#it looks like he's going to do something and then she beats him

[jobean12-blog]

Easy to Fall

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for a while but the tension is building and you both feel you’re ready for the next step.

Author’s Note: Love a shy and unsure Bucky! Especially when he finds his way and is just 🫠🤭and special thanks to Sam for his encouragement hehe 😏thank you all for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️ thank you lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics for the divider🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness, fluff, fun, flirting, tension, lots of kisses, fingering, some oral (f rec), p in v, smut

“Maybe you should have a drink or somethin’ before she comes over?”

At Sam’s sincere but pointless suggestion Bucky’s eyes lift from his phone and he just stares wide eyed.

“I wish that would help,” he says. “Maybe I should just cancel.”

“Buck,” Sam says, stepping around the kitchen island. “Don’t. You know you’ll kick yourself if you do that. You really like this girl. And it’s not the first time you’re hanging out. Why are you so nervous this time around?”

“That’s exactly it though. I really like this girl…”

Sam’s eyebrows meet his hairline. “And?”

“I’m gonna fuck it up. Things are good…really good and I think we’re ready…”

Bucky’s words trail off and Sam remains silent, expression still unsure.

“Aw Wilson come on,” Bucky says with exasperation.

At Sam’s continued silence Bucky turns spins around and runs a hand through his hair.

“We haven’t…but I think…”

When Bucky turns to face Sam again the realization finally hits. “Oh. OH!” Sam exclaims.

Bucky let’s out a defeated sigh.

Sam waves him off. “You won’t fuck it up. Just relax and have fun. Enjoy each other. Let things happen…organically.”

Now Bucky laughs. “Organically or…?”

“You said it. Not me,” Sam chuckles with his hands up in defense.

After a beat of silence and unspoken camaraderie Bucky smiles.

“She’ll be here in half an hour. Get out.”

“And there’s the Barnes I know!” Sam grins as he grabs his jacket. “Good luck!”

“Want something to drink doll?” Bucky calls out over his shoulder as you take off your shoes and drop your bag to the floor.

“I’ve got beer, water…juice boxes…”

You come up behind him in the kitchen, pressing yourself to his back and looking under his arm into the fridge.

“You have…juice boxes?”

He shrugs, leaning into you, discreetly inhaling a whiff of your scent, and closing his eyes.

“Buck? Juice boxes?”

He blinks, looking back down into the fridge and focusing on the cold air hitting his face.

“I took Mrs. Adams food shopping last night and she always insists on getting me snacks.”

“You have the nicest neighbors! Mrs. Adams is my favorite of the old ladies in your building!”

“We can invite her to our wedding then,” he teases.

You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek. “One juice box please.”

“She also got me Oreos, ice cream and tried to get me to buy condoms when I told her I had a hot date with you.”

“Does she think you were going to get lucky tonight?”

“She likes me to be prepared,” he says lightly.

“And well stocked on snacks apparently,” you giggle.

He grabs the juice boxes and Oreos and points to the living room.

“Me. You. A scary movie.”

“I barely got through the last one,” you sigh defeatedly.

“But you did,” he says. “And remember, you can hide in my hoodie again.”

“Probably the best idea,” you say.

You sit down next to each other, arms and thighs touching, the feel burning through your clothes.

The crinkle of your straw wrapper crackles in the air and Bucky turns to you, watching as you cheekily puncture the top of the box and slide the straw into the side of your mouth.

“I love fruit punch.”

He keeps watching, his gaze fixated on your lips. Finally, he looks away from your mouth and back to the television.

“I like them all,” he says. “Sugar.”

He starts the movie, and you settle back against the couch cushions, grabbing for an Oreo. The beginning scene lights up the screen and the suspense builds almost immediately. Something jumps out and Bucky flinches and fumbles his Oreo.

“You okay there, Barnes?” you ask with a smirk. “Even I knew that was coming.”

“My mind was occupied. Lost my focus.”

You shake your head and look back at the screen. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably. But I’m not tellin’ ya.”

The movie continues and you inch closer to him until you’re resting under his arm and against his chest. Your face is half hidden in his hoodie and you’ve got a death grip on his wrist, holding it to keep his hand in front of your eyes.

“You could use your own hand you know,” he jokes.

“But yours is so much bigger!” you whine and tense when you hear the creepy music come to a crescendo.

Before anything jumps out in the movie Bucky sneakily moves his free hand toward you then shouts and pokes you in the side.

You scream and jump up.

“OH MY GOD! You did not just do that!!!

He smiles sweetly, eyes bright and full of mischief.

You reach for your empty juice box and hurl it at his face. Your eyes widen when he deftly catches it and throws it right back at you, hitting you squarely in the chest.

A beat of silence and stillness passes before you lunge for him, shoving him back on the couch before lifting a pillow and smacking him in the face with it.

Your unrestrained laughter hits him right in the chest, and he’s unprepared for your assault, cough-laughing through a flurry of your fingers digging down and tickling roughly.

He bucks up beneath you, growing more aware of your precarious arrangement of limbs, and advances toward you on the couch, swatting at your hands, and darting his fingers between your arms to tickle your ribs.

With his other hand he grabs a pillow from behind you and uses it to hit you right in the face. You shove at him hard, sending him right off the couch and onto the floor, where you dive on top of him, pinning him down, wrestling in earnest.

You’re laughing and yelling and one of you knocks the containers of Oreos onto the floor and it crumbles under you leg when he rolls you over to hover above, getting the upper hand.

He finds the place on your waist that, when prodded with a long finger, makes you cry out in hysterics.

His fingers dance up your sides and under your shirt, the feel of your warm skin only egging him on until his fingertips brush the lace edge of your bra.

At the same time, you both seem to realize that he’s over you, lying completely on top of you, situated between your legs with his hand up your shirt and, in unison, you both freeze.

You have two tight fistfuls of his shirt in your hands and your eyes travel the slow path from where his hand is hidden up to his face.

Your breath catches and you let your legs slide up over his hips. Your body gives beneath his and he’s suddenly intensely aware of the soft warmth between your legs and the press of your curves against him.

“Doll?” he murmurs.

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to stop from smiling.

He presses forward, not much but just enough to feel more. Your lips part and you watch a pink blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Bucky.”

“Fuck,” he growls, bending and pressing his mouth to your neck as he starts to rock against you.

He nearly comes at the sound you make, soft and restrained.

“Kissing you again is all I could think about since our last date,” he admits as his lips trail along your neck.

“Just kissing?” you ask, nearly breathless.

He smirks and kisses you again. A kiss you feel from the place where you lips meet to the tips of your curling toes.

When he pulls away and sits up you mourn the loss of him, but then he falls back down onto the couch and takes you with him so you’re straddling his lap.

His hand slips between your legs to rub you over your leggings, going slow enough that he can check in with you, his expression soft but his eyes heated.

You tilt your head and brush your lips to his, moaning when he rubs small circles right where you need it.

“I…” he starts, his breathing heavy as he slowly slips his fingers inside your pants.

“Please Bucky.”

It’s all he needs to hear as his fingers stop teasing and dip between your legs, sliding into your panties to where you’re ready and wet.

He takes your hand and holds it over his cock, and rocks into your palm. You can see the shape of him beneath the denim of his jeans, long and pressed against his stomach.

A wave of heat flashes beneath your skin and you grab for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. His mouth meets yours and he drags his teeth over your bottom lip.

His fingers push deeper, and you arch into him, his satisfied hiss swallowed by your mouth. Your hands fall to his jeans, and you work open the button and pull down the zipper, reaching in and wrapping your hand around him.

“Oh god.”

He slumps against the back of the couch and watches, his darkened blue eyes dragging from where you’re touching him to where he’s touching you.

His cock is perfect, just like the rest of him.

“Pants off,” you breathe out. “Please.”

You lift up and wait while he shoves them down his thighs. Before you can sit on his lap again he grabs your hips and pins you in place in front of him, hooking his thumbs into the fabric at your waist and slowly peeling it down your legs.

“Fuck baby doll. Look at you.”

Everything in you catches fire when his fingers slide up the inside of your thigh and he sucks in a breath-you’re skin is wet and glistening-and looks at you like you’re a meal and he’s deciding what to eat first.

He makes a guttural sound, and it vibrates down to your bones when his eyes meet yours. His fingers slide over you, dipping inside and teasing. His other hand smooths along the curve of your ass and he pulls you closer, kissing your stomach and then lower, where he licks softly, his nose a soft brush against your skin.

Your hands fall to his hair, and you tug hard, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat. Your stomach begins to tighten, and you whisper his name, giving his head a light push.

“I want to come with you inside me,” you purr.

He licks his lips and reluctantly leans back against the couch, gripping his cock and calling you closer with a crook of finger then guides you over his lap again.

He leans in and tugs off your shirt, kissing along your collarbone and down to your breasts, teasing your nipple with his teeth and moaning around it.

You sink down slowly, and he sits back against the cushions to watch where he’s disappearing inside you.

“Doll.”

You move over him, slowly.

“Fuck you look incredible.”

His hands settle on your waist, gripping softly but strong enough to keep the rhythm. He kisses you like he still can’t believe he’s doing it, and you adjust the position of your knees and you both gasp as you bottom out, your ass coming to rest on his thighs.

“Oh Bucky,” you moan, pressing your face to his neck while you catch your breath.

His palms smooth along the curve of your spine and down to your waist and he presses his fingers into your hips, rocking you faster then slow again.

“I want you in my bed,” he says through a grunt. “I want to spread you out under me. I want to kiss and feel every inch of you.”

He sits up, nips at your neck before sucking gently. You kiss for what feels like forever and your movements narrow into small rocks forward and back, just feeling him inside you. You try to keep it together when he reaches down, and his thumb starts moving in practiced circles over your clit.

Your hands dig into his hair, steering his mouth back to your breasts and watching as he captures your nipple with his tongue. He bares his teeth, sliding them over the sensitive flesh and you cry out, feeling him twitch inside you.

The tightening in your belly builds and he’s watching you, watching the way you move together and the place where your bodies connect. You follow his gaze and look down, the way the muscles in his stomach clench, where the beads of sweat have collected in the dip where his dog tags lay. You circle your hips, and he groans, tightening his grip where he holds you.

“Fuck baby. Do that again.”

You do, moving over him and using the back of the couch for leverage. He throws his head back.

“I’m so…I’m…” he says between gasps of air.

His fingers return to your clit with renewed enthusiasm and with each rock of your hips and each thrust of his the cord around your spine tightens until his name is spilling from your parted lips.

He presses up into you, hard and fast and over and over until he’s coming with a long, helpless groan against your shoulder.

With such softness it steals your breath, he reaches up and cups the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his and whispering, “stay with me tonight.”

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I've watched the scene where Sarah is starving and Rafe is pacing around and knowing he has cash in his pocket and doesn't care that his sister is starving and pregnant. I can't help but imagine it if it was reader, and they hooked up once twice or however you see fit, and she's pregnant with his baby.

Would it be any different? Could you write something about that? Take the idea and run with it because im bad at articulating 🤣

Oh yeah, Rafe is a class-A asshole, but he might show just a little remorse if the baby is his.

Love the requests, keep sending em' in!!

The Moroccan sun was beating down on the group relentlessly, sweating you out and drying you up with the shine of its bright light. The only reason your sweat wasn't dripping off you was because it was quickly soaked up into the modest fabrics around your head.

You'd been travelling tirelessly for the last few days, dangerously too, if you might add. The boat nearly capsized multiple times just trying to make it to Morocco. As if the boat ride wasn't abhorrent enough with your seasickness....and morning sickness...

The constant smell of saltwater and the rocking of the ship had amplified the awful experience and you would spend the first hour in the bathroom regurgitating your insides every morning. It was not fun.

None of the pogues know you're pregnant. Although, Cleo was on to you. One pregnancy was more than enough for the group to worry about. You figured this was something you'd keep to yourself despite the fact the father is currently trekking with you through the hot sands.

The day was only getting hotter. You're thirsty, your lungs hurt and it felt like your own organs were weighing you down. You naturally began to fall behind the group, little by little until the gap was hard to ignore.

"Come on, Y/n. We're not far from the city, just a few more miles." Pope encouraged but it triggered a laboured breath. You're exhausted. A small smile crept on your lips when you noticed John B holding Sarah's hand the whole time, never letting her out of his sight.

For what feels like the eighth time, Rafe looks over his shoulder, more annoyed than ever. "Jeez, would you hurry it up?" You scoff, mustering up enough energy to kick up some sand at his legs. "Nice. Real mature, Y/n." His sarcasm rolls off his tongue and you ignore him as you walk past him.

Once you finally made it into the city, you all needed something to eat. Sarah wasn't feeling so great and neither were you. Babies are nothing but greedy entities consuming all the nutrients you need.

You leaned against the cool rock wall, watching the others run off to help themselves to a five-finger discount. With your eyes closed, you tried to distract yourself from the ache in your abdomen. Not sure if it was the baby or your hunger, possibly a mix of both.

Without even realizing it, you let a hand rest lightly over your stomach. It was still early, you weren't showing and you thank god.

"We're wasting time!" You hear Rafe yell, it doesn't even faze you. He's somewhere near you when he mumbles to himself, "Sitting around on the streets when we should be going after Groff, unbelievable."

What was supposed to be a quick glance your way turns into an elongated stare. His eyes raked over your posture, your shut eyes, brows crunched in distress. He slowly looks down at the placement of your hand.

"Y/n." He says, tugging you into a corner out of sight from the others and you swat him. He shockingly accepts the reprimands and backs off, taking a step back. "What do you want, Rafe?" Your arms cross, waiting for him to say something.

"Is it mine?" Your arms fall slowly, caught, but you deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about." Hardly able to take two steps away before he's barricading you in the corner with his body.

"Don't bullshit me, Y/n. The baby. Is it mine?" You chew on your lower lip, avoiding his chilling gaze. Apparently, that was enough confirmation. "How long have you known?" He takes on a defensive stance.

