧ He starts texting you asking if you’re ok and if you would like him to bring you anything.

✧ After four days he gets sick of waiting and just decides to go to your room.

✧ He walks in without knocking, and you’re sitting at your desk with papers piled high all around you.

“MC? What are you doing… you haven’t come out of your room.” He looks at you with a concerned expression on his face.

✧ You look up from the paper you were writing on and turn towards him.

“Gotta study, I just finished this week’s homework not too long ago” you shrug and turn back towards the paper in front of you.

“MC it’s the weekend, you haven’t come out of your room in four days. How were you even getting your work from RAD?” You shrug before responding “I paid Mammon to leave it outside my door for me, the teachers just think I’m sick.” He sighs at your response. “You shouldn’t need to do this, you’re basically working 24/7 by the looks of it… you look like you’ve even lost weight.”

✧ You just shrug again and ignore him.

✧ He wasn’t having any of that though.

“Fine. If you insist on working so much why don’t you let me tutor you after RAD? I’ll help you so you don’t have to spend so much time on it” you shake your head at his suggestion. “It’s not even that, the work is so much… and I just don’t know it. I mean I didn’t even know demons existed a couple months ago! How am I supposed to know devildom history? Or the fact that I’m just a human and seductive speechcraft is basically useless to me. I have to work hard yet the only person I can keep up with is Mammon.”

✧ You can feel yourself getting more and more upset as you continue to talk so you stop and turn away from Satan.

“MC… you should have told me, or any of my brothers for that matter. And although I hate to admit it, you should have told Lucifer” he sighs and places his hand on your cheek, making you look at him. “You shouldn’t neglect your health for grades.

✧ You let him pick you up and carry you into your bed before pulling the blankets over you.

“I’m gonna bring you something to eat, I’m sure you’re hungry.” He smiles at you before stepping out of your room.

✧ Although he was telling the truth, he is going to make a stop into Lucifer’s office.

✧ Just ignore it if you hear Satan screaming at him, he’ll just tell you Lucifer was annoying him anyway.

Asmo

✧ He’s another one of the brothers to notice immediately and try and help you, a little similar to Mammon.

✧ At first he doesn’t think too much of it, just keeping the fact that he hasn’t seen the cute human walking around in his head.

✧ That’s until he sees you at RAD.

✧ He hadn’t seen you the last 5 days of the week, but after the weekend comes to an end and he finally gets to have a class with you at RAD he’s going to start freaking out a little.

✧ He hadn’t seen you at breakfast or dinner, wich was odd to him but he assumed you just went somewhere else.

✧ He immediately realized that wasn’t the case when he saw you sitting at the table you two shared in devildom history class.

“MC! What’s wrong” he’s immediately scanning you up and down, taking a mental note of how exhausted you look along with the fact that you look like you’ve lost weight. “Oh hi Asmo. nothings wrong” you shrug and turn back to your notebook.

✧ He also noticed that fact that you try and hide your face a little from him.

✧ But that won’t do, he hasn’t seen your face for 5 whole days. Wich is far too long for his liking.

“No, we’re not doing that. I haven’t seen your pretty face in five days. Five whole days! Were you even at RAD the last three days last week?” He places his hand over yours as he speaks. “No, I stayed home… I got my work from a friend” you reply, still looking away. “MC… something’s clearly wrong. You can tell me, I promise whatever it is that’s making you neglect your health we can fix. You should know how important it is to take care of yourself!”

✧ You sigh, debating on whether you should tell him or not.

✧ Ultimately, you decide that if one person can help you it’s probably Asmo.

“I guess I just… didn’t really feel good. I still don’t. I mean, the lack of sun down here really isn’t helping my skin at all. And I’ve been so tired from having so much homework. Not to mention Lucifer just added more chores for me to do. I guess I’ve just felt so… ugly. I don’t even want to be here right now.” You can feel tears form in your eyes as you fight to push them back.

✧ Asmo just pauses for a second. He realizes you are going through the same thing he has before.

✧ He places his hand gently on your cheek, making you look at him.

“Oh MC, you should have told me” he has a look. Of genuine concern on his face as he places bother hands on your cheeks. “I know how you feel, believe it or not even the beautiful avatar of lust has off days.” He smiles slightly at you. “That’s no reason to neglect your health though, now let’s go. We’re gonna go home and have a very long spa day… and night, we’re having a sleepover too”

✧ He smiles brightly and takes your hand, almost dragging you out of the classroom with him.

“Won’t Lucifer get mad? We still have like three quarters of the day left” Asmo just chuckles as you make your way out. “I’ll deal with him later.”

Beel

✧ Yeah you’re not gonna get away with not eating with him. He notices the first day you’re not at dinner and he’s immediately worried.

✧ The only way you really could is by telling him you have food with you when you really don’t.

✧ Until he notices you haven’t come out of your room either. Then he’s even more concerned.

✧ You’d probably be alone for a 4 days before he checks on you in your room.

“MC… you haven’t been at dinner… or breakfast… and I haven’t even seen you eat lunch” he pouts slightly when he sees you laying in your bed. Your DDD is on and in your hand but you’re clearly not paying attention. “Hmm? Just haven’t been hungry” you mumble and sit up.

✧ He’s definitely internally freaking out when he sees you. You’ve clearly lost weight, and to him that’s probably the worst thing imaginable to happen to the human.

“MC! You don’t look good at all…” he’s surprised and worried at the same time. “What’s wrong? You can tell me” you shrug before speaking “I don’t really know… I just lost my appetite. I haven’t been able to sleep to well either, it’s been kinda hard to get out of bed.” You look down, a little embarrassed to admit it.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and nods as you talk. “You should have told me, i would have tried to help sooner…” he’s almost a little disappointed with himself that he didn’t come and help before.

✧ You talk with him a little more, explaining your situation.

✧ Eventually he offers to carry you to the kitchen with him and you agree, deciding that next time you feel this way you’ll ask for help so you don’t worry Beel.

Belphie

✧ Again, as much as I love him he doesn’t notice at all. He also doesn’t care as much either.

✧ You’ve probably been missing from meals for a week by now and nobody’s seen you around the house.

✧ Belphie has a habit of falling asleep at the table after only eating half of his food, so he doesn’t always remember who exactly was there.

✧ He notices when he’s going around other peoples dreams.

✧ He has a habit of using his powers to go through each of his brother’s dreams at night, making sure there’s no nightmares and that they’re all asleep. None of them know of course (Lucifer does, but he doesn’t mind. He almost thinks it’s sweet that Belphie actually cares about his brothers in some way)

✧ You don’t know either. But you haven’t been sleeping at night, and Belphies noticed. He hasn’t been in your dreams lately and he only realized when he had a thought that he was missing something.

✧ He’s always liked going into your dreams, he liked seeing how your dreams were mostly of him and his brothers. So when he realized he hasn’t been in one for quite a while he’s concerned.

✧ He does the one thing he hates the most, he wakes up in the middle of the night for you.

✧ He immediately makes his way to your room, not bothering to knock as he walks in

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” He immediately asks when he enters. You’re sitting up in your bed, reading a book. “I can’t sleep, I’ve tried everything. I can’t eat either. I think I’m just rotting away in my bed.”

✧ He can’t help but sigh. He can see that you’re exhausted and that you’ve clearly lost weight.

“Move over” he says simply as he moves to crawl into your bed. “Put your book away too.” You raise a brow at him but do what he says anyway. He clicks off the light and pulls you in close to him.

“What are you doing?” You immediately ask. “Helping you sleep. I can do that you know, you should have come to me earlier.” You roll your eyes slightly before enjoying his comforting embrace.

“Oh, and you’re gonna eat tomorrow too. If you really feel like you can’t, I promise to help… somehow”

✧ You sigh contently and nod. He places his hand over your eyes a you feel a weird wave of tiredness overtake you. Just before you fall asleep you hear him mumble something.

“Don’t do that again… you had me worried”

[atinywhore]

stuffed

pairing: jongho x (fem) reader

word count: 2250

genre: spicy spice :)

warnings: soft dom jongho, biting, lots of praise, fingering, size kink, sorry not sorry, but yo can't convince me that jongho doesn't have a thick cock so, low-key breeding but he just likes to fuck her raw idk what kinda kink you call that (psa: use a fucking condom bitches), uber romantic to lol I feel like he's such a softy, gets off when you come, I think that's all.

an: this is the first fanfic I wrote since returning from my hiatus so it took me a little to get back into the writing and rediscover my own writing style! So I hope you enjoy and please interact and give this lots of love! Happy Turkey day whores ;)

taglist: @mingigoo @ravenjoongie @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet

The boys love to celebrate American holidays with you. Every year you have fireworks and hot dogs on July 4th, and you always host a thanksgiving day meal. This year is no different. It’s a three day prep event for you and you can’t forget the cooking still needed the day of! Just to say it, it's a stressful but very rewarding day to be able to have a nice meal with the people you love most in the world. They always try to schedule events and showcases around the actual day of thanksgiving so they can celebrate with you. Last year they couldn’t and it really made you upset. It was the first time in three years that you weren’t able to celebrate your favorite holiday with anyone. They saw how upset it made you and they were determined to make it up to you this year, especially your boyfriend Jongho. He took the days leading up to the holiday off of practice for their next comeback to help you prepare the food. 

It was the day of thanksgiving now and despite the help from Jongho, you still were behind. You appreciated his help so much and you knew why he was doing it, but you had to go back and fix the stuff that you assigned him. Most of the time he just sat on the other side of the island and just watched as you moved around the kitchen. 

“Baby can you help me with the turkey.” You asked without looking up from the stuffing you were preparing. 

“Mmm” he replied standing up. You looked up to give him a smile to show your appreciation, but when you looked up you paused all your movements. This happens often. Ever since you two started dating. Jongho’s presence is so big. His shoulders are twice the size as your own and his biceps are almost as big as your head. From the moment you saw him you were attracted instantly. He loves to remind you how big he is and how small you are, especially in the bedroom. Sex with Jongho is very romantic and tender, with a hint of kink. He loves being on top, entrapping you beneath his thick, muscular body. He’ll lean down and speak hot things into my ear to make my orgasm that more intense. You can feel your face warm and your pussy grows slick with excitement. You try to look away before Jongho can see, but I know he knows what I'm thinking about. We haven’t had sex in over a week because his schedule has been keeping him in the studio all day and late into the night, and there was  a huge project that you needed to get done before you could start the thanksgiving prep. 

“What do you need me to do baby?” Jongho says as he steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and places a quick kiss on my neck. You can't help but giggle and instinctively push your ass into his groin. He lets out a little moan into your neck. Before you can get swept up into what's about to happen you kinda push him off of and turn to face him.

“Can you please turkey from the other counter. It’s too heavy for me to lift baby.” He nods and you give him a quick kiss on the lips as a thanks. Turning back to the counter you remember the potatoes that have been on the mixer and rush over to turn the machine off. Lifting the top of the mixer up and removing the mixing attachment you lick some of the potatoes off to make sure the seasonings are right. The butter and salt coats your tongue and you can’t help but moan a little at the taste. You feel a familiar presence behind you once more. 

“Taste good?” Jongho whispers in your ear. His voice sends a shiver down your spine and jolts of electricity straight to your pussy. Your knees go wobbly but his grip on your waist keeps you grounded. 

“Jongho..” You attempt to protest, but it’s weak. 

“Yes, baby?” He says peppering kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder. His hands smooth up your torso and one stops at your breast to tease your nipple beneath the dress and apron you are wearing. His other hand moves up to your neck moving your head to rest on his shoulder so he can have better access to your weak spot. 

“I need to f-finish.” You manage to get out as he sucks on the sensitive part of your neck

“Oh yeah baby? Finish what?” 

“The m-meal. The turkey n-needs to be st-tuffed.” 

“I think you need to be stuffed, not the turkey baby.”

You can’t help but give in to him. Your body continues to sink into his embrace and before you know it you feel your ass rubbing against his thick cock straining beneath his jeans. He continues to suck and leave marks all along your neck and when you reach back and caress his cock, he growls and bites your neck at the contact. You can’t help but let out a gasp. 

“Fuck baby. I need you now.” He says, as he turns you around and throws you over his shoulder. He easily walks the two of you toward the bedroom. In this position the skirt of your dress is bunched up slightly toward your hips exposing your pussy to the cold air of the room, you shiver at the sensation. You start to squirm in anticipation. While keeping your locked on his shoulder Jongho flips your dress the rest of the way up and uses his thumb to tease your entrance. 

“Someone is wet for me.” He says continuing to play around with your pussy. Jongho shifts his head to the closest part of your thigh and bites it hard. You squeal and moan at the pain. He kisses your new mark before tossing you onto your bed. “The things i’m going to do to you (y/n).” He stands at the end of the bed looking down on you and the only thought that is going through your mind is, big. His wide form casts a shadow over you and you can’t help but shiver at the form before you. He lets out a frustrated sigh before he grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it off in one smooth move. He pauses with the sleeves of the hoodie still on his forearms, the material gathered at his middle covering his bare stomach. His broad and muscular chest is now exposed revealing the deep heaving breaths, you realize your own breathing matches his. He is pointing daggers at you with his stare, it's so intense and pointed that you swear your heart skips a beat. His eyes shut slightly as his head tilts left and right, the movement accompanied with the popping of his neck joints. He lets out a moan and his usually big eyes, now half lidded, are pointed at me once more. He removes his arms from his hoodie sleeves and his full torso is now bare. He doesn’t have a full set of abs, but the area is muscular nonetheless. His hands now reach for the button of his jeans but he makes no move to unbutton himself.

“Why is my girl still dressed?” He asks with a shit eating grin lighting up his heated features. He extends his strong hands to help you to your knees. Your shaky hands make a move to undo the bow tying the apron to your figure, but you can’t seem to get the thin straps to budge. You look back up at him to see his arms crossed, making his shoulders look that much broader and stronger than he already does. 

“Need some help baby?” You nod still not able to find your voice, lost in the fog of arousal. He pulls you to your feet, keeping one arm around your waist and the other makes quick work of ripping the fabric off your body, leaving you in your favorite black dress. He turns you around and slowly unzips you from the dress. As the fabric slides from your body you are hit with another rush of arousal. The dress hits the floor and Jongho makes quick work of your undergarments. His hands explore your body, your moans echoing you in the room. His thumbs tease your nipples the way you like as he leaves kisses and hickies on the untouched side of your neck. Once he has you melting in his hands he moves one down over your stomach stopping at your pussy. 

“I bet you are going to be so wet for me baby.” He slides two fingers between your folds, groaning at the state of your pussy. He sinks his teeth into your neck again as he rubs circles around your clit. Your breath hitches and your moans get louder.

��That’s it baby. Sing for me.” He coos as he continues his motions. Kissing and moaning into your neck as he rubs your clit. The build up is coming at you fast, your breathing becomes more erratic and you find yourself swearing Jongho’s name. 

“Fuck- Jongho! I’m-m gonna cu-m.” His thumb takes over for his two fingers so they can slide into your pussy. You gasp and the new sensation sends you over the edge. Your eyes shut and your entire body goes fuzzy with your orgasm. 

You don’t really feel it, but somewhere in your comedown Jongho moves on to the bed. He positions himself between your legs and resumes pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. His back is bent showing off the strong muscles to your hazed eyes as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Pleasure erupts from you again. He moves to your other breast and he hooks his fingers inside, skimming his fingertips over your g-spot. He releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and removes his fingers from your pussy. You start to whine but stop when you see Jongho take his fingers and suck them clean of your juices. 

“You taste so good, baby.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you. Your lips move against each other like a dance. He takes off his pants and underwear and repositions himself at your entrance. 

“You ready for me baby?” You nod and he doesn’t move.

“I need to hear you baby.” He gives you a longing look, and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes baby. Please.” He smiles and pushes himself into you. You hiss at his size as he stretches you. He moans as he slides his full eight inches inside you. He slowly pulls himself back out, repeating the movement. The pain slowly turns to pleasure and you begin to feel the slow build of another orgasm rise inside you.

“Fuck (y/n), your pussy is so good.” He pants. He flexes his hips harder and harder slamming his cock deep inside you.

 “Oh baby, I can never get enough of you.” The mix of your moans and curses fill the room and create a beautiful symphony. He continues to moan sickly sweet confessions into your ear, making your building orgasm hurdle faster toward release. 

“Baby, I’m so close.” You whimper into his general direction, unable to focus your eyes due to the overload of pleasure fogging your vision. You run your hands up his arms dragging your nails along his smooth tanned skin until you reach his shoulders where you sink your nails. He growls and pounds harder into you hitting that special spot causing your moans to grow louder and more intense. 

“Fuck, come for me baby. Come for me (y/n).” He leans down to kiss you, claiming your mouth as he fucks you. The pressure continues to build until you come again. He follows after you shortly, filling your pussy with his load. After a few moments he slowly pulls his dick out of you and watches as his cum spills from your entrance. 

“So much better than that turkey.” You can't help but burst out laughing. He looks at me confused, but after a minute he understands the joke. 

“It sounded like you fucked the turkey then me.” You say sitting up on your elbows, your smiling face looking at his now rosy one. He grabs both of your cheeks and plants a big kiss on your lips. 

