#i'll put up rest of the pages... parts? when i get home

[harundraws]

🤭💌 (part 1)

[imagines4thefandoms]

Family Reunion

word count: 6.5K

Summary: y/n reluctantly goes to a family reunion that may or may not be a disaster

TW: adoption hate, No y/n used

You were sitting in the living room reading a book when Alfred walked into the manor with the mail. He placed it on the table behind the couch and went into the kitchen to start dinner. Jason came running into the room and jumped on the couch next to you. 

“Hey, mom, whatcha doin’,” he asked, laying his head on your shoulder.

“Just reading,” you answered as you turned the page of your book. Jason snuggled closer to you and let out a sigh. You put your book down and looked over at your son. 

“What's the matter, J,” you asked, placing your book on the table behind you. 

Jason sat up straight and looked at you. He gave you a serious look, which made you worry a little. Jason was one of the least serious of your kids; well, they are all less serious than Damian. “Nothing, just bored,” he said, looking at you with a smile.

“Mom, did the mail come in yet?” Tim yelled, running up from the cave. 

“Yes, Alfred just brought it in,” you replied. 

Tim ran into the living room and searched through the mail. He was so excited that he dropped the rest of the mail on the floor. Your husband walked in and sat down on the couch between you and Jason. 

“Hey honey,” Bruce said, kissing your temple.

“Tim, make sure you pick up your mess,” you said, cuddling into Bruce.

It was moments like these, where Bruce and the boys stayed home that made all the drama of marrying Batman/ Bruce Wayne worth it. Just as Tim came and sat on the chair next to you, Dick and Damian walked in through the front door. Dick walked over to you and kissed your cheek while Damian stood in the living room with a grimace. 

“Grayson, just because I asked a question about your job didn’t mean I wanted to spend the day with you,” he exclaimed. 

Dick went to throw his keys on the table, but they landed on the floor. When we bent down to grab them, he noticed an envelope under the couch. 

“Hey, Mom, there’s mail for you,” he said, handing it over. 

Your name was handwritten on a baby blue envelope. Just from the writing, you knew what was in this piece of mail. Your mother was trying to get you to come to a family reunion, but we were not interested. You loved your family, but there were some people you just didn’t want to talk to anymore. “It's nothing.” You said, placing it on the table and opening your book back up to finish the chapter you were reading when Jason interrupted you. 

“Nothing, Mother, it looks important. It’s handwritten,” Damian said, opening it up. 

Before you could stop him, he started to read the invitation, which you had already gotten about seven times.  Bruce looked over at you and gave you a questioning look as your son finished reading the invitation. 

“Like I said, it's nothing,” you said, getting up from the couch and grabbing the invitation from Damian. 

“Family reunion. That sounds fun, Mom,” Jason said, grabbing the card from your hands. 

“Sure, but not when it’s my family that is reuniting,” you replied, grabbing the invite again. 

This time, before anyone can grab it from you again, you rip it up and throw it in the waste basket in the living room. You knew you probably should have burned it, but you had hope that your sons and husband knew to leave it alone.  You went to your office to do a couple of things for work when you got a call from your mother. 

Hey Sweetie

“Hey, mom. What’s up.”

 Nothing, I just wanted to talk to my daughter.

“I’m not going mom.”

We miss you

“I miss you too, Mom. You know you and Dad are welcome to come visit whenever you want. The kids miss you.”

Sweetheart, please

“Is she going to be there?”

Yes. She’s a part of this family.

“Then just let me know when you and Dad want to come visit.”

It’s not just me who misses you. It's in two weeks you still have time to change your mind.

“Ugh, Mom, if I say I'll think about it, will you stop sending the invitations?”

Yes, only if you consider it

“Ok, Mom, I will consider going to the reunion.”

Great, well, I’m going to let you go and let you get back to work Tell my grand-babies I love them and tell Bruce I said hi.

“Alright, mom. I love you bye.”

Love you too, baby. Bye

You hung up the phone and looked up when you heard a small knock at your office door. Bruce was standing in the doorway, waiting for you to finish your phone call. He walked over and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Mom says hi,” you said, placing your phone on your desk and walking to stand in front of your husband. 

Bruce gave you the face he makes when he wants you to tell him what’s wrong, but he won’t ask. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you told him, placing your head on his chest.

“I didn’t say anything,” he responded, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“I would love to see everyone, but every time I’m in the same room with HER, it doesn’t end well. You remember,” you opened up. 

The memory of the last time you had a run-in with your sister. It was before you and Bruce adopted Dick. It was also the last family reunion you went to. The night just went downhill as soon as she walked into the house. It ended with her calling you a gold-digging whore and Bruce having to hold you back from attacking her. 

“Oh, I remember. You were scary,” he said with a smile as he kissed your head. 

“Mom. Scary? Impossible,” Damian said, walking in to check up on you. 

You knew that going to the reunion was a terrible idea. No matter how much you would love to be around everyone again. Bruce looked at you, and you knew whatever you decided, he was going to support you no matter what. 

“Your mother can be very scary,” he responded to Damian but still looked at you. 

“Demon, ask her about the letter,” you heard Jason “whisper” from the hall. 

You laughed and shook your head as you stepped out of Bruce’s warm embrace. Damian tried to act like he had no idea what Jason was saying or that he couldn’t hear his brother from the hall, but you knew better. When you walked past him to go to the door, Damian avoided eye contact and acted innocent. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Jay,” you said, poking your head out of your office and looking at Jay. 

He quickly stood up and caught your other boys off balance, making them either stumble back or fall on the ground. You motioned with your head to come in while you walked back to your office. 

“Grandma says hi,” you said, sitting on your desk. 

“You talked to grandma,” Dick asked excitingly. 

Just seeing Dick’s reaction, you knew that you had to go for your sons. You looked over to your husband, and he knew what you were going to do. 

“That letter was from Grandma about a family reunion in two weeks,” you explained. “I didn’t say anything about it sooner because last time I was at a family reunion, it didn’t end well.”

“Your mother almost got into a fight,” Bruce explained further as he took out his phone and rearranged his schedule so he could go with you. 

“Mom getting into a fight. I would love to see that,” Jay said, sitting in one of the chairs in front of your desk and putting his feet on your desk. 

“You might jay bird,” you whispered. 

“So, are we going,” Tim asked. 

After taking a deep breath to calm your already anxious mind, you told them yes. You grabbed your phone to call your mother to tell her that you will be attending, so Bruce and the boys left your office. Your mother was super happy that you would be going home. She told you how she wasn’t going to tell anyone, so it would be a big surprise. After you hung up, you were heading back to spend time with your family when you overheard Bruce and the kids talking. 

“I can’t imagine mom getting in a fight,” Dick stated.

“You haven’t seen your mother with her sister,” Bruce responded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Aunt Lilah?” Tim asked.

“No, Sophia.”

“She has another sister,” Jason exclaimed. 

You walked into the living room, and the boys stopped asking questions because they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or angry. You sat down next to your husband and Jason and put on a movie. 

The next two weeks consisted of your mother texting you how excited she was to have you, Bruce, and the kids back home. You also spent those two weeks learning some kind of calming technique Alfred knew in hopes it would help you not go crazy. The night before you left to head back to your hometown, the boys kept talking about how they were excited to see where you grew up and hopefully learn some embarrassing stories about you. 

In the morning, you woke up before Bruce and just watched the love of your life sleep. You trace your name over his chest when you hear a small laugh escape your husband’s throat. Your hands stopped as your eyes met his blue eyes. He grabbed your hand, brought it to his mouth, and placed a small is on the palm. 

“You don’t have to mark me. I'm already your’s,” Bruce said, pulling you onto him. 

“Shut it,” you smacked him. 

The two of you just lay there til Alfred knocked on the door and came in with two cups of coffee and the newspaper. He placed the try on Bruce’s nightstand and opened the curtains before leaving. Bruce handed you your cup, and you just wrapped your hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth. A light kiss on your right shoulder brought you back to reality. 

“Penny for your thought,” Bruce asked, leaving more kisses on your naked shoulders. 

“Wow, only a penny. When did you get so cheap,” you joked, placing your coffee on your nightstand and turning towards your husband. 

He let out a chuckle, pushing you on your back, and hovered over you. “When my wife got so expensive,” he joked, leaving love bites on your neck and collarbone. You slapped his chest at his comment. “I hate you,” you said, pulling him on top of you so you’re being crushed by his weight.

“Sure you do.” Bruce pried himself from your grasp to get ready for the flight. “As much as I would enjoy you staying like that for the trip, it might traumatize the kids,” he joked, staring at your naked form still lying in bed. 

“Or we can just forget the reunion and abandon our kids and just go on another honeymoon,” you suggested as you got out of bed and joined Bruce in the bathroom.

“They would find us,” he replied after giving your idea a moment's thought.

“And whose fault it is that they are great detectives,” you asked, getting into the shower. 

While you and Bruce were taking a shower, Alfred was in the room packing your bags for the trip. Since the boys haven’t seen your parents in a long time, you decided to spend a week at home. The boys were excited to get to spend so much time with their grandparents. 

“Your flight is scheduled to leave in an hour, so I suggest you two hurry up,” Alfred yelled as he left the room. 

“Last time I checked, it's my plane,” Bruce called back as he was helping you dry off. 

“The sooner you leave, the sooner I can find some actual peace,” Alfred replied, causing you to laugh. 

The boys were waiting in the living room with all their bags when you and Bruce finally got dressed. You saw how excited they were for the reunion, and you understood. You come from a giant and mainly loving family. They’ve heard a few stories from your childhood, and you noticed how there was a longing look in their eyes. So, you decided to push past all the drama and try your best to make this the best weekend for your kids. You want them to have a happy, normal family experience. 

“You guys ready to head out,” you asked, interrupting their conversations. 

They all jumped up, grabbed their bags, and ran to the car. You laughed at their antics as you followed them out. During the car ride to the airport, the boys were planning all the things they wanted to do during the week. Bruce pulled you against his side as you watched the kids.

“I brought some of the jokers laughing gas if you need it,” Bruce whispered into your ear.

“I'm gonna need it later, I’m fine now,” you laughed. 

“We can just drop the boys off and go do something just us,” he suggested, kissing the top of your head.

“No,” you exclaimed, jumping up and turning to him.

Bruce looked at you with concern and questioning. “What’s wrong,” he asked. 

“We are all going as a family,” you replied, ignoring his question. 

“Mom,” Dick asked.

“It's nothing, ok. I promise,” you replied, rubbing his back. 

As soon as you got on the plane, your outburst was forgotten by all except Bruce. As soon as the pilot said we were free to roam the plane, Bruce unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you into his lap.

“B, the kids are right there,” you lightly scorned as you tried to get out of his lap.

“As much as I would like to. I’d much rather talk about your outburst in the car.”

“I don’t want them alone around Sophia,” you told him. 

Before he could ask why, you pulled out your phone to show him the family bulletin email chain. You showed him the edition where Sophia announced the birth of her son, Aaron. And her reply to why the title was a new addition to the grandkids instead of the first grandchild. 

“She constantly refuses to acknowledge the boys as family. Because they are not blood, they don’t count,” you explained. 

“Sounds like Damien when he first came to us,” he joked, pulling you closer to him. 

“Yeah, but Damien matured and realized he was wrong. She never has. I’m worried she’s going to open her mouth and ruin their trip,” 

“They’ve heard all that before, especially when the world wants to know if/when we are going to have a baby. But they know the truth.”

“But that’s coming from strangers. This would be from family.”

“Does anyone else think that way?”

“No.”

“Then there should be nothing to worry about,” You relaxed in his arms and rested your head on his shoulder. “But if something does happen, I’ll release the laughing gas, and we can book it out of there.”

You let out a loud laugh, causing everyone to look at you. Bruce buried his face in your neck and just enjoyed the sound of your laughter. He only pulled away when Damien came over and glared at you. 

“Ummi, father, please, do not join the mile-high club while we are right here,” he said with a deadpan look on his face before going back to the video game he was playing with Jason. 

“Oh my god,” you said, trying not to laugh as you looked at your husband. 

“Damien, really,” he asked, turning to look at his youngest. 

“That’s your kid,” you said, getting back into your seat.

“Mine,” he laughed, quickly checking his phone. 

You nodded your head as you took a sip of your drink. The rest of the flight, Bruce did as much work as he could finish before the plane landed, and you read more of your book. When the plane landed, instead of a town car, your mother was standing by her minivan, jumping up and down. 

“She insisted on picking us up,” Bruce explained, helping you down the stairs. 

“Jida,” Damien yelled, jumping over the railing and running over to your mother. Your heart melted at the sight of Damien jumping into your mother’s arms. She spun him around and then put him back on the ground. As soon as she took a step back, Jason wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. 

“Oh my, baby, what are you feeding this one,” your mother laughed, hugging Jason back. 

“Jay, put Granny down before you hurt her,” Tim warned as he started putting the bags in the trunk of the minivan. 

Bruce helped Tim while you tried to greet your mother. Before you could get your hug, Dick stepped between you and stole your hug. “Oh my, look how tall you’ve gotten. Your being safe,” she asked, pushing him back slightly as she looked over him. 

“Yes, Granny, I'm being very careful at work,” he said, pulling her into another hug and kissing her cheek. 

Once he released her, you finally got your hug. “That one worries me all the time,” she whispered in your ear. 

“Me too, but I get texts after his shifts, so I know he is safe.”

“I need those too,” she said, looking at Dick and Jason as they smacked each other on the back of the head. 

“Oh, my favorite son-in-law,” your mother said as she pushed you aside to hug Bruce. 

“Hey, ma,” he said, kissing her cheeks. “You look amazing.”

“You’re already my favorite, no need to suck up,” she joked, slapping his arm. 

Your mother loved Bruce. As soon as you told her you were dating, she warned you to be careful cause of his reputation. But after she met him, she would always say, ‘Don’t do anything stupid to mess that up. I’ll choose him in the breakup.’ Sometimes, she’d just randomly call Bruce, and they would chat for a couple of hours. 

Once all the bags were in the car, Bruce insisted he drive so your mother could relax and catch up with the boys. You sat in the passenger seat so your mother could sit between Tim and Damien. 

While Bruce was driving, he kept one hand on the wheel and the other was holding your hand. You just watched him drive as you listened to the lively conversation in the back of the car. 

“Never thought I’d see THE Bruce Wayne drive a minivan,” you joked, drawing circles on his hand. “I should send Clark a pic so he has an exclusive.”

Bruce squeezed your hand in response. “Don’t make me tell Ma that you’re being mean to me.”

Even though he whispered it, your mother still heard, and she slapped your arm. “Leave my baby alone,” she scorned, gently shaking his shoulder, then she returned to Tim’s story. 

You quickly stuck your tongue out at Bruce, then quickly made sure your mother didn’t notice. When Tim finished his story, your mother leaned forward and told you how the rooms were made so you could stay with her.

“Mom, there is not enough room for all of us.”

“Please, unless you had planned on wasting money on five different hotel rooms, I have enough room. The boys will double up,” she said, playing with Damien’s hair. 

“What about everyone else.”

“I kicked them out. Told them they couldn’t stay the night. Besides, unlike you, everyone else lives close by.”

Deciding against arguing with your mother, you accepted that you were staying at home. When Bruce pulled into the driveway, your father was mowing the lawn. As soon as everyone got out of the car, Dick and Jason went over to your father to mow the lawn for him. 

“They don’t do that at home,” You commented, watching Dick push Jason to the ground and start up the lawn mower.

“Our lawn is too big for a normal lawn mower,” Tim said, getting the bags out of the car. 

“Ah yes, the plight of the rich,” you joked, ruffling Tim’s hair. 

Your mother carried in your small bag and carried it up to your room. Then, she showed Tim and Damien the guest room and Lilah’s room that she made up for them. Tim refused to share a room with Damien, so they went their separate ways. 

“You guys freshen up, and I’ll start dinner,” your mother said, leaving you in your room. 

“Absolutely not. You set everything up for tomorrow. I'm taking us all out for dinner. You just relax. And make sure to utilize the 12 hands you have to help with tomorrow,” Bruce said, holding her hands. 

“You’re too sweet,” she replied, gently patting his cheek. 

“He’s right, Mom. Why is no one here to help.”

“I didn’t ask Lilah 'cause she’s got her hands full with the kids and with Henry being deployed. I asked Sophia, but she said she couldn’t. But now I can put those boys to work. You baby them too much,” she replied, ignoring your look of disappointment. 

“Mom, you are the one that spoils them,” you joke. 

“They are my grandbabies it's my job. Now, why don’t you two hurry up and unpack? I'm ready to eat you out of house and home,” she joked, walking down the hall.

“If those boys couldn’t do that, I doubt you could,” Bruce joked back. 

After dinner and a lot of butt-kissing done by the kids, you and Bruce got ready for bed. You were doing your nighttime routine when Bruce came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you.  Bruce took the moisturizer out of your hands and, just held you and stared at you in the mirror. 

“I can feel your tension,” he said, kissing your neck. 

“I'm worried about tomorrow,” you admit. 

“I’ll fake a work emergency if you want.”

“Won’t be as effective since we are staying here.”

He chuckled and placed another kiss on your neck before telling you to hurry up and come to bed. Your mother never changed a single thing in your room, so it looks exactly like it did when you left for college. Same embarrassing posters. Same stuffed animals. Same book. Same twin-sized bed you were supposed to share with your gigantic husband. 

There wasn’t a single inch of room for you to lay next to him. Not that it mattered at home you have a California king yet seem to still sleep on top of each other overnight. You were going to lay on top of Bruce, but he moved, so he was on top. His head was on your chest, and your legs were tangled together. Even though you knew his feet were hanging off the edge, he quickly fell asleep. You, on the other hand, stayed up longer, running your finger through his hair, praying to anything and everything that nothing terrible happens tomorrow.

“Let her sleep some more,” you heard someone whisper before the door closed. 

Since you didn’t feel the 200-pound man on top of you, you figured that Bruce already started his day. You knew you should get up and help, but unlike the rest of your family, you are not accustomed to minimal sleep. But your plan to get more sleep was thwarted by a tiny body getting into the bed and jumping on your stomach. 

“Tete, wake up,” your niece yelled, trying to force your eyes open. 

“Robin,” you heard your husband whisper and pick the little girl off you. 

“It's morning time. Tete needs to wake up Ruce,” she said with her adorable lisp. 

“Tete is very tired.”

“But it's morning.”

“I'll give you candy if you let her sleep more.”

“5 dowars AND candy,” she said with as stern of a voice as a four-year-old can have. 

“You’re just like your aunt,” Bruce said before carrying the little girl out. 

Another 5 minutes passed by before you heard the door open. Someone walked in and sat at the foot of the bed. “I know you're awake, dummy,” your sister Lilah said, slapping your feet. 

“First, your kid jumps on my stomach, then you slap me. Your violence is spreading,” you joke, sitting up to hug your sister. “I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Yeah, I figured mom was super busy and forgot to call me, but imagine my surprise when I find out the prodigal daughter returned.”

Lilah handed you a cup of coffee and climbed into bed next to you. It felt like the old days when you two would sit in your bed and talk about anything and everything. 

“You know I’m surprised you showed up,” she said, gently nudging your side. 

“Me too, but the kids missed Mom, and I can’t just keep hiding,” you admitted. 

“How’s Henry,” you asked, changing the subject before she was mentioned. 

“He’s good. Safe. And excited to hear what happens.” She laughs.

Robin opened the door and ran into the room laughing. Your husband came in after her and lifted her off the ground. 

“You promised,” he said, holding her upside down.

“It's been hours.”

“It's been 7 minutes,” he said, turning her rightsize up. “Oh, morning, sweetie.” He walked over to kiss you while holding a wiggly child. 

“Tete, you sleep forever,” she said, slipping from Bruce’s grasp and getting between you and Lilah. 

You handed your cup to Bruce and attacked Robin with tickles. Robin laughed and cried out for her mom to save her, but Lilah watched and said she should have listened and let Tete sleep. 

“Ruce, save me,” she laughed. 

“I got you, princess,” he said, pulling her from my grasp. “Come one, let's go help with breakfast.” 

Before he left, Bruce looked at you and blew you a kiss. You heard your sister laugh and gently kick you. Lilah caught you up on her life and what Robin has been doing and showed you pictures of baby James, who was snatched from her by your mother as soon as she stepped inside. 

You wanted to stay in bed longer, but the smell of cinnamon rolls filled the house. You and Lilah looked at each other before racing each other down to the kitchen. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” your father greeted, looking up from baby James. 

“Morning, Dad,” you said, kissing his cheek and then making faces at James. 

You took a seat at the dining table, and Robin came to bring you a cinnamon roll drenched in icing. “I made this one for you, Tete.”

The roll had so much icing that when you bit into it, you could’ve sworn that you got a cavity. Your mother came out of the kitchen and plopped down in the chair across from you. She looked exhausted. 