How the hell were you supposed to know the answer to that? The last week alone has blurred together in memories of rough waters and dry deserts.

All you knew was it happened sometime between the various times you and Rafe swore it would be the last time you fooled around. Unsure if it was the time on his yacht, in the back of his truck or one of the dozen times you somehow ended up in his bed when you swore you were only in figure eight for a 'walk'.

The group had no idea the two of you had been involved with each other aside from the occasionally tense argument, but anyone could admit the two of you can't seem to stay away from one another.

"I dunno, a month maybe?" He pressed both hands to his forehead, fingers spread wide, and slowly dragged them down, smearing the tension all the way to his chin.

"Let's go." His grip on your hand forces you to follow his long strides between the bustling kiosks until you land inside a Delhi. You're too stuck inside your own mind to process what was happening until you watched Rafe lift the bottom of his shirt, revealing a fanny pack with a considerable amount of money.

"Of course. Of course, you had money this whole time! Of course, you let the others go stealing--!" He hushes you as the owner flashes you a look of concern, "Listen, I'm not the one who told those pogues to go looting. I've got money for more important shit than their sad jewel hunt." He explains, paying for the items with a small nod of gratitude towards the man.

Turning to you, he placed a sandwich in one hand, and a cool bottle of water in the other. "This," He starts, his palm gently resting against your stomach. For the first time in a long time, his brows relax and his gaze softens when he looks at you. "This is more important."

[currentfandomkick]

Everyone thank @harvestandhearth for this ^^

Heads up, i’m going with intersex danny as ectoplasm exposure and presumed afab until he was able to clarify which gender he was (toddler) and chose his own name as Danny for this. Tim is still a nicu baby, and the two were presumed fraternal twins until a lot later.

And possible trigger warning, while not in Danny’s POV talking about what vlad did with the clones does trigger an episode to a degree, but this is all third POV with it being others’ observing Danny trying to ground himself after a stressor triggered something.

And as a personal headcannon, since Danny can turn parts of himself intangible, a nervous stim for him when he cant remove himself and go where he feels safe is to pull at his arteries or nerves—never managing it but passing through them as a target is soothing as its a tiny challenge, repetitive, and doesn’t hurt him but he can feel it happening so it helps ground himself after a trigger.

Timothy Jackson Drake nee Fenton pt2

Cyborg had two options with the news Red Robin and Phantom were twins: update the League files and let the paranoid bastards monitoring them find out that way, or telling them.

He did have a front row seat to the Dick and Kori’s disaster era many of them blame Dick for.

He updates Phantom and Red Robin’s files, links them as “twins raised apart geographically, and very attached emotionally” and let the cards fall where they may.

If Dick wanted to bring drama to the titans way back when, he can discover batfam drama on bis own time and away from Cyborg this time.

—

Tim was getting ready for patrol after his Call with Jazz and Dani. Danny crashed his pre-patrol routine to looking over possible redesigns from ghost fashionistas on a call.

The hooded cloak concept is popular and growing on Tim.

Apparently giving him a dragon as his callsign was also popular.

He was liking some of redesigns as different birds. Rook’s and Cardinal having a functional glider built in. Someone with the call mabychan didnt go too far off his current look, and it was possible to add the flight functions. The aesthetic addition of gold or yellow onto the suit proper rather than just his gear was interesting enough to explore later.

Danny continued to advocate for Tim playing with ecto-infused tech to be less trackable and was ignoring the very fact ecto signatures are very trackable and are transferable to people.

He was debating the winged cape-hood combo when his work phone kept going off.

“So, cutting this early again?”

“They can wait. Now, do you think maby could mix the hood and wing cape into her design? Like, my hair is wrong but it’s not far off from what i was going for, i think these two,” Tim grabbed his favorite Rook and Cardinal designs and lifted them to show Danny, “are a good reference for how i want the glider part to work.”

“I’ll contact her and see what she says,” Danny raised an eyebrow as his work phone began to flash red as it kept going off. “You gonna answer that or…”

“They’ll live, i’m not on the clock yet, and they interrupted my cases so many times this week with these stupid team building exercises. Like, hoe, i have a life outside of my two jobs, shut the fuck up and let me live!”

“You sure they aren’t a johnny-skulker hybrid?”

“Positive. They don’t hunt me for my pelt. Most of the time—Hood and mini Robin might if they have a mental break again.”

“Why have i not kidnapped you home sooner?”

“You respect my boundaries and are eviler for doing so.”

“Clearly, my evil-self solo-ed the Justice League and affiliates.”

“I’m still certain if i was alive, i would have beat evil you’s ass.”

“Dipshit, i would not have gone evil i would be a shaky chihuahua following your ass everywhere if any of my idiots didnt die in that accident.”

“Fair. So, i get Val, Anita, bart, Kon will try but he may run late with chores at the Kent’s, Cassie is coming, and against the odds you get to face an olympic archer too!”

“Oh my god, you guys could stand a chance if Dad’s aim doesn’t obliterate your points. How did you get Cissie to agree?”

“I told her Greta’s on your team and reminded her they were still tied for who was winning a bet way back when. Then called her a dick for deserting us in our time of need.”

“At least i don’t have to worry Slobo.”

“He’s on kiddo duty while we play.”

“So strategic sabotage.”

“You know me so well.”

“Evil, evil bastard brother!”

“Don’t talk about our mom like that.”

“I was talking about Aunt Janet.”

“Never mind, carry on.”

“Nah, but your phone is annoying me so—“ Danny shifted and Phantom burst out of his screen. “Ancients that sucked!”

Tim rolled his eyes as Danny bemoaned his latest fire walls.

“Use real fire ants next time, Ancients Damnit!”

“No.”

Danny snagged his phone as he reloaded his smoke pellets. “Now what does—holy shit. Did you not tell them you’re co-workers?”

“It was obvious—why do they think I turned down the family dinner invites unless Steph was there? I need bestie backup to handle their shit off hours.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t. They think you’re a Bat when you’re a fucking Fenton. Holy shit!”

“I never hid it,” Tim defended, “They’re detectives, they dan detect.”

Danny began wheezing, curled around the phone and cackling.

“…did B send anything yet?”

Danny shakily passed the phone. Tim ignored the group chat and looked to his private one with Bruce and Alfred.

“Cave. Now.”

“I was unaware of your living relatives Master Timothy. Do invite them over, we have much to discuss. From, Alfred Pennyworth”

Tim groaned, moving to put the last of gear in place.

“I was invited by your co-parent, I’m coming.”

“Chaos gremlin.” He waved Danny to follow him into the elevator, away from his (relatively) civilian quarters.

“You say that like you aren’t one too.”

“I hide it better, when it matters,” Tim shrugged. “Blame Aunt Janet’s social chameleon lessons.”

“Deceiver of all,” Danny narrated with the utmost dramatics as they exited the elevator. “be evil with your whole chest or be the Good Twin!”

“Fuck that. Now get your ass in gear, you’re riding Bitch.”

“Hey, if guys at school are going to keep calling me Fentonia, I believe I can say you gotta stop calling it that. Clearly I’m the tagalong and a snack.”

“Nope,” Tim readied Red Bird. “You smell like a bitch and look like shit. Why Val likes you, the world may never know.”

“Fuck you. And we share a face!” Danny got on behind him, ignoring the offered helmet.

“I wear it better and dont have baby fat. Safety first lab accident.”

“You look like that brainless dipshit from Oz, but boned,” Danny snapped as he put on the helmet and waiting for Tim to go.

“At least when I crossdress, it’s not a question of which gender I’m presenting as,” Tim grumbled as they sped out.

“Eat a cock, you know they thought i was a girl for a year.”

“I mean—“ Tim took a sharp turn out of the garage and merged into Gotham’s traffic .

“Abort, no sex stories from my twin this early—.”

“It’s 9 at night mostly ghostly.”

“—And did you forget i ate your fraternal twin in the womb and we became identical in a case of severe Gray’s Anatomy BS?”

“Look, the Nicu was A Lot, and with how much medical mystery shit our family has going on, can you blame me?”

“Yep. Medical mystery, magical mystery, family curse and Fenton Luck must be kept

Separate big brother, or are you getting sennial in your old age?”

“Fuck off.”

“And once again, your 9 pm is my 4 am. I’m a witching hour girlie, Reddicus Robininous.” Danny snarked as they sped outside of Gotham City proper into the Rich Bitch greenery and woods.

“I blame Pix,” Tim groaned.

“Beanie taught me that!”

“But Pix taught you to say it.”

“She did, she did.”

The ride to the Cave was quiet, Danny frowning at the lack of stars.

“Leave it.”

“But i can probably pull it out of the atmosphere.”

“And put it where?”

“… my chest?”

“Nope, no self experimentation without scientist supervision.”

“Don’t you count?”

“I am a detective, combatant, chemist and hacker. I am not a scientist.”

“Sounds fake.”

“You’re fake.”

“I’m ghostly, and a member of the cloned kids club.”

“You ate my twin in the womb.”

“So i get to be evil!”

“No. I’m evil; I’m a ceo and help a lot of coverups as a vigilante for other vigilantes and a handful of anti-heroes.”

“Evil me took out your not-son and his friends!” Danny argued.

“Please, three separate evil me’s managed that, and came back to gloat.”

“Well, those three ceased to exist or evil last i checked. My evil me’s in therapy and still murdery.”

“I know—how’s Dan doing and are we going with older brother cover or cousin like Dani?”

“His call, and he’s… unpacking still.”

“Eh-hem,” Alfred interrupted as Tim parked Red Bird. “I believe we need to have a family meeting are your other family members joining, excusing this Dan?”

“No, they don’t know this is happening,” Tim answered.

“That,” Danny looked around at the… trophy wing(?) of the cave. “Aannnd Jazz would enjoy psychoanalyzing you all too much. So, is this a ‘check all the info for verification cautionary tale’ or something else?” He asked as he turned his attention back to the bat-butler. Batler(?)

“Something else, Master Daniel.”

“Just Danny. I chose it, I get to keep it in all contexts.”

Alfred moved to open his mouth.

“Only one to not call him that made him an unwilling teen parent,” Tim interjected before Alfred could start up on formalities.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Has this individual been taken care of?”

Tim and Danny shared a look. “Working on it,” Tim answered, rubbing the inside of Danny wrist before he could start tugging his arteries or nerves as a stress stim.

Alfred looked between them. “Anything else i should be aware of Master Danny?”

“Just keep toast away from me, and I’m not a solid foods person—can do solid food in shake form just uh, jaw tends to freeze and lock at random since my powers came in.”

Alfred hummed in response to that. “Soft solids are acceptable, yes?”

Danny slowly nodded his head, and moved his hand to the thermos on his hip.

Tim squarely kept Danny on the side he could better block the cameras from as they followed Alfred up.

“I made a batch of chocolate salted caramel chip oatmeal cookies. I will bring you a more drinkable version of the batter with a strawberry smoothie on the side. Master Tim, your usual will be beside your serving.”

Tim grunted in response, checking his phone and keeping a steady hand on his twin’s pulse. Which was far too fast for Danny’s normal… trying to appease Tim’s co-workers by masking the liminality, or stress response to casually outing himself or to Tim dropping the Vlad forced cloning thing (Tim’s helped him with so, so many nightmares of watching his clones die. The fact one was identical to Rim didn’t help. Tim being present and alive did).

Danny smiled at him. Mask smile—so hiding Phantom’s impact or ignoring the trauma trigger he pulled. Yep, Tim is winning the evil twin contest for the wrong reasons again.

Alfred turned to see Tim analyzing his twin, who was more flushed in his face than before… he’d have to inform the Wayne clan to gentle their interrogation regarding Master Danny’s existence. Master Tim’s explanation helped explain the name situation, however it could have been done without triggering the poor boy. Had Master Tim given him a moment, he would have found the explanation unnecessary.

The twins stalled at the threshold of the meeting room.

Tim waved at Stephanie, Cass and Barbra sitting in the same general area together as he moved further in front of Danny and switched which hand was grounding him and monitoring his pulse. Stephanie was gleeful to say the least, Cass unfazed and Barbra giving him a too knowing wave back.

Dick was sitting between Damian and Bruce, the three dissecting every move Tim and Danny made. Tim made sure to shield him as much as he could from the imminent psychological warfare Bruce was planning. Damian would likely aim for any potential insecurity once he got too aggravated with everything, and was likely to say something that could set off Danny. He only really went through his firewalls instead of waiting for Tim to let him in when he was having a particularly nasty day and needed some twin time.

Tim couldn’t fathom what Dick’s plan was. The one he saw as his found older brother would laugh at him managing to fool everyone one on a loophole and tell him how to further the ruse. But the one who took up the cowl was different from the brother that mentored him and helped with everything from girls, leading a team and homework.

Duke and Jason were to the side. Jason looked morbidly amused while Duke seemed curious, so no worries on that end for Danny. Operation: ‘air out Batcorp’s laundry if they start shit’ was a go.

—

Okay next round i will want an idea of how you want batfam members to respond to the fact Tim ‘hid’ his family from them—as that’s how these chuckleheads are entering this meeting.

Tim’s got receipts and Danny is there mostly to divide Tim’s attention and watch the show.