“Seriously, I have to finish the turkey. The boys will be here in 6 hours!” You jump up from the bed, forgetting your boyfriend's cum spilling out of your pussy and running down your legs. He laughs as you run from the room and into the bathroom to go get yourself re-ready for the party tonight. 

—------

Hours Later:

Everyone is gathered at your dining room table and starting to dig into the meal you have spent days preparing. Yunho and Hongjoon are talking about the latest comeback and how the dance routine is going to go with the new title song, Wooyoung is basically flirting with San and the former is pretending not to love it. 

“This turkey is delicious (y/n)!” Yeosang praised.

“Thanks Yeo!” I raise my drink toward him.

“The secret is in the stuffing.” Jongho added. You kicked him under the table and gave him a dirty look, He just smiled and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

hellloo! I'm new to your blog and am in love with your work!! Could I request a smutty Lando x reader with prompts 86 and 144? Like it sounds so Lando coded to me, something cute but hot? Or if you only take 1 prompt per request, I'm happy with just 86. Thanks so much for doing this <3

send me thoughts/blurb requests (sfw & nsfw) for lando weekend

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, oral (f receiving), face sitting

Lando had been in his gaming chair for a good portion of the day. After being away for a race weekend you thought he’d be eager to spend some time with you. You thought he’d throw his suitcase to the side and he’d have his hands all over you as soon as he walked through the door.

He actually fell asleep almost immediately after coming home, his exhaustion from the weekend catching up to him. It was completely understandable for him to need rest. What was annoying was him waking up the next day and practically ignoring you.

He was testing out a new game, trying to see if it was something they could use for a new Quadrant video.

You’ve tried to pull him away multiple times now. At first it was “C’mon baby, you should rest.” Then it turned into “Let me help you relax.” Nothing seemed to be working.

It didn’t seem your tactic went unnoticed though, as you settled yourself into his lap, trailing kisses up and down his throat.

“Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” He says, his eyes still locked on the screen in front of him. He smirks when he feels you freeze. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Needy girl.”

You feel your face flush as you bury your nose in Lando’s neck, softly biting at his skin.

It takes him a few minutes to finish his game before the tosses his controller to the side and scoops you up, carrying you to his bed. He takes off you clothes, kissing your skin as it’s revealed.

Once he’s rid you of your clothing, he lays with you still fully clothed. He lets you rock your hips against his, the denim of his jeans brushing against you deliciously.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He says as he kisses down your neck.

You make a face, shaking your head. “What? No Lando, I’ll suffocate you or something.”

“That’d be a perfect way to go out, suffocating between your legs.” He smirks.

“Lando…”

“Think of how fun it’ll be. I give you a couple of mind-blowing orgasms, and you let me have my favorite treat.” He gives you a small pout, attempting to break your resolve. “I haven’t gotten to have you for a week, I think I might die if I don’t get to taste you right this minute.”

He senses your hesitation but doesn’t fail to notice the way you grind yourself against him as he talks.

He lays further back so that he’s laying down flat. He softly pushes you up until you’re straddling his chest. “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

You slowly move so that you’re hovering over him, a leg on either side of his head.

“What if I hurt you?” You look down at him between your legs.

“You won’t, I promise.” You don’t look convinced. “If you get uncomfortable at all, just say the word and we’ll stop.”

You nod, and take a deep breath before slowly lowering yourself down onto his face. It feels different, a little odd at first, but as soon as his tongue gets to work all your worries slip from your mind.

Lando wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked against him as you feel yourself ride his face. A hand drops down to tangle itself in his curls, while the other rests against the wall in front of you, keeping you from falling forward.

Lando has gone down on you a lot over the course of your relationship, once even claiming “you were his favorite meal of the day”. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

He’s devouring you like a man starved. This new angle causes his nose to bump against your clit repeatedly as his tongue moves in and out of you.

“Lando, I’m gonna cum.” You whine, rocking yourself against him at a steady pace.

His grip on your thighs becomes tighter, as if you’d be sadistic enough to pull off of him.

When you do cum, he takes everything you give him, slurping and licking away all of you that he can. He only lets you lift yourself off of him slightly, just enough to get a good look at him.

His hair is a mess, sticking out in all different directions. The bottom half of his face is slick with remnants of your release. He’s got a proud, lopsided grin on his face.

“Wasn’t that fun?”

“Yeah, yeah it was.” You smile down at him.

He pulls you back down just as you try to get up. “I promised three, didn’t I?” He asks, his voice slightly muffled.

His tongue is back to work before you can even process his question, ready to pull at least two more orgasms out of you.

[slutouttanowhere]

WIP week

Messy Pretty Princess

Drew McIntyre x black!oc

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (m) receiving, breeding kink, vulgar language. *unedited. Minors dni

Word count: 910

A/n: this is a wip, I started it months ago, and atp I just want to post it. I actually might turn this into a series where I post unfinished works, it might help me clear some space. I hope you all enjoy, like, reblog and follow me for more. Master list is pinned to my page if you’re curious.

Getting on all fours in the bed I crawled over to where he stood, “I want your cock in my mouth.” I whispered, my hand replacing his, and stroked him slowly at first. I laid down on my stomach, and guided him into my mouth sucking on his tip at first.

“Your lips look so pretty wrapped around my dick, look up at me while you suck it. Look me in my eyes, that right, you’re such a good girl for me.” He gripped my long coils up in his hands, gathering it all like a ponytail, and angled my head upwards. Lifting my gaze to meet him, I can see the fire burning within them, it had been too long since the two of you just had time to each other like this. We’re usually kept so busy by work, and the continuous flights between states, all we wanted to do by the time we got to bed was sleep. Poor Drew, even still he took care of everything for us, carrying my luggage, and his. Making sure dinner was either ordered or helping me meal prep, keeping me entertained between traveling days, and on top of that performing every week. Sometimes he’d spoil me with an at home spa day where he'd use those big strong hands of his to rub me down, and twist me like dough. So, if he wanted to use all three of my holes like the slut I am for him, then I absolutely would not fuss. Because being a pretty princess for Drew McIntyre didn’t come without its kinks.

I let my jaw fall aslack, and my hand rested on his thick muscular thighs as I let him use me as he wished. Spit began to spill from the corner of my mouth, and down my chin as he continued to slowly thrust into my mouth. He would push so deep into me that he’d hit the back of my throat causing me to gag. Once the tears started, he came to a halt looking down at me, “do you want me to stop?” He asked gingerly, his eyes filled with concern, but I shook my head. When he still looked unsure I slurped him into my mouth causing him to moaned out, “fuck that, I need to be inside you.”

He pulled away from me, “lay back princess, spread yourself open. Just like that, let me see you.” He breathed, his gaze on me as I did what was told, laying on my back, and propping myself up on an elbow. I lifted a leg, and reached a hand down between my thighs stroking myself at the same pace he slid his hand up and down his shaft. I could feel the heat of desire swirl around at the core of me once again, I hummed out in pleasure as my fingers slipped over my sensitive rose gold pearl. Drew replaced my fingers with the tip of his thick, pinkish cock, and teased me with it.

“Ohh Drew.” I pleaded, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was begging for, but whatever he had to offer me I was willing to take it. Greedy, I know.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I haven’t been inside you so long. I missed this, I missed you.” He whispered, his eyes taking in every inch of me, as much as humanly possible. His fingers traced hot kisses along my skin with his lips, tasting me everywhere he hadn’t gotten to yet. From my breast, up my neck, and then to my lips.

“Yeah? You missed me baby? Show me, fucking show me how much you missed me.” I demanded, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. My nails digging into his flesh in anticipation, his hand went between us, and guided himself into me. The sharp stinging pain from me readjusting to him could not be ignored, but I bit my lip and did my best to wait for it to pass.

He pushed deeper into me kissing my cervix causing me to whimper, “how does it feel baby? Do you want me to keep going?” He asked, he watched my face for any signs of uncertainty, but I shook my head, pulling him as close as possible.

Our chests were pressed together, the rhythm of his heartbeat slightly off from mine, but that was the essence of who we were as a couple, opposites. So many people thought we weren’t gonna work, but if it’s one thing we agreed on was proving people wrong. “I– ah, fuck me.” No longer in the mood for words, my back arched, and my head thrown back. At first his moments were steady, but I needed more. I wanted to feel like I wouldn’t be able to walk into the arena tomorrow. “Harder.” I begged, and far be it of Drew to turn down rough anything.

He pounded into me like I was one of his opponents, the sound of flesh on flesh, and our mixed moans filled the air. Looking over to my bedroom mirror, the reflection of us was the most beautiful thing. His ivory complexion was a stark contrast to my tawny brown skin, he buried his face between the crook of my neck, and pressed his lips to my skin. I could feel myself getting right to the edge, the pleasurable ache between my thighs growing more intense by the second. “Shit, I’m so close, but I want you to come with me.” He breathed into my ear, the swirling of butterflies in the pit of my stomach left me breathless. It’s been a while since I’ve had Drew fill me up, “baby please, I need to come inside you.” He moaned, his voice breaking at the end and he just doesn’t know how much that nearly killed me.

“Shit, shit, shit, yes. Ohh! I’m so close, stay right there, right���

My own orgasm cutting me off, my whole body tensed, and my thighs shaking. Not a second later Drew released his warm, load into me, “ah! Oh my god, ohhhhhh fuck, don’t fucking move.” He cried, his grip on me iron tight, so I did as told. I held my breath as we held each other close, raptured in our moment, and holding into it for as long as possible. “God I wanna fall asleep like this and never wake up.” Drew mumbled aginst my skin, his face pressed between my breast as he sloppily kissed me there. My fingers playing with his now scruffy, curly hair, the both of us covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

[xspeter]

WAITING ROOM

spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis: you’ve never seen Spencer as anything other than perfect, but after a shockingly difficult case, you’re not sure he’ll ever be the same.

➪ heavy, HEAVY angst. like i sobbed in my bed while writing this. spencer’s mean in this, borderline verbal abuse, trauma/ptsd.

there was a time when you would’ve thought you and spencer meeting was the best thing to ever happen to you, and honestly for awhile… it was.

he was kind, funny, and even a little dorky.

but that’s why you loved him. every trait he saw as “embarrassing” or “weird” just made you love him even more. so that’s why when spencer returns home from a three week long case, the longest one he’s been on yet, you’re a little surprised to see the switch in attitude.

it’s around 7:30 pm and you’re making dinner for yourself. you won’t lie and say the past few weeks haven’t been lonely but you do your best to ignore it, holding back spencer from doing his passion is the last thinks you’d want to do, so you deal.

just as you’re finishing up your meal, alfredo, you hear the door being shut. you’re startled for a second and peak around the corner as silently as possible. usually when spencer’s on his way home he texts you and gives you a heads up, but he probably just forgot this time.

you release a breath, and make your way towards him quickly, “you scared me.” you huff, you begin to reach for a hug, but spencer steps back and gives you a look.

a mean look.

he walks off without a second glance, immediately heading for your bedroom and shutting the door. you swallow and furrow your eyebrows. he’s never reacted like that.

usually if he has a hard case and needs a minute alone he tells you, he’s never just walked off like that. you take in a deep breath and roll your neck. he’s obviously just stressed, something must’ve happened on the case but you’re not sure what.

that night you don’t see spencer again, by the time you’re laying in bed he’s still in the bathroom. you sigh and pull on your pajamas, you wanted to eat dinner with him and ask him what he needed from you to help him, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want that tonight.

tomorrow, you think, we’ll talk tomorrow.

-

when you wake, you expect to feel spencer’s chest pressed against your back and his arm around your waist, but you don’t. you turn to his side of the bed to see if maybe he’s just laying away from you, but he’s not there at all.

you sit up and run a hand over your face, groggily walking towards the kitchen. when you enter you see spencer sitting at the table, reading through piles of files.

“spencer?” you question hesitantly, you’re not sure if he needs more space. “what is it?” he huffs, never glancing up at you. “would you like to talk? about your case, i mean. i just… you seem a little off.” your voice gets quieter as you go on, and you can tell just by looking at spencer he’s not in the mood.

he huffs, running a hand through his hair, “i don’t need to talk about anything y/n. i just want to be alone.” he says, his tone is short and you nod your head. you walk back to the bedroom as quietly as possible, taking in a breath of air when you reach it.

spencer’s never been this short with you before, but you try to remind yourself that he’s just had a rough couple of weeks, obviously whatever happened in the case is something he doesn’t want to talk about right now and you won’t force him to open up when he isn’t comfortable.

instead of obsessing over whatever it is that’s bothering spencer, you get ready for work and leave spencer alone in the kitchen, still looking at files.

you yell out a goodbye and an i love you to him, but you never get a response.

-

it’s been 34 days since you’ve had a full conversation with spencer. it’s not because he’s out on any new cases, he actually hasn’t gotten any, it’s because he refuses to talk to you and you can’t figure out why.

you’ve spent more time crying in the shower over the past month than you think you ever have in your whole life.

tonights going to be different though you decide. you’re going to make him talk to you, because even if he is hurting, he’s hurting you in response.

you take a deep breath when you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing. you’re sat at the kitchen table, fiddling with your thumbs.

he walks past you and begins to rummage through the fridge but you turn to him and with your, or atleast what your hoping is, your most confident voice.

“spencer, we need to talk.” you say and he pauses his movement and looks at you blankly and nods. he sits at the table and you take a deep breaths doing your best to hold eye contact with him.

“i know something happened on your last case. i also know you won’t tell me what it was and i know it’s causing you to practically jump at every chance you get to ignore me and i just… i need to know why. i need to know if it’s… if it’s something i did because- because i can’t keep living like this.”

spencer stares at you for a long moment. his eyes, those beautiful eyes that used to be filled with so much emotion and love are cold and distant.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he shrugs and begins to walk away but you pull at his arm before he can. “don’t lie spencer!” you huff, “when was the last time we had a full conversation? huh? two months ago? everytime you look at me it’s like- like you can’t stand the sight of me! and i just, i guess i just don’t understand what i did!” you gasp for air as you finish, you expect spencer to defend himself, but he doesn’t, instead he scoffs out a laugh.

“you- you just think everything is about you, huh? you can’t deal with the fact that maybe, just maybe, something doesn’t have anything to do with you. yes, okay, i’ll admit i’ve been avoiding you. but it’s only because everytime i look at you i feel so much hate that it hurts.” he says, pointing an excusing finger at you.

you aren’t sure what to say after that, you’re eyes are filling with tears faster than they ever have and your jaw hangs open. you try to find the words but you aren’t sure if you can, you’ve spent the last six years of your life with this man.

the very same man who used to take you on dates, and cuddled with you at night. the very same man who told you how much he loved you, and looked at you like you were his whole world. the very same man who just told you he hated you.

he hates you.

you aren’t sure what to say after that, so you walk away and sit on the couch to catch your breath.

you both stay in silence for what feels like forever, but couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. “you don’t mean that.” you say, “spencer, please tell me you don’t mean that! please!” you’re sobbing now, your body convulsing with each sob that forces it’s way past your lips.

spencer doesn’t respond for a minute before he sits next to you.

“i don’t know, y/n. the case… the case i was on they… it was… it was the worst case i’ve ever done. and the killer she, she reminds me so much of you. god, you guys even talk similarly. she was one of the worst people i’ve ever met, and now everytime i look at you all i can see is her. and i don’t… i don’t know how to make it stop.”

you don’t know how to respond to that. what do you say when your boyfriend sees a serial killer everytime he looks at you?

“i think we should take a break, y/n.”

your mouth goes dry and you pace the room. you know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “spencer… can we just talk about this?” you beg, the tears beginning to well in your eyes again.

spencer shakes his head, unable to meet your eyes. “i don’t know how to love you anymore.” he whispers.

spencer’s gone the next day, his bags packed and any trace of him lost.

it’ll take time to heal and you know that, you just wished maybe you and spencer could’ve worked out, but if it wasn’t meant to be it wasn’t meant to be.

-

yeah…. i hate this hit i just wanted to get it out!

[cakerybakery]

Trying to get to know Adam better was part of an effort by Charlie to make them friends. Lucifer made the mistake of asking Adam what some of his favourite songs and bands were to do just that. He’d been talking for about twenty minutes about bands, songs, or maybe even technical jargon Lucifer didn’t understand enough to know the difference between the three when Adam went, “and you just fucking know I love a good 1812 Overture.”

“What?” Lucifer was pulled from his confusion by the one music piece he could recognize. “You like the 1812 Overture?”

“Well duh. They use a fucking canon. Hardcore as shit.”

“You know they’re playing that this weekend at an opera house a few cities over. Real canons. I have a permanent box there, we could go-“

“Fuck, yeah!” Adam practically jumped out of his seat in excitement.

Unlike the drive, that answer was quick. Lucifer had been planning on thinking about going. He used to go with Lilith and she always liked to make the most of the trip instead of portalling or teleporting. A little weekend vacation, just the two of them.

It was an impulse to ask Adam. Now Lucifer was committed. Of course, it would feel good to go to a show again. He hadn’t been up to it but he couldn’t imagine not making the most of it. Maybe doing some things he’d always wanted to do, but he just never got around to.

“Did you want to get dinner first?”

“You buying?”

Lucifer almost made a comment about Adam being a mooch when he remembered, Adam didn’t have a normal job. He helped out around the hotel but that didn’t net him much pocket money. Adam had to actually budget his money to buy crap like clothing or meals outside of the hotel.