“All the food is prepped we just need to throw it in the oven,” she said, picking at a cinnamon roll.

“Mom, did you wake the kids to help you,” you asked, slightly scorning her. 

“They need their sleep they are growing boys,” she said. 

Before you could scorn her some more, she got up and said she was going to take a nap. Your father came over to you and handed you the baby, and dragged your husband outside to help set up the tables and chairs. 

After everything was set up and you put a couple of dishes in the oven, you brought James to the floor and played with his toys with him. Your kids sat on the couch watching TV while you got up with James every couple of minutes to switch out the dishes.

“How do you do that,” Dick asked, helping you put a dish in the oven.

“I’m a mom. It’s a mom superpower,” she said, closing the oven with her hip and starting the timer. 

“I can take him to make it easier,” he offered, holding his arms out. 

“Im fine, Dick. Besides, Im soaking up all the baby time I can get,” you said, blowing raspberries on James’ arm. 

At noon, people started showing up. First, it was your aunt and uncles, then your cousins. The next thing you knew, the house and backyard were filled with family members. 

“Im going to try and put him down for a quick nap,” Lilah said, taking James from your arms. 

“Okay. You can use my room. I think Damien and Jay are in your old room.”

You tried to find your husband but were suddenly being hugged by someone. “I can’t believe you’re here,” your favorite cousin said, hugging you. 

You turned to face them and gave them a proper hug. They dragged you outside and grabbed a drink. Just chatting with your cousin lifted your spirits, but then you heard Sophia’s voice and could have sworn there was the noise of a record scratch, then she stepped into the backyard. 

Aaron stepped from behind her, and his face lit up when he saw Dick entertaining the kids with his acrobatic skills. He ran to Dick, and luckily your son was done his flips when Aaron latched himself to his left leg. 

“Hey, nugget,” Dick said, picking Aaron up and tossing him up in the air. 

Just as Sophia came up to you, Bruce appeared by your side and kissed your temple. Sophia looked between the two of you and smiled. “Oh, you two are so cute. Im so glad it worked out so far,” she said, hugging you.  

Bruce wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to him. “She can’t get rid of me.” He gave you another kiss on the temple before hugging Sophia. 

“How have you been,” he asked since you couldn’t open your mouth without saying something mean. 

“Amazing, it’s hard with three kids under ten, but it’s so adorable watching them grow up,” she said with a condescending smile. 

“Sophia,” you heard her husband call as he came up behind her with a look of apology. “I was getting the kids out of the car, and you just disappeared.”

“I heard my sister was here I just had to come see her. I haven’t seen her in years,” she pouted. “How are the kids,” she asked, glancing over your shoulder. 

“My kids are great. They are over there with all the other kids,” you said, turning to wave at Damien. 

“Oh right, that’s Bruce’s son. I read about that in the news. So glad you two worked through that issue.”

“Damien is my son, too. And that’s none of your business,” you said, flexing your hand.

“Ummi, I'm hungry,” Damien said with a fake smile, trying to act like a normal 10-year-old. 

“Ummi,” your sister questioned. 

“It's Arabic for mother,” you said, grabbing Damien’s hand and bringing him inside to get him food. As soon as you got inside, you let his hand go and turned to him. “Which one put you up to that,” you asked, hugging him. 

“Father, he gave us signals so we could be a buffer. But I don’t understand why I had to act like an idiotic fool,” he scowled as he crossed his arms. 

“I love you,” you said, ruffling his hair. 

“I love you too, Ummi,” he said, grabbing a plate and grabbing his food. 

With that freedom, you decided to walk around and converse with anyone else. You were talking with weird Uncle Bert when Sophia found you again. Everyone in the room got quiet and just watched the two of you. 

“I’m so proud of you, little sis,” she said, rubbing my arm.

“Whatever for Soph,” you asked, slowly turning to her. 

“For putting on a brave face with Bruce’s affair and accepting the consequence with open arms,” she said with a genuine smile like nothing she just said was wrong. 

“Excuse me,” you exclaimed.  “First off, that consequence is my son, and I’ve already told you to mind your own business in the matter.”

“Sorry, I guess you’re still sensitive about it. I thought you and Bruce were in a good place.”

“We are,” you replied, confused about where she was taking this. 

“Oh good, so when are you finally going to have a kid,” she asked giddily. 

“I have four kids. But I’m not sure when we are going to have a baby,” you replied through your teeth. 

“Yes, of course you have ‘kids,’ but like an actual kid. You're the only one without one,’ she said, playing with a string on her sweater like she didn’t just insult you. 

“Why the air quotes, Sophia,” you asked, clenching your fist. 

“Cause they're not your kids. You didn’t give birth to them. They are not your blood. So they don’t count. 

Outside, Bruce was looking around for you when he saw Sophia’s husband looking around, too. “Scott, where’s your wife,” he asked with a small bit of panic in his voice.

“Hopefully not by your wife saying something very stupid.”

“Excuse me,” they heard you yell. 

“I think I found them,” Scott groaned, rubbing his face in annoyance. 

“Boys code red,” Bruce shouted before going inside. 

When he got to where you were, your face was red and cracking your knuckles. He could tell you were pissed. 

“What the hell do you mean they don’t count,” you asked, fuming. 

“Look, if it means that much to you, I'll let them get into the family photo,” Sophia said, holding her hands up.

“Oh, thank you so much for letting my kids join my family photo,” you said sarcastically. 

“You know how much mom loves her grandkids I just hope she gets some from you.”

“She has 4. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damien.”

“Real grandchildren.”

“Ok, that’s it. Just because they are not my blood and I didn’t give birth to those boys doesn’t mean they are not my kids. I love them with every ounce of my being. I came to this for them cause they missed Mom, but you came and opened your mouth, spouting ignorant shit once again. And if Bruce and I have a baby, I'm not going to love those boys any less. Cause I chose to love those boys, and they chose to have me as their mother, and nothing could top the feeling of hearing them call me mom for the first time. Now, please, for once, keep those thoughts to yourself. No one cares about your Etsy shop or how you're trying to start a media business.”

“I was being nice before, but since you want to be a bitch I can too. That little one is a freaking psychopath, and I don’t want him around my kids. The oldest is a terrible influence cause now Aaron wants to join a circus. The other one, Jason, is even worse. What kind of kid fakes his death at 13 years old? Guess you're not that great of a “mother.” I mean, look at his scars, and he’s probably on drugs. The only one I feel sorry for is Tim. He looks so sleep-deprived I'm not sure what you’re doing to that poor kid, but CPS needs to take him and the psycho away from you,”

Before you could attack her for threatening to take your kids away, you heard Damien yell out in pain. You pushed through the crowd that formed and went to him. 

“What’s wrong, dami,” you asked him. 

“I hurt myself outside,” he said with a tear falling down his cheek. 

You saw your mom staying in the kitchen and told her you were taking Dami to the hospital and weren’t coming back til Sophia was gone. When you stepped outside, you watched as Damien popped his shoulder back in place. 

“Damn, mom. I'm a bit scared of you now,” Jason said, scratching his head.

“Good. Not stop using Damien and a buffer, and don’t dislocate his shoulder again to do it.” You said, making sure Damien was okay. 

“Yeah, I could have faked it.”

“Are you okay,” Bruce asked, hugging you. 

“No, I hate her so much,” you said before turning to your boys. “I'm sorry about that. I hope you don’t take what she said to heart.”

“I mean, the demon is a psychopath,” Jason joked, earning him a kick in the shins from Dick. “No, mom. We’ve heard that kind of stuff before it doesn’t bother us cause you are our mom.”

You were hugging all your kids when the front door opened, and Sophia stormed out angry, and Henry followed with their three kids. Sophia sat in the passenger seat while Henry put the kids in the car. 

“I'm so sorry,” Henry said, coming over to say goodbye. “It was nice seeing you two again, and nice meeting your kids.”

“His wife is nuts, but he seems like a cool guy,” Tim said as the car pulled out of the driveway. 

Your mom came out of the house and saw that you guys were still here. “Is he okay,” she asked, looking over Damien. 

“Yeah, he just dislocated his shoulder. We popped it back in. Is Jen still in there so she can give him a quick look over,” you asked.

Your mother nodded and went to grab your cousin, the pediatric doctor. “Mother, I'm fine. I’ve done that hundreds of times,”

“I know, but I would still like a medical professional to check it out since your brother actually hurt you,” you said, glaring at Jason. 

“I was trying to stop a fight.”

Jenny came out and checked Damien’s arm. She said it seemed perfectly fine, but she would prefer to have it x-rayed to double-check, but for now, an ice compress at the joint will do. 

“Come on, boys, I’ve got to show you your mother's baby pictures. Have I ever told you about the time she went missing from home and we found her 3 hours later in the fireplace,” she called from the entryway. 

“Oh no,” you groaned, covering your face.

“No,” Jason laughed as he ran inside to gather some leverage for the next time he was in trouble.

“Fireplace,” Bruce asked, laughing. 

“You might as well go listen to see what you're getting yourself into if we have a baby,” you said, pulling him inside. 

“Why does a mini-you terrify me more than my night job.”

“Cause I was terrible growing up.”

“Was,” he asked, pulling your back towards him. 

“Listen here, Mr. Wayne,” you started to scorn before he pressed his lips to yours. 

“Oh my god Mom you started a fire at 3,” Dick laughed.

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah, I'm terrified for our future children.”

“Of baby. You should be terrified of our future children,” you said right before Damien yelled about how you told a police officer your mother kidnapped you cause she wouldn’t get you a toy.  

Bruce laughed and shook his head as the two of you walked into the house. 

[detectivestucks]

Kakashi as your Divorce Lawyer

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Modern AU Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Divorce lawyer Kakashi is astonished by the gorgeous driven woman who enters his office one day and slowly spirals till she's divorced and he can finally take his turn in claiming her

Warnings: NSFW but pretty tame for my page

Word Count. 3.6k

Author's Note: This is an old request from @decayedbong. Some parts of this are loosely based on my actual divorce. I'll let you guess which ones.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who was in his office one day when he heard a faint knock and a little “hmm hmm.” Ignoring you, he looks to the window of his office to see if his assistant is at her desk. With dejection at her absence, he shifts his gaze to you only to find his pupils dilating with hunger. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, whose gaze rakes over your figure standing tall in sleek business attire. Your shirt, a royal blue satin tee with sleeves just above the elbow and a cowl neckline. Your bottoms, a pair of black leather dress slacks, high-waisted with the shirt tucked in, fitted around your plump backside and tapered out from your thighs to your ankles. To complete the alluring look, your hair is gathered in a loose bun high on your head, and pointed black leather kitten heels adorn your feet, keeping you petite but elegant all the same.  

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who, after a moment of staring, realizes you’re blushing and looking off to the side, unaccustomed to the attention of a man as high status as himself. Quickly, he closes his mouth, which fell agape, and clears his throat, bringing your eyes back to him. After motioning for you to sit down in front of him, you gladly sit in the cushioned chair, nervous in spite of your powerhouse clothes.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who wonders how big of an idiot your husband must be to screw up a relationship with someone like you. Once you begin to explain your situation, his mind goes from wonder to anger. The idiot in question is an unemployed man-child who treats you with disrespect and makes you pay all the bills on top of all the household responsibilities. When you begin to cry, realizing how far gone the relationship’s gotten, you feel ashamed that you put yourself in your current situation. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who reaches across the desk and takes your hand. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. I see this every day; you just bet on the wrong horse is all.” Gulping back your tears, you nod your head. The remaining droplets that line your lower lash accentuate the depth of your eyes. Kakashi finds himself getting lost in them before he blinks back to reality and proclaims. “I’ll take the case.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, spends the rest of the day thinking about you. You’re sweet and small, but something about you seems big. Kakashi gets the sense that you are actually some corporate hotshot who has climbed the ladder and is only a few promotions away from her goals. He fantasizes about breaking you in, but deep down, he’s certain at home you trade your blazer for an apron and he wants that more than anything. His logic knows that behind closed doors you become the perfect meek little housewife of a man’s dreams, and though he wants it, after hearing your story today, he wants to show you what it’s like to be taken care of for a change.  

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who follows up with you a few days later, asking for an evaluation of your assets and ready to draft an initial copy of your divorce agreement. You hesitate to answer, embarrassed that you don’t have time for an office visit. Eventually, you gather the courage to tell him you won’t be able to because of work, but instead, he offers to meet you wherever you are.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who, upon his arrival in your office, seems to cause quite a stir. Many women gawk at him as he trails through the building, winding around till he finds your cubicle. You stand to greet him, shaking his hand and pulling out the spare chair in your surprisingly spacious section of the bull pen. Today, you’re wearing a low-cut wrap dress with stilettos and a blazer. You sport the same loose bun at the crown of your head, and your diamond earrings lay hidden amongst the face-framing strands of hair. 

After properly assessing you, Kakashi’s eyes glance around the cubicle, noting your Bachelor's degree and two empty frames next to it. “What are those for?” He asks.

“Oh, it’s a bit silly but those are for the degrees I’m working on now. I have the empty frames as motivation.” 

Kakashi lifts his brow. “Degrees? As in plural?”

“Yes, I’m double majoring right now. I want to move up, so I’m going to school while I work.”

“You mean on top of everything you told me the other day, you’re also going to school to complete two master’s degrees.”

Your polite nod wins over Kakashi’s heart. The humility in your admission, coupled with how normal you make it seem, are precious to him. He wants to defend you now more than before. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who shows you how to evaluate your assets and walks you through the alimony process. Though you have been supporting your spouse for five years, since being unemployed was his choice and not something your marriage necessitated, he did not have grounds to claim any continuing financial support. This is further solidified by the fact that the reason you lived in your current city was to move for a career opportunity for him, which he then quit after two days. A fact that dropped Kakashi's jaw.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who showed you how unwise your husbands attempts at your finances are and promises the defense will be easy.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who is interrupted every few minutes by staff members looking for your help. He’s quick to realize you’ve turned yourself into a valuable asset for your company, watching in awe as you show your peers and even upper-level managers how to find loopholes that aid customers and advocate for the firm’s clientele. From what he can see, you’re not just good at what you do, you’re great. Astonishing and beautiful, you’re husband truly has no clue what he messed up. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who has a hard time thinking about anything other than you. Determined to see you more, he makes up lame excuses to further consult with you in person, claiming he needs to see the house to get it valuated, asking to meet for coffee so you can sign various addendums that don’t even apply to your case, and doing ‘wellness checks’ to document emotional distress caused by the negligent behavior of your soon-to-be ex. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who is so sweet to you. He texts you each night to make sure you’re okay now that your ex has finally moved out. He makes himself busy, installing security cameras at your doors, dropping off take-out when he knows you have school projects, and over all being there for you. You tell him you don’t know how you’ll pay him back for all these billable hours, but he assures you not to worry about it. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grows protective of you leading up to the day of your court hearing. He comes to the courthouse with a coffee and a smile, reassuring you that today will go smoothly. You welcome both, feeling nervous. “Why did you dress down?” He inquires, noticing your simple khaki slacks with pointed flats and a cream body suit to match.

“I didn’t want him to think I dressed to impress him. I’m just here to get this over with. That’s all.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, looks at you with adoration. You are too precious to let down. He swears he’s going to give you what you deserve, in the courtroom and in the bedroom. You just don’t know it yet.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi,  who catches your worried face. As you enter the courtroom, you notice your husband hasn’t arrived yet. Your pupils dilate, wondering if he is going to show, and if not, does this mean he’s going to drag out the divorce process? Your mind reels but he’s probably just running late like he always is. 

Then, from the hall of the usually silent building, you hear loud yelling and recognize the shouts of your mother-in-law. You wince in embarrassment, knowing this isn’t the time and place for their constant crescendo. Based on the faces of the officers of the court, they find the acoustic entry to be distasteful, too. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who chuckles and leans in to whisper, “Did he really bring his mommy?” into your ear, forcing you to hide a giggle. As Kakashi straightens up, his mismatched eyes catch those of your husband’s. He assesses the man, searching for any redeeming quality that would justify your marriage to him. Scrutinizing over every detail, he gloats. He’s going to enjoy dismantling your ex’s arguments and afterwards, he’s going to enjoy claiming you as his own.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who argues on your behalf and wipes the floor with your now ex-husband. Everything that you earned stays with you and not a penny will fall into your ex’s hands. When the final agreement is signed, you hug your silver-haired superhero while he smirks in your ex’s direction. Your now ex-mother-in-law glares at the pair of you while you leave the room with Kakashi’s hand casually on your hip, protecting you from the dangerous look in her eyes. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who calls your name, giving you pause as you turn your head to gaze up at him, “Yes?”

“I’d like to take you out for dinner this evening.”

“Oh I can’t accept that, you’ve done so much for me already.”

“I insist.”

Realization strikes you, your lips parting as you ask the question, “Kakashi, are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes.”

You stammer, amazed that someone like him would be interested in someone like you. “Are you sure you’re asking the right girl?”

Kakashi laughs and pulls you close, one arm encircling your waist, right outside the courtroom and in front of your now ex husband who’s watching the pair of you in horror. 

“Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.” he jests, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. 

“I most definitely am not.” you quip back.

“Well I don’t care. You’re perfect and I want to wine and dine you till you’re mine.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, whose eyes you gaze up into with pupils blown wide. You can fully feel the heat of your ex’s stare as you gather your wits to agree to be courted like a proper lady by the most gorgeous and successful man you’ve ever met. The ‘yes’ barely makes it past your lips before he’s kissing you with every drop of passion he’s been holding at bay these past two months. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who you gently pull away from, not wanting to provoke a scene in public. “Please Kakashi, let’s save the celebration for later.”

“I knew she was a whore.” your former mother in law yells. You already know how she told your neighbors all sorts of insane things, making them uncomfortable and causing them to ‘warn you’ about her, but you never really cared what she thought. You always had a poor relationship with your ex’s family anyway. What’s one more word of hate?

But this…this thing with Kakashi feels different. It feels meaningful and real. You don’t know where it’s going but you want to find out. If that makes you a whore, so be it. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who whisks you away and walks you to your car, instructing you on the dress code of the restaurant for the evening. He loves seeing you all dolled up so he intentionally is taking you to a place designed for people in a whole other tax bracket. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who impresses you with your dining arrangements. He provides you with meaningful conversation, lets you choose your own meal, and is polite to the wait staff. He checks all the boxes and then checks some more when his goofy side begins to shine. Subtle jokes and sarcasm lay hidden as he speaks. He talks about the kids he helps at the Boys and Girls Club and you feel your heart is set ablaze. You want him. Not just for a night but for a future. You were robbed of a marriage, a family, and a future by your ex-husband's childish behavior, but with Kakashi, he’s a man. A man who can provide you with a real marriage, a family, and a future.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who watches you poke your food as your mind reels. He reaches out to cover your hand with his, stopping your thoughts and bringing your attention to his soft features. “What is it?”

“I-” you look down and swallow, “I just got out of a serious relationship. Before I enter another one, I need to know, are you looking for a future with me or is this just for fun?”

“Can it be both? I hear serious relationships are very boring. I’d rather enjoy being around my future wife.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who you look at with stunned eyes. “You really feel that way?”

“Since the day I met you. I can’t believe how hard your ex fumbled you. If you will be mine, I’ll treat you like gold the rest of our lives." he proclaims. "Every day I see men mess up relationships. I watch as their tired and broken wives explain their life stories to me. I know what women want is someone who cares about the chores, the children, the mental load, and treats them with general kindness. Those are the things I want to do for you.” 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, has you speechless. You stare at him, expression adorably blank and reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights.

“So will you let me try to be those things for you?”

Slowly, you nod, accepting his offer. “Yes, I’ll let you try.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who orders food for delivery and pays for the bill immediately. 

“What are you doing?”

“Not wasting a second. We can eat after.”

“After?! After what?”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who drops $200 on the table, instructing the waiter to keep the change before he grabs you by the waist and escorts you out of the restaurant hurriedly. He guides you to a high-end car and moves to open the door but first pushes you up against it, kissing you like you are a popsicle that could melt away from him at any second. His teeth nip at your lips, biting them and pulling them, turning them red. Then he lunges back in, sweeping his tongue past your teeth and into your cavern, allowing it to dance with yours. 

His hands covetously grab each side of your face and pull you into him, pinning you in place between the car and his body. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grinds into you in the parking lot of the most expensive restaurant in town. He’s barely able to contain himself, debating hiking up your skirt and claiming you right here in public or giving you the dignity of taking you home first. He decides on the gentlemanly thing even though the dog in him is screaming in protest.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who whispers between kisses, asking permission to take you back to his place. “Of course.” you breathe, wondering why the question needed to be asked but happy that he cared. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grips your hand as he speeds home, occasionally guiding it over to his bulge, using your hand to palm himself. Your body tenses up every time you feel the hardness that lies beneath, still in awe that this is truly happening.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who pulls into his garage and jogs around to your side of the car, opening the door and pulling you up into his arms. He kisses you tenderly, meaning to guide you into his home, but your little moans drive him haywire with lust. “Can’t- control myself- around- you.” he grunts out between kisses while his hands wander around your silhouette. 