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[harryssyndrome]

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made Ashley’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

[nejiverse]

KIDS AND CARS

Toji Fushiguro

In which Toji who has been a father for six years is bested by his own girlfriend who has never been a mother. Fem! Reader

cw: none, im starting the ‘megumi being an expressive kid’ agenda 🫡

700ish words

Megumi was at that age where he rebelled against everything and anything Toji said or did. Frankly, it was starting to annoy Toji, he was starting to think his own son was trying to make his life a living hell on purpose

Then there was you who made it seem so effortless. Toji couldn’t comprehend why his six year old son only listened to his girlfriend

This particular day, Toji had an unimpressed look etched on his face as he folded his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was clearly fed up

“You have to put your toys away Megumi, I keep stepping on them”, he tried to be somewhat nice, he really did. But the boy just flat out ignored him as if he was deaf or something, continuing to bash his toy cars against each other while mimicking explosion noises. He was sat comfortably on the living room carpet with not a care in the world

Toji felt like a vein was about to burst as his brow twitched involuntarily. “I’m talking to you brat”, he spoke sternly, his patience drawing thin

In Toji’s defence, the little boy’s cars were scattered absolutely everywhere, it was hard to walk by without stepping on one. Besides, he was only playing with three out of the millions of toy cars on the floor

“Don’t wanna”.

Toji itched his head and clenched his teeth. Since when did his little boy upgrade from a simple ‘no’ to a ‘don’t wanna’?

Without a doubt, out of all the opponents he had faced in his lifetime, Megumi had to be his biggest challenge yet

“Yeah well I don’t give a fu—”, before Toji could finish his sentence, a hand came over his mouth

“Be nice”, his beloved girlfriend had a frown on her face because of his vulgar language

Toji sighed, relaxing his facial muscles and unfolding his arms. “Yeah yeah”

The woman approached Megumi, crouching down beside him with two of his little toy boxes in her hands after overhearing the whole situation while she was tidying his room.

“Say Megs”, she started with the nickname he loved to hear. “I’m really bored right now, can you play a game with me?”, at the mention of a game, Megumi perked up, turning to face Y/n

“What game?”, he asked, curiosity evident in his big blue eyes

“Whoever can pick up the most cars and put them into these boxes in 30 seconds wins!”, she explained before feigning a sad expression. “Oh but I don’t think you’ll be able to beat me, I am a faster runner than you after all”

Megumi felt challenged. “Liar! I’m the fastest!”, he boasted proudly

She smirked. “We’ll see about that….3, 2, 1, go!”, and the both of them scrambled to pick up as many cars as they could from the ground

Toji watched in amazement how good she was with him without ever having any experience with kids. He definitely chose the right person to date

Later that evening, after Megumi was tucked into bed and the house was quiet (finally), Y/n got comfortable between Toji’s legs as he threw on a random movie.

“Thanks for earlier, I feel like Megumi has a secret vendetta against me at the moment”, he commented

She laughed. “Im sure he doesn’t, you just have to know how to approach him”, she leaned her head against his chest. “He really is a good kid”.

“Mhm”, he hummed against her neck as his head moved to rest on her shoulder, his arms slithering around her waist

“Makes me think we’d do alright with more, y’know?”, his hands moved under her shirt and massaged the flesh around her stomach

She couldn’t resist the smile that creeped onto her lips as she turned around in his arms. “Toji Fushiguro are you asking me to have your kids?”.

“Is that a yes?”.

Well, is it?

a/n: off topic but kinda wanna start writing for bleach now that im caught up with the newest season 🤭 (requests opened btw)

masterlist :)

[sillyuin]

hi <3! was wondering if i can get svt reaction to yn being completely oblivious to them flirting with her? subtle things like while she’s just ranting about her day they’d move closer to her and she’d absentmindedly put her hand on their chest to push them away still running her mouth, just completely unaware of what’s happening. and even the most obvious things like compliments or physical touch, yn is blind to it and it’s so frustrating to them

so yeah, hope you see this! ❤️

Hi! I'm sorry for being so late 😭 i've been very busy with job and housework, but it's finally here.

Svt reacts: Flirting vs clueless s/o. Who will win?

Yuin's note: barely proofread. I'ts 1 am and I'm tired.

Seungcheol. Staring at your face.

I mean, he likes to just stare at you as if he's watching the prettiest person in the world, but when Seungcheol wants to be especially flirty, he stares at you fondly and smiling with the whole intention to make your heart skip a beat, he even glances at your lips, as if he were trying to say something. Most of the time that's enough to make you really, really shy but when is not... Geez, he has to breathe in and ends up pouting a little (Probably one or two pecks will make him feel better).

Jeonghan. Teasing.

Is like his default love language, making harmless jokes to see you flustered all over him is just so fun to watch. But, is he really just trying to be a teaser, or is there something else behind? "I took the chair, but you can sit on my lap" he said one day, sitting at your desktop, with the most mischievous smile possible. But you didn't fall for his charm and as you kept your annoyed face, he stood up and sighed "Okay, all yours". And you better be ready because he's not forgetting so easy, and will keep teasing you just a little (yeah, a little) more than usual.

Joshua. Back hugging.

When Joshua wants your attention only and only for him, he goes where you are to hug you from the back, resting his chin on your shoulders and crossing his arms around your waist. Oh, he loves it so much is so tender, but he gets lowkey hurt when you don't react in any way because, how come you don't realize his intentions? Is really doing the dishes way more important than his warm hugs? Now, this is personal and Joshua won’t let you go, take it as a punishment for being so clueless (reward or punishment?).

Jun. Tickles.

For him, tickles is the perfect excuse to be closer to you. It's so obvious that hurts lol. Most of the time you melt in his touch, and you both end up laughing and sharing some kisses, but sometimes you're minding your business, too busy to realize that Jun wants to get your attention. Better get ready because you'll have a pouty little cat going around the apartment, and will NOT forget your offense unless you give him extra cuddles before bed.

Hoshi. Random "facts".

At the least appropriate time, he would come to find you. "Did you know that there is a minimum number of kisses that a person should receive per day to be healthy?" he says with a very serious expression on his face. And there you are, standing in the middle of the living room while you're brushing your teeth; your soulless expression says all. Hoshi turns around and pretends nothing happened, but in his mind, he's sitting in the corner staring at the walls.

Wonwoo. Making compliments out of nowhere.

He likes to pour you with sweet words, like how much he appreciates your homemade food, or that you did it great at work. From time to time, he thinks is fun to be a little sassy and his praises are very, very intentional. “New gloss?” he says, grinning at you “It looks good” and for some frigging reason you just start talking about how you got it? Babe, Wonu doesn’t care that much that you bought it because your favorite gloss wasn’t on stock, but now he feels a little shy to speak and just lets you tell the whole story.

Woozi. Playing with your hair.

When it comes to be openly flirty, Woozi tends to be a little coy. You rarely notice it since it's very common for him to be around you, caressing your hair and playing with the strands in complete silence. So when you get distracted he places a strand behind your ear, exposing your neck. But when he's so close to place a kiss, you jump like a scared kitten. "No! It tickles!" Woozi looks down, defeated, as you move away. "Sorry, be right back" and he locks himself in his room for the next hour.

Minghao. Holding your hand.

He thinks your hands are more than just pretty. Hao likes to take one of them when you're sitting by his side, scrolling on your phone or watching TV. He's so subtle that most of the times you don't feel how he traces your hand with his fingers and when you realize, it’s because your hands are intertwined and he’s holding his laughter. “How low you’ve been like this?” but Minghao just giggles. You end up doing the same and then resume your activity, letting him laughing low in embarrassment and biting his lips as a sign of frustration.

Mingyu. Resting on your lap.

He's very straightforward when it comes to flirting with you. Mingyu likes to wait patiently for you to sit on the couch or the bed and then he goes, at first making some (pretty obvious) questions "What are you doing?" "Is that a new book?" and as you're talking, his hands rest on your thigh, gently stroking your skin with his thumb, but you're so immerse in the topic and he goes completely unnoticed... And before you even notice, there's a flustered Mingyu resting his head on your lap, tracing small circles on your thigh as if he had been punished.

Dokyeom. Taking photos.

He already has a folder with your name and an unhealthy number of photos; Seokmin just never gets tired, you're so used to it that most of the time don't realize that he's actually trying to hit on you. "Just let me take a picture, you look so beautiful today!" And after giving him an awkward smile, you're getting back to your stuff.  Seokmin is a bit disappointed but with a bunch of new photos of his precious person, so is not that bad (at least is what he says to himself trying to not lose his mind).

Seungkwan. Scolding.

I know, it may sound like a bit harsh but when he's scolding you, Seungkwan tries to make it as tender as possible, it doesn't feel like scolding and actually, he uses this as a cheap excuse to be extra lovely. "Don't sleep too late, you're getting dark circles" he says in a soft voice while caressing your checks "you're too pretty for that, don't you think?". He waits for you to take the bait and when you laugh on him, saying that he's being a little dramatic, Seungkwan doesn't hide his disappointment. "Okay, keep watching your series" he says getting up from the couch "but don't you dare to complain later!"

Vernon. Placing his arm on your shoulders.

A classic that never dies and his favorite, Vernon likes to do it all the time: when watching movies, chatting, watching videos together; is a like a very subtle invitation to get closer to him, and somehow, most of the time you’re just minding your business and leave him waiting for you to notice. And yeah, he’s very patient, but everything has a limit. "Come here, babe" then he places his hand on your shoulder and brings you closer to his chest. And don't you dare to move, because there's no way he let you go now.

Dino. Calling your name.

Usually, he calls you by pet names or your name in diminutive, reserving the use of your name for special occasions. However, it doesn't always end the way he expected. “Did I do something wrong?” you ask him just after he called you by your name, and when Chan sees your big doe eyes, his smile fades. “Is just that… I feel like you’re mad at me”. At this point his intentions doesn’t matter anymore, he just hugs you and tries not cry in his disappointment.

[galactic-magick]

For You: AU!Claggor x Reader

Summary: In the alternate timeline, Powder encourages you to admit your feelings for Claggor.

Words: 800+

Author's Notes: Adult alternate timeline Claggor is fine af so I wrote this short oneshot. Also I just needed to write something more lighthearted and cute after writing that devastating Viktor fic earlier. Enjoy <3

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell him,” Powder huffs, shuffling through her drawers for a particular brush. She glides on eyeshadow in your favorite colors, endlessly teasing you while she works, “It’s obvious he’s liked you since we were kids.”

“Oh, like finally admitting your feelings to Ekko was so easy,” you roll your eyes, causing her to scold you for opening them. “Besides, that’s not even true. He probably just sees me like a sister.”

“Look,” Powder tilts your chin up as she applies blush to your cheeks. “As someone who was actually raised as his sister, I can promise you he treats you differently. I catch him staring at you all the time, and he goes out of his way to be nice to you. Like, he literally made a new hybrid flower for you for your last birthday. What is it you’re not getting?”

“He gives plants to everyone, I don’t think I was special,” you shrug, pressing out your lips so Powder can swipe on some gloss.

“You’re a lost cause sometimes,” she sighs with a laugh. “Come on, it’s time to make our entrance.”

-

The Innovator’s Competition is crowded as usual, with loud music and ambient lights showering the entries and guests. Powder meets up with Ekko while you go to grab a drink and browse the inventions.

People start dancing, and you sway back and forth a bit to the beat. You don’t particularly want to third wheel right now, so you make do on the sidelines. You’re closer to the snacks here, anyway.

“Wow, Y/N. You look beautiful.”

You whip your head towards the voice, your mouth stuffed with one of Jericho’s famous, sloppy appetizers.

“Oh! Hi, Claggor!” You swallow as quickly as you can and wipe your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, um, thank you.”

“Anytime,” he chuckles. “How come you’re not out there dancing?”

“I...I just don’t like dancing alone,” you say, your eyes darting back to Powder and the other couples and friend groups on the dance floor.

“Well let’s go then,” he extends his hand to you.

You smile and take it, weaving through the crowd as he pulls you towards the middle. You see Powder give you a thumbs up before your attention is back on Claggor, and suddenly the crowded room feels less overwhelming.

You let lose, showing off your most ridiculous dance moves without a worry in the world. That was the thing about Claggor, he always made you feel safe, like you could be yourself whenever he was around. There is never a glimmer of judgment in his eyes, never an inkling of unkindness. He’s been your most stable and trusted friend for years—he played with you, explored the city with you, mourned with you, rejoiced with you. He’s just that kind of guy, with a heart of gold that never wavers.

But if you told him how you really feel—how you’ve felt since you were young—things might not be the same.

-

After the competition, Claggor takes the scenic route while walking you home, showing you a couple new gardens he’s been working on around the city. He hopes that one day plant life can be the key to the pollution problem in the underground, a dream that isn’t too far off with the latest hybrids and prototypes he’s made. It’s fascinating, and you’ve always admired his natural talent with nature.

He picks you a flower from one of the gardens, the kind he knows are your favorite.

“For you,” he says, slithering the stem into your hair. His hands, his face—it’s all so dangerously close now. You can feel his warmth, feel his gentle gaze.

Maybe Powder’s right, no man who saw you as just a friend would look at you like this.

You take the chance and close the space between you, kissing him quickly before stepping back to gauge his reaction.

He immediately pulls you back in, grabbing you by the waist and kissing you harder. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twiddling with his soft wavy hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, your lips barely moving apart.

“I think I have some idea,” you giggle.

“Would you look at that, what did I tell ya?” You see Powder and Ekko coming around the corner, clearly ecstatic about this new opportunity to tease you. “Finally.”

Claggor keeps holding you close as you fire back, “Did you follow us just to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Nah, I didn’t even know you left the party yet,” Powder laughs. “But boy am I glad I saw this!”

She keeps walking with Ekko, whispering and chuckling as they go. You and Claggor can’t help but burst into your own fit of laughter as well, basking in the hilarity of the whole situation.

“We’ll never live this down, will we?” Claggor smirks.

“Absolutely not.”

[selfloverrrrrr]

Witch!Reader x Demon!Satoru. He promises to fulfill her wish in exchange for something. She wants to be seen as a human being instead of a monster, the only thing she really wants is to be loved, and unfortunately he knows that. He fulfills her wish, but in return he imprisons her in his castle and promises to give her all the love and care she deserves (but in a very dark way).