“It’s on me. There’s a place I’ve been dying to try that I’m told makes a mean steak.”

Adam grinned and nodded, “yeah, sure then. Do you know the times? Charlie was asking me about some replanting that needs to be done along the pathway and I was going to get to it this weekend.”

“I’ll look it up and send you the information. Then we can decide when a good time for me to pick you up would be.” Lucifer frowned for a moment. The city was a good three hours drive. “Maybe we should spend the night there. It’s a bit of a long trip. I have an apartment in the city we can stay in.”

Looking less sure now, Adam asked. “How long of a trip is it?”

“Three hours, but more depending on traffic. We could probably just take the town car. I haven’t driven in a while but I’m sure it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“I dunno. I really was looking forward to fixing up the flowers along the pathway.”

Lucifer didn’t want to have to drive back in the middle of the night. The 1812 Overture was part of a whole showcase of classics and the other times he’d gone it didn’t end until eleven at least. After dropping Adam off, he wouldn’t get home until like two thirty maybe three before he got to bed. But if they stayed in the city they could drop the car off at the apartment, take a cab around, maybe get a nightcap, and be in bed by midnight. He wouldn’t have to deal with city parking.

He could still just teleport them, open a portal even. But, he was kinda looking forward to a bit of guys trip. Adam could play his music in the car. They could get shitty road snacks they’d regret later. If they stayed up afterwards or decided to get drunk off their asses they didn’t have to worry about trying to teleport when he was drunk. They could just hail a cab.

“I make a killer stack of pancakes. Breakfast will be on me. Name how you like them and I’ll have the ingredients delivered to the apartment.”

That seemed to temp Adam into it, “aw fuck, why not? Sure. Send me the time and I’ll see what I can do about the plants this week instead. I better go talk to Charlie about what she wants done and get to it.” Adam left with a quick, later, over his shoulder and Lucifer was pleased.

They’d made great process in getting along. They were even going to a show that weekend.

‘This will be fun.’

He was barely to the door when Alastor slinked out of a shadow. “Planning an outing with the first man, are we?”

“We, are not. I am. And it’s none of your concern.” Lucifer went to brush past the asshole when Alastor’s staff swung out to stop him.

“I merely desired to wish you well on your date.” Alastor grinned wider and Lucifer knew he was up to something. “So, I hope it goes well. Very well indeed.” He melted back into the shadows and Lucifer wanted to take a shower just from being in that freak’s presence.

“��I merely desired to wish you well on your date’.” Lucifer mocked for the empty room. “As if. As if he was want to wish me well on a date.”

…

…

…

“Wait. DATE?!”

[baddestbittyontheblock]

dolliewu's january fic recs

ꪶ ꫂ hi everyone, i've decided join in on monthly fic recs. i hope you all enjoy my faves of january!! ꪶ ꫂ

ꪶ ꫂ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ꪶ ꫂ

ꪶ ꫂ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ꪶ ꫂ

ꪶ ꫂ also, if you’d like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ꪶ ꫂ

ꪶ ꫂ dividers: @chilumitos, banner: toby cosmico on pinterest ꪶ ꫂ

woso

alexia putellas

❅ against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part twelve (final part) by @thesunisatangerine alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader | mentions of grief, suggestive content

-this wasn’t the first time you caught yourself thinking how difficult it was to have two professional athletes in your life, and it also wasn’t the first time you wondered how their bodies could store so much energy.

❅ aromatic affections by @codiemarin alexia putellas x reader | fluffy smut, fingering, more fluffy than smutty actually

-you´ve had a rough few weeks and alexia wants to help you feel better.

ingrid engen, mapi leon

❅ always want you by @girlgenius1111 ingrid x mapi x reader

-with mapi injured, and ingrid running herself ragged with the team, r does everything she can think of to take some of the stress of them. she neglects herself in the process though, until an injury forces her to slow down. she doesn't take it very well.

aitana bonmati

❅ cope, coffee, and poetry by @repulsiveliquidation aitana bonmati x reader | smut, angst, mentions of cheating. 18+ DNI.

-“you deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.”

kpop

blackpink

❅ good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere by @jensettermandu g!pjennie kim x fem!reader | mdni, morally grey characters, toxic relation/situationships, domestic abuse, violence, substance use/abuse, mentions of weight/toxic beauty standards, dubcon, a lot of smut (spitting, spanking, bondage, choking, rough sex, etc. appears), age gap (legal), mentions of sensitive topics, not made for glorification of toxic relationships, 12k+

-y/n opened the door to her apartment as the knocking wasn't stopping and groaned at the person on the other side.

twice

❅ like last years vogue by @sanazakis minatozaki sana x fem!reader | rich kids!au, smut, bondage, edging, praising, spanking, strapping, sana has her middle-class shit together, kinda friends to lovers, friends with benefits, money, sex, power, inspired by the wolf of wall street, which if you haven’t watched yet, can be described in three words. money, sex, power. (and drugs, so maybe not three words.)

-and maybe you’re just tired of the limitations of wealth, the grandeur, the opulence. maybe you’re just tired of seeing the same people day in and day out. but without that, there’s only sana — sana who smirks at you like there's a joke you’re never in on, who shows up in spaces she doesn’t belong and makes you want her.

❅ they can't love you like i love you by @sanarkeo dom!idol!nayeon x sub!idol!reader | exhibitionism, humiliation, power dynamics? unnie kink, 4k

-nayeon wants to show her girl off to the world.

aespa

❅ over her by @myouicieloz yoo jimin x reader | a little smut in the end (just a little). reader and yn don’t really talk abt it tbh. skipping meals

-you overhear karina talking about how clingy you are and from then out started being distant and non-affectionate towards her and she eventually confronts you and asks why you keep pushing her away, to which you tell her

peaky blinders

❅ little one by @tommyshelbyslittleprincess tommy shelby x reader

-tommy notices your pregnancy before you do

celebrities

harry styles

❅ taught well by @signoferoda dad!harry styles x reader

-the kids go into protective mode after someone flirts with y/n at the beach

call of duty

simon "ghost" riley

❅ too good by @dammn-dean simon riley x fem!reader | 2.4k

-"love, they are here!” simon’s voice bellowed through the flat to reach your ears.

❅ dad!simon blurb by @ragingbookdragon dad!simon riley x reader

-there’s something about seeing simon riley as a dad that makes her heart swell with love and adoration

❅ dig a little deeper by ^ simon riley x reader | explicit language, blood and wounds, 1.4k

-the pain surged through her side as she managed to pick herself up off the ground, rattled by the blast that had knocked her off her feet and into the dirt.

❅ his girls by @casiia simon riley x fem!reader | the SMALLEST bit of angst, just a lot of overly detailed domestic simon, baby daddy simon who is still in love with you, maybe ooc

-baby daddy!simon who walks with his daughter to school for her first day, he’s has her small disney-themed backpack tugged onto his shoulder, the straps too small and digging into his skin. but he doesn’t care.

❅ older boyfriend!simon by @luvit simon riley x gn!reader | mdni, 18+

-older-boyfriend!simon who tries to push you away at first.

❅ what they would say during sex by @prettybean cod x reader | 18+

-“i know it's big”

❅ simon blurb by @starstruckmiraclekitty simon riley x reader | fluff

-“you’ve fallen for them, haven’t you?”

❅ simon smut by @callmemickey simon riley x reader | smut

-simon riley fucks intensely and passionately.

❅ to be alive in the summer by @halcyone-of-the-sea simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader | angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, 8.3k

-betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

❅ simon fic by ^ simon riley x fem!reader | gore, death, blood, panic attack

-your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. the overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

❅ denial by @callsign-prophet simon riley x reader

-you're not his girlfriend, but don't you dare to have a date with someone else. if he only has eyes for you, so do you.

❅ dad!simon by @lundenloves dad!simon riley x reader | fluff, angst

-simon reacting to his oldest daughter having a small crush on a boy at school! overprotective simon having to be scary

❅ secret wife by @moongreenlight simon riley x secretwife!reader

-if there’s one thing gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up.

❅ lovely by @yawnderu  dad!simon "ghost" riley x mom!reader | fluff

-"she looks just like you."

❅ simon comforts his son during a tantrum by @nsharks dad!simon riley x reader | very brief abuse mention

-“what do we need the cranberries for, love?”

❅ neighborhood watch by @kkvqwrites simon riley x fem!reader | violence, breaking and entering, SA mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen)

-the news had reported some unsolved break-ins. if you thought simon took it overboard with his protectiveness before, you were in for a shock.

❅ talk dirty to me by @yujivrs konig, ghost, and price | praise, slight breeding kink, degradation, dumbification

-their dirty talking styles.

könig

❅ cute blurb by @peaches-creek könig x reader

-you have been tossing and turning for what felt like hours. the gargantuan man that slept beside you has been knocked out, as he has been for hours.

❅ distracting dreams. longer name by @dizzykss könig x reader | marks, fingering, pussy play, semi-public, slight age gap

-könig notices you avoiding him. and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that it’s all because of a little dream you had.

❅ talk dirty to me by @yujivrs konig, ghost, and price | praise, slight breeding kink, degradation, dumbification

-their dirty talking styles.

❅ the invisible string theory by @halcyone-of-the-sea könig x fem!reader | human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!könig, soft!könig, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

-you didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. you didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (based on könig's in-game backstory)

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Freak Like Them

Summary: Anthony Lockwood x Fe!Reader -> You haven't spoke to your parents in years, and have never once mentioned them. One day, they decided to come and see you.

Disclaimer: This is more of a Lockwood and Co Platonic thing though I guess something could be shown as 'romantic'...kinda. Not proof read. Terrible parents, abandonment, shitty parents though some 'redeemed'. Swearing, angst, tears, found family kinda stuff.

You had been frantically running about all day, cleaning. 

Whilst Lucy (tried) to eat her toast in peace, there you were, cloth in hand, taking her unfinished plate from her. 

“Hey!”

Lucy watched you for a further moment before saying; “Do you mind?”

“Can’t have a mess. They’ll already find things to comment on.”

“They?”

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” 

“No clue.”

“When did she even wake up?” George asked whilst himself, Lockwood and Lucy watched as you cleaned yet another already clean kitchen countertop. 

“5, I think. She was up before me.” Lockwood stated. 

You had actually been awake since 4, but figured you better start cleaning from 5. It gave you time to wake up, get ready and make sure the whole house was spotless before they came. 

“Also, who’s they?”

“They?”

“She said, ‘they’ didn’t she?” Lucy asked, leaning into the duo. 

“They are my parents.”

“What?”

“My parents.” you stopped for a moment to look at all three of them huddled together at the end of the table. “They called me last week saying they were coming down for a visit. Only, I completely forgot until last night and now nothing is clean and I don’t know what to do to avoid them saying something.”

“But I thought your parents didn’t like you being-”

“An Agent?” you finished Lockwood’s question. “They didn’t. Probably still don’t. I get a postcard from them every year but other than that, I don’t hear from them. And then, out of the blue they called.”

“And you forgot?”

“Well,” you sighed, looking at George. “I was a little busy trying to stop you three from committing an accidental murder in the Winkleman case last week.”

George remained silent. 

“Either way, they’re coming today and I still haven’t finished-”

Lockwood stated your name. “The house is spotless. In fact, it hasn’t been this clean…ever.”

“I know, but I just need today to go well.”

“Why?” George asked, before realising he probably should have remained silent in his questioning. 

George and Lucy didn’t know much about your parents, just that you had to have some somewhere. Lockwood knew a little more, but still not much. He knew why you came to London all those years ago. He knew why you left them and why they told you to leave, but other than that, he knew nothing more. 

You refused to talk about them. 

Anytime family came up in a conversation, you’d steer the conversation onto another topic or deflect it onto somebody else. You’d do it subtly but the others were slowly picking up on it. 

“Please,” you begged. “Just…help me make sure today goes well and then they’ll go home and we can get back to normal.”

Neither of the trio knew what they were getting themselves in for when it came to your parents, and it would be too late for them to escape by the time they turned up at the front door. 

George had made dinner that night, making sure to follow the recipe you gave him, to a T. Especially since it was your parents’ favourite meal and if he did it well, which you doubted he wouldn’t, then they would accept George and be kind with him. 

That just left trying to get Lucy and Lockwood on their good side. 

So, when the doorbell rang, Lockwood greeted them at the door, offering to take their coats. 

Your mother thanked him and mentioned to her husband, your father, how kind he was. 

So Lockwood was in their good books so far, until…

“Ah, my dear.”

Your mother spotted you as you came out of the kitchen and into the hallway. She took both of your hands in hers and kissed the air around your cheeks. 

“Couldn’t greet us yourself?”

“Sorry, mum. I was just-”

“Nevermind. There’s always another chance. Are those-”

“Garlic potatoes? Yes. I gave George the recipe. He’s an amazing cook.”

“So are you, dear.” your mother told you. “I should know. I paid for the lessons.”

You could do nothing more than smile and nod before looking at your dad. “Hi, dad.”

“Munchkin, how is my little girl?”

“Goo-”

“She’s well, dear. Can’t you see? Nevermind that. Show us around. We’d like to see how our daughter is surviving after all.”

Your mother forced her way into the living room, your dad following her call whilst you remained outside the room for a short moment to take a breath. 

“Are you-”

You nodded quickly at Lockwood, “I’m fine. Can you help Lucy finish the table?”

Lockwood nodded, his gaze wandering into the living room for a second before giving you a slight smile and heading into the kitchen. 

Letting go of your forced breath, you entered the living room to find your mother judging every corner she could of the room. 

“For London, I would have thought the rooms would be bigger.”

“Well, they are. We’ve just rearranged the furniture to make it cosier for the colder months.”

“And how long do you spend the day being lazy here.”

“Well, we’re not actually in here all that-”

“No need to lie to your mother, dear. I know you can be hard working when you want to be, but I also know children your age.”

Your mother wandered over to the fireplace before rubbing her finger over the top of it. 

She hummed, and not in a good way. It was more…disappointment. 

“You haven’t polished, I see. I can see now where we come on your scale of importance.”

“Mum, listen-”

“Would anyone like anything to drink?” 

You made a mental note to hug Lucy as tight as you possibly could, later. 

Your mother’s face lit up. “Oh, my goodness. You must be Miss Carlyle. I have heard so much about you. All from the papers, of course. Our daughter tells us nothing. Aren’t you much prettier in person? Perhaps one day you girls can have a talk over make-up. Perhaps you could teach my daughter a couple of things about presentability.”

Lucy didn’t know how to respond. 

Usually, she’d fire back a snarky comment, but this was your mother. 

And only now was she beginning to understand the reasons why you didn’t talk about them all that much. 

Lockwood appeared behind Lucy for a moment. “Dinner is ready, if you’d like to take a seat in the kitchen.”

Your mother smiled at Lockwood and dropped Lucy’s hands. 

“That will be wonderful, Son.” your father replied before all five of you made your way into the kitchen to see George. 

The food was plated up perfectly, everything smelled just like how it did at home. 

“Mismatched plates, how very…cute.”

You knew your mother didn’t mean that as a compliment. 

“This all looks lovely, George.” your father told him before digging in. “My god! The potatoes, how did you-”

“I added a little bit of milk along with some spices left over from the chicken.”

Your father began telling your mother about how they should try and cook it like that when they got home, but your mother was more focused on you and your fellow Agents.

“So, tell me Lucy. When did you become an Agent?”

“W-When I was…eight…I think?”

“I remember the papers. It was awful what happened to those children. But that wasn’t your fault.”

Lucy didn’t know what to say, other than to nod and say an awkward, “Thank you.”

“Mum, can we please not talk about this?”

“I’m only asking a question, dear. Don’t attack me because you don’t like me wanting to get to know your friends.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t talk back, dear. You know how I feel about you talking back.”

The room went silent for a moment before your father coughed and looked at you. 

“How has the life of an Agent been treating you? I’m sure you’ve all got some strange stories you’d like to tell?”

“Dear, she just said she didn’t feel like talking about it.”

“No, it’s okay.” you felt a little spark of joy when hearing your father wish to talk about your job. 

“Oh, so he can talk about it, but I can’t? Well,” your mother threw down her fork. “All I wanted was to spend time with my daughter and her friends and now suddenly I’m the villain but he’s the saint for asking questions.”

“Mum, I never-”

“I have a story!” George piped up. 

All eyes turned to him and he swallowed nervously before telling his story about a case you were all working on a few months ago. 

By the end of the story, you could have sworn your dad had pride in his eyes when looking at you. 

Your mother, however, was a different case entirely. 

“So you just went after them like that?”

“I was saf-”

“If they ran into a burning building, would you follow them? I understand you wish to prove yourself, but didn’t you have a good job there?”

You nodded. “I did, but I-”

“She’s happy now,” your father tried to explain lovingly. “And that’s all that matters-”

“Yes, yes, Dear. So, Anthony, tell me about yourself.”

The following 40 minutes passed in a similar fashion. Your mother asking questions, people answering and then her making a comment about you. Then, your father tried his best to support you. 

Even if he didn’t support you when you decided to move to London to join Lockwood and Co, he was supporting you now. He seemed proud, even. But your mother didn’t. 

“Did I tell you the story about when she decided she wanted to be an agent?”

You worried but continued to smile. It started out like a nice story. 