Your delicate voice rings out in agreement, letting your hands slip down to his pants to tug open the buttons. His hands slide to your behind, circling and massaging the tissue.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who goes feral at the sounds of your arousal. He bucks up into you as you tug down his slacks and let his hands glide to the bottom of your skirt, tugging up the hem to run his fingers along the seam of your drenched center.

“I knew you’d be wet f’me” his lust-drunk voice chimes, slipping your thong to the side and sinking a finger into your warmth. 

You immediately gasp, clenching around the singular digit while he works to wet your entire entrance, lubing you up for the aching appendage waiting to dive into your drooling hole. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, whose fingers jut in and out, making you squirm as your hand tugs along his length, anxious to have him the way he intends to have you. 

He kicks off his pants, leaving them behind when he grabs the backs of your thighs and wraps them around his waist, pinning his rod between your heat and his abdomen. Folds thirsting to have it penetrating rather than resting, you clench, pulsing against what you want most. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who groans into your mouth as he carries you inside the home, intending to take you upstairs, but the temptation is too strong, and instead, he lays you on the kitchen island. 

“Sorry baby, I can’t wait any longer.” He whispers into your hair before rubbing his shaft against your center and slipping in. 

You’re drenched, something you haven’t experienced in five years. But with Kakashi, he pulls out every drop of desire that’s been waiting to come alive since you made the decision to divorce.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who begins to thrust into you, shifting your body back and forth on the cool granite countertop. Every nerve ending is extra sensitive, fully aware of the pleasure rocking you both. Your breathing turns to pants quickly, your climax hitting you far too soon, but it’s been so long since you’ve done this, let alone enjoyed this, that the smallest amount of intimacy has you reeling.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who fucks you through your first of many orgasms that night, bending you in several new positions, and experimenting with you in the kitchen, on the couch, on the stairs and eventually in the bed. You find yourself a sweaty mess by the time he’s almost finished with you, but you keep going anyway, determined for this experience to never end.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who sees your strength is waning, so he decides to play a little harder. He bends you back over onto your knees and aggressively pumps into you. Crying out in pleasure, he grabs your elbows, pulling back till your spine bows into a sinful arch, deepening his reach. You feel overwhelmed and exhausted, too tired to take any control. With another spasm around his solid member, he pushes your head down into the mattress and continues his bruising pace. Your insides twist in agonizing pleasure, and your hoarse voice husks out one last scream before his balls tighten with the front of his thighs clench. He flips you onto your back to empty his seed on your belly, grunting as he does. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grabs a towel and wipes off your skin before heating up the shower so both of you can rinse off with masculine, sudsy body wash. He looks so brilliant with wet, rippling muscles, coated in bubbles. You fall into his chest, still trying to realize this is reality. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who quickly rinses off hearing a ring at the door and returns to the bathroom with a takeout bag filled with the food you should’ve eaten at the restaurant. You rinse yourself too and twist your hair into a clip, covering your body in one of his baggy shirts. Both of you pad to the kitchen, grabbing plates and forks to dine on some of the most delicious food you’ve ever tasted. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who pledges to treat you this way every day as long as you’ll have him, waiting anxiously for you to finally grace him with his favorite three letter word…”yes”

Masterlist

[futurewdclandonorris]

Read to me. | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: after a hard day, Lando knows he can always turn to you for some comfort... And then give something in return

Warnings: fluff with smut hehe

A/N: I tried writing pure fluff and failed. I split it into two though and put another divider so you can finish with the fluff part without having to read the smut if you don't want to :)

The sun had already set when Lando returned home from his day out working with sponsors. He opened the door of your shared bedroom, finding you already in your pajamas, absorbed in a book. Smiling a little, he leaned against the door frame silently watching you, exhaustion thick on his face.

"Hey, baby," you finally took notice of him, glancing up and putting the book down for a moment to softly greet him.

"Hey," he slowly made his way towards the bed, crawling until he snuggled into your lap.

"Long day?" one of your hands immediately tangled into his curls, beginning to massage his scalp. He closed his eyes, groaning in satisfaction.

"You've no idea." he mumbled, relaxing under your touch.

As he rested in your lap, you couldn't help but notice how worn out he looked and it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders the moment he sank into your embrace. You kept working your fingers through his hair, feeling the muscles in his body become increasingly relaxed with each stroke.

"Want to talk about it?" you asked gently, knowing how much he tended to keep to himself when it came to work. He shook his head, burrowing deeper into your lap.

"Not really," he sighed. "Just a lot of meetings, a lot of people trying to get a piece of me. It gets exhausting after a while."

You nodded in understanding, continuing to run your fingers through his locks. The room fell silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle as you adjusted your position. It was a comfortable silence, one that only came with the familiarity of years spent together.

"How was your day?" you smiled at the question, knowing that Lando always made an effort to ask about you no matter how tired he was.

"It was good," you replied, thinking back to the meetings you had and the progress you made on your latest project. "Productive, but not as eventful as yours."

Lando chuckled, his breath tickling your stomach. "I'll take boring over exhausting any day," he said, his eyes still closed.

The two of you sat in quiet once more - you continuing to read your book and Lando finding interest in his phone - enjoying the comfort of each other's company. Eventually, Lando put his phone down and nestled himself between your legs, his head on your lower abdomen.

"Could you read to me?" he asked, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. It wasn't unusual question. He often asked you to do so or just talk to him in general cause he loved falling asleep to the sound of your voice.

"Of course." you smiled softly at him, running your hand through his hair once more before grabbing your book and flipping to the page you left off on.

When you began to read, Lando closed his eyes and listened intently to your tone. It was soothing and calming, and he found himself slipping into a peaceful state. He loved how your voice gently lilted up and down, as if the words you read were a lullaby meant only for him.

As you read on, Lando's hands found their way to your sides, tickling you ever so slightly, causing you to giggle. You playfully swatted his hands away, but he persisted, his fingers dancing along your skin.

"You're such a child," you chuckled, but you didn't mind. It was moments like these that made you appreciate how carefree and playful Lando could be.

"You love it," he grinned, his hands still tickling you mercilessly.

You tried to push him away, but he was too quick, his fingers finding every sensitive spot on your body. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room and mixing with the sound of your voice as you continued reading.

Finally, you managed to catch his hands, holding them still. Lando pouted, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. "I thought you wanted me to read to you?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," he said, still grinning.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile on your face. "You really are a child," you teased, but your tone was affectionate.

Lando shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. "What can I say? You bring out the playful side in me."

You shook your head, but couldn't help, but feel fondness for the man in your lap. He may have been exhausted from work, but he always managed to find a way to make you laugh and give you attention.

Your reading continued and Lando stilled once more, his breathing becoming slower and more even making you believe he had fallen asleep. However, when you turned to the next page, you heard him let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing even further against you. You smiled at the sound, feeling content with the moment. It was simple, but you found that it was often the simplest moments that brought the most joy.

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Lando's forehead, careful so as not to disturb his peace. You knew that he needed his rest and you were happy to just watch him sleep and take in the moment.

But he was not ready to drift off just yet as his fingers started slowly caressing your legs, reaching upwards to the outside of your thighs.

You paused mid sentence, glancing down at Lando to see if he was awake. His eyes were still closed, but his hands continued their slow, deliberate movements up your legs. A shiver ran through you, and you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat.

"Lando?" you asked softly, unsure if he was awake or not.

He didn't answer, but his fingertips kept tracing patterns over your skin. He turned over, lightly brushing the tip of his nose over your inner thighs. Your heart skipped a beat as his lips travelled higher and higher up your body, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way. You could feel the heat building between your legs, and you knew that you were getting wet.

"Lando, what are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and arousal.

"Keep going, baby, keep reading," he continued to kiss his way up, his hands holding your hips steady. You couldn't help, but squirm under his touch, your body already primed for him.

With no other choice, you resumed reading, your voice a bit shaky at the thought of what Lando was going to do to you.

Still teasing, Lando's hands travelled along the inside of your legs, making your lips quiver in response. You struggled to keep reading, the words in front of you starting to blur. With a final flick of his wrist, your panties were gone, and you were completely exposed to him.

"You're doing such a good job, really making me interested in the story..." Lando's voice ghosted over your skin, causing you to shiver.

And before you could turn over the next page, he buried his face between your legs. Your breath hitched as you felt his tongue against your pussy, licking and tasting every inch of you. You threw your head back, panting as his tongue flicked against your clit. He was slow and gentle at first, just teasing you with butterfly kisses. But it wasn't long before his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, his mouth closing over you.

"I didn't tell you to stop reading, did I?" he asked, his voice muffled as he spoke. You shook your head, hands crumpling the book cover as you tried to focus on the text before you. "I'll stop if you do."

But he wouldn't let you. Instead, his mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it as his fingers teased your opening. You gasped, your body shuddering as his fingers slipped inside you, teasing you at the same time.

"Fuck, Lando..." you moaned, the pitch of your voice rising.

"Now, babe, I'm pretty sure that isn't part of the text," he teased, pulling his fingers out of you once more.

"No, no," you whimpered, your eyes pleading with him to keep going. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Please, Lando," you begged, your voice breathless once more.

"Say it, baby," he said softly, his breath hot against you.

"I'm sorry, please, don't stop," you whispered, knowing what he needed to hear.

"Good girl, such a good girl," he said approvingly before going back to what he was doing.

This time, he didn't tease you. Rather, he pressed his lips firmly over your clit, sucking on it hard. You cried out loudly, your hips bucking wildly as he pressed two fingers deep into your wet, dripping cunt. His fingers worked you fast and hard, curling upwards to tease your g-spot. You could feel your muscles tightening, pleasure radiating through your body as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come," you said breathlessly, your legs shaking as you tried to keep them open for him.

"I didn't tell you to come, did I?" he asked, his fingers still working away at your wet, needy pussy, this time even harder than before.

"No, please, I'm so close..." you trailed off, your body trembling on the brink.

"Beg for it, baby. Tell me how much you want to come. Use your words." he said firmly, his fingers increasing their speed. He knew you were close, and he loved the way your body shook beneath his touch.

"Fuck, I need to come, please, let me come," you whimpered, tossing your head back as you tried to hold on a little longer.

"Oh, really?" he asked, his fingers stilling for a moment. He loved denying you, loved denying you the pleasure you so desperately wanted, especially when you were this close.

"Yes, please, I'm almost there," you begged, your voice tight with arousal as you tried to keep yourself from orgasming.

"You really want to come?" he asked, his fingers stilling completely.

"Yes!"

"I'm not sure that's a part of the story, you know," he smirked, looking up at you.

"Please, Lando," you gasped, the sensations of his touch shaking your body.

"Why should I let you come, baby? What's it going to take?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing against your clit.

"I don't know, I don't care, just finish what you started," you pleaded, your voice breathless and needy.

"I'll think about it," he teased, his fingers still circling against your clit.

"Lando!" you screamed. You tried to push yourself over the edge, but it was no use. He just wasn't going to let you come.

You bit your lip, doing your best not to cry out in frustration. He removed his fingers, and you could feel the cool air on your wet skin. And before you could turn over another page, his fingers plunged into you once more, his tongue returning to tease your clit.

"I thought I told you to keep reading," he said, his fingers picking up the pace once more.

You tried to focus on the words on the page, but it was no use. It was impossible to focus when he was doing that to you.

"Such a good girl, such a good girl," he murmured. "Come for me, baby, just for me."

And that was all it took, your body breaking over the edge as you came hard against his mouth. Your moans filled the room, his name falling from your lips as you rode out your orgasm.

You slumped back against the pillows, your breathing heavy as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Lando pulled up your panties, his fingers gentle as he ran them over your skin.

"Ready for the next chapter?" he grinned innocently, his lips brushing against your inner thigh.

[mindless-existence1]

Summery: Spencer Reid has been in a secret relationship with you for a while when some eavesdropping informs the team about you.

Authors note: This is pure fluff about reader and Spencer being cute and the bau team being amazing. Also yes I know you can't call on planes but since Garcia can call the plane I can assume Spencer can as well. Enjoy!

Requests for kink and flufftober along with regular fics!!

The Bau team was finally in their way home from a long case. On one side of the plane there was some of the team playing a game of cards and on the other half of the plane there was some of the team either sleeping or reading.

Spencer was quickly reading, but he was only half paying attention to the words flying across the page. He was eagerly awaiting a call from you. He calculated the time difference and knew that you'd be calling him soon after waking up to say good morning.

The second he heard a ringing coming from his pocket he rushed to grab it and answer. Spencer smiled lovingly at the sound of your slurred voice on the other end of the line. "Hey goodmorning spence." You lazily mumbled to your boyfriend.

Spencer's smile only grew at you cute voice. "It's not technically 'morning for me right now but still. Goodmorning." Spencer stopped himself form using your name of a nickname. Hoping to keep the team unaware of who he was calling.

Spencer had chosen to keep you a secret from the rest of the team in hopes to keep you out of danger. Along with keeping his most often disturbing work away from you.

"Are you on your way back?" You ask, your voice now seemed farther away. Spencer assumed you put the phone on speaker so you could start your day. "Yeah we have about an hour and a half till we are back." Spencer slightly chuckled when he heard you groan.

"A whole hour and a half? Really? That's going to take you forever since you have paperwork to do after that." Your voice whiny. "I know, 'm sorry." Spencer's words were gentle and apologetic.

"It's ok, part of the gig I get it. What's your genius estimate of when you'll be done at work?" Spencer thinks for a moment. "Later tonight around five." Your voice comes back into focus, Spencer can hear some shuffling meaning you're probably in the kitchen for breakfast.

"On a Saturday to? Ouch. I gotta go, I'll see you later tonight thos Spence. I love you." Your words make Spencer's heart skip a beat. It was recent that you started saying those words to each other. They still made him flustered everytime.

Spencer quickly recovered from his moment of silence by mumbling an "I love you" back and hanging up. Spencer set his phone down on the small table in front of him and picked his book back up.

"Was that your mom spence? How's she doing?" Jj's voice cut him out of his reading trance. Spencer fumbled over his words for a second before recovering enough to say. "She's good." The second the words left his mouth he knew the team would see right through him.

"That didn't seem very promising pretty boy. I'm thinking that was a special lady friend he was talking to." Derek teases Spencer with a laugh. Spencer's face flushes and he clears his throat. "It was not." His defense is weak and he knows it.

"Oooh it seems Morgan was right." Emily chuckles along with JJ. "Common kid spill, who was it?" Derek presses Spencer a bit harder. 'Nobody."

Derek laughs, "Didn't seem like a nobody when you said 'I love you.'" A new blush coats Spencer's face. After a minute of consideration Spencer begrudgingly says. "They're names y/n."

"You have some explaining to do pretty boy." Derek teases him with a smile after thinking for a moment. The team let's out noises of agreement. Spencer can't help but smile, as much as he's wanted to keep this life away from you. He also was desperate to share his family with the love of his life.

[lynnsenpai]

Big Life and Comics Update

Hey, remember that time last April when I finished Chapter 6 of MIS, and I was all like, "I'll be back to posting in May." And then it's the end of June now and I've been mostly quiet the whole time. Heck, I meant to make new character profiles for Esther, Seir, and Marchosias during this break and none of that happened either.

The super short version is that at the time the last chapter ended, depression and burnout hit me hard. On a personal level, our apartment was (and still is) in disarray after our landlord had to come in and do a ton of work on our bathroom only to have to stop partway (for honestly legit reasons). This is an ongoing thing, and due to the current heatwave, he probably won't be back to finish until next week, leaving the busted up look of everything to continue to be a source of stress. All the while, I'm worried about my elderly mother who has dementia, and my elderly father who's been having cardiac concerns. And none of this to even speak of the stress cause by the horrifying goings on in my country.

It was making me feel helplessly, perpetually tired.

I'm not going to claim everything is all better now. But I have been taking it slow for the better part of two months while I dealt with life for a bit. I was able to take a fair bit of time for me to rest and zone out as needed, and I finally took a long needed visit home to see my family. So I'm not all better, but I am… better. And I couldn't ask for more right now.

During the last few months, though, what I didn't do a lot of was draw. I contributed to a handful of collabs where I didn't want to let my friends down, and I managed some new rat doodles here and there. But I only have the cover and two pages for the next chapter and basically nothing else ready to go (although the script is done for the next two full chapters). Again, I needed that time, so ultimately, it was for the best. But this does put things in an awkward position right now, because I can't exactly say "stay tuned for new pages next week!" because I'm simply not ready, and that's just a recipe for rebooting the burnout I literally just got over.

My original plan was to finish chapters 7 and 8 to reach what I felt was a good "season finale-like" stopping point, and then take an extended break to shift focus entirely towards the final Rain book until I get it done. I also thought Chapters 7 and 8 would probably be done by now, or maybe next month the latest. I didn't anticipate the two breaks I would need in the middle of Chapter 6 or the extended one I've been taking now. So I'm thinking I want to pivot to a new approach.

My new plan is to expedite the latter. I want to prioritize focus on the last book, to give it a hint of a chance of actually finally coming out this year (it's the 15th anniversary of Rain this November, so I'd really really love to see it release this year).

I sincerely apologize for those of you chomping at the bit for more MIS. But I promise, it will return. And once I complete my previous story once and for all - for real this time - then I can go all in, with MIS finally allowed to have my full attention without an air of guilt hovering over me that I still need to do something else, and overwhelming all the time.

It may be a longer than usual wait, but I think it'll be especially worth it in the long run. The final Rain book will be better for it, and MIS will be better for it.

Here's a little visual of my girls taking turns, so they can both come back all the stronger. ^_^

Sorry again for the extended break, but thank you so much for all your love, support, and patience while I work through everything. I love you all. Please stay safe, stay happy, and stay healthy.

Until next time! 💜

[worldly-fluster]

Imma post something, only cause my cat put her paw on my phone screen while I was reading about Sylus and she hit the little blue circle in the corner. She the love of my life ❤️

Anyway...time to write some ANGST angst.

Like... WARNING THIS MIGHT TRIGGER SOMEONE.

LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Sylus-- Part 1 of 4

(I don't have the mental energy to put all of them on one lol I'll try getting Xavier's out tonight-no promises)

Yeah um, going off some personal stuff here so it's probably gonna be a mess. MC has an emotionally abusive family. It's 'Diary' but I call mine a different name.

You have been warned btw.

Sylus-

•He knew your life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, even living in Linkon he knew there were shadows everywhere. Hell, when he met you, you would flinch at everything and hardly spoke so he knew something had happened to you at some point.

•He just didn't expect it to be...this bad.

•You both were having a normal day, you were smiling and laughing. Finally feeling safe enough around him to open up more. He was so excited to have seen your eyes light up that nothing else mattered in this moment.

•When it happened.

•Your eyes, still bright and happy, looked around the Mall you both were in when they fell on two people staring from across the walkway.

•He saw you freeze and your eyes glaze over slightly making his eyes snap to whatever was making you react like this.

•He saw an older couple, almost glaring in your direction.

•He acted fast as he moved to block yours and their view. He stood in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look at him.

•Your eyes were still glazed over with an unknown emotion to him.

•He gave you a soft worried smile and took your hand and led you away.

•But not before hearing some words from the couple as you walked.

•"I see she's whoring herself out." "I wonder if she has a kid yet?" "She'd make for a useless mother if so." "She's probably living under a bridge in a tent she can't afford while sleeping with crack heads." "I bet that's her pimp with her now."

•Sylus' eye shined red as he heard the exchange, his blood boiling in red hot anger.

•Who were these people to talk about you like that?? Especially while he was in earshot.

•The rest of the day he spent just trying, trying his hardest, to make you feel better. To bring you back to laughing and smiling again.

•But all you said was, "Can I go home please?" In the small voice you used to talk in.

•He obliged, not wanting to overwhelm or overstep.

•When he dropped you off at your apartment, he... didn't want to leave you alone.

•He didn't worry about finding the couple from earlier, he already had Mephisto on them the moment they left the Mall. He was more worried about the look in your eyes.

•And more than pissed that those people made you shut yourself away from life- from him- again. After he worked so hard to get you to feel safe.

•You barely registered his presence in your apartment before you locked yourself in your bedroom, wanting to be alone.

•He understood and sat in your living room to wait for you to feel at least a little better.

•In his waiting he saw your book shelf and decided to read something of yours.

•The Book Thief...no, The Hobbit series...no, oh what's this? A notebook?

•He opened the book in curiosity only to be met with pages and pages of words, emotions, and... things he wishes weren't true. He thought this was a diary of some sort, he felt he shouldn't be reading this but something inside him wanted answers to why you act the way you do.

•The more he read the more an uncomfortable weight started settling in his chest. How have you been through so much...

•He put it together that those people might be your Mother and Stepdad. He could feel the red hot coals of anger towards them as he read what they did.