The Ritual~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, demon Gojo, witch reader, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

I was born in a witch family. My mother was a witch too. So were my ancestors. I'm also a witch. I didn't know what was it when I was a kid. Is being a witch a good thing or a bad thing? I always used to ask myself. But all I knew was my mom always used to hide the fact from everyone that we all are witches.

So many years passed. I grew up. I'm an adult now. And I still don't have the answer that if being a witch is good or bad. But for me it became a curse. A curse for which my whole family got killed. The king hired to kill all the witches in his kingdom. He's such a powerful king. And that's why my family isn't with me now.

We all were unaware that they were attacking us. It was the middle of the night. I saw them kill everyone in front of my eyes. I ran away from there. But they saw me. I ran all I could. And for god's blessings they couldn't find me. Now I made a small hut in the forest.

All time fear attacks me that they will find me and kill me too. I can't live like this. I need to find a way where I can live like normal people. So I started learning witches techniques. Maybe any of them will help me? I started reading the books of my ancestors.

I started learning many magics. But none of them are for what I was trying to find. I never did witch activities before. I started searching in all those books. Maybe, just maybe something that will make me like the other normal people and I can live a normal life just like them?

I searched all I could. But nothing was related this. But then I found something. A book which is sealed. I looked at it. It was the last hope. I opened the seal. It was too old. Am I even gonna find anything from here? I opened the book anyways. After some time of reading what I found can actually help me. The things written in the book are:

"He got sealed. After all those trying, we all witches are successful. We sealed him. He, the strongest demon. He got birthed and from that day it was all the witch's job to end him. Though its not possible to kill him. He's too powerful. We all were also shocked that we got him sealed. He was birthed to destroy the world. He wants to rule it. He has destroyed too many places. He has killed too many people. And after doing rituals we managed to seal him. That demon, that monster's name is:

Gojo Satoru"

I kept turning the pages and the last page got my attention.......

Process to unseal Gojo Satoru

He'll fulfill your wish

My heart started beating wildly. Should I do it? It is mentioned that he is too dangerous. But he'll fulfill my wish. I don't have anything in my life. Does it even matter if I risk it? If I don't do it people are gonna try to kill me all the time. Then I should take a risk. I have to go to the place mentioned in the book.

The place mentioned in the book is the old burnt castle at the end of the forest. I've seen that castle from the young age. Everyone told me to stay away from there. But they never told me the story behind it. Today I got to know about the real story behind it.

The ritual needs to be done at night. So I collected all the things that were needed in the ritual that day. And I went there the next night. I wore a hooded dress so that no one could recognise me. And I was lucky that there weren't any people there. I quickly made my way inside the old castle with a candle in my hand.

I entered the castle. It was huge. There's dust everywhere. And the castle is burnt also. It made me curious about what happened here? I kept walking. The huge stairs from the middle. I have to go to the top room of this castle. As in the book there's a throne room which is the ritual room. I went up there.

I pushed the door open and my mouth was wide open by the beauty of the throne room. I wondered what it looked like when it wasn't burnt. I went towards the throne. I don't have enough time to do the ritual. I quickly set up what was written in the book. Then lit up all the candles. Then started doing the ritual. My heart was thumping against my chest.

As I completed the spell. The wind started flowing heavily. Suddenly all the candles were extinguished together. Then the wind stopped flowing. And all of a sudden all the candles lit up together again. Then I saw a tall human figure sitting on the throne.

He has a huge masculine body. He's tall, has handsome sharp features, white hair, white eyelashes and those gorgeous blue eyes. He looks exactly the same said in the book. He's wearing all black royal clothes. He turned his head on both sides and the cracking sound echoed through the room. Then he looked at me.

Can that beautiful person be that dangerous? I asked myself. "So you're the one who unsealed me?" He spoke. I have to respect him. "Yes, my lord" I replied looking at the ground. "Hmmmmm.....well, this place is still burnt and dusty everywhere.... and I don't like my castle to lose its beauty" he said and threw a hand beside him.

A blue ray came out of his hand. And all of a sudden the castle turned all new. Not burnt anymore neither dust anywhere. I was already gorgeous and now it has become more gorgeous. A huge black gorgeous castle. "Hmm.....so what's the reason you unsealed me?" He asked.

"my lord, I'm a witch.... people of the king are killing all the witches. They killed my family too. I don't wanna live like this. I was to live like normal people. I want everyone to think of me like normal people. I want to be loved." I replied. And then there was silence. I could feel him staring at me.

"So you don't wanna be a witch any more and want to be loved right?"he asked. "... yes. My lord" I replied. He smirked. "Okay....done" he said swiping his finger in the air. My eyes widened in hope that now I can live like normal people. I looked at my hand and the witch sign was gone.

That means..... that means I'm not a witch anymore? I was so happy. "T-thank you... thank you, my lord" I said with a smile on my face. I stood up. I said "I should go now-" he didn't let me finish "No" he said. It almost seemed like an order. I dared to look at him. And there was a sinister smirk on his face.

"I didn't give you permission to leave" he said and went up from the throne. And within a blink I was standing in front of me. I got frightened and took a step back with a gasp. "You scared?" He asked with a smirk. I didn't reply. "Are you?" He asked again tilting his head. ".... N-No" I replied.

"okay.... then come with me... let me show you something" I said with a grin offering a hand to me. I have to accept his hand and so I did. And within a blink we both were standing in front of the window. How fast is he? "Look at the kingdom. I own this. I'm gonna burn this place" he said. Now he was definitely terrifying me.

He placed a hand on my waist and pulled me against him. Now this is getting too uncomfortable. "And you'll be watching them die with me from here. And I'll kill them first who killed your family" he said. What does that mean?! "M-my lord I should go now" I said. "And I already said no" he said looking at me.

"you want to be loved, right?..... you'll be living here in my castle with me.... and I'll give you all the love you need" he whispered in my ear. My eyes widened. Oh no no no. This is not what I want. He wants to kidnap me in his castle?! Shit I don't have my powers anymore either. What should I do now?!

"what happened?" He asked and nuzzled his face on my neck. I took a deep breath and pushed him. Then ran all I could. I was running through the corridor and bumped into someone. Of course it's none other than Gojo Satoru. I don't have any ways now. I automatically started crying.

He smirked. "Didn't thought someone has the bravery to disobey me" he said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "P-Please let me go I don't want that life" I cried. "Oh darling you don't know how much I love to see people crying. And for your life I'm the one have the power to decide how you'll live" he said.

Then he clapped his hand and we both were standing in a.... BEDROOM?! He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. "Now tell me what you were saying?" He asked. "P-Please....let go... P-Please" I said. "Let you go? But didn't you wish to be loved? I'm giving you the love you deserve" he said while grabbing my ass and squeezing it.

I yelped at that. "P-Please I don't want to stay her-" before I could even complete my sentence he threw me on the bed and claimed on me. I screamed so loudly out of fear when threw me on the bed. "Didn't you say you're not scared? That seems like a lie now" he said and took off a strand of hair out of my face.

"it's been years since I was sealed. Never thought I'll get this gorgeous gift as soon as I get unsealed " he said with a smirk and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to push his chest but he grabbed my hands and held them beside my head while kissing me aggressively. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth.

I was shaking my head in protest but he didn't stop. When he stopped he immediately grabbed the top of my dress and tore it off. How strong is he??? He tore off a dress with Corset with his hands?! I almost screamed when he did. I covered myself and tried to crawl up.

He grabbed my hair and made me look at him. "Did I say to cover yourself???" He asked. His eyes shined. Tears falling down from my eyes. He smirked and licked my neck with his long tongue. I was shaking from fear. "You know seeing you scared makes me more turned on" he whispered.

I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. His eyes shined in the dim light. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "M-my lord stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop. "It's Satoru, darling.... I won't kill you if you call me Satoru"

Then he took off my pantie. He looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, getting wet for me huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. "Look... this is what you have done to me..." he said while stroking his dick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-Satoru no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged and called him Satoru as he said so maybe he listens to me? but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " you know.... you're the first witch I love....I always hated all the witches.... never seen such a gorgeous witch like you.... f-fuck what great present I got as soon as I got unsealed" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrusts I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. "Do you still think you can make me stop?" He said with a smirk. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He fell beside me on the bed.

"You need to be loved? I'll give you all the love you deserve..... now spread your legs again.... I'm not done yet.... I was sealed for over 500 years.... you don't expect me to stop right now, do you?" He said and chuckled demonicly.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[fireboltposts]

"Say Please"

• You were sitting on the couch in Chan's studio, eyeing him occasionally as he was lost in editing the songs for their upcoming album, not having spoken a single word for the past hour .

• When he started lightly humming a random melody, that's when you knew he was a little bit available and probably very happy with how the editing turned out.

• He turned his chair to face you and gave you a sweet smile, flashing his dimple.

• "What's up ? You okay there baby girl ?", he asked, turning back to his laptop again while clicking something on it.

• "Can I get a hug Channie ?", you pouted, while making puppy dog eyes at him.

• He turned his chair back towards you, with one eyebrow raised, his serious demeanor now replaced with a playful smirk.

• "Say please", a teasing smile now tugging at his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief, expecting you to clearly get shy or roll your eyes at him.

• You looked at him with both eyebrows raised slightly. Moments and words like these still made you shy and surprised at how flirty he could really be, but today you were having none of his games.

• So you sighed and decided to take matters into your own hands today, suddenly feeling a surge of boldness.

• You stood up and walked towards him, your movements confident and deliberate, your eyes never leaving his as if you were quietly challenging him.

• Chan leaned back slightly in his chair, his smirk faltering and suddenly feeling flustered, his flirty demeanor from a second ago, now completely replaced with shyness and anticipation as you came closer. "Wait, what are you".

• You came and stood in between his legs which were already parted and you leaned down, your face mere inches away from that of his now. Your thumb brushed his lower lip, gently tracing it as you tilted your head slightly, your eye contact still intact, and you whispered, your voice soft yet confident and sultry, "please".

• For a moment, the room was dead silent except for the muffled sounds of an upbeat song coming from the practice room beside his studio. His dark brown eyes bore into yours, searching for any trace of hesitation or teasing. But all he saw was your confidence, and it completely threw him off balance.

• His lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out. A faint blush spread across his cheeks, and his usual calm, composed demeanor seemed to crumble under your gaze.

• "Oh my goodness, what is she doing ? No no no I cannot with this, I think my heart just stopped" , he kept thinking, his eyes still wide open in shock and surprise.

• He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but his voice came out slightly shaky. "I, uh... I guess... you really wanted that hug, huh?"

• You smirked, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. "Is that a yes or a no then, Christopher?"

• The way you said his full name made his stomach do flips. Without another word, he stood up, towering over you slightly as he closed the distance. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. His hands rested securely on your lower back, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

• "You win, okay ? But don’t think I’m letting you tease me like that without consequences", he murmured into your ear, his voice low.

• You laughed softly. "Ooh what consequences are we talking about Chris ? What are you going to do to me huh ?", you asked, still hugging him tightly as you breathed in his manly cologne. "God, he smells so good", you thought, inhaling more of his scent.

• He smirked, leaning in close so his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You’ll find out soon enough Y/Nie", his grip tightening as if trying to pull you even closer, trying to fill any possible space between you.

• You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine as he pulled away, his teasing smirk firmly back in place. But as he sat back in his chair, the flush on his face betrayed just how much you had affected him.

• She’s going to be the death of me, my God, I still can't get over her touch on my lips, he thought, as he shyly turned towards the screen, now with a water bottle in hand, your gesture clearly leaving his throat dry.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 1

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

---

Steve's parents always locked their hearts in a safe in his dad's study at night.

For as long as Steve can remember, he watched them do it, pulling their hearts out of their chests and tucking them away in the safe in an easy, practiced motion - like a dance, like something they did without even thinking about it.

He liked it, liked watching them move in unison. It made him daydream about his own partner in the future, how they could move in sync with each other, anticipating each other's every movement and not having to say a thing to know what the other wanted.

Even his parents’ hearts were similar. They were both the same pale pink, bisected with only a few silver scars, and though they didn't quite beat in unison, it was close enough that Steve's young eyes didn't notice the difference. 

“One day,” his dad always said. “When you're old enough, your heart will go in here, too. When you're trained to be separated from it, when you're grown up.”

Steve wanted to be grown up more than anything.

But his heart never looked like theirs. Even when he got old enough to pull it out of his chest, to first show it to his beaming parents, it was a deep, unblemished red.

A kid's heart, his dad called it.

“It's not a bad thing!” his dad was quick to say. “You're young, Steven, you should have a kid's heart. Go be a kid.”

He ushered him out to play with Tommy and Carol, pleased as punch when the three of them came home to get snacks.

“You've made the right friends, Steven, my boy,” his dad said one day, while Steve was in his study, watching him take his heart out of the safe and tuck it into his chest. “Tommy's not bright, but he'll do what you say, and Carol looks like she'll be taking after her mother. Find yourself a girl who fits in, and you've got the makings of the next generation.”

Steve didn't really understand what that meant, but he liked his father's approval, and Carol and Tommy were the best friends he could ever imagine, so he guessed it didn't really matter.

—

The first time his parents leave for more than just one night, Steve protests.

He grabs onto his dad's slacks, his mother's skirts, and refuses to let go.

“Steven,” his mother hisses, a warning clear in her voice.

“Little tyke loves us so much,” his father says to his business partner, who’s waiting in the front hall. There's something in his voice that Steve's never heard before, something in his eyes that makes a chill go up his spine. “Give us a minute to say goodbye.”

His parents argue in his father's study. Steve hasn't been allowed in, so he doesn't know what they're saying, but he can hear the tone, knows it's angry. 

He's not sure what he did wrong, but it must be something, so when the door opens he flinches. 

Mom doesn't look happy, but she doesn't look unhappy, either, and Dad looks pleased, so he guesses it must not be something too bad.

“Come on, Steven, my boy,” his dad says, ushering him into the study. “I think it's time we trusted you with something.”