“She was 14, and just got home from her maths tutors. I paid in full too, so no refund either.”

Oh, no.

“Dear, perhaps we don’t have to-” your father tried interrupting but it was no use. Your mother carried on and so, your father placed his hand gently on your arm whilst your focus remained on your mother, however your other hand found his and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

This didn’t go unnoticed by the trio who then endured the story your mother told everyone. 

“Can you believe that, my little girl, deciding to become an Agent instead of seaking her talents in-”

“Why don’t we move onto dessert?” your father announced, turning his attention to George who seemed to visibly give a sigh of relief. 

“Yes, Lucy will you-”

“On it.”

Lucy led everyone into the living room with Lockwood, although yourself and your dad held back for a moment. 

“I’m so sorry, Munchkin. I told her not to-”

“It’s okay, dad.”

“It’s-”

You took his hand on your arm again. “It’s okay, dad.”

As your dad followed Lucy and Lockwood and your mother into the living room, you let out a controlled breath and beside you, you saw a beer bottle. 

“Not yet. If she smells it on me, she’ll hit the roof.”

“Maybe it will get her out quicker.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You remained still, your gaze fixed on the door. “No. But it can’t be that long until she leaves. Keep that on ice for me?”

“In the hidden corner of the fridge already.”

“Thanks, George.”

Being careful of your steps, you made your way into the living room where you found your mother in the middle of another story. 

Lucy was pouring your dad a drink meanwhile, Lockwood looked at you for a moment, giving a silent questioning look. 

“Are you okay?” 

You gave a small nod and sat on the arm of the chair beside your dad, listening to another story that your mother told people. All that flashed across your mind was the amount of times you cried yourself to sleep in the nights after a dinner party where she provided people with evidence of what a disappointment you were to her then. 

God only knows what she tells them now. 

“Oh, please, tell me how my dear daughter is working in your fine establishment?” your mother asked, sitting on the edge of her seat. “And don’t worry, I know she’s not perfect. You can be honest in your review.”

Lockwood stuttered for a moment, understanding full well that when your mother said “she’s not perfect”, she didn’t mean it to be everyone is imperfect but rather you were…terrible. 

“She’s doing very well. She’s one of the best…any of us have ever worked with.”

“You’re kidding! Oh, my dear.” your mother was laughing, with tears. “Oh, how cute. Dear, did you pay him to say that?”

“Wait a minute-” Lockwood was about to say something but then your mother looked at her watch. 

“It’s getting late, we should go. Come on, dear.”

Your mother stood and thanked everyone, not once making eye-contact with you, before ushering her husband into the hallway. 

“What the-”

“Not yet, Luce.” you whispered. 

However, as you stood and walked down the hall, you saw your mother fussing over your father’s coat whilst he tried to stop her. 

“What’s going on?”

Something in your gut told you what she was fussing over wasn’t his coat, but rather something she would get off her chest and your father was trying to stop her. 

“Nothing, Munchkin.”

“We think you should come home.”

Lockwood, Lucy and George sprang into the hall when they heard your mother. 

“What?”

“Just until you get better.”

“Better?”

“Clearly you paid Mr Lockwood to say that about you. I am your mother after all, I should know when your boss is lying.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Why should I come home? This. This place. This is my home. It’s been more of my home than a house with you has ever been.”

“No need to be spiteful, dear.”

“Just stop it!”

“See, look, she’s making me the villain again-”

“Enough!” you shouted out. “Can’t you see I’m happy here? I love my job and I love these people. I understand you don’t like the fact that you can’t say to your friends that I’m some fancy accountant doing peoples taxes until three o’clock in the morning, but it should be enough for you that I am happy. I am doing a job I love and I have people that I love.”

“I told you she was happy-”

“How can she be? She’s going to be a freak, just like the rest of them!”

“That is enough!” your dad raised his voice. “She has a point. It should be enough that she’s happy and she’s in a job she loves. Maybe we didn’t agree in the beginning, but it wasn’t something worth losing our daughter over! And she’s not a freak. These children are not freaks. They are talented, incredible human beings who shouldn’t have been brought into a world of fear, but are making the most of life all the same. I don’t care what she does. What I care about is knowing who she is. What I care about is if she is happy. Not if your friends and their old minds are satisfied over the stories you tell them. We haven’t seen her in almost three years and you can’t take a few hours to be kind and proud of her! I am not going another three years without seeing our daughter.”

“So what are you saying? Are you staying here?”

“I’m saying either realise what you could lose, or I leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Either change or I leave. And I move down here with her and we don’t see you ever again.” your father looked back to you where he found you looking at him with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Munchkin. It should have taken me this long.” he turned back to your mother. “She was brave enough to make the choice three years ago, and now I’m making it, too. So?”

You and your father waited, watching as your mother stood shocked at your father’s words before turning to look at you. 

“You’ll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

Then she turned back to your father. “I’ll be at Janice’s if you need me.”

“Goodbye, Dear.”

Your mother did nothing other than turn around and close the door behind her. 

“I’m so sorry, Munchkin. I should have said something sooner. Much, much sooner.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not. But I will spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you.”

“Are you really sure you want to live in London?”

Your father paused for a split second. “Maybe a few minutes outside of London.”

You laughed a little, and so did he. “I’m getting a little too old for city life.”

You stood, looking at him for a moment before hugging him. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Munchkin. And I am sorry.”

“I love you, too.”

The following fifteen minutes were spent trying to get your father to consider staying for the night, but he eventually convinced you that he would be okay in a local hotel room - especially since he had a discount from work. 

As the door closed behind him, you locked it shut and as you turned around, Lucy came running over and hugged you. 

“It’s a shit deal.”

“Thanks, Luce. Please tell me George has my beer-”

“Right here.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Was she always like that?” Lockwood asked. 

You swallowed your beer with a nod. “It was a little easier in the beginning, but…yeah. Always.”

“Anyone for donuts?” George asked when a short moment came over all of you. 

“Yes.”

“Please.”

As Geroge and Lucy left towards the kitchen, Lockwood pulled you back. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Because that was…”

You touched his hand that loosely held yours. “I’m okay.”

Lockwood looked like he wished to say something more, so you waited. 

“If…if there comes a day, when you’re not. Promise you’ll come to me? That you’ll talk to me.”

“I promise, Lockwood.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

LAST ONE OF THE WEEK!

129 for☠️:

---

 It does feel a little weird to be celebrating, given the reason for  his reinstatement. But everyone is clearly relieved to have him back. 

Bobby cooks an orange-ginger chicken dish that Athena personally loves. She swears his cooking has an extra special flavor to it, now that he’s back. There was just something missing about it, while he was away from his team. Athena sits between her husband and Hen, pleased with the food and the company. 

Down the table, she notices Buck and Eddie sitting very close together. Like shoulders touching, even as they eat. Eddie is saying something quietly to Buck, making him laugh boisterously. Really? Is it that funny, Buck?  They’re normally strange, but this seems a little excessive, even for them. 

Hmm. 

Athena remembers what Eddie said during that first night of police interviews.

He hasn’t liked me since he and Buck started dating, I don’t know why. We used to be friends.

She doesn’t know why she’s focusing on it. It’s probably nothing. 

After the meal, Bobby packs up leftovers. 

“Hen, you want me to put a container aside for school lunches?” Bobby asks. “It reheats well.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Hen replies. “I can’t actually. Mara is really allergic to sesame.” 

Hen and Karen only got Mara back a few weeks ago. It was a long and hard fight. Only made easier by the hospitalization and subsequent resignation of Olivia Ortiz after an event the city has dubbed “Bee-Nado.” Athena didn’t know a woman could survive so many bee stings. Evidently, there were some long term consequences. Athena would feel worse if she hadn’t made her friends’ lives hell, fighting for their daughter. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Bobby says. 

“Yeah,” Hen sighs. “Guess she almost died in her group home, a couple of weeks in. She didn’t tell anyone because she wouldn’t talk, and… It was bad.”

“That’s so scary,” Athena frowns. “Poor little girl.”

Hen nods. “Luckily someone had an epipen.”

Athena can’t help but think of Gerrard. About the epipen that could have saved his life.

“Right,” she replies. “Luckily.”

▪️▪️▪️

The final thing that happens is silly, really. It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. 

Except Athena thinks it probably means quite a lot. 

A few days after her dinner at the firehouse, she’s grocery shopping. Usually Bobby’s chore, but he’s busy getting back into the swing of things. Still, he insists she go to his special supermarket. The one with the better bakery bread! So that’s where she goes. 

She is walking towards said bakery section, when she sees them. Or, scratch that. First, she hears them. Giggling like a couple of damn school girls.

“We don’t have any good reason to get whipped cream!”

“I can think of three fantastic reasons to get whipped cream.”

Athena turns towards the sound of their familiar voices and sees it. The very thing she had wondered about the other night. Buck and Eddie, walking hand in hand, lost in a sickeningly honeymoon phase-like bubble. It has been less than two weeks since Buck dumped Tommy. But these two seem awfully coupley. 

They freeze when they see her. Drop each other’s hands. As if they can deny it. And why should they, right? They haven’t done anything wrong. They’re allowed to date each other. Sure, Athena hadn’t known Eddie was interested in dating men at all, but that’s not a problem. And she suspects that’s not why Eddie looks caught red-handed. 

“Hi, Eddie. Hi, Buck,” she greets them. She’s not going to pretend she’s not thinking about what she’s looking at. 

“Oh, hey, A-Athena,” Buck stammers, cheeks going a little red. 

“Hey,” Eddie adds. 

“And how long has this been going on?” She asks them.

“Not long!” Buck insists. 

“Very new,” Eddie agrees. 

Those aren’t answers. At least not specific ones. 

“Mhm,” Athena nods. “Well, congratulations. I’m happy for you both. And happy you’re not taking that breakup too hard, Buck.”

Buck’s expression goes a little slack. 

That’s when Athena knows for sure. Something is wrong here.

v.

It would be easy to let a normal frame-job story play out in her head. So easy, in fact, that she’s surprised no one else has even considered it. Really, if they did do it, they did such a good job that they avoided all suspicion. If only they’d held out a little longer on the PDA. 

It would be easy to convince herself this was all Buck and Eddie. 

They were both miserable under Gerrard’s captaincy. They were in love with each other, but Buck had a boyfriend. Buck had access to Tommy’s kitchen. He could have swapped the pitchers. He could have lied about his knowledge of Gerrard’s allergy. He could have read the murder mystery party planning document as his boyfriend put together the event. He has his own allergy - naproxen. He could have had an epipen, an expired one. Buck could have done a lot of this. 

And that thought terrifies Athena. 

If Bobby’s reaction to Jonah and Tommy being killers had been bad? How will he take Buck? And Eddie as his willing accomplice?  He won’t. Simply, it will destroy him. Break his already fragile heart. Athena knows that. 

Maybe it’s with that in mind that she pokes holes in her own story. 

For one thing, why frame Tommy? Killing Gerrard and getting Tommy out of the picture seem like separate issues. Buck may have good reasons to hate Gerrard, but he’s not senselessly cruel. Why frame an innocent man he could have just dumped?

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER ELEVEN- TOJI

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 Life has really been fucking with me these last six weeks. Work’s hell. The apartment we live in went up by four hundred dollars. And to make matters worse, Megumi and I have been rockier than ever. 

 That’s the thing that’s bothering me the most.

 It’s over simple shit, too. 

 I try my best to be a laid back parent and only go full on dad mode when needed, but I think the kid has taken advantage of that. All I ask is three things from Megumi:

 Don’t get into fights, and if you do, don’t get caught. 

 School night curfew is eight. Weekends are eleven.

 And lastly, tell me your whereabouts.

 But what does he do instead? Miss curfew. Leave the house without telling me where he’s going, and now he’s on a two week-suspension from school since he got into a fight. 

 Grant it the fight was justify because some kids were fucking with him and talking shit about his lack of English, but shit, Megumi. 

 At least he won. 

 One side of me was saying that’s my boy, and the other side had to ground him. 

 Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy with me after that. 

 I’m surprised he actually listened to me, though. But with him listening, I’ve been getting the silent treatment, no eating meals together, and been avoided like I’m the plague. 

 Parenting is not a walk in the park, I know that. Especially when you’re a single parent. When times like this hit, I think of my late wife more than ever. 

 With her death anniversary right around the corner, I can’t help but miss her and wish she was by my side. 

 I can’t do this shit alone. I was not raised in a loving environment, and considering the fact that my old man was an abusive drunk that used me as his punching bag, I damn sure don’t know what the fuck it feels like to have a father. 

 A mom? Don’t know either. Old man wasn’t faithful and was sleeping around with different women, so my mom could be dead or alive. Who knows? 

 My late wife knew all of this, not the severity, but she knew I had a shitty family. Yet she managed to see something good in a motherfucker like me, to the point we had a kid together.

 A kid that fucking hates me. And I’m the only one to blame. 

 God, maybe I should listen to Kong for once. I’m forty-two. Shit, maybe it is time to settle down and look for a housewife. Someone who’s willing to help raise a fifteen-year-old boy. 

 No, what the fuck am I saying? Since when do I listen to that fucker?

 Never. I trust him, though. Hell, do I really have a choice since he helped me take care of Megumi when I was going through my episodes in the early years of my wife’s death? 

 But my kid is my responsibility. Getting a woman involved isn’t going to help my relationship with Megumi. That’s some shit I need to fix myself. 

 Kong and I have one unorthodox ass relationship, but he’s the only bastard I actually consider a friend, and I know he means well. 

 He is Megumi’s godfather after all. Besides, the last thing I want to do is to ever make Megumi feel like I’m trying to replace his mom. Far from it. 

 Maybe loneliness is just catching up to my old ass.m, and the only woman I think of breaking me from my no relationship rule is Y/N. 

 Y/N fucking L /N. 

 That woman drives me insane in more ways than one. 

 After our first date over a month ago, we’ve been talking nonstop. Texting. Calling. Casual dates every now and there when time allows us. If I’m being real, Y/N is the only reason why I haven’t ripped my fucking hair out. 

 People would usually turn to alcohol to depend on the burning sensation it gives you to get drunk when feeling stressed. But me? Y/N is who I get drunk off of. Her energy is fucking addicting, and the reassurance she gives me… who know I needed so much of it. 

Like any other man, I don’t turn to anyone to help with my problems. I’m a prideful motherfucker who has the ego the size of a galaxy. However, I don’t have to be the way around Y/N. I sound sappy as shit, I know. 

 Guess that’s what happens when you become vulnerable. 

 The only reason why I haven’t had sex with her yet.

 I know myself. When I was younger, I only saw sex as a way to make extra cash when I was struggling after I got disowned by the Zen’in. The older I got, sex became more meaningless to me. I can be balls deep in pussy, no matter how good it is, and have no type of feelings attached. Me making a woman come or them making me come doesn’t mean I’ll start buying them roses and shit. 

 It wouldn’t be the same with Y/N. 

 Not saying I’m on the verge of falling in love with her, let alone loving her. But seeing how much we talk, how jealous I fucking get, especially after figuring out she works at the same school as her ex-fiancé, I don’t want any other fucker to even breathe the same air as her.

 Not even myself, but I’ll still be selfish enough to do it.

 That’s the thing about Y/N. I feel myself growing more selfish when it comes to her. I want her time and energy to only be for me. She’s mine without her knowing and I’m planning on keeping it that way. I can admit that’s probably a dick move, but I can’t find myself falling in love again. 

At least, I’m forcing myself not to.

 Hearing her moan my name. Seeing her face when she comes. Knowing what it feels to have that sweet, tight, warm fucking pussy clench around my fingers. I’ll become a starved and possessive man the moment she’s like that around my dick. 

 I’ll catch feelings.

 I’ll want her above me, beneath me, all over me twenty-four-seven. I’m not an easy lover. I can admit to that.

 But that won’t stop me from…

 No, I won’t say that.

 It’s strong. Whatever emotion I feel about Y/N, and I can’t help but think it has something to do with her being so damn familiar. The more I talk to her, the more I know who she is. Maybe in another lifetime I’ve loved her before. 

 Even saying that in my head sounds crazy as shit. The dreams about her aren't helping, either.

 “Get a hold of yourself, Fushiguro,” I mutter to myself. I look at the time to see it’s eleven thirty. “She should be on her free hour right now.” 

 Maybe a phone call wouldn’t hurt.

 “I’m busy,” I grunt.

 I couldn’t even call Y/N before Kong called me to fucking be clingy. He claims he only calls me to check on the kid, but Megumi has his own phone. 

 “Mad because I’m not your girlfriend? Sorry, I had you first, Fushiguro.” I hear him puffing out smoke from his cigarette. “Be grateful you have a fucking friend to check on you, you fucking jackass.”

 I chuckle, sarcastically saying, “Awe, I consider myself very lucky.”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Sorry, not interested,” I replied. And this is what I mean by unorthodox friendship. “Assuming you got some information for me?” After that Zen’in fuck purchased the club ownership last month, I had Kong do some digging for me.

 All the bullshit he was spewing about Naobito forcing everyone in that family who doesn’t have a kid, to have one, and taking interest in finding Megumi, I couldn’t take shit like that lightly.

 Not when my kid is potentially involved.

 Knowing how those Zen’ins’ get down, they always find a way to get what they want. Even if it results in blood.

 “I found some files about that Naoya shitface you told me about… Looks like he’s the real deal,” he says.