•He flipped through the notebook to the front and saw the title you gave it. 'My Death Book'.

•...

•Before he can think about it anymore, he takes quick, long strides towards your closed bedroom door.

•He knocked on the door softly, not waiting for an answer as he opened the door slightly to peek in.

•You were laying, curled up in the bed asleep.

•He walked over to check on you, to make sure the words in that book weren't going to come true. Ever.

•He wants to make sure you have a chance to forget, and never be reminded of any of it.

•He was going to make sure that you would never have to write something like that again, that you'll never feel like that again.

•One way to make sure you never ran into them again...was to take care of the problem at the cause.

•He texted Luke and Kieran a few details, just a screenshot of Mephisto's surveillance of the older couple and an order to 'take care of it.'

•He immediately got replies, '🫡' 'On it boss!'

•They didn't even question it, used to how he works by now.

•Now with that taken care of he sat down on the end of your bed. He reached over to play with a strand of your hair, a soft, protective look in his eyes.

•He just wants to lay with you, cuddle you, shower you in his love and kisses, but you aren't that close yet. He doesn't want to overstep more than he already does.

•He just wishes that he could have been there from the beginning, to make sure you kept your adorable shine.

•No one messes with his Sweetie and gets away with it.

**IT HAS BEEN UPDATED lol just a few things here and there to pull it together and make some things make more sense. Sorry lol**

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 14 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley's notebook reads like poetry to your soul, and some inexplicable part of you feels like it's healing. He takes the time to give you the care and attention you need, and you do the same for him. After a weekend where you let yourself live in a cozy bubble with him, work on Monday jarred you back to reality.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley was home. He'd been craving this comfort since he left, but the uncertainty of how you and he would react when you saw each other had been adding to his anxiety after the mission. He wanted to tell you all about it, but it just didn't seem as important as being near you. 

He knew you had dinner ready to reheat, and he wanted to sit with you snuggled up on his lap and share a plate of food. But first he carried you from the laundry room, both of you in your underwear, and into the bedroom with Tramp in hot pursuit. "I think both of you missed me," Bradley whispered, kissing your cheek when he set you down. 

"We did," you promised, and he dropped down to the floor to play with the dog for a few minutes. There was no way Tramp would calm down until he'd been given a little bit of attention. And then Bradley could focus on you for the rest of the night. For the rest of the weekend. Forever.

"Roo?" you asked quietly, and Bradley looked up at you as you showed him the notebook. "What is this?"

You must have taken it out of his duffle bag as you were unpacking his dirty clothes for him. When he looked up into your eyes, they looked guarded. You were apprehensive. He hated that he ever made you feel like you couldn't be exactly who you were around him. And while he never meant to share those words with you or anyone else, he found that the idea of you reading them didn't feel wrong to him. 

He was on his feet right away. "You can look at it, Sweetheart. It's just some things I wrote down while I was away. Bob kind of got me hooked on keeping a journal."

You skimmed through the pages again before you met his eyes. "The whole notebook is almost filled," you said. "And you wrote my name in here a lot."

Bradley cupped your cheeks in his hands and kissed you softly. "That's because you're on my mind more than anything else." He watched you smile, and then he added, "It's a notebook about you. About us. About how I'm going to be exactly what you need."

He kissed your forehead as you whispered, "Will you let me read it?"

Very gently, he took it from your hand and set it down on the bed. "Yes. But I need to eat dinner first. I'm starving. You know carrier food tastes like cardboard, and I've been dreaming about you sitting on my lap at our table."

When you nodded and took him by the hand, Bradley stuck to you as you led him into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. He reached down one plate and didn't leave your side as you heated up the food. When you spun in his arms to face him, he could feel the slightly raised goosebumps on your arms; neither of you actually put any additional clothing on when you were in the bedroom. 

"You want me to go grab you one of my shirts or something?" he asked, rubbing his big hands along your arms. 

"I thought you were going to keep me warm. Are you all talk now?" Your raised eyebrow was playful, but it was time for Bradley to get serious about what was going on here. 

"Talk and action, Baby Girl. When you want me to keep you warm, I'll keep you warm. And you can read my notebook. And then we can spend the weekend working on us."

You relaxed into his touch as he soothed your goosebumps away with his hands, and soon you were perched on his lap at the dining room table. One bite of the Marry Me Rooster, and Bradley just knew he was going to gain five pounds this weekend. It was that fucking good. And it felt incredible to have you with him. He even tossed a small piece of chicken to Tramp. 

"So Jake and Cat?" he asked, kissing your bare shoulder as you took a bite of dinner. "Sounds like I missed a lot."

"Oh, you did, Roo." Then you filled him in on everything you could think of. He had to laugh at the idea of Hondo at his house, because all Bradley could imagine was the man yelling at him to do push ups in his own living room. When you mentioned Jeremiah, Bradley didn't feel as desperate as maybe he would have a few months ago. It would be nice, but he didn't need it. He needed you. 

"And you're feeling good?" he asked, pulling you a little closer as you ate the last bite of food. "You look beautiful."

"Yeah," you replied, snuggling up against his chest and shoulder, tracing his scars and tattoo with your fingers. "I feel good. I told Dr. Genevieve that I want to fix this, not throw it away. There's too much between us that's perfect."

And that was it. Bradley wasn't perfect. Neither were you, but you were much closer than he was. But somehow when the two of you mixed together, it worked beautifully until he had lost sight of making sure you were happy and taken care of. 

"Perfect," he agreed softly. "I want to be with you more than I want anything else. I need you at this point. When I realized how much I hurt you after your promotion banquet and before I left on deployment, it felt like I'd never be able to breathe correctly again." He tilted your chin up so you were looking at him as your warm hand grazed his paper airplane tattoo. "You're my wife, and you deserve my respect. And I want to take care of you. And maybe we'll have a kid someday. And maybe not. But the stress isn't what we need, Sweetheart. I'm sorry."

You scrambled around in his lap so your arms were wrapped tight around his neck. Bradley had missed this feeling. And if he was being honest, it was longer ago than the start of his two month deployment that he felt this good. But now you were crying. 

"I'm sorry I let myself hurt so much inside before I told someone about it," you sobbed. 

He squeezed you tighter until he could feel your heartbeat against his chest. "Don't apologize for that. Please. I know you're strong. I know you want to be strong. I know you were focused on getting pregnant. But we don't need that. Like I said before, I'd be lucky to get to spend the rest of my life with you. Just you. And I'll make sure you know it."

Your voice broke as you cried, and Bradley just kept holding you. He had no idea how much time passed, but eventually your breathing evened out and your heart rate slowed, and he found himself wiping tears from his own eyes. You kissed his ear and whispered, "You're enough for me, too."

And that sounded beautiful to him.

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

When you finally climbed off of Bradley's lap, you missed the warmth of his body immediately, and he looked like he felt the same way. He jumped up, and when you reached for the dirty dish, he took your hand in his instead. "I'll clean up if you want to take a bath," he whispered. 

You tugged him closer, and he abandoned the table, soft brown eyes on yours. "Come with me?"

"Yes," he responded immediately. 

Both of you were already stripped down to your underwear, and you undressed completely as Bradley started to fill the tub. Then he stripped out of his boxer briefs and got two fluffy, yellow towels ready for when you were done. You tested the water with your toes, and then he held your hand as you climbed in. You realized you hadn't taken a single bath while he had been away. You preferred taking them with him.

"I'll be right back," he told you with a quick kiss to your forehead. And you tried to settle back against the tub, but the edge was cold against your shoulders. And the overhead light was too bright. And he was taking too long. 

But when he returned with his phone and an opened bottle of the pink champagne you had tucked away in the back of the refrigerator, you immediately felt better. His phone was softly playing a song from the ten hour long playlist he made for you when he was deployed while you were dating, and he propped it up near the towels as he handed you the bottle. Then he turned off the light, leaving only the soft orange glow from the bedroom filtering in through the door. 

"Roo," you whispered, and then he was there, easing himself into the water. With a soft grunt, he settled against the tub and pulled you close so your back rested against his chest. "You opened champagne?"

"Yeah. Being home is something to celebrate." His arms snaked around your waist and his voice was deep, chest rumbling when he spoke. And you took a sip of it. And your senses were overwhelmed. There were so many things happening at once that you loved and hadn't let yourself enjoy for such a long time. 

His voice, the bubbles on your tongue, a song you loved, the scent of your bubble bath. You felt like you'd deprived yourself for an age. "I love this," you whispered before taking another sip, and then Bradley's mustache was on your neck. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as you reached back with the bottle, offering it to him. "Nah, you have some more," he replied. "My hands are full." His arms were wrapped around your middle like he was trying to remember the exact feel of you. His knees were bent, and your body was pressed intimately to his, but all he did was kiss your neck and hold you. He sang along softly to whichever song was playing, eventually accepting the bottle of champagne when you offered it again and taking a sip. 

"I hope you don't deploy again for a long time," you whispered when you let him finish off the bottle. "Because I want to do this with you every night. Well, minus the expensive champagne."

Bradley chuckled against the curve of your neck as he adjusted himself in the tub. The slosh of water across your shoulders had you shivering as the water had cooled. "You want expensive champagne every day? I'll buy it by the case."

"I just want you."

"I'm yours." His lips were pressed to your spine. "We'll do this all the time."

A few minutes later,  you reluctantly climbed out of the tub as you shivered, and you wrapped yourself up in one of the fluffy towels. Bradley headed back into the bedroom after he brushed his teeth and kissed your cheek. As you brushed yours and removed your contacts, you thought perhaps calling it an early night was just what you needed. 

When you joined him in the bedroom, Bradley was dressed in clean underwear, and he had his worn UVA shirt on your pillow waiting for you. You slipped it on and adjusted your glasses as he pulled the covers back for you. And that's when you noticed the notebook on his nightstand. 

"You can read what you want to," he said, reaching for it and handing it over. "I'm not trying to hide anything from you. But some of this was hard for me to write. So keep that in mind."

"Okay," you whispered, opening it to the first page which you had skimmed earlier, as he gathered you against his side. And you sat there with him, leaning against the headboard as his warm hand kept you anchored as you read silently.

Baby Girl, when I think about you, I think about the rest of my life spread out in front of me. And it's not exactly like a map, because I don't know where we are going or where we will end up. But I feel safe when I'm with you. Even though so much is unknown. 

I never thought I could be enough for someone else. Enough that they would want me around or want to get to know me. I didn't know I could be important enough to be in a long relationship with someone or get married. And it makes me ache whenever your self doubt is something that I caused, because you do the opposite for me. You make me feel like I'm good enough for you. You gave me a fucking purpose. You're the reason I dropped every other bad habit I had in exchange for just the hope that you might look at me. 

"Oh, Roo," you gasped, tears rapidly filling your eyes as you dropped the notebook onto his abs and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"You didn't even make it to the end of the first page without crying," he whispered as your tears wet his cheek. "Want me to put it away?"

"No," you said, voice shaking. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever read."

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

Once Bradley was able to wipe away most of your tears with his thumbs, your eyes were bright and focused on him. "Will you read it to me?" you asked so softly that he probably wouldn't have been able to hear you except that your lips were brushing his. He nodded gently and gathered you against his side again. When he picked up the notebook, he felt himself flushing from embarrassment. 

It was so personal. It was one thing when you were reading it to yourself, but hearing himself say the words that he had written? Out loud? He gently cleared his throat and took a deep breath, picking up where you left off. As soon as he spoke, your arm tightened across his chest.

"And then you did look at me. Like I was someone who was worth your time. And you spoke to me like my words could be important to you. And you touched me like you'd be careful with me. And you kissed me like you didn't want it to stop. And then I started to feel different, like maybe I appreciated myself a little bit more. 

I wanted to kiss you that first night at the Hard Deck after I bumped your stool. I wanted to do a lot more than that. Sometimes I wonder what you would have done if I had tried it. I couldn't stop thinking about you after that. For days, weeks. Fuck, I still think about that night. I still can't stop thinking about you. If I could just kiss you right now and feel the weight of your hands on my body, then I would be fine. My problems would feel manageable, because I would be with you. 

You deserve to have a husband who takes the pressure off of you, not one who adds more. And if you'll just give me one more chance to show that I understand that, I won't waste your time.

You've always been different. You've always been what I wanted whether I deserve you or not."

He stopped at the end of the first page and set the notebook aside. That was enough for one night. He was exhausted, and you were crying again. And he wasn't exactly sure if they were good tears or the worrying kind. 

"Baby Girl, are you alright?" he asked, rubbing his hand along your back as you nodded into his neck.

"Yeah," you whispered, sniffing as you tried to speak. "I just never heard you talk about me so.... matter of factly."

Bradley laughed softly. "That's because the notebook was really supposed to be for me."

"I like it too much," you said, rubbing your forehead against his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he promised as you snuggled in for the night. He pulled the blanket up higher over both of you, and before he actually turned the light out, he picked up the notebook one more time. "Close your eyes. There's one more page I want to read to you right now. But you have to promise you'll go to sleep right afterwards, because I'm already a little embarrassed just thinking about it."

"Okay."

Bradley licked his lips as he located the correct page in the middle of the notebook and scanned it before he started reading very softly. 

"My life feels like a dream. Like an actual goddamn dream. The kind I started to have shortly after my mom died. The ones where she was there, and I could feel her touching my hair and holding my hand. I was missing that kind of touch that kept me grounded, because I felt so out of control in my own skin too much of the time. 

I didn't think I was starving for attention or affection. The surface kind wasn't hard to come by. I just didn't know there could be more. And then I met my wife, and maybe I always knew she was going to be my wife someday. The way I stuttered and couldn't walk correctly when she looked at me. The way her smile and the curve of her cheek made me think about touching her. The way her voice filled my mind when I was alone. Fuck. I didn't know. I had no idea. I was absolutely starving for this kind of affection."

You were asleep, your breathing even and calm. And Bradley felt like he could sleep now, too. Once the light was turned off, he very carefully took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. "Roo," you murmured in your sleep, wrapping your leg around his a little tighter. 

"I love you." He kissed your knuckles and your rings, and then he dozed off, too.

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

Bradley was beautiful in the morning light. His cheeks were a little rosy from sleep, and his lips were gently parted, face turned toward you. When you stroked his mustache gently with your thumb, a soft smile appeared on his lips. Something had helped heal part of you overnight. Maybe it was the notebook. Or the bath. Or just having him with you after weeks of feeling so uncertain. But you felt lighter. You had slept so soundly. 

When you tried to roll away and let him sleep longer, his arm tightened around you like a vice, and you squeaked. "Stay with me," he rasped. That voice went right through you and made your body stand at attention. Your nipples were tight peaks, and you had to squeeze your thighs around his left leg where your bare core was rubbing him like you had no control of yourself. 

You whimpered. You couldn't help it. He was looking up at you, his brown eyes wide and suddenly alert. "Sorry," you gasped, your thighs tightening around him again. You ducked your head in embarrassment, but Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your palm before sliding it down his warm body underneath the blanket. He leaned up to kiss your lips as your fingers skimmed along the front of his boxer briefs. He was hard, and now you had no idea why you were apologizing to him. You dipped your hand inside the elastic and whispered, "I want you," as you wrapped your fingers around his heavy erection. 

Wordlessly, he rolled you onto your back, keeping his left thigh wedged in place where you were wet now. He kissed your lips gently, tucking his fingers behind your neck and letting them tangle with your necklace chain. "I need you," he swore. "Need."

You nodded your head slowly and arched your back so he could push the soft tee shirt up a little higher. You knew how good it could be with him, and it had been so long since he'd been this tender. He kept that one big hand at the back of your neck while the other roamed your body, and he took the time to touch you everywhere. Sometimes his lips were on yours. Sometimes he was just watching your face as you made soft noises just for him. 

When his gaze traveled down your belly, you felt him trace your dainty, single line rooster tattoo with the tip of one finger. He traced it over and over again, the sensation just on the verge of being ticklish. But all he was doing was stoking your desire for him. He leaned down and kissed you just below your belly button. "We belong together," he whispered, worshipping your belly and hips with his mouth. "And I want to hear you say it."

You took a ragged breath as he kissed your thigh and dragged his mustache along your pussy. When you bucked off the bed for him, he grunted and kissed his way up until he was nudging the shirt over your breasts, exposing your taut nipples. 

"We belong together, Bradley," you moaned as his lips wrapped around your nipple. His fingertips felt rough on your other breast, but his touch was still tender. And you didn't care that you were rubbing your core along his thigh, nudging his length over and over again. Because he was grunting your name and licking long stripes across your breasts. 

When he looked up at you with the warmest eyes, you took his face gently in your hands, and guided him to your lips for a kiss. "Please," you whispered. "Oh, Roo. Please forgive me for the last time we had sex. I should have never treated you or us like an obligation."

His lips mashed against yours with a need that took your breath away. He wasn't an obligation. Your husband was as urgent and crucial as your own heartbeat. He was a necessity. He was something you needed to cherish. "I love you. I love you." 

"I'll never stop," he promised as you reached down, bumping his cheek with your nose, and eased the waistband of his underwear down. When you nodded, he didn't hesitate. Bradley guided himself inside you, stretching you and filling you. The slow, intentional roll of his hips left you smiling as you raked your fingers through his hair. This felt the way it used to. And Bradley was smiling, too. Kiss after incredible kiss. And there was no rush. No expectations. Just sweet morning sex with your husband after eight weeks apart. 

And he knew what to do, because he knew every inch of your body and every noise you made. He made you cum as you ground up against him, your fingers tight in his hair. "Oh god!" you whined, that gorgeous clenching feeling rocking through your core. His thrusts grew shallow as he tipped his head to hold eye contact with you as he came. 

He whispered a ragged, "I love you, Baby Girl," before he tucked his face against your neck while you held him. It was perfect. He gave you exactly what you needed like a wrapped gift you wanted to keep opening. 

"Can we... could we just be like this again?" you asked him after a moment. 

There was no hesitation to his response. "Yes."

You traced his scars with your fingers and kissed his forehead until you thought maybe he had fallen asleep with his cock still cradled inside your body. But he ran his hand along your arm and whispered, "I'm happy I'm home with you. I'll make your coffee." 

And two sweet kisses later, he gently withdrew himself and climbed out of bed. You watched him pull his boxer briefs back up, and then he smiled at you before Tramp followed him out of the room. You gave yourself a minute alone in bed. The passages in that notebook made you feel like Bradley had set you down on a pedestal. You felt like a priority again. And he seemed more than willing to listen to you and talk to you about the things that needed to change. Dr. Genevieve was going to be so pleased when you spoke with her again. 

When you walked into the kitchen in your tee shirt with Bradley's sticky cum on your thighs, you gasped. "What did you do?"

Your French press was broken on the counter, and Bradley was cleaning up spilled coffee with paper towels. "You weren't supposed to come out here yet," he said, wincing. "I got one good cup out of it before I broke it. Your breakfast is on the table." 

You walked into the dining room to find a plate with two pieces of burnt toast and jelly along with one mug of steaming coffee. You laughed and called him in with you. "Just let me make lunch, okay?" 

"Yeah," he agreed as you pushed him down onto the chair and climbed onto his lap. You fed him a bite of very crunchy toast as he added, "I ordered you a new French press already. Stainless steel this time. My hands were always a little too big for this one. And I can't even believe I like this fancy shit." He took a sip from the mug. "And sorry this toast is disgusting."

You couldn't stop laughing at how normal this felt. "Like I said, I'll make lunch." He let you finish the rest of the coffee as he traced a little pattern along your bare thigh. 

"What are we doing today?" he asked, looking at you with one raised eyebrow.

You just shrugged. "I mean... I didn't really have anything planned, because I was just so anxious for you to get home. But if you want to go out, I'll have to clean all your cum off my legs."

He just shook his head. "Let's stay in all weekend until we have to go to work on Monday morning. And you can just keep my cum anywhere you feel like."

You giggled as you stuffed the last bite of toast into his mouth, and it looked like he was going to cry. Then you just sat in the dining room with him and played with his hair for a while. Having no plans and nothing to do would hopefully give you both the opportunity to talk through some more things, but when you yawned, Bradley scooped you up and carried you back to the bedroom. 

"Let's take a nap," he whispered, like it was a secret you should keep from the rest of the world. And you supposed it was as he wrapped you up in his arms. You fell asleep with his hands tucked up inside your shirt and his lips on your neck. 

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

Bradley knew there was still a lot to talk about. Every time you asked him for more details about his deployment, he was hesitant to mention Slayer or Admiral Dean or anything that happened. This reunion weekend was everything he had hoped it could be. A lazy Saturday lunch out on the back patio. Sex in the shower. Cuddling on the couch. And Bradley reading to you from the notebook. 

Sometimes you cried, sometimes you held him. Once you gave him a blowjob while he was reading it to you. No, this weekend felt like you and he were getting back to basics, and he didn't want to ruin it with deployment talk. That shit didn't matter now that he was with you again. 