Steve perks up, eagerly following his dad into the office and over to the safe.

“Now, you know we lock our hearts in here every night to keep them safe,�� his dad says.

Steve nods. “One day mine will be in there too.”

“That's right!” His dad is smiling again, but there's still something lurking in his eyes that makes Steve nervous. “But it's not just at night. We keep them here when we go away, too, and we need someone to stay here to keep them safe.”

The idea of being trusted with something so important outweighs the lingering nerves, and Steve lights up. “Me?”

“Of course! You're our son, Steven, the best of both of us! Who else would we trust with it?”

They still leave him alone, after that, more and more often, but Steve doesn't mind.

They trust him, and he's not going to let them down.

—

Steve doesn't really like keeping his heart in his chest. It's okay, for a while, but the longer it stays the more it feels like it's trapped - like his chest is too tight and he can't breathe, like he's more alone than he's ever been.

He doesn't think hearts were meant to be locked away, but his parents tell him different, so he listens.

They're just trying to keep him safe, after all, trying to make sure he's smart and strong and doesn't get hurt. 

—

"Ugh," Carol groans. "I'm so tired of my mom asking to see my heart at the end of the day. Like, I'm in middle school now, I don't need her checking if my feelings have been hurt."

"Mine still does it, too," Tommy grumbles. "Dad keeps telling her to knock it off at least."

Steve can't remember the last time his parents wanted to see his heart. 

"Mine leaves me alone now," he brags, because it feels like he should, even if his heart clenches painfully. 

"You're so lucky," Carol says wistfully.

"Already king of the castle, huh?" Tommy asks, jostling him with his elbow.

Steve snorts. "Yeah? If I'm king, what does that make you two? Prince and princess?"

Carol wrinkles her nose. "Prince and princess are for babies," she says. "We're not kids anymore." 

"What are we, then?" Tommy asks.

"Duke and Duchess," she says decisively. "I've read about them, they're like the second commands. The king's advisors."

"Yeah," Tommy says, bobbing his head. "We're like the royal court. The three of us can take on anything."

"Hearts out," Steve says. "That's what my dad says you have to do when you're entering into an agreement."

Carol and Tommy obey immediately, holding their hearts out in the middle of the little triangle they make. Steve holds his out with theirs. All three of them are a vibrant red, plump and solid - Steve's is a little deeper, a little fuller, than both of theirs, but he figures that's okay.

He's the leader, it should be different. 

"Now what?" Carol asks.

Okay, so, Steve doesn't exactly know. Still, he can guess, based on what his dad has mentioned about his business partners, and he confidently says, "Now we make sure all of us are worth dealing with. Liar's hearts are black, and people with hearts too broken to function are full of holes and scars, and hearts with no color can't be trusted."

The three of them inspect each other's hearts closely, then nod at each other. 

"We need to touch them, too," Carol says. "My mom says that's what you do with people you trust."

Steve isn't sure about that, but he figures it can't hurt, so they rotate hearts - Steve's to Tommy, Tommy's to Carol, Carol's to Steve, and then around in a circle until Steve's holding his own heart again.

It did hurt, a little. But it didn't feel bad, just a little scary.

It's okay, though, because it's Tommy and Carol. His Duke and Duchess, the royal court.

They'd never hurt him. 

—

"Hey Mom?" Steve asks the next time she's home when he gets done with school. "Do you want to see my heart?"

"What for?" she asks, a hint of confusion in her voice that doesn't show anywhere on her perfectly made up face. "Has it changed?"

Steve's shoulders droop a little bit. He set himself up for this one. "No," he admits reluctantly. 

She hums softly, more a vague acknowledgement than anything else, and goes back to pinning her hair up.

His mom and dad must be going out somewhere tonight. 

"Can I see yours?" he asks, wanting - something. He knows they'll lock their hearts away for him to protect before they leave, knows how much it means that they trust him with that, but sometimes he just wants to see them.

"Of course, darling," she says absently, pulling it out with a practiced motion and setting it on the vanity in front of him. 

It's still exactly the same as the last time he saw it. Steve glances over at her, but she isn't even looking at him. He bites his lip, then reaches out to touch it, his hand resting gently on top of it. 

His mom flinches, just the tiniest bit, but doesn't tell him to take his hand away. 

Steve frowns. "Does that hurt?"

"It always hurts when someone touches your heart, Steven," she replies. "That's why you need to keep it in your chest, why you need to be careful about who you let close to it."

He considers that. "But you let me touch it anyway."

"Of course," his mom says. "You're my Steven."

He likes the words, and if he were a little younger, he thinks they might fill him with warmth, make his heart flush even redder. But he's old enough now to recognize that tone - the same tone she uses when he hears her on the phone with one of her friends or one of her clients, and she thinks they're being stupid.

Steve isn't stupid. 

He pulls his hand away.

If his mom's heart hurts every time he touches it, then he won't reach for it anymore.

—

Steve is in eighth grade when they learn that people can't travel far from their hearts without suffering any ill effects.

Tommy's watched Steve's parents put their hearts in their safe and leave for dinner out while he was staying over, and he laughs when their teacher tells them that.

"Something funny, Tommy?" Mr. Clarke asks.

"Well, sure," Tommy says. "It's just that isn't true, right Steve?"

"Right," Steve agrees earnestly, eager to show off his knowledge on the subject. "Or it's not always true. Some people can go miles away from theirs, I've seen it."

He says people, and not my parents, because he knows better than to drop personal information like that in the middle of class. 

Mr. Clarke had been frowning at Tommy's laughter, but something about Steve's eagerness makes him smile. 

"You have?" Mr. Clarke asks. "Tell me more."

Aware that everyone's attention is on him now, Steve makes sure to slouch casually - he can't look too invested. "Well, they didn't just leave their hearts out in the open and unguarded. They left them with someone they trust to protect them."

Mr. Clarke's smile grows, his eyes lighting up a bit in excitement. "Ah! You found the loophole. Steve's right," he says to the rest of the class, making Steve preen just a little bit. "Heart exchanges! People can travel much further from their hearts if they're safely tucked away in the chest of someone else. They can even survive things that might have been fatal, if their heart was in their own chest."

He gives a little chuckle. "There's even anecdotes of things like soldiers leaving their hearts with their fiances as they go off to war, knowing they'll be kept safe. Romantic, if unlikely. There's been no conclusive evidence of someone able to survive such a distance from their heart for so long, even with the loophole."

Steve frowns. His parents have been gone weeks at a time, leaving their hearts safe with him. 

"What about if it's locked away in a safe, and guarded?" Steve asks. "I know - I mean, someone told me that would work."

Mr. Clarke frowns a little. "Even more unlikely, I'm afraid. There's some studies that have shown people can train themselves to go further and further from their hearts, but still not without ill effects." 

Kevin sneers. "Well it sounds like someone is a liar."

Steve bristles. 

Kevin Carson is the worst.

He's a bully. Both in the way that his dad taught him the word - the kids who are too stupid to realize that brute force will only get you so far in life - and in the way that makes Steve's stomach turn a little, choosing to pick on people who can't fight back. 

The last two years at Hawkins Middle, he'd have never gone after Steve. But Kevin wanted to be basketball captain, and Steve got it instead, and now Kevin's been dogging him every chance he gets.

It's starting to get really annoying. 

Before Steve can say anything, though, Mr. Clarke's moved over to Kevin's desk, frown deepening.

“You know better than that, Mr. Carson,” Mr. Clarke says, in his disappointed voice. “We don't ridicule anyone's curiosity journey in this class.”

Kevin scowls, but he mutters out an apology. Mr Clarke watches him for a moment longer before nodding, moving back to the front of the class to continue.

"Teacher's pet," Kevin hisses at him, loud enough for the others nearby to hear but not Mr. Clarke.

Steve's never really understood why that was a bad thing - why wouldn't you want your teacher to like you? - but he knows it is, so he grimaces.

"I just listen to Coach better than you," Steve replies. "Must be why I'm captain this year."

Kevin's expression shifts into confusion. "What?"

"You don't keep your grades up, and you're on the bench for the rest of the year." Steve shrugs, leaning back so he can show how pointless this conversation is - and open it up even more for others to hear. "Aren't you looking at an F in Mr. Clarke's class? Maybe you should have more enthusiasm for your curiosity journey."

—

Tommy punches Kevin at lunch that afternoon.

Someone starts shouting, "Fight, fight, fight!" and Steve and Carol look at each other, realize they can't find Tommy, and immediately go where the crowd has gathered. 

It parts easily as Steve and Carol push through to the center, where Tommy and Kevin are squared off warily against each other. Steve tugs at Tommy's arm, and Carol shoots Kevin a look as she helps herd Tommy off to the side.

“What happened?” Steve asks Tommy, voice low and urgent. 

“Kevin was trying to rally some of the team against you,” Tommy spits out. “Said that they should get you around back, teach you a lesson about the way things are supposed to work.”

Steve's stomach twists. It's not surprising from Kevin, but the rest of the guys are his friends.

“Did they agree?” Carol asks sharply, eyes flashing.

“No,” Tommy says. “They told him to shut up. But Kevin was going on about how you're not captain material.”

Okay.

Okay, that's better, Steve can handle that. Kevin's persuasive, but Steve can be, too, and Steve hasn't been picking fights that make the team have to run drills when Coach gets pissed at them.

He leans away, pivoting back to face the group.

“Seriously, Carson, again?” Steve demands, not bothering to hide how irritated he sounds. "You remember Coach has a zero tolerance policy for starting fights, right?" 

"I didn't start anything, he punched me first!" Kevin says.

"That's not what I heard," Steve says conversationally. "I heard you talking to the other guys, trying to get them to jump me while my back was turned. Didn't know you were a coward, Carson. You got something to say to me? Why don't you say it to my face?"

Kevin draws himself up and gets in Steve's face, and Steve hears Tommy curse and start to move forward, but Steve holds up a hand. 

Steve's not scared of Kevin, and he doesn't want Tommy to get in any more trouble. He juts his chin out, tipping his head to the side so he can look down at Kevin - Steve and Tommy started their growth spurts early, and it's only by an inch or two, but they're the tallest guys here right now. 

"You gonna hit me, Kev?" Steve says softly. 

"Maybe I will," Kevin says. "Maybe it's the only way to put you in your place. Your daddy gets you out of everything, but he can't get you out of a black eye, can he?"

Steve's not sure where anyone gets the idea that his dad gets him out of anything. His dad barely knows what's going on with his life - but he guesses he doesn't really have to, guesses it's more about his dad's reputation than anything else. 

Still, it turns his irritation into anger, and just a little bit of hurt, and Steve finds himself smiling.

"Black eyes fade, Carson. You know what doesn't?" He leans in, lowers his voice a little. "How's <lyour dad gonna react when you get kicked off the team, huh? Yeah, we all know he was a high school star - it's all he ever was - what do you think he's gonna say when you can't even be that?" 

Kevin looks like he's a second away from shoving Steve, and for a moment, Steve thinks - yeah, go ahead, come on. The stuff he's saying? Steve deserves to get shoved. 

But Kevin doesn't.

Steve pitches his voice back louder. "Starting fights at school and flunking science? Not looking good for you to play at all the rest of the year, Carson. And anyone who's not playing now can kiss their spot on the high school team goodbye."

"Yeah?" Kevin asks. "Who's going to go blabbing to Coach?"

Steve shrugs, giving a disappointed sigh. "I don't like it, but it's my duty as captain to tell Coach when someone isn't being a team player." 

It probably isn't. Technically, Steve isn't even officially the captain - their coach just wanted them to be prepared for what it's going to be like in high school, and the players all voted Steve as their unofficial captain. 

But he knows that Coach will appreciate that Steve is taking it seriously, if he does tell him about anyone affecting the rest of the team.

"What are you even pissed at me for?" Steve asks. 

It's a genuine question - he actually does want to know - but it comes out sarcastic, and he can't backtrack it. 

"Passing science? Not letting you walk all over me in Mr. Clarke's class?" he adds. "Or are you just trying to get the rest of the team to be a bully like you? You want to get them in trouble, too?"

Carol hip checks him, and - yeah, okay, he sees her point, he needs to end this before Kevin has a chance to spin things back in his favor. 

"You're not worth my time," Steve says with a sneer.

There's a beat of silence.

"Didn't you hear him?" Carol asks. "You're dismissed."

Kevin tries to pull a sneer, but with his split lip it looks more like a snarl. "Who died and made Steve Harrington king?"

Carol examines her nails, the picture of boredom. "Your spot on the high school basketball team, apparently."

“Give it up, Kevin!” someone calls out.

“Come on, man, I'm sick of having to stay late at practice because of you, can't you just chill out?” Mark Jefferson bitches.

There's a chorus of agreement, and Steve watches Kevin's face as he realizes he's not going to get any backup here. Anger flickers briefly in his expression before he rolls his eyes, huffs out “Whatever,” and stomps off.

Now that there's not going to be a fight, everyone else disperses, leaving Steve alone with Tommy and Carol.

"You need to tell me and Carol before you hit someone again, okay?" Steve says seriously. "Let us handle it first."

"Yeah," Carol agrees. "You'll get in trouble if you do it all the time - you have to only do it when someone really deserves it. When we tell you."

Steve doesn't want Tommy to hit anyone, no matter what, but he guesses Carol's right. 

He'll just have to keep an eye on them.

–

When he's home, he goes straight to his dad's study and stares at the safe.

He knows the code, but part of him doesn't want to open it up. If they lied to him about this - what else have they lied to him about? Did they think he was stupid, did they not care if he ever figured it out? 

But he knows he has to, so he opens it up, and stares at what's inside.

Nothing.

Of course his parents didn't leave their hearts with him to watch over, and he feels like an idiot for having ever fallen for it. 

Something in his heart cracks, but he ruthlessly ignores it, slamming the safe door shut again.

He doesn't care, he tells himself.

His dad's an asshole anyway.