 “Meaning?”

 “Meaning he is your cousin. Looks like your old man’s brother had some unwanted kids of his own.”

 “Having kids in the family just to leave them dry is a fucking ritual in that shitty ass family.” I get up from bed and go to the kitchen to grab a ginger ale. “What else you find out?”

 “Zen'in owns half of the real estate in Tokyo,” he tells me, clicking his tongue. “Those bastards keep growing and growing by the minute. So if what this Naoya is saying is true, I can only imagine Naobito is doing this to have the city fear the name Zen’in, even after he’s six feet under.”

 I scoff. “For an ego stroker? So what the fuck does this have to do with my kid?”

 “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

  Over my dead fucking body if they think they could come even twenty feet near Megumi. I have no problem going back to that violent lifestyle that I’m trying to escape when it comes to protecting my kid.

 Actually, I’m hoping that they do because I’ve been itching for a stress relief and permanently getting rid of those Zen’in fucks just might be the way to do it.

 Maybe I should pay them a visit on my trip to Japan in a few months.

 I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “Alright. Keep me posted.” An incoming call comes through and I see Y/N’s name flashing my screen. “Gotta go.”

 “Your girlfriend’s callin-” I disconnected our line before he finished his bullshit to answer Y/N.

 “I’m so close to fucking pulling these braids out and choking my boss with them.” Ha, that’s a funny way to say hello.

 “I’m trying to wrap my head around why hearing you threaten to kill someone is turning me on?” I tease.

 She lets out a soft breath. “I’m sorry, big guy. Work is being a pain in my ass right now.”

 “I see that. You cursed twice. That’s something expected from me.”

 “Well, it’s kind of inevitable when you’re a high school teacher,” she argues. “And actually, no. I expect four curse words in under a minute from you. So I think my two words will be alright.”

 I smile while walking back to my room and close the door behind me. “Talk to me, sweets. What’s going on?”

 “Other than finding out that my name was unknowingly submitted to take part in the state’s teachers summit, nothing really.”

“Is it that bad?” 

 “No. It’s actually a good opportunity to voice your concerns as a teacher to the school board, but quite frankly, I’m tired of going. Only one teacher is selected every year to represent each school in the county and it’s always me.”

 “And what is this summit shit? Why do they need teacher representatives?” I hear her smile through the phone when she explains the summit, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of me cursing already. “Probably this isn’t what you want to hear, but I can see why you’re always chosen. You speak your mind well, and I can see the passion you have when it comes to your students.”

 “Well, yeah, but every teacher should be that way,” she counters. “And the summit this year is four hours away from us, so they made it a weekend convention. A weekend, Toji?” 

 I arch my brow. “And who submitted your name?” Her silence tells me my answer. “You sure this fucker isn’t trying to win you back? Abusing his power as your boss to get you to himself for the weekend seems like a man move I probably would’ve done, too.”

 “You would?” she incredulously asks.

 “When it comes to you? Absolutely. Zero questions asked.” I can almost guarantee the silence from her again is because she’s blushing, something I find fucking adorable about her. “You there, Miss L/N?”

 “Toji, I’m at work,” she answers.

 “Admitting that your mind is in the gutter?”

 “I-uh, no. Just reminding you to get your head out of it.”

 I tip my head back and laugh. “Cute. So when’s the summit?”

 “In three months.”

 “And you can’t pull out?”

 “Unfortunately, no. Unless I can prove that it’s due to a medical or family emergency, I’m out of luck.” No doubt in my mind that her ex pulled this shit intentionally. I mean, I get it. If I lost someone like Y/N as my fiancée, I would be going through hell and back until she was mine again. 

 But too bad for this fucker that isn’t the case anymore, and I don’t tread lightly when it comes to people fucking with what’s mine.

 Mine, that’s exactly what Y/N is.

 “I’m way too hungry for this crap,” she says, pulling me from my possessive musings. 

 “And you didn’t eat because?”

 “Someone kept me up last night on the phone, so I overslept and couldn’t get a decent breakfast before work this morning.” 

 I chuckle, remembering our two a.m. conversations that turned into her masturbating while I was talking her through it. “I’m sure that person is sorry.”

 “Doubt it.”

  I look at the time again to see it’s noon. “What time is your free hour over?” 

 “One. Why?”

 “Grab lunch with me.”

 She playfully hums to consider my last minute invitation. “I guess I can squeeze you in.”

 “Squeeze me in?” I mock her response while laughing. “Appreciate it, Miss L/N.”

 “I’m sure you can find a way to show me your appreciation.”

 I smirk. “Forgot you were at work?”

 “Whatever, Mr. Fushiguro. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

 “Alright, alright. I’ll see you,” is the last thing I say before disconnecting the call.

 Smiling to myself like a fucking lovesick idiot knowing that I’m about to see Y/N has me surprised myself. Like I said earlier, this woman drives me insane.

 And I think I’ll grow to not mind it.

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no discussion question this chapter. but would love to hear your thoughts ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 14

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

“Overall,” says Breha, “it’s an incredibly strong outline.” She smiles at Satine in encouragement, sliding the papers across the table.

It’s Thursday afternoon and they’ve returned to their usual coffee shop; Breha is on her second mug of tea and Satine has finished her chai, now tackling her blueberry scone.

“I added some suggestions for literature you might consider citing as well,” adds Breha. “I’m actually wildly impressed that you put all this together in - what has it been? Just over two weeks since we met?”

“The grant deadline isn’t all that far away,” says Satine. “If I want to be awarded funds for early 2025, I only have until end of April to get the materials submitted. As you know, the reviewing period is…lengthy.”

Breha rolls her eyes. “The waiting is the worst part, for sure,” she acknowledges. “Just being in limbo, not knowing what your future will look like. Not being able to plan for anything.”

Satine laughs. “I think I’ll actually be relieved to get to the waiting part. At least that part is less work.” She puts the papers - filled with her friend’s helpful suggestions and edits - in her bag. “But enough about me. How are you doing? How is Bail?”

Breha is suddenly glowing. “You know what I mentioned last year?” she says, slightly coy.

Satine nods.

“We’ve decided now is the time. We made an appointment with an IVF specialist in a few weeks.”

Satine grins and leans forward to hug her friend. When she pulls back, she lays both hands on Breha’s forearm. “I’m so happy for you and Bail. I know you’ve wanted children for a long time.”

“I can hardly believe it,” says Breha. “The timing never felt right, but eventually we realized we just had to make the time.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. At a minimum, I will be arranging a meal train amongst our friends so that you don’t have to cook the entire first month after your precious bundle of joy arrives.”

“As long as you stick to just arranging it rather than participating,” says Breha. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the range burner incident.”

Satine snorts. “I maintain that the smoke detectors were too sensitive. It’s rather unfortunate that all those detectors in student housing were linked directly to the fire department.”

“By the time we graduated, I think the firemen knew you by name.”

“They were only called to our apartment twice!”

Breha shakes her head. “You’re forgetting about the kettle incident.”

Satine sighs. “I stand corrected. It was indeed three times.”

Breha doubles over with laughter, and Satine can’t help but join in with her.

“You know,” Satine says, knowing where her words will take this conversation. “Ben has offered to help me improve in this area. Or, at least, to oversee my efforts so that I don’t accidentally set myself up for a future career in arson.”

Breha leans forward in interest. “I was meaning to ask you.” She lifts up her mug and points at it. “Herbal tea,” she says. Then she gestures at Satine. “I need the verbal tea to go along with it.”

Satine cackles. “You’ve been planning that joke for two weeks, haven’t you?”

“It’s literally why I ordered tea today instead of a latte.”

They fall into laughter again, but Satine will spare her friend the indignity of needing to beg for an update.

“Ben and I are…seeing each other,” she says, choosing her words carefully.

Breha’s jaw drops. “So quickly? You’ve chosen now to become a rational creature in love? I half expected you two to spend the entire year pining over each other before anyone made the first move. I got very strong Austen vibes from you and Loverboy. Not Pride and Prejudice vibes. Maybe more like Persuasion.”

“It probably would have played out much like that if I were the only one responsible for initiation,” admits Satine. “But Ben’s grown up since I last knew him. He took the first step.”

Breha sits back. “Perhaps he’s smarter than I gave him credit for,” she says. “Listen, did I tell you that when we last met, I went home and told Bail about Loverboy? And - get this - Bail knows who he is!”

Satine blinks at her. “You’re kidding.”

“No joke. Your paramour apparently did some heavy legwork on Bail’s most recent campaign. All, of course, well within ethical guidelines. Bail spoke with him at a few campaign events. He was impressed. And not many people impress Bail.”

“It is a rare honor,” admits Satine.

“We should double date,” says Breha. “I’d like to get to know him, since he’s important to you.”

Satine finishes the last bite of her scone. “I would like that. Maybe in a few weeks, though? Things are still really new, and I don’t want to…rush anything.”

Breha nods. “That’s wise, and understandable. I’m just nosy. In the meantime, I’ll expect updates, though.”

Satine laughs. “And I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

---

That Saturday, Satine meets Ben in Old Town Alexandria for the first time. He’s waiting for her as she gets off the Metro, and he takes her to the indie bookshop on the way back to his apartment. The bookshop is, unfortunately, lacking nooks and crannies sufficient to hide them enough for Satine to feel comfortable kissing him properly, and she endeavors to make up for lost time an hour later as he leads her into his apartment.

He takes her coat, and Satine sets the bag of books she’d just bought down on the hall tree in the entryway. As she looks around, she’s struck by how green everything is - plants line the hallway, rest upon the kitchen countertops, adorn the bookshelves in his living room.

She reaches out to touch one of the larger plants. “What’s this one called?”

“Citronella,” says Ben, moving to stand by her side. “Its scent repels mosquitoes. Perfect for DC in the summer.” And then he takes one of the leaves between his thumb and index finger, rubbing the leaf between them. He holds his fingers up to her. “Smell.”

It’s a lemony, citrusy mix, and Satine finds that it’s actually quite pleasant. “Much better than bug spray.”

He laughs, and she continues moving from plant to plant.

“This one?” she asks.

“Monstera,” he says. “Those can get quite large, but I’ve been making cuts of it and giving them away to keep its size somewhat manageable.”

She looks at him in wonder. “There are so many years I still need to ask you about. Days I wasn’t part of. When exactly did you acquire a green thumb?”

He sits on the couch with a sigh. “During the war, a lot of what we actually did was protect poppy fields. I mean, as an Army Ranger, I was more involved in high risk missions, but my friends - my classmates at West Point - their job as soldiers in Afghanistan was to make sure the Taliban didn’t get access to the poppy fields. The poppies, of course, are the source of opium, and opium is what the Taliban was after. They sold it and used the money to fund their operations.”

Satine nods, and Ben continues.

“Did we do important work over there?” Ben says. “Yes? I guess? Maybe. But we spent so much time protecting farmland instead of people. And then - even though I was back Stateside by the time this happened - a couple years ago we withdrew. Can I say Afghani citizens are really better off now than they were before we got there? Did we actually do more harm than good?” He looks at her. “I don’t know.”

Satine holds her breath, holding his gaze.

“When I got back from the war, I wasn’t in a place where I could apply to graduate programs. I couldn’t focus for the amount of time I needed to even apply. But the images of those poppy fields - that stuck with me. I realized I wanted to grow something that couldn’t be used to do harm.”

As he speaks, Satine walks to him and sits beside him, hip to hip, knee to knee.

“An Army buddy connected me with a farmer in Madison, Wisconsin, who needed some help. He had arthritis and couldn’t do the heavy lifting like he used to. I worked there for the growing season and learned everything I possibly could about his crops. And, as fortune would have it - that farmer was very good friends with someone named Jim Quigon.”

Satine breathes in. “Your doctoral advisor.”

Ben nods. “Jim managed to move some funds around and get my application approved. He was my advisor for the next three years.”

“Anakin said he…he passed away. Right before your defense.”

Ben nods sharply, and Satine can see the way his tendons tense in his neck.

“What happened?” Satine asks.

“He was murdered in Russia,” says Ben, and his tone makes it clear he’s not going to talk about it further. 

Satine can take a hint, and she leaves the subject behind. “I’d always wondered why you chose Wisconsin for grad school.”

“It kept me alive,” says Ben simply, and Satine rests her shoulder against his.

“You need a proper yard someday,” she says. “With room for a greenhouse so you can really go wild.”

As she’d hoped, he laughs, genuinely, at this. “Honestly, a proper yard would be the dream. God, I sound like such a typical millennial. But I could grow you a garden of lilies. Are they still your favorite?”

Satine nods. “Some things don’t change, even if most everything else does.”

She shivers as he looks at her. Ben places a throw blanket around her shoulders and she settles against him, grateful for his warmth, his arm around her shoulders.

She asks him about his work on the farm, the crops he helped grow. She asks about the Wisconsin winters. He tells her about the state’s infamous cheese curds and the only place in the District where one can order said curds that wouldn’t offend his Wisconsinite friends.

And eventually, he’s smiling broadly, and she’s grinning ear to ear, and then she gathers her nerve.

“Ben,” Satine says, and he immediately meets her eyes. “I would like…” she trails off as her voice cracks. “I’d like to try,” she says, this time more firmly. “I’d like to see what I’m comfortable with.”

There’s a beat before he responds. Then, he says, “You’re sure.”

It’s not a question.

She nods.

“Okay,” says Ben. “But you will tell me the moment something happens that you don’t like.”

She nods again.

“Okay,” he repeats.

And he pulls her in to kiss her. Her lips part before his tongue even asks.

It’s heady and heated and more intense than she’d expected - his hand immediately splays across her stomach and then slides up to her breast, cupping her and massaging. She whines.

Ben laughs into her mouth. “I take it you approve?”

“Enthusiastically,” she manages to get out. “Pray, continue.”

She knows he’s smiling.

Her hands find their way to his hair, and she pulls lightly, eliciting a groan. “Two can play at that game,” he murmurs, and his other hand navigates through the layers of fabric of her skirt. Hovering over her pelvis, he asks, “Still good?”

In response, she moves a hand to cover his own and presses his fingers to her center.

She moans against him at the first contact, despite the layers of fabric separating their skin. “Fuck,” she whispers.

And a second later, he’s laying her down, her back against the seat cushions of the couch, his body flush against hers. She bucks her hips, desperate for friction. Her hands flail for a moment before they are drawn to his back, and she pulls him closer.

“You okay?” he murmurs against her jaw, beard scratching her skin.

“Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes.” She moans. “Ben,” she whispers. “I know what I want.”

He pauses against her, meeting her eyes. She guides him to lie beside her, both of them on their sides, and he pulls her close so she doesn’t tumble off the edge of the couch. Then Satine hooks her leg over his hip and grabs his hand.

She guides his fingers under her skirt, beneath her undergarment.

Satine’s fingers fall down to wrap around his wrist, feeling the tendons of his forearm as he moves his fingers against her for the first time.

She arches up, breathing heavily.

“Good?” asks Ben, and she nods her agreement, unable to form words.

He dips a finger into her wetness, rubbing it over her clit.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, watching her expression, beginning to work her properly now, tracing her folds and dipping in and out of her heat. He explores her. 

Satine finds it difficult to focus. Her eyes wander as one of his fingers slips into her again; she watches the breadth of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes mimic a solar eclipse, a slight band of gold on the irises bordered on one side by dark pupils and the purest blues on the other. 

He pumps into her a few times, clearly pleased with her heavy breathing, the way her chest rises and falls. He grins when he feels her purposefully clench around him, exploring slightly deeper.

But Ben sees what she responds to most, and he focuses his thumb on her clit, bringing her up, up, up.

She arches into him.

“Please, Ben,” Satine whispers.

He picks up his pace, moving his lips to hers. He doesn’t kiss her but rests there, sharing her air, breathing in sync.

And then he presses his thumb to her clit again, this time harder, harder, harder, and she is gone.

Satine cries out softly and tightens her grip on his wrist as she climaxes, careening over the edge.

“Darling,” he says, and her eyes snap to his, and the tenderness of his expression brings a realization - that she is safe with him. It somehow heightens her orgasm, drawing it out.

Satine collapses against the couch. She’s still breathing heavily, not helped along at all by Ben removing his hand from her skirt to lick the evidence of her arousal from his fingers. She closes her eyes against the onslaught of emotion, the onslaught of stimulation, and Ben gathers her into his arms.

Her eyes flash open. “Wait,” she says, recognizing in his body language that he’s moved from initiating arousal to initiating aftercare. “What about you?”

He chuckles. “You think that wasn’t pleasurable for me as well?” She can feel his smile against her hair. “That was the most erotic sight I’ve had the pleasure to witness in years.”

She doesn’t doubt him; she can feel the evidence of that truth against her. “But…”

“Calculus,” murmurs Ben. “I don’t feel comfortable going any further. That was a massive step, for both of us. Let’s take the victory for what it is and build upon it later.”

When she doesn’t reply, he looks down at her.

“You don’t have to give the same number of orgasms as you receive, you know,” he adds. “Partnership isn’t always equal in the moment, even if it does average out over time.”

Satine pulls him down to kiss her. “Then I look forward to the day you allow me to focus entirely on you.”

He grins, groaning. “Who knew a pacifist could be so absolutely lethal?” he says against her lips.