"Will you read another page to me?" you asked after lunch on Sunday, leading him back to the bedroom. "And then you can tell me more about your deployment?"

"Anything you want," he promised, pulling you down into bed with him. He found the bookmarked spot and opened up to that page, and as you kissed his cheek, he started to read.

And the words meant something important to you. He could tell. Even though it was hard to do, he kept working his way through the notebook. You already had some favorite passages that he dog-eared for you. He'd read the same thing to you as you fell asleep on Friday night and on Saturday night. And you kept telling him that you loved him. 

After he finished reading and set the notebook aside, he kissed the tears away from your cheeks and rolled you onto your back. You bit your lip as you looked up at him and said, "You know how you told me that you'd be okay with just us? Just me and you? If I never get pregnant?"

"Yes," he replied easily. While he knew this topic had been just below the surface, he honestly hadn't given it too much thought all weekend. He felt like he was back in honeymoon mode, just trying to make you smile. 

"You meant it?"

"Yes. I'd rather be happy here with you than have anything else any day of the week."

You seemed to accept his answer as you raked your fingers through his hair. "Roo, I... don't think I want to stop trying. But I don't want to have to focus all of my energy on it. I don't want to constantly think about my cycles and my fertility like before."

"I agree," he replied. "I want us to have sex when we want to, just like we've been doing all weekend. Because it's fun, and I love it. And I love you. And if you get pregnant, then we'll figure it out. And if you don't, then we'll still be perfect. Or we can talk to a doctor together at some point. Or not. We don't have to decide that yet. We can be just us, Sweetheart."

"Just us," you reiterated. 

"And Tramp."

"Well, obviously," you said, turning to look where he was lounging on his little bed. You were smiling when you looked back at Bradley. "Let me feed you leftovers for dinner."

"Thank you for not making me eat any more toast of my own making," he whispered.

You laughed. "I love you too much for that."

After another shared plate of dinner and dozens of kisses, Bradley coaxed you into the living room to watch a movie. He put on one of your favorites and smirked as you shimmied out of your shorts and underwear before joining him on the couch. "What are you doing?" he rasped, lounging along the length of the couch. He tucked his hands back behind his head and let you untie his gray sweatpants and pull them down to his knees. He had skipped underwear at your insistence, and now he was twitching for you.

You carefully straddled his waist, and Bradley's erection was tapping you eagerly on your ass. "Warming your cock?" you asked so innocently, leaning down to kiss his nose. "Is that okay?"

Bradley groaned and said, "Hell yes." He slowly slipped his cock into your pussy, and he closed his eyes and counted to ten as you wigged around before settling chest to chest with him. You seemed half focused on the movie, preferring to press gentle kisses to his face and neck instead as you held hands. The soft clenching of your pussy around him as you loved on him was almost too much. But he didn't want it to stop. He focused all of his energy and attention on you while the movie played.

"You're making me feel so good, Baby Girl," he crooned, stroking your cheek while you kissed and licked along the scars on the side of his neck. "I love this body," he added, squeezing a nice handful of your ass. 

You moaned softly, and he enjoyed the fluttering feeling of your arousal as you told him how much you missed him. You rolled your hips with the occasional soft thrust, and Bradley just remained rock hard and ready for you to take this wherever you wanted to. You were soaking wet and warm and inviting. And when the movie ended you started to fuck him, your eyes closing as you came after a few strokes. 

You started shivering in Bradley's arms as you said, "You felt too good. I couldn't go any longer."

He held you in place and thrust up into you. "My only goal is to make you feel good in every way." But then he was panting, and he only lasted a few more strokes too, after spending so long inside you. And your fingers were in his hair and your lips were on his cheek, and he didn't know how he was supposed to help himself when you loved him like this.

When you started to shift, Bradley grabbed your hips. "Don't move, don't move," he begged. "Just let me stay like this. For a minute." 

Your cheek came to rest on his chest as you traced his paper airplane tattoo and sighed. And all he wanted to do was skip work all week and keep this going.

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

Monday morning was an obnoxious wake up call after the weekend spent with Bradley. You'd taken a few minutes to call your parents so they could talk to Bradley. Then another bath rounded out Sunday night, followed by listening to him read another two pages from his notebook. His words were poetry, and when you told him that, he laughed. But they were the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard in your life, so you thought it was actually a pretty good description of what he had written. 

The two of you got dressed in your uniforms in the morning, and Bradley apologized again for the broken French press and placed a Starbucks pickup order for you to grab on your way to work. And then the two of you made out in the living room. You just made out with your husband with no further expectations than simply enjoying his lips on yours and his hands on your butt and the little sound of your nametag tapping his pins. 

"We need to leave," he whispered before sucking on your bottom lip. Your fingers had messed up his tidy hair, and you were going to work with puffy lips now. 

"I can be a little late," you told him, making him laugh. So he backed you up against the wall and kissed along your neck until you were giggling from the prickle of his mustache. 

You eventually made it to work with your fancy coffee and a smile on your face. Bradley hadn't mentioned anything about your cycle all weekend long. You felt a brand new energy humming through your body. Cat laughed when she saw you, and you wanted to ask if she'd talked to Jake. You also wanted to see your friends at lunch, but there was honestly too much to get done. Tomorrow would be another day. Today you'd get as much of your work done as you could and then go home to Bradley. 

You worked straight through until almost three o'clock when you were sitting in the lab, finalizing some math before it was submitted. Your computer pinged with an email from your boss's boss's boss. You almost never heard from Admiral Yates directly. You tapped it open and your blood ran cold. This had to be some sort of mistake as you skimmed down to the second paragraph.

I need the audio communication pulled from the special mission on the USS Theodore Roosevelt from April 21st, and I need the coding to be verified on everything before it is submitted. Have it ready by midnight tonight. This is for the court-martial of ADM. BECKETT DEAN and LT. HARRIS "Slayer" HAINES (docket MT47489). This is regarding the incident involving LT. NATASHA "Phoenix" TRACE, LT. ROBERT "Bob" FLOYD, LCDR. BRADLEY "Rooster" BRADSHAW....

There were more names, but you couldn't read them. You almost fell out of your seat after you saw your husband's name listed as part of a group involved in some sort of incident. Something bad enough that comms needed to be verified. And then it occurred to you that as many times as you had asked Bradley for details about his deployment, he had given you none. The perfect bubble of the weekend felt like it just popped in your face. You thought you might throw up as you dug your phone out of your pocket.

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

I feel like Roo and BG can breathe again! But maybe he should have taken the time to talk about his deployment. Oh, Bradley. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 15

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[riki-riks-chick]

hihi 🙋🏻‍♀️

this may seem like an odd request but ill try my best to explain it 😭 have you ever watched jennifers body? Could you please write reader with a personality like Jennifer Check with a Heeseung boyfriend? like not related to the initial lore but more of a just overly confident hot girl who everyone wants but can’t have, with her gloomy tall boyfriend?

sorry if this doesn’t make sense 😭

Sunshine And Rain ┃L.HS

antisocial!heeseung x overlyconfident!reader

heeseung is a bit of a loser and feels he's not cool enough for his popular girlfriend

fluff! small kisses, self-doubt, reassurance, yn loves her loser bf, grumpyxsunshine trope kinda

wdct: 2k

ty for the request i kinda like this one 💚

═════════════

Third Person POV~

Nights in Hongdae were always some of the best. You could walk around in whatever skimpy clothes you dared to put on, and no one would question it. You could also drink your ass off without any worries because it's the weekend and you don't have to get up for work the next morning.

Your friends invited you out, telling you all about how you guys could have so much fun if everyone brought their boyfriend to make sure you guys were safe the whole night.

You were especially excited because you had finally convinced your boyfriend to go out with you. He wasn't thrilled of course, but you promised not to force him to be social, and he agreed.

You're currently at the second club of the night and its 10pm. Heeseung has probably only had a few drinks, but you're well over tipsy.

You were sitting at the bar together, though Heeseung was hardly paying attention to you, and some man came up to you.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?..." He smiled and you rolled your eyes. "Sorry, I'm taken. Sorry for you though, I'm not sorry I'm taken.." You respond cockily and the man scoffs. "I don't see a boyfriend around."

"He's right here." You gesture towards Heeseung who's to your right, turning to stare at the man attempting to court you, his hand is resting lightly on your waist. "Yeah, like this loser is your boyfriend. What are you a hooker? Do you sleep with losers like him for cash?"

Heeseung's hand tightens against your hips before he pulls back, standing up from his chair. "If I were you, I'd walk away." His voice was low, and deep. You'd always get excited whenever he got jealous or protective.

The man clearly wasn't taking you or Heeseung seriously because he scoffed out a laugh, taking another sip from his drink. "Listen, sweetheart... I'm not convinced by whatever this is that you and this boring fellow are up to.. Come home with me and I'll show you a real good time.."

Heeseung sighs against your ear, grabbing the man by the collar as you grab his wrist, simply shaking your head. You then push Heeseung behind you, glaring at the man. "Listen here... You're the real fucking loser and if you don't take your dumb ass away from me in the next five seconds, I'll find your facebook page and tell your wife that you like to spend time trying to fuck other people's girlfriends." You speak straight up and forward, making the man's eyes widen. "Wife? I don't have a wife!"

"Says the ring on your finger. Now fuck off." You then grabbed Heeseung's hand, pulling him towards the dance floor, your drink clutched in your right hand. He made sure to grab your clutch when you started tugging on his arm.

"Baby.. You know I don't like dancing.. It's too crowded.." Heeseung speaks into your ear, making sure you can hear him over the bass of the loud music. You simply pull him closer, taking another sip of your cosmo. "Hee, baby.. That's the fun part. You get an excuse to be pressed against me in public without anyone noticing or caring."

He simply chuckled at your slurred explanation, spinning you around so he could pull your back to his chest. He held your hips gently, swaying you against him. "I don't deserve you.."

"Oh shut up, if I wasn't dating you I'd be with some perverted asshole who only wants to fuck me." You reassure, reaching back to place your hand on his nape, making him rest his head against your shoulder.

"Why didn't you wear the outfit I picked out for you?" You finally question and Heeseung chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "The shirt was too brightly colored, and the pants were uncomfortable.." He mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nuzzles against your neck. "Baby.. The shirt was light blue. That's not bright. You need to wear something other than black for once."

"I like the clothes I wear." He responds, and you can tell there's a pout in his voice. You simply smile, ruffling his hair. "If you like it, so do I.."

The night continues on as Heeseung continues to follow you and your friends around Hongdae. He's been mostly silent tonight except for his small conversations with you. On occasion he exchanged a few words with your best friend's boyfriend, only because he'd met him before and felt it would be rude to ignore someone he knew.

Once it hit midnight, you decided to part from your friends, not wanting to overwhelm Heeseung too much.

He took you to a convenience store to get you some water, and a hangover drink before simply just walking with you. Pretty street lights illuminating the streets, nicely colored signs all around you. Your hand is in his and he's smiling at you. Nights out are always so much better when he's with you.

There are a few stragglers walking around and Heeseung can tell that all eyes are on you as you walk by.

You've been dating for almost two years now, and he feels like he should be used to it, but he doesn't like that he never has you to himself. And it's not your fault because you're naturally outgoing and confident, it has nothing to do with how pretty you are. He's extremely lucky to be with not just the prettiest girl, but the most lovely and caring girl as well.

You've always been genuine with Heeseung, defending him whenever anyone tried to question why such an outgoing girl was with such an introverted guy. He fell harder each time you explained that his social life didn't matter as long as you were apart of it.

And now he's watching you walk confidently, heels sounding delightfully against the pavement. He doesn't even know how you're still wearing heels when you've been walking and dancing in them for hours now.

He's pulled from his thoughts when he feels you stop walking. "Heeseung... Do you wanna hang out in this cafe for a little while? It's been awhile since we've been to this cafe together.."

He couldn't say no to you if he tried, so he nodded, opening the door for you and letting you walk in. Even though it had been a long time since the two of you had been here, he still knew your order by heart. He ordered for the both of you before leading you to a quiet booth in the corner. He let you sit down before sliding in beside you.

"Did you have fun tonight?..." He questioned, wanting to start a conversation with you after being mostly silent. "I did.. But I was worried about you.." You reply, glancing up at him. He raises an eyebrow. "Why? I've been okay.."

"I feel bad dragging you around with me sometimes.. I know you don't really like clubbing.. Plus all the guys that approach me. I don't like when people disrespect you." You take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently as he smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "Baby, you don't have to feel bad. I'd do anything for you, you know.. It doesn't bother me when other guys try to talk to you.. You're a very wonderful woman, and I can't blame them.."

You smile at his words, giving him a kiss. "You're always so sweet, Heeseung... But really, I promise that next weekend I won't go clubbing.. It'll just be us. Okay?" He nods, caressing your cheek. "Okay then, we'll do that."

The two of you spend the next hour in the cafe, talking and laughing together. When you finally get up to leave, the barista stopped you. "Hey, could I get your number?"

You simply scoffed, grabbing Heeseung's hand before leaving the cafe. Heeseung was slightly shocked. Usually you'd come up with some cocky response to turn guys down, but you simply walked away.

You were quiet afterwards, and Heeseung didn't know what to say. You stayed silent until the two of you finally got back home.

You kicked your heels off at the door, dropping your coat, which Heeseung gladly picked up for you.

"Heeseung, I'm gonna shower.. Do you wanna join?" You asked, glancing back at him as he followed you towards your bedroom. He simply nodded, setting your coat on the dresser, his own following.

You disappeared into the bathroom, taking off your makeup while Heeseung set out some clothes for the two of you to wear after showering.

He then joined you in the bathroom, turning on the shower before pulling his shirt over his head.

He then moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You smiled, finishing taking off your makeup before washing your face.

Heeseung's hands were already working on unzipping your skirt, tugging it past your hips to let it hit the floor. He then pulled your shirt over your head, dropping it as he turned you around to face him, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You kissed back, sliding your hands up his sides as he cupped your jaw, tugging you closer.

Eventually he pulled away, kissing your forehead. You finished undressing before stepping into the shower. The water was warm and you already felt so much relief from the slight headache you had.

Heeseung pressed you against the wall, catching you completely by surprise as you stared up at him. "What?..."

"What's the matter? You're never this quiet.." He mumbles, his tone filled with worry. You simply sigh, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "I'm fine. I'm just tired." Your excuse is definitely not going unnoticed by Heeseung, he shakes his head, cupping your cheek. "Are you upset with me?.. I'm sorry if it's embarrassing having people talk about you because of me.." He asks, saying the words with no expression.

"Heeseung, I'm not embarrassed of you. And I'm definitely not upset with you. Stop saying nonsense." You speak firmly, gripping his wrist as he nodded. "Okay.. I'm sorry." He apologizes, smiling weakly as he pulls away.

You tug him back by his hips, staring up at him. "Now you seem upset... Hee, baby.. You know that I love you no matter what others think. Right?"

He nods, though the motion seems hesitant, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair. "If it makes you feel better, I won't force you into coming with me anymore.." You suggest, but he shakes his head. "I enjoy being with you, I just wish I wasn't such a loser.. That way people would think that you have a cool boyfriend.. Someone who's not afraid to have fun or socialize.."

His words make you scoff. You cup his cheeks, pulling him closer so he was only a few inches away. You kissed his forehead before pulling back to stare into his eyes. "Lee Heeseung.. I don't give a fuck about what others think.. I only care about you. And I like that you're a little boring at times, it's a good contrast for me.. You're like the rain to my sunshine.. You're perfect and nothing will ever change that.."

═════════════

ive never seen Jennifer's Body so I hope I displayed yn's personality right 🫣

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor Pt. 6

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Five more years of victordom have passed, but the Capitol is still throwing surprises at you.

Part Five | Part Seven

A/N: SURPRISE! This is coming back because I felt like it and some lovely folks left comments recently ♥️ we can blame my absence on this semester, but thank putting off a 14 page final paper for this bout of productivity! (Also I was going for a ranch vibe with this pic? I'll start putting his face back on these soon lol)

Warnings: description of blood

Tears welled in your eyes as you finished dicing yellow onions, and you wiped your face with the back of your arm as you turned to scrape them into the pot. Caesar Flickerman’s voice floated in from your living room, the TV playing in the background so you could keep an eye on the quarter quell special. Count on Caesar to draw the whole thing out, emphasizing the significance of the anniversary and whatnot. You couldn’t help but be curious, though. The last quarter quell had fifty tributes, and you weren’t even alive to see it. You had, however, seen its effects on your occasional drinking buddy, so you were certain this year would be a doozy. 

It seemed Caesar was finally getting to the point as you began chopping a red pepper. He introduced the President, and your hand tightened around the knife as Snow began his address. That voice haunted your dreams, and hearing it at home was far more unpleasant than anywhere else. You did your best to tune him out. That was, until he announced it. 

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third quarter quell games, the male and female tribute are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” 

Your ears began to ring, and suddenly, you couldn’t hear the rest. Existing pool of victors. Existing pool of victors. Sharp pain brought your vision back into focus, and you blinked to find blood from the backs of your knuckles spilling over your pepper. Though your brain stopped moving, your hands hadn’t. 

You took a silent step back from the counter, staring at the ruined cutting board. Tearing your gaze away, you started rifling through cupboards trying to find a towel. The ironclad grip your dominant hand kept on the knife wasn’t helping, but it certainly hadn’t occurred to you to let it go. Out of options, you shoved your hand under the faucet and watched water carry excess blood away.

Vaguely, you registered the pain in your hand as your water heater got to work, but your eyes stayed locked on the drain. A loud ring of the phone startled you out of your reverie, to the point where you’d launched your still-dirty kitchen knife into the wall next to it. But it pointed you in the direction of some towels, at least, and you snatched a clean one from the laundry basket on the stairs. 

Sat on the second to last stair, you hunched over to wrap your hand. The world felt surreal as you stared at your shoddily covered wound, only looking up when your door burst open. You weren’t surprised to see Darla. Her scraped knees, bloody nose, and breathlessness didn’t shock you either. She probably fell when running over, but you were sure you looked just as frazzled. Grabbing her a towel from the basket, you nudged her with it before she could sit. 

“Answer Finnick.” 

She picked the phone up from the receiver, doing a double take when she registered the kitchen knife. 

“Howdy,” she huffed, licking her top lip and clearing some blood. 

You could barely hear Finnick’s resigned tone from the other end. “Hey, D,” he breathed. “How’s…” he trailed off. 

“Well, there’s blood on the cabinets,” your head popped up when she said it. You hadn’t even noticed the trail you’d left in your wake, “Water on the floor, and a knife in the wall.”

The faucet was still on, too, and you definitely hadn’t turned off the stove. It was a relatively generous assessment from her. 

“Will you put her on?” 

Darla stuck the phone straight in your face. When you grabbed it she reached for another towel, and pushed it along the floor with her foot. 

“Finnick,” your tone was almost too even for the circumstance. 

“Don’t do it,” Finnick warned, knowing you far too well. 

“Save it,” you shot right back, “I know you’re thinking it too.” 

“I don’t have a choice,” he said firmly. "They all have kids. Who would I be if I didn’t?” 

Though Darla was busy cleaning up after your spell, you weren't stupid enough to think she wasn't listening. “You know I feel similarly,” you chose your words carefully. 

Finnick did know, he’d seen what you’d given up for Darla. How you’d put yourself through the wringer for years just to spare her. He had no doubt you’d act just the same now. Only he didn’t want you to. He would’ve hated seeing Darla in there, but he’d be a dead man if you were in the arena with him. Your stubbornness didn’t stop him from making a final plea. 

His soft call of your name cut your heart worse than you’d cut your hand. Suddenly, you could no longer bear speaking to the man who’d been your constant for the past five years. “I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll see you soon, Fin. Take care of yourself.” You stood and shoved the phone back on the receiver before he could say another word. Talking to him, thinking about him, neither would help you hold yourself together. 

You stepped away from the phone, but stopped in your tracks to look at the knife. Some of your blood still lingered. 

“Leave it,” Darla called from the kitchen, “it’s a bold new piece of decor.” She’d taken up interior design in the wake of her victory. You shook your head with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lip. 

Coming to her side, you both looked down into the pot she’d taken off the stove. Burnt onion wouldn’t make much of a base. “There’s leftover pasta in the fridge,” you offered, sadly. 

“Yes please,” she nodded quietly. You passed behind her to heat some up, and she settled onto one of the stools at your counter. It took you a minute one-handed, but Darla seemed too absorbed in quiet reflection to care. 

She dug in as soon as you slid her a bowl, but you stopped short before sitting down with your own. She raised a brow. 

“I’ll be back,” you shook your head, taking your dish and slipping on shoes. The wind whisked straight through your clothes as you crossed the street. 

Darby had never been close with you, nor Darla. He was there when she won, and you could tell he was somewhat relieved to only bring home one casket. But you weren’t close enough for him to tell you that, because he wasn’t your trainer.