–

Nancy Wheeler is the first person to truly hold his heart in her hands, without it hurting the slightest bit.

It makes it even worse when she calls him bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, and he feels his heart crack so deep he's not sure it will ever heal.

-----

Part 2

[koi-p0nd]

Good morning,afternoon, and nights!

I was wondering if can you do an imagine of reader protecting Anya from jimmy before and after the crash? Which reader always giving a bitchy attitude to j#### and reader giving self defense tools to Anya just in case. (The self defense weapons are a taser,a pocket kn’fe, and a pink decorated pepper spray)

-anonymous

Omg hi hello????? I woke up around an hour and a half ago????

(Am I that good of a writer???? Lmao kidding)

Anya getting self defense lessons and weapons from reader with an attitude? To keep the Bad Stinker Man away? Yes.

Okay, since I'm still trying to get back into writing again, this might be a bit wonky and not really up to what others can make but I'm trying my best here :')

I think imma make like a list or smth, I dunno, but I hope it works :D

I also decided to change the pocket knife to a swiss army knife, thought that she could use the different things on it for more than self defense or to give some more severe injuries to Stinker.

Mouthwashing Anya x Reader. (Platonic)

"Don't be afraid to use force, girl." (Not proof read)

Before the crash:

Way long before the crash, just a few weeks or months after taking off with the ship Anya had told you about getting weird vibes from Jimmy.

It was kind of obvious as to why she would go to you and just quietly voice her suspicions to you, you literally had a tazer and can off pepper spray clipped to your uniform belt out in the open.

She was glad for that, honestly.

After she told you about this, you kept an extra eye on Jimmy whenever he were nearby you and/or Anya. Watching like a hawk.

There was constant bitchy attitude from you towards Jimmy when he and you interreacted. It always pissed him off.

It wasn't pretty arguments and fights over something small and irrelevant.... Swansea, Daisuke and Curly had to often break you two apart....

Not even a week later, you offered to teach Anya some self defense.

Shock and surprise was the only thing that Anya could express for a few moments. Understandable.

Who in the world would offer a colleague, who you barely know anything about, self defense?

Well... You did.

Not out of pity, of course not. You just wanted to teach her so she could beat Jimmy up if she needed to and no one was around.

Anyways

Anya had gladly taken the offer from you. Grateful that you just decided to spend your free time in training her and teaching her things.

Although she felt a little guilty for it.

Hush girly, don't feel bad. You deserve to knock Jimmy's teeth out<3

She was ectsatic and giddy internally when she got her own self defense tools from you; a tazer, a somewhat old swiss army knife and the pepper spray decorated in pink.

You just smiled at how giddy she looked.

After the crash:

After the crash. Hmm....

Things went to hell, basically.

Curly was a burnt, crispy nugget (sorry Curly😭)

Let's just say that Anya has used her tazer quite a lot of times on Jimmy out of spite or when he was getting up in her space.

The pepper not so much, she wants to save as much of it to really bad situations. Since the water supply is not that big on the ship.

The army knife is more used to be a every day life tool, using the various things on it for various things. Has occasionally had the knife of it pointed at Jimmy, as well as the tazer/pepper spray in her other hand.

She is so very gratefull for having you as her self defense teacher. She can sucker punch Jimmy if she feels really fed up with Jimmy.

I hope this is what you asked for :') and sorry if it's bad😭 I'm trying to get my writing skills back...

[spotsandsocks]

Had to write this it’s been bothering me!!

Give me a moment 2.6k

Eddie’s ready to go to Texas, Buck's ready to say goodbye. Then the conversation takes a surprising turn and Buck finds out the whole truth about what happened with Kim on the day that changed everything for them all.

The boxes are all piled up, ready to go and Buck can hardly look at them. If he’s told himself that it’s for the best once then he’s said it a thousand times. 

Despite that it’s the deepest, darkest most secret wish of his heart that this wasn’t happening but it is and he’ll just have to deal with it. It’s for the best. It’s what Eddie needs to do. It’s what Chris needs too. He can visit, FaceTime, it won’t be the same, he’s not stupid but he can survive. Probably. 

At least the house is just being rented out for now. At least Eddie has given him that much to hold onto. The hope that they might actually come back one day. It’s not much but it’s  something.

“I wish…”

Buck turns his head to Eddie’s voice. It’s the first time he’s spoken in an hour. They’re both lying on the floor, the couch is already in storage along with the other things Eddie’s not taking with him to Texas. 

“I wish, I hadn’t walked past that shop, that I never saw her. I wish none of it had happened.”

Buck looks back up at the ceiling. Right, her; Kim - Shannon mark 2. The woman Eddie lost his mind and his kid for. 

The woman who looked enough like his dead wife that he threw everything away for one more one more time together.  

The woman that Chris found in his house. 

Her. Buck wishes that Eddie had never seen her too, which is probably unfair to Kim. None of this was her fault after all. She’d  seemed nice enough when he’d met her at the station, after the shock of seeing the spitting image of Eddie’s dead wife wore off of course.

The likeness was remarkable with just enough differences between them to know it wasn’t really her. They’ve never talked about this, looks like they are now.

“I didn’t tell you but I told her about Shannon, about why I wanted to spend time with her. I showed her pictures, I said I was sorry.  That it was wrong. She was upset but I stopped it. After you talked to me, I realised I was being…” the pause last a while, 

“You know, I still don’t know what I was being or what I really wanted from her.”

Lifting himself up off the floor to rest on one elbow Buck studies the profile of the calm, still face of his best friend. It’s the face of a man who’s resigned himself to his fate. Eddie’s flat on his back, eyes closed lying in the remnants of a life he’d tried to build for himself and his son. A life that collapsed around him after one or maybe two bad decisions.

“When she left I thought it was over. I was relieved, thought it would be ok but then she came back.” 

If Eddie was looking at him he’d see the frown land on Buck’s face at that brand new piece of information. What does Eddie mean she came back? 

Next to him, the calm facade falters and Eddie’s face crumples, his feelings escaping in the thin lines of distress. Buck knows it’s just a weak echo of the distress he must have felt that day, made smaller, quieter by Eddie’s rigid self control. 

“She came back Buck and she looked…” 

It sounds like a confession, Eddie’s breath shakes on the way out and Buck’s heart beats faster. There’s something bad coming. Something he doesn’t know about.

A voice that doesn’t really sound like Eddie at all continues slowly, each word forced out. 

“She looked.. just.. like… her. She’d …” 

Eyes squeezed shut Eddie’s hand waves vaguely around his head. 

“It was a shock, it hurt to look at her. I said no. I asked her to go, to stop because…  because I knew… I knew it was wrong,  before I always knew she wasn’t Shannon but when she came back and she looked, like that…”

The pained look deepens, Eddie eyes open, glassy and full of unshed tears. It makes Bucks chest ache. 

“It was her. It really was.”

Unsure what he’s hearing Buck just tells the truth. 

“Eddie I don't understand what you’re telling me.”

The laugh that leaves Eddie’s lips is painful to hear, broken and hurt. It slices at Buck’s chest. 

“Neither do I. She was an actress  but I don’t know how she did it. The hair yeah, she’d cut it, dyed it and the clothes she’d seen those in the photos.”

An uneasy feeling stirs in the pit of Buck's stomach. Eddie’s not said anything about this before. He’d assumed… he’d assumed something very different.

“But she was Shannon… it felt like  I was looking at her, that she was right there in front of me.”

Again for a second his face shows the truth, before it’s packed away like all his other belongings. 

“She looked just like her Buck and I wanted to know. I wanted to know so badly.”

Chest tight Buck asks a question, worried he already knows what’s coming.

“Eddie? What are you saying?”

There’s no direct answer but the truth is bleeding out into the room and it’s making Buck feel more than a little nauseous.

“She was trying to be kind. Trying to help me, to say goodbye. Ask the questions I didn’t have answers to. I told her no, I said go, but I  I wanted to know why.”

The voice telling the story breaking Buck's heart cracks. 

“She, she was as close as I could get to knowing why.”

Then in a moment Buck knows will haunt him, Eddie’s sad brown eyes open and find his. The hurt in them is breathtaking, sharp and raw and enough to make him check he hasn’t actually been punched in the chest. 

With a hand held just above his aching heart, he clutches at the fabric bunched beneath his fingers to stop him from reaching out to his friend. He feels helpless, there’s no way to change what’s already happened to Eddie, all Buck can do is listen and finally understand the truth of what he went through the day he let Christopher leave.

“I just wanted to know why. Why didn’t she love me, why didn’t I get a letter. Why did she want to leave me twice?”

Blinking back his own tears Buck understands that he’s made a mistake. A big one. And probably not just him. He’d thought that Eddie and Kim had… but no, he was wrong about that. That’s clear now, the tears rolling down Eddie’s face, silent and helpless tell a very different story. 

continue on Ao3

@actualalligator @bekkachaos @beyourownanchor6 @buddiediaz118 @becausebuckley @bi-buckrights @caroandcats @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @dr-shortsighted-owl @darkrose6578 @diazsdimples @doctorkinney @diazheartsbuckley @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @hermscat @hippolotamus @inell @jesuisici33 @lonelychicago @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @pirrusstuff @repressedqueen @ronordmann @rainbow-nerdss @spaceprincessem @stagefoureddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @shipperqueen6 @tizniz @thekristen999 @thelikesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @theotherbuckley @underwaterninja13 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @wildlife4life

[madhatterbri]

Protector | D.P.

Summary: So what that maybe Y/N has been getting intimidated by Gunther and Ludwig and Damian handled business?

Author's Note: I still don't care about this GIF, but if I did, this is what the fic would look like.

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @eringobragh420 @missbmc94 @surdelcielo

As always, requests are open! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ❤️

The first time Y/N noticed something was amiss happened a few weeks ago on RAW.

She was in catering to get some food for her boss, Adam Pearce. As his assistant, Y/N was expected to run around whenever he wanted or needed something.

After getting some of his favorites, the young assistant hurried to the door to bring him back his food. The doorway was blocked by none other than Gunther.

"Excuse me," she whispered. He was currently feuding with her boyfriend, Damian. When he didn't move, she spoke up louder. "I said excuse me!"

Some of the wrestlers in the room looked up. Gunther glared at her yet stepped aside. His lackey Ludwig followed. Both men looked down at her as she scurried off to Mr. Pearce.

Their intimidation didn't stop there. Week after week, they came up with new ways to make her scared. Each week, they worked.

The week after that, they bumped into her. Gunther and Ludwig were on either side of her. She dropped her clipboard and pen to the floor. There was no one else in the area at the time to witness it. Annoyed, she chalked it up to none of the three paying attention.

After that incident, she started to travel around the arena with anyone else. Her boss seemed to like how she hovered around him now. Before, he would have to call her and search for her. Now, it was like having a second shadow.

The men would simply stare her down when they couldn't do anything. Their gaze was intense. The hairs on the back of her neck would stand at attention. She didn't know what she did to them, but she would certainly find out.

Y/N couldn't find anyone to stick with. Everyone was too busy getting ready for RAW, leaving her to fend for herself. She turned a corner while looking for Seth Rollins and stopped. Ludwig stood before her, looking as stoic as ever. When she turned around, Gunther was waiting for her. The men stepped towards her. She backed into the wall behind her.

"What do you two want?" She hissed. Her tone sounded a lot more menacing than the fear she had inside.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow in shock. "Little missy finally has a backbone. No more hiding,"

"Damian is going to wipe the floor with the two of you at Survivor Series," she threatened.

Gunther laughed. "Quite the lovely boyfriend you got there, but he may not even make it to Survivor Series,"

Y/N moved to get away from him. Gunther put up his arm against the wall. With nowhere to turn, she stared up at Gunther. Tears filled her eyes. "I will just tell Damian,"

"Are you sure you want to make that decision? I wouldn't," Gunther spoke. A chill ran down the back of her spine.

"Fine, so he will just beat your ass at Survivor Series. It doesn't matter to me,"

Gunther smiled. "If he even makes it to then,"

He lowered his hand, allowing her to be free. She didn't stick around. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she rushed to the nearest bathroom. Before she could make it, Damian stopped her.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he paused when he saw her face. She cupped her cheek and wiped away a tear. "Who hurt you?"

Y/N wanted to tell him more than anything. She was afraid of what would happen to him if she did. Feeling hopeless, she lashed out at him. "Just leave me alone,"

Damian dropped his hand in shock. More fresh tears fell down her face. She pushed open the door and disappeared inside. The concerned boyfriend swore he heard sobs. When he looked down the hallway, he saw Gunther and Ludwig walking away and laughing. His blood boiled.

Damian waited for the perfect moment. He was signing autographs and thinking of a moment to strike Gunther and Ludwig. Fortunately for him, he didn't have to wait long.

Gunther snuck up behind him as he was signing his name. Still fueled by the fury of seeing her cry, a brief struggle broke out. Damian had Gunther laid out on the floor right in front of him.

"Let me tell you a little something, pendejo. You talk or look at my girl one more time, and we won't be waiting until Survivor Series. You got that?"

Damian didn't bother waiting for an answer. He patted his chest and walked away to find Y/N.

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (7) - Natural

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word Count: 10.9k

-Natural, a beating heart of stone, you gotta be so cold, to make it in this world-

Nights were always the most difficult part of the day for you. The all-consuming darkness surrounding you, the way to silence engulfed the world, the way it felt like the time just came to a halt, the way that illusion played with your senses and reminded you of that night. It kept your mind running a hundred miles per hour, spread thin in every direction all at the same time and with your thoughts scattered all over the place.

The vicious circle seemed like it would never end.

And worse than anything, all of this fighting just allowed those feelings to further consume you. The guilt, the remorse, the knowledge that you were hurting everyone who still loved you and that you would hurt them again because you just found it impossible to stop. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t know how to when every time you were reminded of your parents in any way you had that urge to just go and fight.