---

On Friday, she leaves campus early to head to the federal building where she will take her citizenship exam.

Ben kisses her goodbye.

“You don’t need it,” he says, “but good luck.”

She squeezes his hand.

---

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you did not pass.”

Satine drops her purse and kneels down to retrieve it. The jerky motion gives her vertigo, and she sways slightly.

“I’m sorry?” she says, uncomprehending.

Satine has just finished the two portions of the citizenship exam. She’d completed her half-hour interview with the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services official, and she’d finished the ten-question written component.

She’d sworn she’d gotten every question correct. She would have bet her writing fellowship on it.

The paper-pusher looks at her with pity. Satine suspects it is a look he gives out far too often. 

“You didn’t get at least six of the ten questions on the written test correct,” says the man. “USCIS can schedule you for another attempt at the exam in ninety days.”

He probably says more to Satine, but she can’t hear him. She can only hear the blood rushing in her ears and a high-pitched sound of ringing, like she’s just survived an explosion. So she just nods at the man, taking the paperwork he gives her and heading out the door of the federal building.

She’d planned on taking a bus to reconnect her to the Metro, but she finds she’d rather walk now.

It’s a ridiculous walk in the brisk March air, but she needs to process; she needs to move. She checks her phone GPS every so often to make sure she’s on the right path, aware that Ben has tried to call her but not able to face calling him back.

He’d known she had to miss the weekly Friday afternoon seminar to take her exam. He’d known when her exam was scheduled to start and end. And by now he’d know - based on the fact that she hasn’t called him back - that she has failed.

She goes over the exam questions in her mind. She’d taken as much time as she was allowed, even though she’d known the answers immediately. She’d read over each question three times. She’d checked her responses three times.

She’d understand if on perhaps one of those questions, she’d accidentally selected the wrong multiple choice response. But failing meant she got at least five of them incorrect, potentially more.

How is that even possible?

She approaches the Metro station, scans her card at the gate, and heads into the station, still feeling as though she’s acting out a waking nightmare.

Satine makes her way to her line, realizes the train is already there and about to take off. She races, jumping into a car before the doors shut behind her, and she finds an empty set of seats near a window.

She collapses into the seat. Trying to keep her tears at bay, she rests her forehead on the cool glass as the train leaves the Vienna/Fairfax - GMU station behind.

Wiping her eyes, Satine reaches for her phone. Ben is likely worried. She waits until the train is no longer underground and then sends a text.

On the Orange line back to Farragut West. ETA 30 minutes. You still at the office? Want to meet at Dupont Circle in 45 minutes?

They’d originally planned on going to get drinks to celebrate her exam, and though she doesn’t feel like drinking, she does feel like seeing him.

Ben is typing out his reply before she even exits out of the text message thread.

See you there.

Satine drops her phone into her purse and digs for a tissue to wipe at the mascara now running down her cheeks. This time, though, she doesn’t fight the tears, knowing they’ll eventually arrive regardless. There’s probably something helpful about the endorphins released anyway. If she were in a better mood, she’d care enough to look up exactly which endorphins and what they do.

Mercifully, no one on the Metro gives her a second glance - there are, after all, far stranger things that happen within the bowels of DC’s Metro system - and Satine does feel better as she arrives at Farragut West. By now evening has fallen, and she greets the cold air of the city gratefully as she rides the escalator up to the surface.

“Satine!”

As she clears the platform, her eyes lock on Ben’s. And despite everything - despite the day she’s had, despite her tears - she can’t help but smile.

“I thought we were meeting in Dupont Circle?” she says as he envelops her in a bear hug. “Farragut is out of your way!”

She feels him kiss her temple, and then he pulls back. “I wanted to walk with you,” he says, and he doesn’t ask about the exam. He doesn’t push.

Instead, he offers his arm, and she threads hers through it, remembering that first day when he’d offered to walk her to her bus stop. Satine rocks forward to press her lips to his jawline, and they begin their walk.

“How do you feel about Korean/Chinese fusion food?” asks Ben. “Anakin recommended a place in Dupont. I already looked at the menu, and they have vegetarian options.”

“Sounds divine,” says Satine honestly, realizing suddenly how hungry she really is.

“Excellent,” says Ben, and Satine tightens her grip on his elbow.

It’s suddenly easier for her to speak when they’re both facing forward and she doesn’t have to bear the intensity of his gaze. “And…after,” she begins. “Would you like to stay at my place?”

This, she knows, is a step. But she really doesn’t want to spend the night alone after the day she’s just had, and he’s been spending so much time at her place that he’d left an overnight bag there the last time he’d been over in anticipation of when she would be ready. Not that he’d pushed about it - the overnight bag had actually been her suggestion, and the next time she visits his place, she plans to leave one of her own.

The sudden tension in Ben’s arm tells her that he, too, understands the gravity behind her words. Instead of answering, he leans over to kiss her temple again, never breaking stride, and Satine breathes out deeply.

The mist of her exhale mixes with that of his and is whipped away by the evening breeze.

---

That night, Satine turns toward him in the dark, after they climb into bed together for the first time. The sheets are still cool, not yet warmed by the temperature of their bodies.

“I failed the exam,” she whispers to the dark.

Ben rolls over to face her. “Do you want solutions, or do you want advice? Or are you not yet ready to think about either yet?”

She laughs wryly. “I’ve been thinking about solutions since I walked out of the USCIS federal building this afternoon.”

There’s a sliver of moonlight that crosses over his shoulder, but she can’t make out his expression in the dark. “Fair enough. My advice, for what it’s worth: you have one more opportunity to pass the exam. This is not the end.”

“The second exam was my backup plan,” Satine admits. “Now that it’s my only avenue forward at the moment, I’m going to need a new backup plan.”

“If you don’t pass the exam a second time, what will happen?” Ben asks. “Won’t you just be back where you started? A permanent resident with a green card? Could you not live that way indefinitely?”

Satine sighs. “Hypothetically? Yes. But green card holders lack certain protections that citizens have. The green card could be revoked for seemingly no reason. I don’t want that in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.”

Ben hums. “What would you say about expanding our list of target institutions for a potential spousal hire?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says, “we have a list comprising several tiers of schools based on strength of the program and how well we fit in there. However, all the schools are American.”

Satine bites her lip. “Ben, what are you saying?”

“The goal is to stay together, right? I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly care what country I’m in as long as I’m with you. If you need to move back to Norway, well…I can just start learning Norwegian. After Arabic and Russian, I don’t think it would be too challenging.”

“Are you…” Satine holds her breath. “Are you saying you’d move to Norway for me?”

Suddenly, his fingers are reaching for hers, and his warm hand covers her own.

“I meant what I said last month. As long as we’re together, what does it matter?”

“But you were referring to sending out applications to use as incentive for Georgetown to give us an offer together. I assumed it was mostly…well, part of the plan.”

“Satine, I said I’d move to Bosnia for you. I meant it. If you need to move back to Norway because you can’t get American citizenship, I’d join you in a heartbeat. If you’d have me, of course. Plus, there’s quite a lot to like about your country. Universal health care, multiple years of paid parental leave, free university tuition, subsidized child care, elder care…actually, I’m not sure why remaining in America was our first choice, now that I’m listing this all out.”

Satine laughs, and Ben pulls her toward him so that their noses touch.

“We wanted to stay,” she murmurs, “because your family is here. Your parents, your brother. And we have community here.”

“We could build community there, too,” he says. “At any rate, it’s just a suggestion for your new backup plan. But I don’t suspect we’ll need to employ it. This, if memory serves correctly, is only the second exam you’ve ever failed in your life - ”

“I really could have gone the entire rest of my life without you reminding me of that traumatizing calculus exam,” Satine interjects.

“As I said, it’s only the second exam you’ve ever failed, so if we extrapolate using that rate of failure, you’re not due to fail another one until your late fifties.”

She scoffs. “That’s reassuring.”

“The point is - I’m confident you will pass the second time around,” says Ben. “Making this entire conversation entirely moot. When do you take it?”

“I got an email a little while ago confirming my appointment for June 7th.”

“June will be a busy month for you. I hear you’re also moving in with that suitor you keep bringing up. How are things with him, by the way?

“He’s annoyingly perfect, actually,” says Satine. “It seems like he’s got everything figured out while I’m over here treading water. I’m very lucky he’s so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” says Ben. “I’d guess he appears far more put together than he actually is, if that makes you feel any better.”

“I’ve yet to see any evidence of that, so I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“But beyond that,” says Ben. “Things are good?”

“As it turns out - how exactly did you put it again? Oh, yes. It turns out that the Venn diagram of people who can get me off and who don’t bore me to tears is actually a Venn diagram and not two mutually exclusive circles. My suitor is the one person who can do both.”

“Impressive. So physically you’re satisfied?”

“Satisfied…yes, in the sense that he recently gave me the best orgasm of my life. But I’d like more. I want more. I think we’re building to it. He’s just very stubborn about going slowly.”

He’s close enough that she can feel his lips turn up in a smile, and he closes the distance between them to press his lips softly against hers.

“Along these lines,” Ben says, pulling back slightly. “I know you overheard Quinlan asking about your and my sex life.”

“Your answer was perfect,” Satine says. “But something my therapist helped me realize…” she trails off, searching for the correct words. Deciding there are none, she just begins anyway. “I know that being with me isn’t easy,” she admits.

When Ben begins to protest, she cuts him off.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I don’t have a permanent job. I’m on a green card. I have cPTSD. We don’t really know how I will respond to certain aspects of sex. The point I’m trying to make is…being with someone like me isn’t easy, and I want you to be able to talk to someone who isn’t your therapist about those difficult parts. Venting is healthy. And I think Quinlan would be a good person for you to talk to, if you need to. Basically…my therapist pointed out that the partners of people who have experienced sexual trauma - they also need a support system. And I’m giving you permission to tell Quinlan whatever you need to, if you need someone other than me or your therapist to help you process it.”

He’s silent for so long that she has to check that he hasn’t fallen asleep.

“Ben?”

“Sorry,” he says immediately. “It’s just…are we actually succeeding? At becoming more emotionally available? Because what you said just now - it sure sounds like we are.”

Satine grins. “I just wanted to wrap all that up in therapy speak to give you permission to boast to me about Quinlan, so that in turn I could fill in Breha.”

Ben bursts into deep laughter. When it subsides, he says, “You can tell Breha whatever you’d like, my dear. I actually think it’s very wise to have a broad support system. Prevents any one person from becoming the entirety of your emotional support.”

“Exactly what my therapist was trying to tell me.”

“Look at us,” he says, amused. “Practicing emotional availability.”

Satine shifts to rest her head on his chest.

She closes her eyes, and her lashes brush against his bare skin. She and Ben exist for a few moments in silence, and then he clears his throat.

“Serenno made an announcement today at the seminar. Some fundraising event for the department, to be held at Riggs Library. Apparently the event has been planned since last semester, but of course I was on sabbatical and you hadn’t yet started at Georgetown. At any rate, it probably would be good for us to make an appearance. As much as I hate these types of events, one donor alone could potentially fund your salary.”

“Do those type of people ever feel guilty about how much wealth they hoard?” Satine sighs. “But you’re right, of course. We should go.” She takes a breath. “Dress code?”

“Black tie,” Ben says. “I’ll have to rent a tux,” he admits. “I don’t think I’ve worn one since we went to prom. Haven’t had the chance to go to many weddings - Anakin and Padma eloped, as did Quinlan and Ventress, obviously - so there was never a reason to invest in one.”

“Tux rentals can cost hundreds of dollars,” points out Satine. “It’s…not a great look on the department to make the faculty rent or purchase such formalwear when we will be the ones doing the dirty work of soliciting funds.”

“Academia,” says Ben with a sigh. “What are you going to do? It’s all part of the game.”

“That it is,” acknowledges Satine. She tangles one of her legs with his, grateful for his warmth against her cold feet. “You looked very handsome at prom,” she says. “And I’d suspect you’d fill out a tux even better these days.”

“For that comment alone, I might consider purchasing the tux outright,” Ben says. “Could we find other occasions for me to wear it?”

“Well,” says Satine, “back when you were proposing this thought experiment, you mentioned the opera. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to parading you on my arm at the Kennedy Center.”

“Okay, I’m definitely buying as opposed to renting, then,” Ben says, and he kisses her again. It’s a closed mouth kiss, designed specifically not to rile either of them up, but it conveys everything.

“You seem to have a thing about intellectual dates,” says Satine, grinning against his lips. “Shall we also go to the ballet? The orchestra? A jazz ensemble?”

“An inspired idea, Madam,” Ben says. “All of the above.” Suddenly he’s serious, though, and he says, “I know your fellowship pays enough for you to get by, but will you be able to afford a formal gown?”

“If I had more notice, sure,” says Satine. “But since we found out rather late, I’ll just ask Breha to borrow one of hers. She comes from money and she loves this kind of thing. What day is the fundraiser?”

“It’s the week after Spring Break - April 12th, a Friday. So we have a bit of time.”

Satine nods. “I’ll ask Breha this weekend. She’ll be delighted.”

Ben kisses her temple, and Satine rests her head again on his chest.

Despite her earlier tears, her earlier anger, and her earlier fear, she feels only peace.

“Goodnight, Ben,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, darling.”

---

The next day, Satine rings the doorbell to Breha Organa’s row house in the Embassy Row neighborhood near Dupont Circle. Satine looks around the neighborhood as she waits. Named for the large concentration of embassies and diplomatic residences, Embassy Row is one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the country. Satine can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t quite belong here, even considering the considerably large foreign resident population in the neighborhood. But maybe that’s just her inferiority complex talking after failing her exam, or maybe it’s Secretary Palpatine insidiously infiltrating her thoughts.

Satine turns back to the row house. It’s a stunning red brick home complete with a bay window and a cast iron fence bordering the small front yard, just large enough for some ornamental plants. The row house is not Breha and Bail’s primary home; their main residence is in rural Virginia, where the couple eventually plan to retire. But given Breha’s teaching position and Bail’s hours, the second home had been necessary to prevent an hours-long one-way commute.

At that moment, Breha flings open the door, her smile bright as she greets Satine. She drags her across the doorway and pulls her inside - though it’s March, spring hasn’t yet arrived in the District, and the air is still chilly.

“I have so many ideas,” says Breha, taking Satine’s coat and purse and hanging them in the front closet. “But first we have to stop by the kitchen to say hi to Bail. He’s working with a colleague on a new bill, but he insisted that he see you. He says it’s been far too long.”

And they step into the kitchen, which is warm in both temperature and hue: cabinets painted a soft gold, countertops in earthy tones, and a scented candle lit at the kitchen island. The island is almost entirely covered by papers, with the exception of spaces made for two laptops. At the computers sit Bail and a petite woman who Satine immediately recognizes as Padma Amidala.

Bail pushes his barstool back, smiling as he takes in Satine. “It’s so good to see you, my dear!” he says, hugging her warmly.

Satine returns the embrace. “And you, Bail.” She smiles at him. “Still working as hard as ever, I see.”

“Hopefully someday we’ll have done enough so that I’ll feel I can stop, but today is not that day.” He gestures to Padma. “Have you met?”

Padma steps off her chair and extends a hand forward to Satine. If Satine hadn’t known she was pregnant, she probably would not have noticed, but she’s able to discern a small baby bump.

“I feel like I know so much about you already,” Padma says, smiling warmly. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Satine.”

Satine takes her hand and returns the smile. “The honor is mine,” she says. At Bail and Breha’s confused glances, she explains. “Ben was Anakin’s doctoral advisor,” she says. “So I interact quite a bit with Padma’s husband at work.”

“Speaking of Ben,” says Bail, but Breha waves him off.

“She’s not going to talk about that in front of you, dear,” says Breha. “I’m much more likely to get juicy updates without a man in the room. So if you’ll excuse us, we have some gowns to try on.”

Padma’s face lights up, and Bail notices. “Take Padma,” he suggests. “She’s the best dressed in Congress bar none, so I suspect she’ll give you good advice. And we could use a break from the bill anyway.”

Padma grins and follows Satine and Breha, with Breha leading them up the stairs.

To Padma, Breha says, “Now, look, I understand my wardrobe is a little…much, but not having children means we had an extra bedroom, and I dearly wanted a walk-in closet.”

Satine, of course, has already “rented” clothing from Breha before, and the wardrobe is not a surprise to her. But she enjoys seeing Padma’s face upon entering the bedroom-turned-walk-in-closet; her eyes brighten like Diwali lights. 

Breha leads them to the black-tie appropriate section of her wardrobe, consisting of at least ten different gowns. Padma glances at Satine and then back at the options. She rolls forward onto her toes and selects a midnight blue gown first, then one in silver, and the next in gold.

“Start with these,” she says, as Breha nods her approval. They both step into the hallway so that Satine can slip into the first dress.

Satine fumbles slightly with the fabric. “How did you and Anakin meet, Padma?” she asks.

“He was presenting his research at a poster day on Capitol Hill,” she says, and Satine can hear the smile in her tone. “I was a Congressional aide. You know how they give the three-minute spiels when they present their posters? Well, he claims he knew he would marry me about one minute into it.” She laughs, amused. “Let’s just say I didn’t end up seeing any other posters that day.”

Satine grins at this. “Okay,” she says. “What are your thoughts?”

Breha and Padma duck back into the room, and Padma studies her. “As much as I like the color, we can find something else that highlights your features better.”