He wasn’t even there when you’d won. The story was that Darby was too ill. It was true, only the illness was drug induced. District Ten had only one trainer that year. 

The woman who had trained Darby had trained you, and you were the last District Ten victor she’d lived to see. Sam was kind but incredibly sharp. Gentle, yet challenging. Observant and astute, she’d assessed you for all you were and marketed a more palatable version to the good citizens of the Capitol. Beyond helping you survive the games, she helped you navigate the aftermath. Without Sam and without your Nana, you wouldn’t have lasted a month outside the arena. She picked you up and dusted you off again and again like your mother had when you were a girl who thought she was invincible. No time had hurt as badly as losing your first tributes, though, but Sam saw you through that too. 

Before your second try at mentoring, however, she’d died. A horseback riding accident was the official story, but Sam had left the leather watch she loved at your house just before. She insisted on doing the dishes after you’d made dinner, and you later found it by the sink. Sometimes you swore you caught glimpses of her long silver braid. Each time it happened, you opened the drawer of your nightstand to stare at her watch.

Her death hit Darby hard, they’d been the only two Ten victors for a while. He hardly held it together during Darla’s games. Afterwards, he fell apart.

You’d been mentoring with Darla ever since, comforting her with each loss as Sam had with you. But you knew Darby had seen this announcement, and everyone in the district knew what it meant. 

You stood at his door a few minutes after knocking. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you felt compelled to come over anyway.  

A blue eye peaked from where the door had finally opened a crack. You held up the still-steaming bowl as an offering. Darby pulled the door fully open and stalked off into his house. Trailing after him, and closing the door behind you, you noticed how skinny he’d gotten since you’d last seen him. 

“Thanks,” he said, raspy, when he took the bowl from you finally. You could only nod. 

“I’m sorry,” you offered, knowing full-well how little it meant. Darby only sighed and shook his head. 

He shrugged, stabbing a fork firmly into the bowl. “I always had that feeling,” he shook his head. Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he went on, “that it wasn’t over. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. They own us, of course they’d want us back.” 

His passe tone rattled you. You nervously wiped your non-covered palm on your pants, “Right.” You looked around his dusty home awkwardly, “Well, see you soon.” Trying to leave him in peace and for your own, you made for the exit. 

“I’ll say hi to Sam for you,” he said from behind you, mouth full. It stopped you in your tracks. You couldn’t even look back at him. 

“Thanks.” 

————————

The months leading up to the reaping were hellish, with you and Darla trying to shed your rustiness. You insisted you both throw your all into prepping for this, but that was mostly a ruse. Volunteering for her had been your plan since the announcement. At the very least, you enjoyed your time at home with her. You hadn’t gotten any calls about trips to the Capitol, and Finnick told you he hadn’t either. At least they were letting you enjoy your last few months alive. 

As Winter went, and Spring too, the day had finally come. Off to die for the second time. 

You zipped the fly on a pair of jeans you hadn’t ever worn. Your stylists had shoved them in your closet a long time ago- since they looked exactly like the ones you’d won in. The head gamemaker your year had a background in fashion, and gave tributes plenty of chances to change dirty or worn clothes in for unique ones.  People loved the look so much that denim had been a brief Capitol fashion trend. You figured it’d send a message to anyone who knew. After all, you’d cheated death in these once, you could do it again. 

You were up early, and since you and Darla had agreed to arrive separately, you took a long walk around your home district. Your long lap, with sights you’d grown up loving and smells you’d always scrunched your nose at, was met with a few pitying glances. Eventually, it lead you to the Justice Building, and you took an extremely early seat. People took their places as the hours passed. 

"Remember, it’s just for show," Sam’s voice rang in your head. It was the last thing she said to you before you entered the arena. 

“Hey,” your head snapped to your right where Darla took her seat. She looked tense. You took her hand and squeezed it, a silent reassurance. It’s not you. You’ll be ok. I’ll miss you. 

The district filed in for the ceremony, unusually unorganized. The only people the Peacemakers were concerned about policing, however, were already on stage. 

Your annoyingly vibrant district escort began the ceremony, and you ignored her for as long as you could bear it. “Ladies first,” you blinked to attention, head held high. This was it. Dug your nails into your palm to stop your hands from shaking. You swallowed. I volunteer as tribute. You willed the words to the front of your brain, hopefully convincing your mouth to form them when the time came. 

But you didn’t have to. She had called your name. You willed your face to remain impassive as you squared your shoulders. You forced yourself to take a proud step forward. Perception was everything here. You couldn’t look weak, not to the capitol, and not to your fellow tributes. 

“I volunteer as tribute!” 

Your well-crafted mask fell with the words. Shoulders sank as you turned to her in shock. Not once did you think she’d volunteer for you. But you could almost hear Finnick’s voice reminding you how similar you were. It was why you got along like a house on fire. Only, this time you had been so recklessly loyal to her you’d miscalculated. And it would almost certainly cost your tribute her life. 

“Darla,” you breathed, quiet enough for only her to heard, and sharp enough for it to come across as scolding. 

She didn’t even turn your way. 

You were escorted straight to the train before Darby could even be picked by default. The new (old) District Ten tributes were escorted straight to the train as well. Only then could you confront your mentee. 

“What the fuck was that?!” You stood in a rage. She walked right past you toward the couches, but you caught her wrist.  

“You don’t get to scold me for saving your life,” she shook her head, and tugged her wrist free.

“Sure I do, when you’ve acted like a fool! It was random, D! We agreed to let it be random!” 

“Oh, that’s rich!” She scoffed. 

“Excuse me?!” 

“You’re still lying! You really think I didn’t know you were going to volunteer for me?” Darla asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. She fell back onto the couch. 

You stepped back, anger fully dissipated. “What?” 

“You hung up on Finnick nearly every time I’d walk in,” she shrugged, “you’re brave not subtle.”

Your shoulders sagged, and you lowered yourself onto the luxurious Capitol sofa next to her. For a second, you let your head fall into your hands. 

“Still,” you persisted, looking straight ahead, “it was going to be me. You didn’t have to-“ 

“I know what all you’ve done for me,” she said simply. You sat straight up, finding her face with wide eyes. No.

“Finnick?” He wouldn’t. 

“Johanna,” she shook her head. Your shoulders sagged. It made sense that Johanna knew, she was almost in the same situation. And you wouldn’t have expected them to keep things from each other, not before they broke up at least. 

“Darla,” you started. Why hadn’t she confronted you when she found out? How long had she been holding on to this knowledge? Did she think differently of you? 

“You’ve been falling on your sword for me for five years,” Darla said solemnly, “it’s high time I took it away from you.” 

Your stomach ached, and tears blurred your vision, “D.” 

She pulled you in for a hug when your voice broke. “You gave me my life back,” she whispered, “I’m only doing the same.” 

You pulled away from her, wiping vigorously at your face. “I won’t watch you lose.” 

She sniffled a wry laugh, “then make me win. Maybe this time it'll stick.” 

————————————————————

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[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part three

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: guys me and bestie got tickets to sabrina's tour and we are SO excited- we're making our outfits and we're putting in the WORK on rhinestoning those i'll keep yall updated

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

By the morning, you were in a much better mood. You woke up early, earlier than usual, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to finally go home. You spent the night crying over the fact that you would very likely be stuck like this, but all you had left this morning was acceptance. It would be nice to finally sleep in your own bed again.

You had cleaned up all the dead flowers, and packed all your notes into a folder by the time the sun made its way into the sky, and your parents arrived shortly after that to pick you up.

They tried to be nice, they really, truly did, but they were disappointed in you. You could see it and feel it in the tense silence that always surrounded the three of you during their "visits". It was awkward, and there was nothing you could do to fill the quiet room.

"Are you ready to go?" Your mother asks, helping gather your bags packed full of clothes and books that remained untouched. You nod, smiling hopefully at her. You follow her out to the hall and down the stairs.

"There's really nothing you can do? You can't operate again?" You hear your father's voice before you see him, and you really wish you hadn't.

"No, I'm sorry, sir. her vocal chords have been reconstructed to the best of our ability, operating again would do more harm than good. It would retraumatize the area and could result in more complications, it would be a miracle if that would even help her voice." The doctor replies. "Her voice may come back naturally, but only time will tell."

You hear your dad sigh as you round the corner, and he smiles at you sadly. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, placing a hand on your shoulder and taking your bag from you, leading you out to the car.

You walk into your mother's library later that afternoon, a notebook in your hands. You knock gently on the door frame to notify her of your presence. "Yes, dear?" She asks, not looking up from her book. You huff, knocking on the door again and waving to grab her attention.

She looks up this time, realization flashing in her eyes. "Oh, gosh, sorry. I thought you were your father." Lies. "What do you need? You should be resting."

You hold up the notepad in your hands with the prewritten note. 'can you call coryo?'

She takes a moment to read it, brows furrowed. "Coriolanus? You just got home, give him a day off from babysitting you. He probably needs a break."

You frown, quickly flipping the page and writing again.

'he's not babysitting me. we're friends.'

"I understand he's your friend, but sometimes even the best of friends need a break from each other."

You roll your eyes. If you could groan you would. If you could call him yourself, you would.

'I'm 18, if I want to invite my friend over I will. I don't need permission anymore.'

Your mom chuckles, shaking her head as she reads the large print of your note. "Except now, you do. Don't you?"

The best you can do to express your frustration beyond how it shows on your face is to stomp your foot on the ground like a little kid before storming off down the hall. It was all you could do. You would try the same routine with your father.

It didn't work on him either, not that you were surprised. They didn't want company on the day you came home, but that didn't mean they actually wanted to spend time with you apparently.

You holed up in your bedroom, put on your music, and laid in bed staring at the ceiling.

It felt like hours before someone came to free you from your own mind, the silent prayers that you would be able to open your mouth and make a single sound. That didn't mean you had been brave enough to even try yet, though, until there was a knock on the door.

You tried your luck, attempting to call out a quick 'come in!', but nothing came from it besides a scraping pain in the back of your throat. You sigh, rubbing your neck gently in a poor attempt to make the pain go away as you crawl out of bed and go to the door, pulling it open with a scowl on your face.

It settles only slightly when you're met with a member of your family's staff standing there holding out a small, delicate vase containing three roses.

You stare at each other, neither of you able to speak a single word as you take the flowers from her hands. She was a young girl with dark hair, and she had been in your home for a year. You didn't know which District she had come from- it wasn't like she could have given you an answer if you asked. The removal of her tongue ensured that fact.

Occasionally you had wondered what each member of your staff had done to earn their fates, but you liked to theorize. Until now, that is, because the fate you were sentenced to is all but the same, and you had done nothing wrong.

Her eyes widen slightly for just a moment as she looks at the scarred skin across your neck, and then quickly back up to meet your eyes.

Her lips part as if to speak, and you tilt your head slightly at her until she quickly shuts her mouth again. You can see her struggle a bit to swallow as she just gives you a small nod, handing you the card that accompanied the flowers before turning to shuffle back down the hall.

After shutting the door and placing the flowers on your windowsill, you carefully unfold the small envelope and read its contents.

'Something to brighten up your room.

Welcome home.

-Coryo'

Graduation and the accompanying gala were within a week of your return home. You're eternally grateful you spent the time to pick out your dresses months in advance, because if you hadn't, you were sure you wouldn't have gone at all.

Standing behind the stage, your eyes continue to focus over and over again on Coryo in his spot in line. It was much preferred to look out at the audience or on the stage as your other classmates were handed their diplomas and posing for pictures for just a moment before exiting on the other side of the stage.

You had missed the rehearsals while you were in the hospital, so really you were just about to wing it- but still, you didn't want to watch anymore.

You dreaded the silence that would come along with your name being called. Well, silence would be preferable to the exaggerated cheers that were more likely to follow- everyone celebrating your mere act of survival after the school spent weeks scrambling to find someone else to sing the anthem at the beginning of the ceremony.

So looking to your best friend was all you could do to calm the blooming anxiety, cursing the alphabetical organization by last name that kept you apart for the moment.

Then it was your turn that came all too quickly.

You look at him again and he smiles at you, which you return with the fake one you were building for the sake of all the photos about to be taken of you as your heels click across the stage. The cheers that block out the sound while you keep your eyes ahead almost make you want to keel over and vomit right on the black flooring of the stage.

Is it possible for cheers to be full of pity? For an applause to be so... sad?

You'd been on the receiving end of countless rounds of applause before, but none had ever made you so embarrassed.

With flushed cheeks and a performative grin, you shake Dean Highbottom's hand.

"Congratulations." He says, and something behind his eyes for just a moment shows that he is not immune to the infectious pity spreading through the audience. He had never shown much emotion before, and if you weren't so close to him right now, you definitely wouldn't have picked it up at all. "We're happy you're here."

All you can do is nod, swallowing and attempting at a grateful smile as you take your diploma from him in the small red, leather folder.

Holding it up and turning to face the audience, you tilt your head with your signature smile for a beat to give your family (or any reporters interested in your recovery and story) time to take their photos before holding the folder to your chest and taking a small bow.

You allow yourself to pretend that you're okay for just that moment. That this was the end of one of your performances, and for just that one moment with your head down, you could block out the pity that came along with the standing ovation you were now receiving.

You were used to it.

But this isn't at all what you expected your final bow to be. And it hurt.

"Congratulations, Miss." Coryo's voice behind you in the crowd makes you smile, and you turn around to face him.

You roll your eyes with a fond smile on your face, doing the best you can to return the sentiment by poking him in the chest over his red gown a couple of times before pulling him into a hug.

He returns it and you feel his chest move as he laughs, gently rubbing your back before reluctantly pulling away. "Hey, where are your parents?" He asks, looking around the crowded front steps of the academy crowded with other students and their families waiting for rides to the gala.

You thought it was a poor choice in words, calling the graduation after party and dance a "gala" when in fact it wasn't one at all. Where you performed was a gala. Or, where you were supposed to be performing. In your mind it was anyway. Maybe you had it backwards.

You stare at Coryo, waiting for him to look back at you again before you're able to try and explain.

"They left." You mouth out, once his attention was back on you. "Work."

"They left?" Coryo asks, brow furrowing slightly as you nod in confirmation. "They're not coming for the dinner?"

You shake your head. "Busy."

"Well, you're stuck with me then." He smiles, nodding for you to follow after him.

When you walk up to his cousin, Tigris, the only person who was able to come for his sake, you realize you may just make up the saddest and loneliest table at the whole event. All your classmates had at least their parents, but most also had extended family members and friends as well. Crowded tables, loud chatting, lots to say and lots to celebrate. You had... less of that. Less talking, in particular.

And once again, you were right.

You tried to enjoy your dinner while many people went out of their way to come and pat you on the back and congratulate you on your graduation- and it just felt patronizing.

Coryo watched it all go down from the seat across from you at the table, staring at classmates and parents as they stopped to talk to you, knowing damn well you wouldn't respond. He hated every minute of it.

The frustration burned behind your eyes like a freshly struck match every time someone tapped your shoulder over the beautiful graduation dress you had asked for his opinion on months ago, the very same one that matched the rose pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

'Why couldn't they comment on that instead? Say you looked beautiful? Or say nothing at all?' He thought.

You couldn't even do a thing about it besides giving people awkward tight-lipped smiles and fake appreciative nods.

"Have you seen the state of her?" Livia says to her friends as you're walking by, and instinctively you drop your head. "I mean, it looks so bad, I'm surprised she would ever show her face in public again."

Coryo's arm that's linked with yours tightens its grip, and he has to be the one to look over.

"Wait, Coriolanus, you were there, were you not?" Persephone grabs his attention when she notices the two of you walking by.

The two of you freeze, sharing a look. Both roughly translating to "Are they fucking serious?"

He clears his throat. "Excuse me? Do you have absolutely no manners at all, I really do not think that-" His gaze flicks between you and the girls from your class as he speaks, preparing to scold them for being so incredulously rude.

Their eyes all go wide simultaneously. "No! Oh, goodness, we're not talking about you, Y/N!" Livia defends quickly and takes a small step closer, looking genuinely mortified by the confusion. "Clemensia. We're talking about Clemmie."

"Oh." Coryo says at the very same time your lips form the same word you couldn't speak.

Sure, they were talking about your classmate this time, but you were not foolish enough to guess they hadn't had a similar conversation about you when you weren't present. Unless they had more pity for your situation, which may very well be worse.

"We were wondering if you knew what happened, you were the last one with her before she got this... 'illness' that has apparently turned her half snake."

Your eyes go wide at Persephone's explanation, and you look frantically between them and Coryo. He had never told you anything about this, and he knew it was his job to keep you updated on all the petty and worthless gossip going on at your school while you were away.

You smack his arm a few times, eyes pleading for him to please explain what they were talking about, as the girls watched you with amused and slightly sympathetic smiles.

"Oh, well..." He hesitates noticeably, shaking his head dismissively. "I didn't... as far as I know she just fell ill."

He was lying and you knew it. You could feel his muscles tense around your arm.

"Oh, really? So, you and Clemmie go to the Citadel to speak with Dr. Gaul, and she is never seen again without scales and you just claim... nothing weird happened?" Livia asks, clearly not buying it either.

He gives a resigned sigh, looking around briefly. "I am not meant to discuss it." He explains quietly. "But... I honestly do not know. She brought us both into a room separately to discuss the contents of the proposal. I went first, and they instructed me to not wait for her. If something happened, I was not made a witness."

The girls seem a little disappointed with this answer, but only for a moment. It was believable enough to them.

"I mean, it's human experimentation- obviously." Livia says with a shrug, bringing her glass up to her lips. "I really don't put it past the doctor, she is deranged at the best of times."

"Ooh, yes, maybe she wanted to see if she could give a human a pit organ- maybe Clemmie can see heat now. Or smell with her tongue." Persephone giggles in a whisper, leaning in so only the three of you were privy to her joke.

You tilt your head, and immediately your mind is running a mile a minute. If Dr. Gaul could alter someone's DNA enough to turn them partially into an animal, she could easily reconstruct your vocal cords... Right?

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

kit reads a comic: untold tales and alternate timelines, issue 1 (part 2)

finishing off the rest of the issue today! very convenient this one is split into two. i fear for the length the other reaction posts will be when i have to go through the entire issue for the story instead of half-and-half.

time to look for some good scientists. i'll even take the sub-par ones

oh shit i was right it is about doc getting picked up for the manhattan project! the comic opens on the california institute of technology, 1943, as helpfully supplied by the text box. i think this is the one where doc shows them his jello cube with a singular mushroom in it. the mushroom is very important. anyways, doc storms into i think his boss’s office and he’s very mad! his boss asks him why he’s not teaching to which he replies this:

gotta search up something rq.

yeah this is funny. [a la shrek they don’t even have dental] he doesn’t even teach a math course

docs mad bc he’s noticed all his other colleagues have been disappearing to contribute to what he guesses is a “top-secret think tank” for the war so what’s he still doing here?? that should be him!! (or in his words, “you should’ve bussed me off ages ago!”) throughout his whole rant about credentials and stuff he’s doing this:

the pose and the face are very silly to me. yeah this guy looks highly qualified to me. checks out

i also love how similar he’s drawn to the video game version of him. i can hear this in his younger self’s video game voice

so his boss is like yeah you’re right there is something going on and we thought about you for it and doc immediately takes this as a confirmation that he’s going and asks “can i bring my dog?” which i thought was cute. the canine assistant is very important to him. his boss goes no wait. we get this explanation :

you can say you think his place is a mess. it’s okay. love the stress on “psychologists” too like damn you really think it’s that worrying

doc is not the slightest bit offended he just goes yeah i get it. but ☝️i have an idea

we cut to:

a very tidy and respectable home! seems he’s cleaned up! they’re like yeah based on what we’ve seen we think you’re fit to come with us. then they step on his mail on their way out which reveals that this isn’t his apartment! it’s his landlady’s! tough luck doc….

doc goes home, not deterred by this in the slightest. he WILL be bussed off to that think tank. he’s put his mind to it and by god is he going to accomplish it. oh weird his apartment lights are on-

GOVERNMENT PEOPLE JUMPSCARE

love the guy on the left’s face like yeah. we broke into your apartment. we’re the government. we can do that

also his apartment isn’t even that bad. look how much floor space is clear! plenty of room to roam still, no problem (the bar is low.) (please ignore the giant death ray)

also he still has the stuff on his walls in 1985! the cat clock, the sax, the giant taxidermy fish

the guy in the back turns around OPPENHEIMER??? what are you doing here…. (we know what he’s doing here) (bomb)

they’re like yeah we knew it wasn’t your house this whole time. we respect the hustle. you’re with us now you’re now officially part of the manhattan project! doc says this is cause for celebration and he pulls out:

THE JELLO.

the mushroom really is perplexing. free my man

and that’s the end actually! i thought it would be longer, i’m surprised there isn’t more. looking at the page count this checks out though.

doc being so eager to get into the project is like.