The survivor’s guilt, your therapist said before you stormed out of her office at seventeen, never to go back there again. Now you could admit she was right, but back then you were a mess. Now you could recognize that you sought out this pain for more than one reason, but that one of those reasons was as simple as you surviving without a single scratch. They were in so much pain and you couldn’t do anything, so some broken part of you figured out this would even things out a bit.

No one proved you wrong.

No one could prove you wrong when no one knew what thoughts ran through your mind at times like these.

The car rides to the fights were always silent, and they gave you a moment to think, something you despised doing before them, and each time these same thoughts plagued your mind. That you failed them, that you let them die, that you should have been with them, that you should have done more.

Davis was silent, as he usually was, his job was simple. Help organize these fights, help bring in people that would pay to watch and bet on the fighters, and most importantly he recruited a good number of the fighters mostly from his gyms. He had no intention of providing you with anything. Not with the reassurance that you weren't doing the wrong thing or the words that might push you away from the fighting.

He didn't care.

You were another one of the fighters bringing in the money, and that’s all he cared about.

The bag on the backseat called out to you but you just leaned your head back and looked outside. You just looked, not really focusing on anything, vacantly staring at the passing buildings, at the people walking by as Davis stopped at the traffic light. Deep down you wondered how you would have felt if your positions were switched. If Hugh or Barbara were the ones fighting or doing something self-destructive, and you knew how you would have felt. You would have done everything in your power to stop them but knowing that didn't stop you from doing this.

You found it funny how often knowing how you would react if someone did something to you didn’t stop you from doing that same thing. And it wasn’t just you, many people were like that. Like your dad who cheated but was then furious when your mom did the same thing to him. Maybe if their marriage ended right then and there they would still be alive. So many what ifs…

Finally, you reached back and grabbed the bag on the backseat. The sound of the zipper being pulled open sounded more like an explosion going off right next to you in your mind, but you ignored it, and pulled out a mask. It was a usual boxing helmet only equipped with a cover for the face to keep your identity hidden and each and every fighter received one. Yours was light grey and you could almost see to hint of your reflection on the material of the face mask glaring back at you and you glanced down at the sharp painted teeth where the mouth was supposed to be.

The mask was the shield. A way to make sure once the fight was over it would stay in the ring. Fighters didn’t know each other by names, only by codenames, Orca, Lone Wolf, Mad Dog, Mammoth. It assured that even if you came across someone you fought against you wouldn’t know it was them. It ensured that, if any fighter wanted to quit, all they had to do was never put the mask on. As the miles passed by you just stopped thinking and when Davis arrived at the building the fights would be held in you put the mask on, everything else was already ready. A binding would hide your breasts, and the baggy clothes would further hide your body. Not a single person would be able to figure out that you weren't a man, and with how you fought you figured they wouldn't even question it.

“Your fight is the second one, get ready,” Davis told you as you unbuckled the seat belt and opened the doors. “And just so you know, Orca is going to retire tonight, if you want to stay and watch.”

You nodded, not replying in any way as you went to the locker room to put the gloves and the boots on.

You would stay back to watch. Though that wasn’t really a habit you had. Still, Orca was fighting his last fight, and you’d stay for that. Orca was the only current fighter that was part of these fights before you joined, and from what he’s told you, he’s been fighting here for thirteen years now. It was telling how quickly people gave up on fighting here, finding this to be too painful to be worth the money. Right now, Orca was the oldest member at thirteen years, followed by you with four years, and then Mammoth with a bit over a year, other fighters barely lasted half a year.

Why did he keep fighting for so long? You never asked, you never would. That’s how this all worked.

~X~

There were days when work was nothing but hell, and whoever figured out a night shift was a necessary part of the economy, was the enemy to all of humankind and especially an enemy to her. Barbara just got back from working in a pet store her parents owned. Seriously? Her own parents had her working a night shift. To build character, she supposed, or so they told her, frankly her character was already built, there was no changing it.

Oh well, at least the animals were adorable.

Was she whining when she had a fairly chill life? Yeah, she was.

Somewhere along the line she figured whining about little things helped her release the stress she had. If someone seriously asked her, then no, she wouldn’t be complaining, but she was complaining either to you or when she was just by herself, and in her mind, there was no harm in that.

At least she could reach your apartment fairly quick from her workplace and then she could bother you and annoy you and get you to make her a very late dinner that she would eat so eagerly it would look like she was having her last meal. That thought brought a smile to her face.

And like usual she just barged into your apartment. No knocking, no announcing herself, well, at least she didn’t slam them open, she just opened the doors and close them behind her, because her name was Barbara not barbaric. “Babe, I'm home!” she announced only to be met with an empty apartment, and the sinking feeling that something was seriously wrong found its home in her heart.

“Y/N!” She called out your name, but there was no answer. She dared to believe you would come back any moment now, that you left to go for a walk or a late night run or went to get some last minute shopping done. She pulled out her phone to call you but just as she was about to do it she saw your phone on the table and she knew.

“God, please, not again,” she crumbled onto the sofa and covered her eyes as tears began falling down her cheeks. The only time you ever left your place without your phone was when you were going to the fights.

Perhaps for the very first time she felt what you were probably feeling. She’s been on her own in your apartment before, but each and every time there was an explanation for it. You were filming, you were out buying groceries, you were working at the gym. You would come back safe and sound and that was all she needed to know. All those times your apartment felt warm and welcoming, because she knew everything was fine. Yet, here she was, for the first time feeling just how cold and lifeless it really was. Barren, just functional, lacking pretty much any personal detail, there weren't even the photos of you and your family hanging on the walls. There was nothing. It was freezing cold, and you must have felt that cold deep within you, all the way down to your bones, in every single moment you were all alone, knowing no one would come any time soon.

Barbara never knew that feeling, she lived with her parents, and if she was tired of living there she could come here and be with you, and if you weren’t available she could go and visit one of her siblings. She was never on her own.

You were.

All those moments when there was no one with you in any way, no one to text or talk to, or be with, all of that loneliness and isolation, despite everything she was doing as your friend, you must have felt like you are slowly going insane. That must have been how you felt because this place all of a sudden just felt suffocating, because deep down she knew that right now, right in this very moment, you were in a fight. Barbara didn't know why you kept fighting, though her mind went in hundreds of different directions, each one worse than the previous, and the fact that she didn't know why you were still fighting haunted her. It haunted her because as much as you loved her and as much as she loved you, you didn't feel free enough to just tell her why you couldn't stop.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she apologized though no one could hear her.

~X~

The release.

That's what this was.

The release and pure madness.

You let the fist slam into your side, knocking the air from your lungs and you knew you’d be feeling that punch for days. And yet behind the mask you smirked, countering with a punch just as ferocious, aimed right at the opponents liver and he coughed, gasping for air as he took a few steps back and hunched forward. The fight has been going on for over ten minutes now, and he was reaching his limits, his legs were shaking as you went forward and hit him with a simple one-two combo, your punches landing on his chest as he tried to put his guard up. Just as he raised his hands you went and landed an uppercut on his guts, making him drop to his knees.

The crowd around you cheered and you knew the practice in this ring. You weren’t supposed to stop, you were supposed to keep hitting him while he was down, to do as much damage and end the fight, giving all these people the violence they came to see. In the worst case scenario you should have just gotten him in a hold and made him give up, but you did neither of those things. You backed away, keeping the fight going, giving him the chance to either give up on his own or keep fighting. Any smart fighter would have ended it right there, you didn’t though.

You wouldn’t attack while someone was down, and it wasn’t just some honor keeping you from doing that. You wanted the fight to last, you wanted to get as exhausted as you possibly could, and if that meant more pain and potentially being defeated, then that was fine by you as well.

This was a sickness, a disease infiltrating every part of your life and you almost relished in it. He got up, and you couldn’t see his eyes, you couldn’t gauge his will to keep fighting. The same went for him, but you guessed an image of a fighter just standing there, guard down, after knocking you down to the ground must have been intimidating, as he took a step back.

As sick as it was this was what you needed. The guilt before the fight and the guilt you would feel after the fight didn’t matter right now. In this moment you felt none of that guilt. The pain you felt was no longer something abstract, it had the source you could point at, it had the cause, it was physical and no longer driven and caused by emotions. You were in control, you knew exactly how much you could take, and you could stop it at any moment.

You were in control.

You knew exactly what you were doing. Every time the pain became too much to handle, when the weight of loss and all the emotions surrounding that tragedy became too much, the only thing you could do to temporarily fix it was to trade that pain for this one. All you could hope for was that this pain would numb every other pain.

And it worked. Damn it all, it worked every single time, without fail.

So, why stop when it works?

You dodged a flurry of punches, almost dancing around your opponent, your hits never losing power and landing at precise spots. He wouldn’t last much longer.

It was working this time as well. The pain was numbed, and that heavy feeling was pushed to the back of your mind, at least for a bit. Once more you traded blows with the masked man in front of you. You would feel guilty over this the moment the fight ended. You would feel the immense guilt over their deaths, you would feel like the worst piece of shit you could possibly ever be. You would feel like you are betraying everything, all the memories of your parents you still had, all the people who loved you and yourself. You will feel all of that and yet, sooner rather than later, you will still come back to do all of this all over again.

The next blow you evaded and instead just slammed your fist into your opponent’s guts or sink him down on his knees and then he said it, the one word that would end the battle.

“Stop,” he gasped, invoking one of the two ways the battle could end in these events. One was what he just did, saying stop. The other was losing consciousness. You turned around, away from him, and raised your fist toward the cheering crowd, once more you have given them a fairly good show.

“Mad Dog wins again!” the referee yelled the moment the fight was over, the cheers and booing of the crowd faded away, much like you expected it would, and guilt took you over.

~X~

The pain made your every step difficult as you dragged your body up the stairs. The fight took its toll on you, and you knew you'd be in pain for several days at the very least. At least it was late, already two in the morning, so you didn't have to worry about your neighbors hearing you.

You pulled your key out of your pocket and pushed it into the keyhole, only to realize the doors were unlocked. "Barbara," you whispered, cursing your luck. This was the last thing she needed, seeing you like this. You've always done your best to keep her away for the first couple of days, and this time you failed. You failed miserably.

You came in as quietly as you possibly could and luckily saw her sleeping on the sofa. Curled up, clearly too tired of waiting, and even in the dim light you could see her cheeks were still wet.

Crying.

You made your best friend cry.

'Fucking asshole,' you cursed yourself. This was your fault. This was the effect of your actions. You pulled a blanket over her, thankful that she didn't wake up, and then you went to turn the heat up, Barbara always hated cold.

You looked at her, silently apologizing. You wished you could tell her this wouldn't happen again, but you had no idea how to stop. You tried, fuck you tried so hard, several times, both for her and Hugh, but you never skipped more than one fight unless you weren’t in Denver in the first place.

You went to the bathroom to tend to the bruises, but the physical pain seemed dull compared to how you felt right now. The water washed away the sweat and blood off your body, and yet you still felt dirty, you still felt unworthy of Barbara's tears. How many people did you lose over these fights?

As you leaned back against the wall and the water washed your body your mind was struck by memories. The sound of tires screeching, horn blaring and the glass shattering. And the screams, the shouting, the painful cries still haunting you. The sight of it all, the truck that drove through a restaurant, glass and wood everywhere, and blood on the bumper. You closed your eyes, but the image remained, only to be replaced by the one haunting you even more, your parents comatose, with no hopes of surviving, of waking up and yet you tried. You tried and tried, yet all the money in the world wouldn't help you, but you kept trying and it didn't matter, you still had to pull the plug. You had to let them go.

You lost them and still stuck in the past you were now losing everyone else.

You bit back a groan of pain as you applied a cooling balm to your bruises and then put clean clothes on. You just stood there in the bathroom slightly hunched over in front of the mirror and you saw your reflection. You face was clean from any injury, yet your body was exhausted and despite the clothes you could point exactly where the bruises were forming. The doors opened and you glanced to your left to see Barbara standing there, you thought she would just criticize you, give you a well-deserved scolding, yet she just flung her arms around you and pulled you in for a hug.

“You're such an asshole,” she was crying once more and you couldn't agree more, you really were an asshole.

“I know, I'm sorry,” you whispered hugging her back, because despite the hug, despite everything you still felt cold. You still felt something was missing.

~X~

Rain drizzled from the sky, giving the neighborhood a beautiful, yet somber, look as Barbara walked through the streets. While she liked rain, she always hated cold. She grew up in a big family as the youngest child pampered by everyone, after all she was ten years younger than her older brother, the second youngest child in the family. When Barbara thought of her childhood, she thought of the protection her older siblings gave her, or the love of her parents, or how she always got all the attention she wanted. For her that was the normal childhood experience. Having a loving family and friends she could always play with. Having a warm home to come to every single day.

So, Barbara despised cold, she hated feeling lonely, she didn't want to ever be alone, and she had enough of letting you feel that way. Clearly you weren't going to stop on your own, so she stood there, her umbrella hanging from her hand, closed as the rain fell on her, dampening her blonde hair. “Come on, you can do this,” she whispered to herself, hyping herself up as she walked through the front door of the gym.

“We’re closed, come back later,” the man that said that was easy to recognize, this was the guy that pulled you into all of this mess, he was the one responsible for your fighting. This was Davis.

“I need to talk to you,” she still approached him, a bit unsteady on her feet, but doing her best to appear calm and confident.

He looked up from his table and seemed to study her for a moment before taking his glasses off. “Listen lady, we are closed. Come back when we open.”

His tone was intimidating, and Barbara could tell that he was strong, and it scared her nearly enough to back away and come back later, but she couldn't do it. “I know you organize underground fights,” that absolutely got his attention, and he stood up, walking around the table as Barbara stood there, swallowing hard because she wasn't sure what would happen next.

“Do you, now?” he seemed intrigued for a moment as he tossed the glasses onto the table without care if they would break or not. “And what do you want? What's it to you?”