Breha nods. “She’s right. Try the gold one.”

And so they step out again so that Satine can change into the gold. That one ends up being slightly too short for Satine, so she next tries on the blue.

It’s an off the shoulder sweetheart cut, and it falls to the perfect length. When Satine sees Padma’s expression, she knows she’s found her approval.

“That one for sure,” says Padma.

“Blue is definitely your color,” agrees Breha. “When is the event, anyway? Do you need something to cover your arms? Will it be too cold?”

“Middle of April,” says Satine.

“So you’ll want a couple of options depending on how the weather shakes out,” says Padma. “I’ll send some with Anakin next week. I have a few that should work fine.”

Satine stumbles over her new acquaintance’s generosity. “Thank you,” she eventually manages to say.

“Don’t mention it,” says Padma. She smiles at Satine. “Anakin says Ben is the happiest he’s ever seen him, and Ben is the closest thing Anakin has ever had to a father. Ben’s our family, and if you’re Ben’s family, then you’re my family, too.”

Satine swallows the lump in her throat, nodding.

Padma gives her a knowing look. “You love him, don’t you?”

Satine has asked herself this question more times than she can count. She’s decided she’s afraid of the answer - not because she doesn’t know, but rather because she knows all too well.

Of course she’s in love with him. She doesn’t think she’s ever stopped loving him.

But she doesn’t understand why she can’t bring herself to say the words aloud.

Instead, she cracks a smile. “I can’t have you telling Anakin and then Anakin telling Ben what my response to that question is, now can I?”

And, luckily, Padma and Breha accept this with good-natured laughter, and they begin to pester Satine with questions about how good exactly Ben looks when he’s not so tightly buttoned up. Satine indulges them, grateful for the change of topic, trying not to let her thoughts wander too far.

But the panic sinks in regardless.

If she can’t even voice her feelings, will any love she is capable of giving Ben ever be enough?

[vhagarlovebot]

oh gods this is not a request, but the previous anon who spoke about Aemond being introduced in a loving environment around food is SO right!

it might be the fact that I am also Italian and I have always been forced to spend the meals around my family but now that I am living far from them and I rarely share the meal with somebody, I truly treasure those moments, so I can totally see Aemond doing the same.

(I truly can't wait for that request to be out and thank you nonnie for requesting it and thank you for bringing it up). I just wanted to add my own thought that I think that also, with how they were raised, none of the Targaryen-Hightower children ever learned how to properly cook for themselves (like at first they had staff for meals and then in college: Aegon was too lazy, Aemond was too busy and Helaena probably forgets to eat too many times). and I just imagine Aemond with a s/o who actually discovers this (like they come to hang out to his place and they always have take out, which is fine... if you have Aemond's money, but... let's see what's in your fridge... nothing?!).

and the s/o low key bringing him homemade food/leftovers and teaching him how to cook basic stuff to survive and then having kitchen lessons together, which end up with burnt food and flour on their faces as they giggle, I... ok new love language: food.

gwen’s note: no bc i’m living in a different city now (6 hours away from my family) and when they call me every weekend and i see them all together my heart breaks 💔 bc i miss that. and writing that req while i’m with them for the holidays just made me the happiest.

imagine going to aemond’s apartment for the first time, you have been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now. he takes you there because his siblings aren’t home and he can have a little peace and intimate moment with you. but you are starving because you haven’t eaten anything, just coffee after leaving your house in the morning, and the popcorns you ate during the movie weren’t enough.

“i make this incredible chicken,” you say, taking off your coat, walking to the kitchen. “and i mean finger-licking good.” you open the fridge, listing the vegetables you’ll need in your head, only to find it empty.

you find nothing in the kitchen, no groceries, no fruits, no vegetables. it is a miracle they have plates and glasses.

you end up eating take out. and after the meal, as you cuddle on the sofa watching true crime documentaries, you grab his phone, opening the notes, and when aemond asks what are you doing, you simply show him the screen that reads “groceries <3”.

the next day you go to the grocery store, and you love going to that place, to buy everything you will need to make your recipe and what you know they need to basically survive. aemond says you don’t need to look at the prices because he can pay for all of it, and oh of course you know that.

and when you go back to the house, aegon, helaena and daeron are already there, surprised at seeing so many bags full of different kinds of things.

you spend the rest of the day organizing the entire kitchen with their help, trying to teach them basic things like how to make pasta and rice, and how to use the brand new oven they haven’t used since they got the apartment.

and you make that special chicken recipe you learnt from your grandma, with three pair of blue eyes watching very closely your every move.

the four siblings end up eating a homemade dinner, sitting on the big table in their living room for the first time.

[lovelytremendousglitter]

He is screaming and crying for help

Part 1

Jim only felt slightly guilty at this. He was, after all, a tired middle aged police officer and honest enough with himself to know that if it weren’t for Jane, he would have probably fallen into Morpheus’s arms with a half-finished sixpack and a couple of empty chip bags.

        So Hopper could definitely appreciate a home cooked meal. Returning home to a ready dinner and a happy daughter is something that both scarred and soothed his wounded heart. It serves as a painful reminder, not only of what he used to have, but of how he failed Diane and how he continues to fail every day. Because, yeah the fact that a teen basically parents his daughter but doesn’t stick around when her parent’s over is sick. Hopper would very much like to have a dinner with the boy. Ask him a couple crucial questions. Like what business the most popular kid in Hawkins has hanging around any children, annoying nerdy ones at that. But every time he gathers enough courage for that, Steve slips out with progressively lamer excuses. Jim’s getting increasingly worried. When was the last time he was in the same room as Harrington and the kids? He has no idea what’s happening under his own roof every other day and that’s unacceptable.

              The past two weeks he found himself looking for an opportunity to kick him out, throttle him a little, make him never come back again. And then he sees Jane, and how his presence makes her more confident, more sociable. Watches with poorly vailed delight as she happily gobbles up Harringtons pumpkin stew. Last time he cooked they had to spend the entire evening cleaning up and getting El to eat vegetables ended in them not talking for three days and he’s just so tired. Looks at the dinner before him, which is more nutritious and tasty than anything Hopper would ever hope to create. Jane is getting closer to a healthy weight and he’ll begrudgingly admit he is too.

              At night he lies in bed agitated. Reasons Harrington’s just lonely after getting dumped. Or that somehow this is his ploy to get her back. That by taking care of the brats she’s so close to, he will gain something in her eyes. He goes to sleep once again promising himself to finally talk to the kid. That he doesn’t mind buying, making and cleaning up after dinner, if it gains him some of her attention.

              Needless to say the police chief never expected this. One thing about Harrington is that he never stays over for long, especially with Jim present. Despite what one could have expected Steve is actually surprisingly understanding of him and his wariness about people seeing El, hurting her. Seems to know that a boy his age hanging around kids isn’t welcomed and so he never overstays his welcome.

              So when Hopper comes home to the sight of one Steve Harrington lying on his couch and bleeding all over his only white towel, with two thirds of the toddler bunch jumping around him, he is a little bit shocked. They haven’t noticed him yet. Jane stands in the middle holding what looks like every blanket they own. Will is holding a steaming cup attempting to spoon feed Harrington. Henderson looks like a maniac, with rubber gloves that Jim forgot he owned, holding a roll of bandages. He can clearly see Mike Wheeler anxiously trotting along the cabins living room yelling angrily into his radio. It’s shocking enough that he releases his hold on the door and it closes loudly. Suddenly all (accept for Harringtons who lets out a yelp as he moves to sit) heads snap to him. The door locks snap shut at once. There’s a second of peace before all five start yelling over each other.

“Oh, great sir, you have to hel-“

“Hopper I can explain. I wa-“

“Steve is hurt.”

“Chief, pass me the antiseptic”

“-ink Dustin knows appropriate firs-“

As always Hopper focuses on his daughter first.

“Are you hurt? Any of you?”

“I am not hurt”

“Obviously we’re not hurt. Haven’t you heard the best paramedic is an alive paramedic.”

Since he met them Jim has never once been as thankful for their all-knowing snarky attitudes as he is now. God knows he can’t handle more than one moaning kid. There’s only going to be one problem today. A problem witch has apparently given up on moving and let his head fall with a quiet thud. Some part of Hopper, that he takes great effort to hide, is happy that Harrington finally can’t escape him. He closes his eyes and tries swallow down the venomous offspring of his suspicion. It takes one second, one second, to collect himself and of course that’s all it takes for the chaos to start up again. This time provoked by Wheelers radio.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?”  Maybe it’s the interference but Jim doesn’t recognize the voice of whoever Mike was yelling at more than any other people in this town.

“Steve is hurt. We’re helping” El instantly replies clearly pleased to know what’s going on and Jim is shamefully a little proud, that his little girl is most calm in this situation.

“We’re trying to do stiches, sir, and.. uh-” Will ever the polite young man tries to offer but then Wheeler of all people has to ruin it by bitching back at the walkie-talkie.

“Hopper’s pissing himself, don’t interrupt” Oh, that’s it El is going to wait three years before that boy is allowed in here again. He’s outdone himself this time. It’s getting very clear to that Mike needs to be taught some respect and he would gladly fulfil his duty as the chief and be the one to teach him.       He’s just about to threaten the kid with that, when the Henderson kid screeches.

“Steve is dying, is what’s going on and if you’re not going to tell us about stiches than get lost because you’re no help right now.” Jim didn’t even know that a fourteen year old boy was capable of such a sound, but he quickly abandoned that thought when little Will started shaking Harrington by the shoulders. Oh shit. Hopper will begrudgingly admit, that sometimes he can be a victim of tunnel vision, and it would seem his dislike of Mike Wheeler might have misguided his judgement of the situation, but now, as he looks at Wills pale face he can feel himself sobering up.

              His eyes move over Harrington, trying to assess the damages. His face is still full of yellow and green hues, but there aren’t any visible cuts. If it weren’t for the bloody towel under his head and Byers’s terrified expression he wouldn’t even know anything was wrong. Steves eyes are closed and he’s breathing small quiet breaths. He’s unconscious.  Hopper is sure he was talking just fine five minutes ago. He cups his face between his palms and maneuvers them/it to look for the cut. Now that he touched him he realizes Harrington is burning. His hair feels damp, especially where it’s shorter, but it looks as over-the-top as ever. He lets out a whine when Hopper pushes him up to sit. Around them the kids are all holding their breath. The only sound interrupting the surprisingly firm silence was the crackling coming from Wheelers radio.

              He finds it.  Going from the back of Harringtons head, next to his left ear, to the middle section on top is a open cut, slowly oozing blood into thick hair. Carefully Jim tries to push the hair apart, struggling to get a better look while not worsening the wound. When he finally manages, the pregnant silence is interrupted by several kids’ gasps. It’s not good. It’s vicious red, leaking puss in several places and if Hopper’s seeing properly, has some remnants of dirt in it. The edges are painted a darker color, somewhat scabbed over, like an old poorly treated tear re-opening. All right, that’s it. Hopper is done letting Steve from his grasp. It’s about time to get this problem over with thoroughly.

[0alanasworld0]

Fasting & Friendlies (Hakim Ziyech x reader)

Request 1: Hi angel ramadan moubarak! Can you write something about ziyech during ramadan? It’s ur first ramadan together and he’s away since he’s in morocco, you can add or change whatever you like. Thank you sm 👼🏼

Request 2: Just loving Hakim and seeing that sparkle in his eyes😔 like spoiling him and always giving him little kisses maybe even appreciation posts on instagram

warnings: none

“Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” Hakim yells from downstairs. You appear at the top of the stairs with your luggage and a scowl on your face.

“You had me rushing around and we’ve got three hours until takeoff.” you huff, carefully dragging your stuff down the stairs.

“Two hours and forty five minutes, actually!” he corrects and you give him a look that sets him straight. He holds his hands up in surrender before taking your things and carrying them to the car with you following behind him.

You’re feeling a little less grumpy now but you still refuse to look at him when he opens the car door for you. He does that adorable little bow that you would normally laugh at but you haven’t finished being mad at him just yet so you avoid his gaze and drop into the car seat with another huff. He sighs before getting into the driver’s seat and taking a look at you, a warm hand on your thigh.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I just can’t have anything go wrong, you know? I’m just sooooooo desperate to show these off to Abde and Bilal!” he jokes, pointing at his shoes, and you can’t hold your smile back anymore. 

“I’m still sleep deprived.” you cross your arms, turning your head away dramatically and he chuckles. You furrow your eyebrows when you hear the rustling of plastic packaging and you slowly turn your head to face him. You finally let a full smile break free with what you see. Your absolute favourite crisps hidden in the glove box. You wrap him in a tight hug before grabbing the bag from his hands and scarfing down the much needed meal for your suhoor. 

“You’re almost forgiven.” you mumble between munching as he starts the car.

“Almost?!” he exclaims, lightly slapping your thigh with an exasperated shake of his head and you chuckle. You could never stay mad at him. And at the end of the day, he was right. Both of you have been planning for this trip to the very T. All that time off and away from the club served two purposes. 1. To give him the luxury of spending more time with you and 2. To only strengthen his drive to play. Sure, game time was important but he was ready anyway. Everytime he thought about the fixture, his stomach erupted into butterflies. He was finally gonna get to see them all again and the buildup to the day of the flight felt so painfully slow but it was finally here. He was going home.

Now that the initial tired slump has worn off, you can’t help it. You’re both buzzing with energy now. The closest you had to home was talking about it and now you finally got to spend 2 weeks with the people you both considered family and in the place that connected you all. And with the way Hakim described it, Ramadan in Morocco was going to be a magical experience and you couldn’t wait to share Hakim’s safe space with him.

“You need to try the Tagine, the Bisara and… uh… just everything! And the air is so refreshing, it's so colourful and bright- not like here with all the grey- and the people are always so nice, always just giving out freebies!” he excitedly rambles, squeezing your thigh gently. His own thigh is bobbing up and down at the red light and it makes you so happy because it takes a calm person like him a lot to show their excitement. 

“Hakim, my love: I think the freebies are because you’re Morocco’s 4th top goal-scorer of all time. I don’t think they’re doing that regularly!” you remind and he hums.

“I didn’t think about that.” he admits with a shrug, picking up where he left off. 

When you reach the airport, concern bubbles as you see 2 random men waving, rather crazily, and seemingly towards you. Only when you squint, you realise that they’re familiar faces and not some hooligans out to irritate Hakim. Well it is just that but familiar hooligans at least. The men are sprinting towards you and Hakim as you take your time to get out of the car.

“YES YES YES NOW YOU HAVE TO ASK FOR THE DESSERTS!” Nayef yells, grabbing Hakim by the shoulders and bringing him into a bear hug. You watch on, completely confused by the situation unfolding and still not completely there. Hakim sighs with a huff, turning to you.

“Surprise! Nayef and Ilyas are joining us!” he winces. Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee are still clearly very excited. You decide not to pry further so with a shake of your head, you get to the car to grab your luggage. 

After praying in your separate areas, you all return together to sit at one of the cafes in the airport. Not that any of you were going to eat but courtesy of the staff being Chelsea supporters - much to Nayef and Ilyas’ dismay - you were allowed to sit and rest in one of the comfortable booths while you waited. You can’t help but be completely drained already so you rest your head on Hakim’s shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and you interlink your hand with his, sighing out in relief and closing your eyes. You choose to ignore the gagging noises that the other 2 are making but you know that Hakim is probably giving them his signature death glare. No middle fingers or swearing but he had that killer glare that would do the trick anyway and the noises subsequently stop. You can’t help but smile at the situation unfolding. Oh this was going to be a good 2 weeks, you just knew it.

“Okay everyone give me your passports.” Hakim instructs and you can’t help but giggle. Airport dad Hakim was finally here. You supposed that the fasting delayed it a little bit. The boys both furrow their brows, looking to you for an explanation as hakim looks through his backpack, bringing out the folders.

“He doesn’t trust you to take care of your stuff.” you put it simply. They both look to Hakim in offence.

“I’m very responsible, thank you very much!” Nayef exclaims and Hakim gives them a side eye (bombas- no). 

“Look me in the eyes and say that.” Hakim challenges, putting the pair under his intense gaze. The lack of response is all he needs.

“All right cmon, GIVE!” he repeats, a little more sternly now and the boys relent their documents with a sigh. After checking the dates on the passports and having a go at Ilyas for not renewing his (it was going to expire in 2024), you all make your way to check in but not before Hakim checks the flight information for the umpteenth time since you entered the airport. You all look like little children trailing behind him as he navigates. In typical Hakim fashion you are an hour too early so you all drop down onto the uncomfortable airport benches. 

When the time finally does come and you all haul your luggage onto the conveyor belt. Hakim’s brow is furrowed in concern as your luggage goes through. And just as he suspected, you’ve overpacked. 

“I knew this would happen.” he pinches your cheek before opening the side compartment of his own suitcase to bring out an empty backpack. He hands it to you with a kiss to your cheek and he ends the matter there, helping you to offload some of your stuff into it. The boys look on in disbelief. 

“Where’s the lecture for her?! How’s this fair?!” Ilyas points out frantically. 

“Overpacking can be solved in a few minutes. An expired passport cannot.” Hakim explains but not without slapping the back of Ilyas’ head first. 

After recollecting the passports and rechecking the gates, Hakim takes to studying the planes while the rest of you find yourselves engrossed in your word hunt challenges. 