(he doesn’t know.)

not much on the bingo front today. i assume he got his landlady’s permission to use her house but he also could’ve not so it’s a toss-up to if the square is filled

i’m sure this will be cleared up in a later issue (and by that i mean he’s definitely committing another, more clearly defined crime)

well, we found our good scientist! next on kit reads a comic: the government breaks into doc’s house again.

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets II

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

I'm not sure if you saw but there's going to be some pretty big reveals in this section I think. I feel like you might not like the ending of this part but I hope I'll start making it up to you in the next parts.

~6.3k words

Warnings: angst, fluff, Harry is an ACTUAL a-hole, toxic relationships mentioned, described. Relationships are hard, love is complicated. Cheating. Please read with caution.

Sitting across from her on the washer reading his book while she read hers. That was the only other time that he felt pure, silent, peace. It needed an explanation, but he couldn’t give it one. He was so infatuated with her so instantly it was like the part of his brain that controlled his heart saw her and said: Ah, yes. You found her. Finally.

Harry was undeniably (and unapologetically) obsessed. He spent so much time walking down to the laundry room just to see if she was there that his calf muscles were getting a serious work out from the number of stairs he had been descending and climbing, over the last month since he met her. It was pathetic. He would head to the basement after checking the mail in the alcove by the main office. When he “needed fresh air” he ran down to the steps and poked his head in after dashing outside for all of thirty seconds, like a loon. It was good they didn’t have a doorman, he would have saw right through Harry.

If he saw her doing laundry, he ran back to his apartment and put together a mishmash of random clothes and towels so he could hurry back and get a sense of calm for a half hour. Even if it was just five items. And sometimes he washed clean towels. But the laundry room was free—one of the biggest perks of this building.

The biggest perk of all was her of course.

The anger Harry felt nearly all hours of the day swelled and swelled when he was home. It made him want to bash his head through the wall and he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just fix his problem. Therapy might have helped. Maybe even one of those Eat, Pray, Love retreats to center himself could have provided some guidance. Or maybe he should have just told Gemma what the problem was, and his big sister would come to his rescue as she usually did. Maybe she would be able to tell him exactly what to do and everything could have been fine.

But admitting he had a problem seemed like the opposite of fixing it.

So, he only felt at ease during two time periods these days.

One of the times was while working. Which was a feat itself because there was only so much relief that he could find staring at his computer screen for eight hours on end. The numbers were boring, and he could manipulate them or analyze them in his sleep as needed. It was brainless to him and made it easy to turn off the anger for a bit of time and just focus on patterns. There was a sense of tranquility among the numbers. They had a clear answer when put together; his conscience didn’t yell at him when he was at work. It was also the only time he didn’t think about the sunshiny princess that liked laundry.

Sitting across from her on the washer reading his book while she read hers. That was the only other time that he felt pure, silent, peace. It needed an explanation, but he couldn’t give it one. He was so infatuated with her so instantly it was like the part of his brain that controlled his heart saw her and said ah, yes. You found her. Finally.

But Harry didn’t believe in soulmates. He couldn’t believe in soulmates.

“Your wash is done,” she murmured without looking up from her page. Harry was already staring at her, so he wasn’t terribly surprised when she spoke. Her gaze didn’t shift from the words on her page when she spoke. Even with Harry ogling her. How long had he been staring at her? Did she even notice? Did she care? It made him a little nervous that he was so infatuated with her; he wanted to know if it was one-sided. It probably was. Simply because Harry was so grumpy and there wasn’t a whole lot of talking when they spent their hour together doing laundry. She exuded this bubbliness. It was in her aura or whatever wave of energy she gave off to the rest of the world. She was sweet and kind. Harry was grumpy and obsessed. She was probably just too polite to tell him to go away. Harry wished she was staring at him the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

You need to get a grip. His conscience was resigned but still trying. It was all the little voice could do at the moment. Harry slid from the washer and quickly dumped his stuff into the basket to transfer it over to the dryer. She giggled at her book and Harry thought his heart might melt out of his ribcage at the sound.

He mindlessly put the stuff in the dryer. With her advice, he went out and bought the sweet-smelling dryer sheets that made his clothes less stiff and reminded him of her. Jesus Christ, you’re an idiot. It sounded like his conscience simply up and left the office. Slamming the metaphorical door on Harry’s absolute hopelessness.

Harry returned to the washer he was sitting on and went back to his book. If someone came down and the other washers were filled, he would have to give it up and find a different spot to perch while he waited for the dryer and he hated when that happened. Watching her read was one of his new favorite past times. “How was work?” He asked her without looking up from his book.

“It was fine,” she shrugged. “We got some really good news for one of our patients which is great. But sometimes they...almost struggle more with good news than bad news. It’s common enough. They’ve had so much bad happen, it’s hard to believe good can happen. Does that make sense?”

Harry looked up finally and admired her beauty silently. It was hard to believe.  “Perfect sense,” he murmured.

“How about you? How’s work been this week?” She asked, putting her book in her lap and giving Harry her full, undivided attention.

It seemed nearly unnatural to be so smitten with someone he had met just over a month ago. Maybe she did like him? Liked him enough to ask about work and not tell him to take a hike. Maybe laundry was her time for peace and Harry was ruining that. “Work is fine. S’a little boring. Jus’ numbers and reports.”

“Do you like it?” She asked, tilting her head at him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I do. S’exactly what I wanted t’do.”

“Then it’s not boring,” she smiled so sweetly, Harry thought he would get a cavity.

They sat there smiling at each other for a few blissful moments. But then someone entered the room with their bag of laundry. “S’my cue,” he grumbled in annoyance.

She smiled. “I’ll keep an eye on your dryer,” she said. “Guard it with my life,” she promised opening her book again.

She is really nice. His conscience admitted. Harry smirked to himself, his internal monologue finally agreeing with him. But you’re still an absolute idiot.

*

She was putting away her laundry in the correct drawers when there was a knock on her door. She nearly sprinted to the door dropping her T-shirts on the floor at the sound of the person on the other side. She was giggling as she made her way to the main room of her apartment and flew across the space to yank the door out of the way. The door was barely open, and she was tackling Niall in the biggest hug she could manage.

“Hey princess,” he chuckled wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How are you?”

She pulled back. “Better now that you’re here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was only gone two weeks.”

“It was a year,” she nodded firmly.

“I helped you move in, darling,” he rolled his eyes and entered the apartment. He inspected her décor, looked at the arrangement of her furniture, and admired the big window looking out over the little main street that led to town. “S’beautiful here,” he told her with a smile.

She nodded, answering with her own grin. “It is.”

“Are you happy?” He asked.

She nodded again. “Yes, very.”

His smile didn’t falter as he nodded appreciatively at her response. He wanted the very best for her. “I saw Dickhead,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not his name, Niall.”

“It may as well be,” he grumbled sitting on the sofa. She flopped down beside him resting her head on his shoulder. “I hate him,” he reminded her.

“I’m not really a big fan either,” she giggled.

“I would kill him for you.”

“I know you would,” she patted his leg. “But that’s not necessary. I’m away from him, I’ve got this cute place, I’m out of my parents’ crazy house,” she smirked and rolled her eyes. “And... I think I... may have met someone.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that, darling?” He said, turning toward her so he could look at the adoration that fell over her face. “Where did y’meet him? What’s he like? Does he like you?”

Niall had been her best friend since high school when he moved to town and didn’t know anybody. He looked overwhelmed trying to find his classes and she just looped her arm around his elbow and started walking him through the hall on an impromptu tour as if she always knew him. When questioned about being late, she explained that she had been asked to guide Niall around since he was new. Since she had a beautiful smile and that kind personality, it was impossible to think she was lying. But even if she had been caught in a lie, she wouldn’t have minded because it was for Niall.

Niall was the funniest, kindest, best friend anyone could ask for. Her parents and his parents asked all the time why they didn’t just get married. They were so close. Sometimes they didn’t even talk to each other for hours on end. It was effortless to be friends. Sitting quietly together made them happy. “I’ll marry you if you can’t find anyone by the time we’re thirty-five,” Niall winked.

She rolled her eyes at the time, but after her most recent breakup, it felt like maybe she would be marrying Niall once they turned thirty-five. “I don’t want to marry you,” she said with a shrug. “I feel like once you’ve seen someone eat a whole large pizza on their own the magic is just gone.”

“Darling, that is exactly the reason you should marry someone,” he laughed. But it was okay, because he didn’t want to marry her either. She was his best friend.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

But really, they didn’t date because they just knew it wasn’t what they needed. They needed to be friends. They wanted to be friends. Best of friends. She was the first one to swoop in and tell Niall everything would be okay when he was upset or nervous about something new. Niall knew how to make her feel better when her cramps were bugging her or when she had a really long day.

Or when her parents’ fighting finally got to her.

She loved her parents, really, she did. But most of the time it didn’t seem like they loved each other. The last thing she wanted was to end up like them with anyone she dated long term—but especially not with Niall. He always listened to her vent about how their arguing bothered her. How it worried her. It made her nervous that her future relationships were doomed before they started; because what kind of example had they set for her?

Niall could assuage her worries with ease. It had been many years of him listening and offering advice. There was so much about relationships they didn’t know in their high school and college years. Maybe there was something about her parents’ relationship that she would never know.

“They got you out of the deal, princess,” he told her after a particularly bad night at home. “Think that would keep me around on it’s own.”

She wasn’t sure that was honestly the best idea or solution on the subject. But it did make her feel better at the time. Which was why she loved Niall so very much and never wanted to do anything to jeopardize their friendship.

But despite no one finding Niall before she did on his first day of school, Niall needed no help at all when it came to dating. He had plenty of girlfriends over the years. Some were intimidated by their friendship, but most were fine with it—especially after they met her.

“Niall, I think I want to marry her. Are you sure you don’t want to date her?” One of his girlfriends in college asked him and of course he relayed the message.

So, being friends was easier, better, for them.

She went on dates but didn’t have a lot of long-term boyfriends. Dickface as Niall said, was her most recent relationship. They dated for nearly three years. He was controlling, did not like Niall very much, and in Niall’s opinion he was always one inconvenience, one irritation away from harming his best friend either emotionally (or, terrifyingly enough, physically) and Niall wouldn’t stand for that one second longer than he had to.

It got really bad around the two-and-a-half-year mark. She had called Niall crying. Niall wasn’t used to that. She was unbelievably strong and even with the saddest job in the world, he thought there was nothing that her sunny disposition couldn’t fight through.

Niall didn’t even hear what the problem was. When he thought about it now, he didn’t even remember what the issue was that she told him over the phone. Niall was already heading to their place, packing her overnight bag, and getting her out of there. She had to move back home for a bit making her crazier than ever as she listened to her parents fight and argue every night.

She hadn’t talked about another guy since their breakup.

Niall never really understood how she ended up with her ex anyway. He was nothing like her. He wasn’t sunny enough for her. His mood soured so rapidly it was like being with a ticking time bomb. As much as Niall told her he didn’t think it would work out, he knew it would have to be her to figure it out. Until she called him (or if something really bad actually happened), he would have to let her be her own person and support her as much as possible.

Until they broke up, Niall never hated him. If his best friend saw something good in him, then there was something good. Some people just don’t work out. Some people don’t click—or stop clicking, and it takes a while to see it.

“I met him doing laundry,” she told him with a laugh. “How silly is that?”

Niall smirked. “Yeah? What’s his name?”

“Harry,” she took a deep breath and looked at her hands. “He sits and does laundry with me. It’s quiet and we read our books. We chat too, but really, it’s just... comfortable.”

Her whole life was loud. Hospitals were loud. Her parents were loud. Niall, when he was excited, was louder than anyone she knew. Laundry was quiet. Laundry was a chore that always eased her mind a bit—especially when everything in her brain was tired and longing for serenity. When Harry came in grumbling and angry, she worried he would ruin the one thing that made her happy and calm.

Maybe that was why she offered him to use her laundry detergent. Maybe it was her first selfish act in so many years of listening to constant arguing and being in a relationship that made her feel anything but peace. So, when Harry accepted her help, when he kept sitting with her and enjoying the peacefulness of the chore, it felt like... fate.

“That’s adorable,” Niall smiled. “Have you asked him out?”

“Absolutely not, Niall. That’s so creepy. I’ve seen his underwear.”

“He’s probably seen yours,” Niall reminded her. “Already at third base, y’know?”

She punched him in the stomach without force behind it. “Shut up.”

“Well, what else do you know about him?”

“Honestly, not much. But he’s nice...a little...grumpy.”

Niall narrowed his eyes at her immediately. “Listen, darling. I’m not about to watch you be in the same relationship you just left. I don’t want to be the friend that tells you who to date or whatever but—”

“Niall, this is completely different.”

He didn’t buy it. And maybe he wouldn’t force her to break up with her last boyfriend, but he would absolutely stop her before something bad happened. “Why’s he grumpy?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know...but he’s not grumpy toward me. Mom is always on the defensive. Dad is always playing the victim. Dickhead was always annoyed with whatever I did...” she trailed off. She caught Niall’s smirk as she used his nickname appropriately. “Harry is... I don’t know. I don’t seem to annoy him... I think I might... I don’t know. I get the sense that he doesn’t feel very at peace sometimes. But... when we read and wait for laundry... I don’t know... he seems... happy.”

“Well, that is quite the feat now isn’t it,” Niall smirked. But he knew it was true. She was this bright spot of sunshine. She could make the saddest situations happier. She had this way of mediating situations she had no business being a part of into something better. When they were at stores and the customer in front of her in line gave the cashier a hard time, she was the first person to defend the employee and work out a compromise or explain it in a different way. Of course, whoever crossed her path had no choice but to agree with her. See it from her perspective.

Being friends with the kindest soul he knew was amazing.

But it meant Niall had to protect her peace because not very many people did it for her in the past.

“I am a delight,” she reminded him with another punch.

She can hold her own. Niall thought with a smirk to himself. “Truly.”

She thought about Harry’s soft brown locks and his green eyes that haunted her dreams. It was... the universe talking to her. It had to be. Even if she didn’t believe in that stuff. Even if she didn’t want to believe in it. Because Harry was simply too good to be true. He had already spent hours in that dark and damp basement with her doing a house chore of all things.

But there was the other most amazing coincidence that rattled her to her core. “Niall... he...” she sighed dreamily. “He brought up The Wizard of Oz without me... saying anything.”

That certainly lit a lightbulb in Niall’s brain. He looked over toward the bookshelf beside her TV display. One whole shelf had various editions of the book. A collection she had thrifted and worked hard on since she got her very first job in high school. Gifts from Niall and other friends and family helped make her collection bigger. The books weren’t necessarily worth money or anything, but they were a part of what she loved. Part of what made her...her. That was priceless.

“Really,” he sounded just a little skeptical. She couldn’t blame him—she was skeptical. She never thought in a million years she would have a soulmate. It didn’t seem possible given the display of “love” she had at home. “That’s...that’s kind of crazy.”

She nodded in agreement. “I was...speechless.”

“Another feat.” She rolled her eyes and Niall received another punch to his stomach. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “Well... let’s go run your errands so you can go do laundry like an old married couple with your new guy.”

*

Harry was once more ascending the steps from the basement disappointed to see she wasn’t there. It had been nearly five days since they’d done laundry together. The anger he felt was causing the familiar shake to reappear in his hands which he thought might permanently be balled into fists. If he didn’t see Sunshine soon, he might have to go right to her door to find her.

However, he was looking at his phone to answer a text when he heard her laughter. It was pathetic that he could recognize it by sound already. Like a child, he hid behind the mail alcove peeking around the corner to see what made her laugh so hard.

The anger was there to stay.

A man had his arm around her shoulders, and she was still snickering at whatever he said. The smile on his face matched how Harry felt whenever he was around her.

Harry wanted to kick himself. Of course, she would find a new guy quickly. She was adorable, intelligent, sweet, and sunshiny. Any guy would be stupid not to fall for her. Obviously, it happened to Harry so very quickly.

Even when it shouldn’t have. His conscience reminded him futilely.

Not the time, he grumbled back internally to the little voice. But Harry believed no one could control who they fell for. There was a click, a sigh of relief, a sense of recognition that passed over two people and they just knew. It looked like whoever had his arm around her knew that she was a sense of relief. He found her.

Harry didn’t believe in soulmates.

Not anymore.

So, the anger would stay.

*

Harry flopped onto the couch and ran his hands over his face as he tried to compartmentalize all the emotions he felt. Jealousy, anger, and frustration was not a good look. He should have just told Gemma. Gemma always knew what to do. But falling for someone...he wasn’t sure Gemma could help. Wasn’t sure that Gemma would want to help.

“I thought you were going out?”

If Harry was in a better headspace, he might not have noticed the attitude. Or maybe there wasn’t attitude and he made it up from just being so angry. “No, love. Change of plans,” he murmured.

She stood in the doorway. “So, you got all mad and worked up, stormed out, just to come back?”

Harry definitely wasn’t imaging her attitude—it was plain in her voice, in her posture. It was like she was looking to argue and fight. “M’sorry,” he said sincerely. “Does that interrupt y’plans or something?” He asked her, turning toward her figure in the entryway of the kitchen. It felt like he already lost because of the defensive tone in his voice in the question he asked.

Ava was supposed to be his soulmate. Harry always thought she was. When they met his heart did the fluttering thing that it was supposed to do when he met someone he liked. The butterflies in his stomach took flight. She took his breath away. She was funny and beautiful. Harry knew he liked kindness, but if he knew that Ava’s kindness was limited back when he met her, he might not have ever dated her.

Harry loved Ava. He did.

But sometimes he didn’t love her the way he used to love her.

Maybe that should have been a clue to him to just end it. They had been together for almost five years. Things were comfortable even if they were tense. Harry liked living here. Especially now.

No. His conscience said simply. Not okay.

Truthfully? Harry should have ended it three years ago. Harry was constantly apologizing on behalf of Ava when they were at parties or dinner. When they hung out with friends, they could sense their tenseness. If he were honest with himself, their relationship had an expiration date, and they were soured now. He hid the bad parts of his relationship from everyone he knew. From his mum, his sister, his friends...

Even himself.

Maybe it took meeting the girl obsessed with laundry who reminded him of pure sunshine, to get his mind thinking about all of it again. That would make some sense. Harry should have asked his mum what to do. But Harry was on his own. He was a fully grown adult and he had to figure out what to do and make his own mistakes. His mum and sister couldn’t fix this for him. Especially because he needed to admit that there was something to fix, first.

But the calmness he felt every time he walked into the laundry room was hard to ignore.

That’s fair. His conscience admitted.

Rubbing his hands over his face again he looked at Ava. “What d’you want t’do then?”

She sighed so loudly. It was like knives digging into his heart. “Forget it. I’ll change my plans.”

“What the fuck, Ava? Like are y’having someone over and y’want me gone? Jesus...”

“Shut up, Harry,” she rolled her eyes. “I just don’t want people seeing us argue.”

“We don’t have t’argue, y’know.”

“I know that. I don’t think you know that.”

This was how it went. All the time. Arguing about nothing until Harry got so worked up and angry, he stormed back to the laundry room. But now he wasn’t going to do that. Not when he knew that the sweet girl that he met there was probably in a healthy, normal, beautiful relationship with the man that had his arms around her shoulders.

So, he would argue with Ava.

Because what else was he supposed to do?

*

The entire time she ran her errands with Niall, she thought about Harry. It wasn’t that Niall wasn’t good company. It was just that everything reminded her of Harry. The color green, the title of a book he had read in her presence that she saw while they walked through target, a jersey of the soccer team he liked that she had seen him throw in the dryer at least three times already...

The overwhelming...peace she felt just by thinking about him was practically unnatural. Her stomach twisted with longing to be near him. Not that she didn’t love hanging out with Niall—of course she loved to hang out with her best friend. But there was something about Harry that drew her to him. It was like he was this beacon of comfort.

Niall held her bags while they headed back into her apartment building. Part of her wanted to take the elevator to the fifth floor and knock on every door until she found him and could introduce Niall to him. But that would be insane.

“Do you know any of your other neighbors?” Niall asked as they waited for the elevator.

“Oh crap, yeah! Actually, I told my elderly neighbor I would grab her mail,” she said taking a sharp right turn into the mail room. The elevator pinged a moment later with its arrival. Niall chuckled following her. She stood in front of the silver boxes embedded in the wall and searched for her neighbor’s box along with her own. With the two mail keys on her key ring, she quickly opened the box and pulled out her neighbor’s mail first, and then her own. She sifted through her letters checking for anything of importance for just a moment. Niall waited patiently, not that it would take her long.

“Are you going to stand in front of the boxes all day?”

She turned around and looked at the woman who spoke. She was stunning. She should have been a model. It rendered her completely speechless. Or maybe it was the cranky attitude that made her voice catch in her throat. But she was staring at her as if she were stupid for taking up space. “Oh, sorry,” she murmured quickly and stepped around her.

The woman released an irritated scoff. It was sad that she felt bad about being in the way. Maybe it was the annoyance the woman had in her voice. It made her feel bad that she did something wrong. It was her fault that she was in the way. Maybe that was ridiculous to spiral so quickly—especially when the woman could have easily said excuse me. But she tended to blow things out of proportion when she felt like she did something wrong.

Niall eyed the woman suspiciously from the entryway to the alcove and glared at her for the attitude she showed his best friend. He knew she was probably already spiraling in her delightfully sunny brain and feeling bad even though the woman was rude. She quickly pushed Niall toward the elevator before he said something that would make her untoward attitude for her worsen. Once in the elevator Niall looked at his best friend.

“Who pissed in her Cheerios?” He grumbled.

“That was a lot for the mailroom,” she agreed even though she still felt bad.

Niall smirked. “Guess not all your neighbors are friendly. Wicked witch,” he muttered.

She ignored the comment–even though she found it a little funny. “Oh, you’ll love Mrs. Williams. She thinks everyone she meets is the cutest, sweetest thing. And she’s always baking something.”

Exiting the elevator and returning to her apartment, Niall chuckled to himself. “I don’t know if Mrs. Williams could say that about her.”

She was never one to speak ill of someone else—especially someone she didn’t know. But the little nit-picking part of her brain that she was unable to ignore thought Niall might be right. That was extremely rude for no reason. But she shouldn’t judge. Maybe she was having a bad day. The very same thing happened with Harry and look how nice he turned out to be.

“Can I meet Harry?” Niall asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows. It was like he heard her thoughts about the very man. Maybe he did. It felt like her brain just kept shouting his name repeatedly. Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry...

This was unhealthy and ridiculous. Soulmates weren’t real. Harry was just a nice person who liked to read while they did laundry together. Maybe he would have done it whether she was there or not. It was a necessity and after his laundry was almost moved from the washer he very well could have changed his tune and just been there for the safety of his belongings.

It had nothing to do with her.

...Right?

“Um...I guess...we could go see if he’s doing laundry,” she suggested. “But you can’t be weird.”

“Darling,” he put a hand over his heart as if she really insulted him. “I can’t believe you would say that about me. M’not weird.”

She looked at him blankly while he smiled so excitedly at her, it was like he was asking for candy at the grocery store before dinner and she was telling him no. “Don’t be ridiculous around him either.”

He rolled his eyes. “My best behavior,” he promised.

*

Laundry was calming. He should have known. It seemed like she knew everything there was to know—particularly about this silly little chore. Since he saw her with another guy, and of course another spat with Ava that turned into a bigger deal than it should have (as it always did), he needed to do something to calm himself. He wanted out of the apartment that hosted hostility in every particle of the air. It was a risky move to go to the very room that they had met. It reminded him that she was out with another man, and it was none of Harry’s business.

It also doesn’t matter. Harry wished his conscience had an off switch. He knew the voice of reason was really just the rational part of his brain trying to make sense of how fucked up his brain was acting. Laundry was her thing. He shouldn’t have tried to make it his own just because he liked her. When you shouldn’t.

Harry was going to stick his head in the washer and run the spin cycle just to get his conscience to shut up.

He heard her laughter and of course it made his crummy mood worsen. He was going to have to pretend that he wasn’t upset about something he had no right to be upset about. It was then he realized she wasn’t alone.

There was no way he could pretend he wasn’t mad when he heard her laughter paired with a guy’s laughter.

You’re hopeless. His conscience told him. Harry kept his eyes on his book. Reading The Wizard of Oz seemed like the worst idea in the world at that moment, but he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to her. Everything about her. Getting to know her more, even through an early 20th-century children’s novel, was the only thing that made sense when everything in his life seemed so... sad.

“Hey Harry,” her voice sounded like how the sun looked after it rained. Right before a rainbow appeared and the raindrops were dripping off trees. He couldn’t not look up.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly with a forced smirk.

Her smile was so kind it was hard for him to be annoyed that she was so happily taken. Especially when he wasn’t happy. Furthermore, since she was happy...without him. “This is my best friend, Niall. He wanted to meet you,” she said gesturing to the man he had previously seen holding her around the shoulders.

Best friend. Do you see how fucking stupid you are? Harry wasn’t sure if that was his conscience or just the general voice in his head but the way the anger melted off him wasn’t normal. He was stupid. Getting all worked up over something he wasn’t even sure about—about something that wasn’t even rightfully his to be annoyed.

“Hey, Harry. Heard a lot about you. She’s got you in her Wizardly book club I see,” he smiled holding his hand out for Harry to shake. It seemed utterly insane that Harry didn’t like Niall just because he held her the way he wanted to hold her. Even though it was now obvious it was a friendly thing.

“Ah...yeah...jus’ started it though,” he smiled feeling the sourness he felt toward her best friend dissipate by the second. “Y’must have read it, yeah?” He asked Niall.

“Oh, read it, watched it, had her read it to me, watched a documentary, went to the museum about it.”

“Please, make me sound crazier.”

“You do it all on your own, darling,” Niall winked at her.

Harry smiled at their banter. It seemed so...effortless. Maybe it would have been easier for Harry if they were a couple. Harry could see how much they adored each other just from their laughter and inside jokes that he had only witnessed through the looks they gave each other. It was nice. Harry was glad she had someone like Niall to adore her unconditionally.

But it also made him want to do it just as much.

“How long have y’known each other?” Harry asked, putting his book on the washer beside him. She dumped her stuff into the washer across from him, like she always did while Niall did the math in his head.

“Since we were fifteen,” he smirked. “So... twelve years.”

“Mmm... Niall has been the same immature nuisance since he was fifteen,” she smiled.

“Is that so, princess? I recall you getting all flustered at the duty-free store when we went to Canada last summer.” She rolled her eyes and Harry was simply overwhelmed by how much he liked her. “Sorry to meet you and leave Harry, but the missus is calling me about dinner,” he said.

Ah. So, they really aren’t meant to be. That boded well for Harry.

“Tell her that my hourly fee goes up when you insult me in front of new friends,” she said without turning around to watch Niall head for the door. He rolled his eyes at Harry and sighed.

“Good luck with her. It’s nice knowing not all of her neighbors are wicked,” he said knowingly. Harry smirked in response wondering who that was directed to. He would have to ask when he left. Niall pressed a hand on her lower back and pecked her cheek. “See you soon, darling.”

“Thanks for hanging out, Ni,” she grinned so cutely that it warmed Harry all over. Head to toe. She closed the lid of her washer and took her usual seat as Niall headed back to the main lobby. “Where are you?” She asked.

“Huh?”

“What page?”

“Uh...” he opened the book to the jacket cover holding his spot. “Seventeen.”

“So she’s in Munchkinland, right?” She smiled.

Harry smiled. “Feel like y’already know that, Sunshine.”

He thought she was beautiful without thinking about it much in all the time he spent with her. But somehow, the way her cheeks turned the most beautiful shade of pink...she was even more beautiful than he could ever imagine. “Well... yeah, I know but...” she looked shy. Maybe even felt a little awkward. Harry hated that. He wanted her to feel everything good. He wanted to read the book with her just to understand her even more.

“It’s sweet, don’t feel bad. M’liking it so far. Don’t know how I haven’t read it before.”

She had a book on her lap but she held her fingers around it so it was curled shut. “Read it to me,” she said.

“M’sorry?”

“Read it out loud,” she shrugged. “I already know it, so...it’s not like I missed anything,” she giggled.

Somehow, reading her favorite novel in the world probably meant way more than it should have. Definitely wasn’t something Harry should do. In fact, he should have told her about Ava right then.

“...But Dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to disappear in just that way, and was not surprised in the least.”

Harry felt like his conscience had put up a sign on it’s office door. Out to lunch. It was funny how his mind could tell him off even when he was in control of it.

But the smile on her face made her think that he hadn't ever been in control at all. Harry agreed wholeheartedly with Dorothy. He wasn’t surprised in the very least.

--

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[hereyeswithoutaface]

A couple of fruits (part 5)

The fifth part of my bullet train prequel focused on the twins! all other parts on my page <3

notes: thank you so much as always for the support! you all are so kind!!! unfortunately, a couple of fruits is slowly coming to the end within the next 1 or 2 chapters, in the following few days i will put up a poll asking if i should finish the story at the end of the trio as teenagers OR do a timeskip and focus on when they reunite as adults- i will put up more info nearer the time <333 also this chapter is utterly devastating so i do apologise profusely. also, i have done a doodle summary of this chapter from ashley's perspective so lmk if you wanna see thattt :D

TW: quite a bit of violence, alcohol mentions, very strong language, awful bullying, blood and injuries

as always a name reminder

tangerine-michael

lemom-toby

"Michael's fucking kissing rat girl!!!" The voice of one of the popular girls,screamed out, the sound shrill, ugly and carrying through the house and shutting everyone up, to be fair, it was quite big moment, no one had ever really seen Ashley out and about- except for working at the pub, and now she was with Michael Davies of all people.

"What?!- Oh my days he is!" Ted, the guy who was running the party, laughed when he saw the sight, fishing out a digital camera from his pocket and pointing it at them.

The pair had long since pulled away from the kiss, they had done when hearing the ear-piercing scream, so there was no overly humiliating photo taken, but only one of Ash looking utterly mortified and Michael looking like he wanted to die right then and there.

"You got a problem with that?!" Ash finally spoke up, yelling, it was the first time most of the people there had even heard the sound of her voice.

"She can speak!" The girl who had screamed earlier laughed, crossing her arms, her name was Mya, she wasn't great, with ratted up bleached blonde hair, and too much makeup, the two had been friends many years prior, back in primary school. "I thought you were like Helen Keller or something."

Michael didn't even look phased, as if he was expecting for a disagreement like this to occur, whilst Toby just looked severely displeased with both of them and sighed.

"That's rich, i thought you were a cave woman, with the whole barely any clothes, and hair teased to the sky thing you have going on." Ash retaliated, crossing her arms.

Mya scoffed and raised an eyebrow, stepping towards the other girl with an extended finger pointing at her, the plastic false nail just about touching her. "The only cave woman here is you, Ash, what's the benefits agreement that your mum is on again?"

"Shut the hell up." Ashley could feel her skin crawling from the stares of the other teenagers, she felt so stupid, being called out for what she couldn't afford, and suddenly wanted to go home, she didn't want people to know about the poor way in which she lived.

"Do you like rats so much because they live in your flat with you?" Mya laughed smugly, she loved how she was riling up Ashley, the rest of the room was silent, with a few stifled laughs from the others being the only source of noise.

Michael stood in horror, before Mya pulled him close to her, for which he looked at her with pure hatred in his eyes.

"You shouldn't even be here, no one wanted you to come, Mikey over here just felt pity that you have no mates, except the rat army of course- maybe you should go snog them instead, maybe they'd actually care hm?" Mya continued, after realizing Ashley was too distraught to respond to her windups, until she wasn't.

"I'll call the fucking rats and you'll get rabies and die!" Ashley yelled at Mya, she could hear her classmates laughing at her and it was driving her insane, she hated the attention; She stepped back, as if she was trying to teleport out of the awful situation.

Ted, who had previously been snickering in a corner with his arms crossed, lifted up his camera again, as the teenagers went on to laugh at her, he was just about to take a photo before Toby spoke up.

"Give it a bloody rest!" Toby yelled, adding to the shouts of the room, knocking the camera out of Ted's hand, which landed on the floor with a loud crack as it smashed. Shit.

"You prick! You fucking prick! You just broke my camera!" Ted exclaimed, shoving Toby back and away from him, that managed to snap Michael out of his astonished daze.

"Don't put your hands on my pissing brother you twat!" Michael shouted back, pushing forward against the forming crowd and Mya to punch Ted in the stomach, who narrowly dodged it and instantly kicked Michael in the shin, hard.

Michael winced slightly, before sending another punch flying at his face, Ted, and he didn't miss this time, the boy stumbling backwards into someone else.

"You arsehole-" Ted froze, his fingers going up to touch his bloodied nose and looked down at the red liquid, his gaze darkened, glaring at Michael before running at him, tackling him to the ground, trying his best to beat the skinny prick of a teenager into a pulp, going on to hit him over and over again, whilst he writhed and battled against him.

But Michael, who was sure there would be blue bruises on his face by morning, did eventually manage to hold his own, and grabbed one of the malibu bottles off the table, lifting it up and swinging it over Ted's head, causing it to smash in half, the spirit pouring over the floor as the glass cut open his head.

Suddenly, the screaming of the people had stopped, everyone was frozen in shock horror as Ted slowly went upright, blood dripping down from his scalp, no one knew what to do. Ted backed away from him, dizzy and disorientated as he fell onto a friend, the other attendees' eyes all darting around the room desperately, what Michael had done was very much illegal, and damaging too, however Ted could not go to A&E in the state he was in, he was far too intoxicated, whilst also being below the legal age for drinking.

"Oh my days- Oh my- Ted?!-" Mya gasped out, running over to the boy on the floor, an even tighter crowd formed around him as they tried to figure out what to do to help, and Toby realized this was probably time for them to leave.

"Come on-" Toby hissed at the pair, grabbing Ash and Michael by the arms, and pulling them out of the house, the other two eventually catching up to speed with the severity of the situation and followed his lead quickly.

"Did Michael just-?" Ashley gasped out as she ran, too shocked to say anything, it was too much, too awful, she didn't want to think about it, the imagine of Ted down on the floor, surrounded by a crown of dark red liquid dripping from his head.

"Yes- I did. Shit, I did..." Michael groaned and ran his hand over his face, he hadn't killed Ted, but he could've done easily, he didn't feel guilty about it, though, just scared to get caught and punished for what he had done to the guy.

"Three words describe our situation right now-" Ash rolled her eyes, running with the others away from the house, down the street, not to the boys' apartment straight away, just somewhere where they wouldn't be found.

"We are fucked." Toby chimed in, and Ash nodded, it was true, the trio was screwed over, they were going to get in serious trouble, one way or another.

Just as they were running, several black vans swerved and parked right in front of them, causing a barrier so they couldn't easily run that way, it was odd, and unexpected, but they didn't want to stay and see who was going to get out of those vans, so the three screamed when they almost got hit by them, before quickly changing directions and running down the street, caving and going to Ashley's place instead of just sprinting without a destination.

She fumbled with the keys, before pushing it open and practically pulling the boys inside with her, the three then moving to lean against the wall and regain their breath, panting heavily.

"What the hell?!-" Toby exclaimed, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Who the fuck was that?!-" Michael gasped, making sure the door behind them was locked.

"Why did you almost kill Ted?!-" Ashley yelled, her voice cutting through the air like a knife, the tension rising instantly.

Michael groaned and ran his hand through his hair as he looked at her, taking her arm. "We need to talk, alone." He glanced back over at Toby before walking with Ashley into her bedroom.

[safficranger]

Fake Scenarios In My Head #19

Alex lets the door click quietly into the lock behind her and slips off her high heels to keep the noise down. It's late. Later than she had planned.

Casey is half sitting, half lying on the sofa, nestled comfortably in the cushions, her body tilted slightly to one side. She has a book in one hand, resting lightly on her lap, and next to her is a notepad with a pencil that seems to have been dropped carelessly. Her head is tilted sideways against the soft pillow, and her eyes are closed. The slight rise and fall of her chest show she's breathing deeply and evenly, having fallen into a peaceful sleep.

Alex takes a few steps and sits beside her on the edge of the sofa. She gently brushes a strand of hair from her face that has fallen out of her messy bun, then reaches for the book and puts it aside with the notepad.

Casey sleepily opens her eyes a little. It takes her a few seconds to focus.

"Hey, honey," Alex says softly.

"Hi." Her voice is hoarse from sleep, her lips curving into a tired smile. "I wanted to wait...sorry."

"That's all right, darling. I came home later than I expected."

"I have..." she points to the notebook.

Alex picks it up and reads. There are some handwritten notes in keywords. One line is highlighted and a page number added, followed by a capital "Alex" with an exclamation mark.

She knows Casey loves books and loves to dive deep into different worlds. She also loves to collect the best scenes, special quotes, or exciting ideas in her notes. Often, she is bubbling over with enthusiasm and eager to share it. When they are both at home, Alex regularly enjoys a detailed retelling, including an analysis of these parts of the books. Many in-depth discussions have resulted from these conversations. When Alex is not at home, Casey helps herself by writing down the scenes in her notes so that she can retell them later. It warms Alex's heart that her girlfriend thinks of her in these moments and wants to share her excitement. She's pulled Alex in more than once, even though they don't always share the same taste in genres. But most of all, she just loves listening to her girlfriend talk about things that excite her, that make her eyes light up.

"You have to read..." she sits up a little and stretches, yawning.

"I will." Alex leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "But first, let's get you to bed."

"I know it's not really your thing, but..."

Alex stops her gently, "It's really late, honey, and you're dead tired. I promise I'll read it and we can talk about it in detail tomorrow." She gives her another kiss. "Thank you for thinking of me!"

Casey smiles happily. "Get ready! I have a lot to say..."

Alex laughs. "I'm looking forward to it. And I'll have coffee ready!"

They both stand, Alex supporting her girlfriend as she sleepily makes her way to the bedroom. She helps her into bed, tucking the covers around her.

As Alex watches her drift off to sleep, she feels a wave of gratitude wash over her. She quietly whispers, "Good night, my love," before changing into some comfy clothes and then heading back into the living room. With a satisfied sigh, she picks up her Casey's notes and the book she referred to, finds the right page, and begins to read.

[tlbodine]

Overthinking: Night of the Living Dummy III

Night of the Living Dummy III is Goosebumps #40, and the third and final Dummy book in the original series. After the last two books, this one felt like a pleasant return to form, with writing and storytelling that felt a bit more classic Stine even if the plot itself feels like a bit of a rehash of earlier dummy books. There's enough different to it to make it feel distinctive, though...

First, the Plot: Trina and her brother Dan like to joke around and spend time with their dad's old dummy collection. Their dad is a talented ventriloquist but a lousy comedian, which is why he eventually got out of performing and opened up a camera shop instead -- but he still stores the dummies up in the attic, his so-called museum. His newest acquisition came from the trash, where he was found with a split-open head, but that's nothing some wood glue can't fix.

For spring break, some family is visiting, including cousin Zane, a scaredy-cat who they successfully convinced last time that the house was haunted. They've been warned not to scare him this time. Unfortunately, as soon as Zane arrives, all sorts of weird stuff starts happening, the usual dummies-in-unusual-places, stuff-going-missing, stuff-getting-destroyed type mischief. The siblings get in trouble and are warned if they keep it up, they'll be grounded and miss camp this summer, even though they insist they're innocent.

Desperate to figure out what's going on, they hold a stake-out in the attic and discover that the culprit is Zane himself, who's been staging everything to get them in trouble as revenge for last time. They agree to a truce and call off pranks on both sides. But weird stuff keeps happening, escalating now to a pretty ugly pitch, and still nobody will believe the kids that they're innocent.

This calls for another stake-out, and this time they catch the culprit. It is, of course, Slappy, head newly repaired, and he wants them to do his bidding. They try to dump him down a well, but it doesn't work. They try to put him back to sleep with the words that woke him up, but still no dice. However, all the rest of the dummy collection do rise up and subdue Slappy.

The terror is ended! Or is it? As a parting gift, Trina gives Slappy to Zane to take home. Slappy winks at her on the way out the door.

Overthinking It: The dummy books are all rooted in themes of gaslighting and the isolation of going through something that nobody will believe you about, the frightening unfairness of being accused of something you didn't do. But they're made distinct by the character conflict at the heart of each story. Weirdly, the Dummy books are some of the most human of Stine's stories, and some of the better character studies.

The first two books deal a lot with sibling rivalry. The first book's horror comes more from the cringe and secondhand embarrassment; the second leans even harder into gaslighting and questioning your own sanity. This third installment does something interesting by giving us a three-way intrigue. At various points, Trina suspects her brother Dan, but the two of them also ally against Zane. There's a real sense of cat-and-mouse and some who-can-I-trust paranoia that still manages to mostly work even when you know from experience the game that Slappy is playing.

The sequence where the dummies rise up and brutalize Slappy is memorably vicious. The worst of the dummy-on-dummy violence is offscreened, but you can pretty clearly imagine them basically attempting to rip him apart. It's kind of shockingly gruesome, and also the only real scare in the book after a hundred plus pages of mounting paranoia and uncertainty.

I'm glad this is the last of the Dummy books because there isn't much more for them to do at this point, I think, but I'll kind of miss them at the same time.

If You Liked This, THESE Will Really Give You Goosebumps:

The dummies coming to life and attacking was, for me, very reminiscent of the haunting climax to Freaks, which you should also just watch in general because it is excellent 1930s cinema.

As always, any of the Child's Play movies work well here. I also think you might enjoy The Perfect Host, which strikes a similar balance of paranoia and twisty-turny delights in a story about a dinner party gone very wrong. Just...read the book, watch the movie, and tell me if you think I'm crazy pairing them off.