“Does your loving husband always do this?” Nayef mumbles absentmindedly before shutting his phone off, his face in his hands as he loses yet another game. You pat his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him after your victory.

“Oh yeah, gets the job done though so no complaints from me!” you say with a shrug, looking over at Hakim with a smile on your face.

“The airport dad pose really does it for you?! Really?!” he teases and you pinch his arm.

Only as you’re about to walk onto the plane does Hakim return the precious passports, giving a stern glare to all of you and keeping track of where you keep them. 

He finally seems to let go of all of his tension when you’ve all taken your seats and he sits up with his phone.

“Oh I’m going to trash all of you at word hunt.” you all groan in response because Hakim was good at many things: one was being organised and the other was puzzles. 

After about 4 hours of a fairly peaceful flight, many pretty photos of clouds, and even more photos of you and Hakim asleep together being spammed in the group chat, the sight of the landing ground getting closer and closer was an exciting one. For the first time today, all of you are buzzing with energy as the flight draws to a close.

Once you reach the hotel, you and hakim now separate from the boys as you all make your way to your rooms. He hugs you before dragging you to fall onto the bed with him and he groans in relief. 

“Can we just stay here please?” he mumbles.

“And go to bed without irritating Romain?” you joke and he immediately shoots up.

“I almost forgot!” he exclaims, energy returning and he’s now hauling you up and back onto your feet. You don't have much time to think as he’s dragging you out of the door.

When you reach the lobby, you’re guided to where the rest of the team are waiting and you hoped you would remember the smile on Hakim’s face forever. All of his best friends, all of the people he considered family, gathered in the lounge happily talking to each other face-to-face for the first time in months. The time apart felt hellish, for some more than others, but whenever they got to speak to each other, it was like they’d never been apart. 

There’s Yassine and Romain talking with Bilal and Benjamin, probably another wise old man lecture because you can see the latter two dozing off every once in a while. Sofyan, Abde appear to be preoccupied with an arm-wrestling contest with Ounahi and Dari officiating. Abde appears to be on the brink of tears while Sofyan looks cool as ever. Hamdallah is knocked out completely on one of the couches and you can see Anass and Boufal prepare to sneak up on him. It’s chaos but a very comforting one. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss these guys too. You see Noussair waving at the pair of you and push Hakim on.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Hakim remarks and Nous simply rolls his eyes, a bright smile quickly making its way onto his face.

“Oh please you missed me more than anyone here and you know it!” he brings you both into a hug before you all start talking again. You knew that Hakim was extremely fond of Nous in particular so this catch-up in particular meant a lot to him. Your eyes focus on Hakim. He looks to be having the time of his life: he’s rarely an animated person but he becomes something else with his fellow Ajax graduate. It’s something that you don’t think you’ll ever tire of seeing.

Thankfully he’s kept occupied long enough for everyone else to slip to the dining hall without him noticing. Sure his birthday WAS yesterday and he had a wonderful time spending it with you but it was only a day late so why not share it with the people he loved most?

When the 3 of you finally make your way to the dining hall, you’re met with a litany of confetti cannon blasts and the sight of the huge birthday cake. The cheers from the team put a dopey smile on his face as the joys of the return fully settle in. all of his favourite people gathered in one place. All smiling and energetic as ever. He couldn’t ask for more. 

The cake is quickly shared out along with the rest of the meal and everyone is quick to dig in. Ounahi, the resident bully of the group, is of course the first to speak when the chatter slowly starts creeping up again.

“The cake is great and all but I think we can all agree that the best way to celebrate this momentous occasion is with some entertainment! Ben, you’re up!” he announces and the poor guy reluctantly moves to stand on his chair with a microphone already in his hand. It was time for his group initiation. 

“Some things never change.” Hakim whispers and you laugh quietly, eager and waiting for the entertainment to begin. That brightness in his eyes really was just spectacular. Over here, he was just freed of a stress that he simply couldn't get rid of over in London. he was happier than he could ever he describe when he spent time with you but the burdens of the club always still lingered in the back of his mind, he was never truly free of the stress. it weighed him down and only now do you realise that.

It hurts to think about but you're glad he gets some time away from it where he genuinely isn't being weighed down. He's focussed on the performance in front of him and you're certain that Benjamin's predicament is hilarious, you can't tear your eyes off Hakim. everything else is drowned out as you stare at him. He hasn't stopped smiling since he arrived, you realise. you truly wished that things could just stay like this forever but of course it wasn't to be that way so you're thankful that he gets these next couple of weeks. Momentarily, you forget that everyone else is there and you catch him off guard by hugging his side. He looks down at where you've nestled your head with a confused smile. Nonetheless, he welcomes the affection and snakes an arm around your waist to give a comforting squeeze. You lift your head from the crook of his neck and peck his cheek. You can see the redness start to appear so you go for another. And another. And another.

"Get a room, guys!" Sofyan whispers, nudging Hakim and he shrugs before leaving a kiss at your temple. The rest of the group has noticed too but become preoccupied as the next newbie is ordered to take the stage. You see no reason to leave your spot so you stay there, with your arms around him and his around you.

He zones out for a second as he processes things. Sure, you were an affectionate person, especially with him but in a group setting? Not that he had a problem with it by any means. this was basically his family so he knew he had nothing to worry about but still. He wonders what's sparked it.

The next few days in the build-up to the match felt like a fever dream. You had expected Hakim and the boys to be sore and completely shattered by the end of every day. So imagine your surprise when Hakim sends you a photo of the mural in the prison. That day he comes home absolutely beaming as he recalls how kindly he was treated and how much fun he had. What's strange is that he IS sore and he HAS spent hours upon hours training but by some miracle, they’ve managed to fit their field-trips into the schedule too. The next day is also bizarre but you can’t say that you’re too surprised when Hakim facetimes you while going to town on a colouring sheet. You can see Yassine and Anass in the background doing what they were actually supposed to be doing and you furrow your eyes as you pay closer attention to the background noise.

“Hakim, I might be wrong here but I think the kiddies are looking for you!” you laugh but he’s too engrossed with the task at hand to even look up at you.

“They can just come over here and join me with this!” he suggests, still refusing to look up. You can’t help but laugh harder as Romain comes up behind him to slap him on the head.

“You’re the bane of my existence, wallah. Can we get back to the task at hand?!” the captain scolds as Hakim winces.

“Oh hi, kiddo! Duty calls! ” Romain adds quickly, before ending the call and you can already imagine Hakim’s heedless protests at the action. You knew that one little setback very likely took nothing away from the fact that Hakim was having the time of his life. This was home. Not the grey abyss of England. He perhaps held Netherlands more fondly but THIS was home. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He sends you countless videos of them having a blast training: messing around and causing chaos, laughing at each other. This trip was turning out to be everything you both expected it to be and so much more.

The morning of the 22nd is a fuzzy one. You’d been waiting for it for ages for the special night but the early hours still have you in a haze with Hakim shaking you as gently as he can to wake you. 

“My love, we need to eat!” he reminds, voice gentle on your ears which isn’t doing you much good in terms of waking you. His next attempt is more successful as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you so that you’re sitting up. You rub your eyes tiredly and he kisses your cheek, holding your face in his hands as he looks at you. You looked so cute, so tired, so grumpy. He loved it. 

“Ramadan Mubarak, gorgeous! We have to have our suhoor remember?” you hum, vaguely understanding what he was saying which was honestly an improvement. Even with slight coherence, he’s still the one dragging you around and making sure you’re steady on your feet as you get to the lounge. 

Some of the players are already there, gathered on the floor with the various dishes being shared around. You rest your head on Hakim’s shoulder as he gets both of your plates ready. The meal is fairly quiet, thankfully. The chatter is fairly minimal with everyone in the rooms at different levels of exhaustion. It's a peaceful moment and although you’re not fully there, you can still appreciate the fact that you were with people you had grown to love in such a short period of time. 

You spend the day trying to distract yourself with some gift-shopping for when you went back home while Hakim was focussing on training for the match. There was very little time for the pair of you to talk in between so you were itching to see him by the time iftar rolled around. It was your first Ramadan together and although you were glad to be spending it in Morocco, there was a part of you that wanted to spend a little bit more time with him but you knew that it would be worth it in a few days.

 You practically jump onto him when he walks through the door and you capture him in the tightest hug you can manage before dragging him to sit next to you. The rest of the team is soon to follow, too tired to make any jokes as Hakim kisses your temple. Everyone is clutching onto their dates and pouring large glasses of water as you await the Adhaan. Another benefit of Morocco was that you weren’t all having to constantly check your phones, you just had to wait for the beautiful sound to echo through the streets. And eventually, you do hear it. There’s a collective sigh of relief before you all dig into the dates, almond filled so that none of you had to deal with gnawing around the seeds. With the renewed energy, the chatter steadily increases in volume as the boys excitedly talk about the events that transpired during training. Hakim throws an arm around your shoulder as he continues the conversation. You may have been a little upset about the lack of time spent with him earlier during the day but moments like this where you truly felt like a family reminded you just how worthwhile the time apart was. Again, that look in his eyes was priceless. A sparkle that had become pretty rare over in London.

He falls onto the bed when the pair of you reach the hotel room and you’re soon to follow, shuffling under the covers and towards his arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask quietly, wondering if he had already dozed off yet.

“Exhausted and excited all at once, love. It’s very confusing.” you chuckle together before he starts again.

“I know it seems far-fetched but I really think we could do this, you know?” he confesses. Everything was right. They were training harder than ever, praying, fasting. Things just felt right. He had every reason to be hopeful.

“Not far-fetched at all, my love. Before you know it, you’ll have another top 10 team on their knees.” you assert before releasing a huge yawn. He smiles, realising that you both most definitely need the sleep. The hand drawing shapes on your back is enough to send him into a deep slumber fairly quickly and you're soon to follow, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek before sleeping off the events of the day.

The 24th and 25th are stressful, stressful days. Every player giving it their absolute all in training, tensely going over the tactics, the analysis, and they just know they can’t let this match go to waste. It’s a chance to prove that their world cup run was no fluke. They’re here for real and they’re hungry for victory. This was their time to show it.

The tension doesn’t relieve by the time iftar rolls around either. Unlike the first 2 days, the silence isn’t broken even after everyone has dug in. The boys have heaps for energy but the idea of expending it now wasn’t one they wanted to act upon. The stress in the room is choking as everyone gets their fill. Only one thing on their minds. They’re quick to leave as well so they can pray together, Hakim pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before making his way out and you return back to your room to get ready to leave for the stadium.

The match is the first time you see him since the iftar, much to your dismay but you knew that he was where he needed to be. Surrounded by all the right people that made matches like this that much more magical so you felt a sense of peace in your heart.

The crowd was electric, some of the best you have ever seen. Colourful smoke bombs, streamers and giant sparklers ignited the atmosphere and perfectly reflected the feelings of the crowd. There are the charismatic Brazilians who were seasoned pros in all things football. As much as England proclaimed themselves to be the home of football, for most it was Brazil. It was a legacy they carried with pride and strived to preserve. But you and everyone in the stadium knew better than to count your husband’s team out. Morocco, a team that broke down a glass ceiling that had been imposed on non-European teams from the very start. It wasn’t going to be an easy fight by any means but you had faith. You knew exactly what they were capable of. And in the most blessed month of all times.

You smile when you see Hakim close his eyes to listen to the anthem. In truth, even without knowing Darija, he had spent a very long time learning the anthem but the feeling of the crowd, and such an energetic and passionate one was something that energised him in a way that nothing else could. You could feel the sound of the stadium quite literally move through you. 

You feel your heart in your throat as the match begins, it just meant too much. Everyone had too much to prove. But you have to remind yourself that you have faith. They’d done it three times before with an extensive injury list haunting them last time. Now, with the entire team injury-free, there was no reason they couldn’t achieve the same greatness again. And you just had to keep reminding yourself of the fact.

You’re proven correct in your faith and you can’t help but cheer when you see Hakim immediately ease past the Brazilian defences with Ounahi at the helm to assist him. The speed of the passes was difficult to comprehend and you find yourself struggling to keep up. If you blinked, you would open your eyes to something completely new. The Moroccan tiki-taka. And it was your Hakim who was at the centre of it, you couldn’t be more proud already. Your cheers turn into full blown screams as the chance comes to fruition with Boufal taking a risky shot. The stadium lights up and the electricity moves through you in a way you hadn’t felt in any other stadium. The noise is overwhelming but the relief that you feel is all you need. 

Fairly soon after the first chance, your eyes light up and you prepare yourself to scream again when you realise who is at the centre of this one. You get up from your seat and hold your breath, the scream bubbling up your throat but it's not to be this time. Wonderful chance for your husband but it goes just wide and he winces. You can imagine what's going through his head already. The normal Chelsea treatment would be online ridicule and contempt but you know the Moroccan crowd better than that. He gets a fairly big cheer from the crowd anyway and you smile widely when you see Walid giving him a reassuring thumbs up. He smiles back and then manages to easily find you in the crowd. You do the same as Walid and his smile widens and he gives you a shrug. Quickly getting ready for the play to continue.

The final half hour is tense as you all tensely wait and pray for a goal that could break the equaliser and it finally comes. The crowd once again is electrified with cheers as Sabiri takes Morocco back into the lead. Even with the comfort of the lead and the clearly worn out Brazilian side, nothing has you more happy than seeing Hakim continue to give it his all. For the first time in a long time, he looks like he’s having fun and you couldn’t be happier for him. It felt so right here. Things felt natural and he was reminded of why he loved the sport so much in the first place. 

The final whistle is a sound almost as beautiful as the adhaan and the cheers vibrate the stadium once again, the volume at an all time high as Morocco do it once again. Yet another historic victory to solidify their world cup status. The crowd lights up once again as everyone celebrates the resounding victory. A reminder that was very much needed and a message that could be sent out to the rest of the world. You were so proud. So proud you could combust into flames. They really did it again. 

You turn around from celebrating with some friends to see Hakim charge towards you, his face lit up with a smile. The next thing you know, he’s grabbing you by the hand and dragging you towards the field where you can celebrate freely on the grass. He lifts you up and spins you around as you laugh together before he puts you down. His arms stay in place however, grip tightening as he takes in the moment.

“We really did it.” he mumbles, dumbfounded by it all. 

“Of course you did, you were amazing!” you beam and he furrows his brow.

“I messed up probably one of the easiest chances of the night.” he reminds you and you wave your hand dismissively.

“Oh please, forget that! You were perfect otherwise and you know it!” he shrugs before lifting you up and spinning you around again.

The hotel lobby is absolute pandemonium as everyone gathers to celebrate the victory. You’re there with him the entire time, pressing little kisses onto his face at any given opportunity and a dopey smile on your face as you looked at him otherwise. Memories of the missed shot leave his mind fairly quickly as everyone celebrates the victory. He’s a blushing mess with the love you’re showering him with and his skin is burning by the time you reach the time you reach your hotel room.

“You’re awfully affectionate tonight.” he mumbles, eyes drifting away from yours because he knows how much you’re enjoying this.

“I’m proud of my wizard! What can I say?” you shrug before making your way onto the bed, your back against the headboard.

“C'mon, let me spoil you for the night.” you pat the space in front of you and he obliges, removing his sweater and sitting with his back towards you. He knew that you wouldn’t want to do anything in the holy month, even if you weren’t fasting and especially right after a match.

Your warm, smooth hands begin at his shoulder as you press into the knots, careful not to hurt him as you work away at the tension. He can feel it melting away from his body already as the soreness dissipates with your comforting touch. You continue down the rest of his sore back and when you’re done, you press kisses over his shoulders and upper back. He sighs out before turning around to look at you with a shy smile. You don’t give him much time to think before grabbing his face and pressing your lips against his. He’s surprised but ultimately welcomes the affection as he melts into the kiss. You whine as he parts for breath.

“What has gotten into you?” he asks incredulously. You always made sure to shower him with affection but it had been a whole other level recently.

“I don’t know! I guess seeing you happy just makes me happy! Like really happy!” you attempt to explain before reaching for another kiss, which he accepts. When you part again, you lay yourself down and he lays next to you, face only a few inches from yours.

“You know you really were amazing out there today!” you remind him and he smiles.

“Could have been better if I was on target.” he admits with a small shrug and you run your thumb over his cheek.

“Oh you know that it isn’t all about the goals! you were everywhere today, you make it look so easy!” you attempt to explain. He smiles and you breathe out in relief because he’s finally accepted the compliment.

“But…” 

“Nope. Go to sleep now.” you quickly interrupt him before him so his head is under your chin. You feel him laugh against your chest before finally conceding although its muffled against your skin.

“Fine! Fine! It was good today! I was good!” he says but he opts to stay where he is, even with your loosened grip. He lets out a yawn and that's your signal to end the night. You press one more kiss to his temple and his arms snake around your body, snuggling into your chest. Sleep finds him quickly as the exhaustion crashes through him in waves. The warmth of your body and the hand once again smoothing over his back is enough to send him into the most peaceful slumber. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin is a comforting one as well as the feeling of his strong arms around your frame. It lulls you into a place of contentment at which point you find yourself falling into your own slumber.

not ramadan anymore but as I always say, better late than never lmfao but i hope u enjoy anyway, lovelies xoxo ryan ;)