He was seeing through her, she knew that, he could tell she was frightened. “Let my friend quit,” because surely, he had something keeping you coming back. You kept coming back again and again even after you no longer needed that money, four thousand for a win wasn’t worth the pain, and she honestly feared that there was some kind of blackmail going on.

“Let your friend quit? I don't know what you think lady, but I'm not forcing anyone into anything and I don't know which friend you're talking about,” he stopped right in front of her and looked down into her eyes she wasn't sure how she didn't step back from him.

“Y/N,” Barbara looked up, glaring at him as she spoke your name, and his eyes widened. Good, so he knew just from your first name who she was talking about. “How do you keep her coming back? If she owes you anything give me some time and I'll pay it back, just stop making her fight,” she demanded, ready to do anything as long as it would help you stop fighting.

Yet Davis just laughed, making her step back in surprise. This was the last reaction she expected. “This is rich!” he clutched his stomach, hunching over because of how hard he was laughing. “No one is making her come to those fights she does it herself.”

“That's not true,” Barbara shook her head. That couldn't be true, that wasn't what you were doing. Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you intentionally go and do something that would only end up with you being hurt and you hurting other people if there wasn't some debt or blackmail involved?

He looked more amused than anything as he went and sat back down on his table at his table, and he pointed toward the chair in front of it. “Go ahead and sit,” he offered and reluctantly Barbara did sit down. “I can tell you don't really trust me so I won't offer any drinks,” it was that obvious, wasn't it? He must have noticed her panic and fear right from the start. Sometime she forgot how bad she was at hiding those.

“I can't trust you,” she shook her head, still in denial. “You must be lying, Y/N wouldn't-“ she tried to reason with herself more than anything.

“Well, she does. Look I don't ask questions, I just recruit fighters. You need to ask your friend why she keeps coming back. I have never borrowed her money, I don't hold a debt over her head, I have nothing to blackmail her with,” he sounded like he was just stating facts, like it was nothing to him that the people he recruited to fight all went back home bruised and hurting. “Hell, if anyone could blackmail anyone, it would be her because I am the one letting a woman fight all of those guys. And damn, she does it amazingly well!” he laughed. He actually laughed, as if he found it funny. “She keeps kicking their asses! Either way, the truth is she keeps coming back on her own.”

It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense. Why would you do this? That question kept repeating itself in her mind.

“Can you forbid her from coming? Do something? She keeps coming back home all bruised up and I can't watch it anymore? Please, if it’s money you want I’ll pay as much as you want,” she pleaded hoping to bring out some sympathy in him make him reconsider what all of this meant. How it affected you and everyone around you. And if sympathy wouldn’t work, money surely would, right?

Davis studied her and for a moment Barbara thought that she could reach some agreement with him. “Look,” but that one word change, the impression entirely, because no one started the sentence with ‘look’ and ended it the way she wanted it to end. “I could be the asshole and ask for your money, promise to try and actually forbid her from coming to fights I organize,” maybe this time things would be different, maybe the sentence would end in her favor. “It wouldn’t accomplish anything, she knows how this works. If she tried, she could find this kind of club anywhere in the world. I can tell her not to come back here and she'll just find another place,” all of her hopes vanished in an instant. “I can tell you this much, she isn't doing this for the money. She's fighting for the sake of fighting and why she does that I don't know, I don’t care, but if you're looking for a villain in this story it's whatever made her fight in the first place. Not me, and not her, your friend,” he paused and looked her dead in the eyes. “Something broke inside of her and she keeps coming back like she deserves all of the pain she gets in that ring.”

His words echoed in Barbara’s mind as he stood up and began picking up his things. “You can sit there for a few minutes and then you should leave. I'm closing this place soon.”

And he left her like that, not even giving her a moment to collect her thoughts on everything he said and respond.

What was there to say? He didn't know the story, but she did, he just gave her the exact words she needed. Something broke inside of you and she knew exactly what and exactly when. She just couldn't repair it, and she doubted that anyone could.

~X~

You lay on your bed with all the lights off, with no sounds or light anywhere around you, your windows closed, the door locked. It was like you just isolated the entire apartment from the rest of the world, not even the sound of rain penetrated through the thick walls. You just lay there, unconscious of the time passing as your body ached.

All you could think of were Barbara’s tears as she pleaded for you to stop fighting. How long would it be until she gives up on you as well. Until her family talks her into cutting contact. The moment they found out you fought they turned away from you, fearing you would drag Barbara into something much worse, that you would get violent with their daughter around. You would never let something like that happen, you fought, sure, but you would never resort to violence outside of an arranged fight unless you had to in order to keep someone safe. Yet, you didn’t blame them, Barbara was their daughter, it was natural for them to worry.

Your phone rang and you reluctantly pulled it out of your pocket and despite everything a smile reached your face when you saw it was Jenna.

“Lottery ticket validation, how may I help you?” you joked as you answered the phone and immediately you were rewarded by a soft sound of Jenna laughing.

“Oh my God, I finally reached you! You see, I had this ticket from like a month ago and I was wondering if you could check if it was still valid?” and she played right into the joke without skipping a beat.

“A month you say? Well, ma'am it really isn't our policy to validate tickets that are that out of date, but you sound like a beautiful woman, so sure. Give me your numbers and I'll see what I can do,” you were talking nonsense, but it felt so good to hear her voice.

“I sound like a beautiful woman? I sound like a kid!” she did sound a bit younger than she was, but whatever.

“Because you are a kid,” you chuckled. “Who else would play along with this joke?” your could tell she missed this too, even though you talked nearly every day. Still you haven't talked in three days so maybe she did have time to start missing this.

“Right,” you just knew she was rolling her eyes. “You're coming tomorrow, right?” she got to the point, and you could hear the excitement in her tone, but your smile fell from your lips. You wanted so desperately to see her, to hug her and spend time with her but the bruises from last night were still painful and you doubted it would get better by tomorrow.

But you would push through the pain because seeing her was more important than pretty much anything right now. Besides, you had the promise to keep, and you would be damned if you broke it. “Of course, Jen. I'll be there at around ten in the morning,” you told her, and you could imagine the grin on her face

“Great! I'll let you sleep now, rest well because I have plenty of things planned for tomorrow!” Jenna told you and you were tempted to ask her how well she slept. She was right though, you had to rest, so you would have to leave that for tomorrow.

“Sleep well, Jen,” you told her. “I'll see you tomorrow,” and with the simple ‘bye’ she hung up and you managed to pull yourself out of the stupor you were in just enough to turn the lights on and start getting ready for bed.

~X~

Jenna put her phone down on the night stand next to her bed, the smile on her face capable of illuminating the entire room.

“Someone looks happy,” Aliyah's teasing voice came from the bed above her, and Jenna rolled her eyes. “That was your crush wasn't it? That girl you worked with on Scream?” Jenna hated how right Aliyah was, but she wouldn't admit it. This satisfied tone of Aliyah’s voice was already a torture on its own and her younger sister did not need a confidence boost in that way.

“It was Y/N, but she is not my crush,” She wasn’t in denial, she really, well technically, wasn't lying. You really weren't her crush, you were more than a crush, she was pretty much in love and occasionally daydreaming about reuniting with you. She missed you, she missed eating breakfast with you, missed having you around at all times, missed snuggling up to you during the night as the two of you shared her bed. Her family was never going to find that part out, no matter what happened between the two of you.

“Really?” Aliyah leaned over her bed and smirked down at Jenna. “So how come you invited her over? You didn't do it with Maddie or with your other co-stars, I don't think you ever brought anyone from work here,” she pointed out that's one little annoying fact.

It really was true, she never brought anyone from work home, aside from her agent and Enrique, and some other people when they spent a while on her team, but her co-stars were never invited directly to her home. Sure her parents and some of her siblings would sometimes meet the people she filmed with, especially in her Disney days, but other than that this was definitely a first. She could still feel the blood rushing to her face making her blush so damn hard when she finally plucked up the courage to tell her parents you were coming over. In fact, the first one she told that was Enrique, and he teased the hell out of her, much like Aliyah was doing right now.

“She's just, I don't know, I feel deeper connection with her,” she tried to justify it, to explain why you were different without actually saying the words and admitting that she did in fact like you as more than a friend.

Aliyah studied her for a brief moment and for that brief period of time Jenna foolishly believed she would be left alone, that she could just turn around and try to fall asleep even though she was still very much struggling with her insomnia. It's gotten a lot worse since the two of you parted ways and she knew she would lay there awake for at least a few more hours. “You know you are going to confuse the hell out of that girl, don't you?” Aliyah suddenly said and Jenna nearly missed it.

“I'm sorry, what?” she didn't get what her sister was implying with that. She really wasn't aware of how she could possibly confuse you.

“Your book, dumbass,” and then it clicked, every single time she spoke of being in love with someone she didn't even leave it ambiguous, she wrote it as being in love with a guy, being with a guy. Back then that was actually more or less true, while she was writing her book she was still figuring everything out.

Granted, a lot of the final figuring shit out came with acknowledging how you made her feel, how much she wanted to be close to you and kiss you and feel your touch.

“Shit,” Jenna cursed under her breath. Aliyah laughed and only then did Jenna realize what she just implied.

“See? You like her!” there was nothing she could do to convince Aliyah she didn't. Deep down she thought that maybe she shouldn't, because it suddenly felt wrong to deny just how strong her feelings for you were.

“Fine, but you're wrong,” Jenna felt the blush engulfing her entire face as Aliyah raised an eyebrow, confused by the admission and what was in her mind probably a denial at the same time. “I don't have a crush on her, I actually think I’m in love,” she admitted and the grin on Aliyah’s face told her the confession was worth it. Her younger sister was completely fine with this.

Aliyah remained silent for a couple of minutes and Jenna thought she fell asleep, and then she went and said it. “Tell me if you need the room for yourself, okay?”

“Aliyah!” Jenna threw her pillow at the bottom of Aliyah’s bed, only for her sister to laugh and if she wasn’t already warm and comfortable Jenna would have seriously considered climbing up to Aliyah’s bed and smacking her. She did not need those thoughts making it even harder to fall asleep.

~X~

Several states away you actually dropped your phone on the floor. The pain in your body being almost too much to bear as you scrambled to open the bottle of painkillers. You downed two pills at once and swallowed them without even a drop of water before dropping the barely closed battle of pills next to you on the bed. You had to see Jenna tomorrow and yet you were still in so much pain, still so bruised and exhausted.

Jenna couldn't know. She couldn't notice anything, you wouldn't let her. If there was one thing you would absolutely make sure happened, it would be Jenna being spared from all of this. From your trauma, from your unhealthy habits, the fights and everything that came along with them, including the bruises and the pain. She was too gentle for all of this.

And you did not deserve it, yet you craved that gentleness and love radiating from her, and every time the guilt almost wrecked you for that need you just told yourself that you would stay far enough. That you would keep that distance and wouldn't cross the line and get involved with her more than you already were.

Come hell or high water Jenna would never know two things, that you were involved in the fights and how you felt about her.

~X~

It was relatively early when you came to Coachella Valley. You still felt some pain from the fight but you could hide it fairly well. No one could tell you were in pain by looking at how you walked or moved, as long as you didn’t do any physically demanding things, you would be fine. Jenna was perceptive though, so you wouldn't put it past her to figure out something was wrong. Luckily she was also about as far from pushy as one could get so while she might get suspicious she wouldn't push you into telling her what actually happened.

You managed to find a coffee shop Jenna told you about. And quite easily actually, you just walked up to a local and asked for directions and here you were. If everything was right, and you followed the directions correctly, you would just turn the corner and see the coffee shop. And you just stopped right there on the street. You would see Jenna very soon, maybe immediately after turning the corner.

There was a nasty voice inside of your head saying this wasn't fair to her, that if she knew what you did, she wouldn't want to have anything to do with you. That you were letting her put time and effort into a friendship that could very easily fall apart and turn into dust the moment the truth came out.

Yet you selfishly wished to see her, you wished to hold her and if it would be the very last time then so be it. You desperately clung to her, to this new bond you created with her, and you desperately hoped it wouldn't fade away. While simultaneously promising to yourself that if she at any point decided, for any reason, to cut contact with you that you would not blame her for one single second. With that in mind you turned the corner ready to face her.

The plan for today was simple, you and Jenna would meet up, hang out, maybe go for a walk so she could show you the place she grew up in, and then you’d go with her to her parents’ house for lunch. And depending on how things went and how much time you had left you would watch Logan with her.

You saw her waiting near the entrance, wearing a nice blue sweater and jeans, her hair was a bit wavy and of course she had her headphones around her neck. “Jen!” you called out to her and her face immediately lit up when she saw you. That same voice that was telling you you did not deserve this kind of reaction from her was getting more quiet by the second, silenced by how good it felt to see her once more. She met you in the middle of the street and immediately jumped into your arms, hugging you tightly and it felt so good to hold her again, even if your muscles protested when you lifted her up for a moment. You lowered her back to the ground and felt her tightening her hold on you as she got on her toes and kissed your cheek and that voice was silenced completely, at least for now.

You made wrong life choices, but you still deserved something good, right? Surely you haven't fallen that far down that you didn't deserve to be happy for one day without feeling guilty.

“It’s so good to see you, again,” she muttered, neither of you in a rush to end the hug just yet.

“You can say that again,” your voice came out in a shaky whisper, betraying your anxiety, but it could be written off as you just being overcome with happiness at seeing her again. Eventually though you had to let her go, you did have to keep in mind that someone might recognize Jenna if you stayed on the street for too long and so the two of you separated.

“Come on,” she still took your hand as you walked into the coffee shop and ordered your drinks.

Jenna picked out a secluded corner of the coffee shop so the two of you could talk in peace. You pulled a chair out for Jenna and bowed a bit, motioning toward it with a goofy grin on your face. Jenna rolled her eyes, used to some of your antics. She still sat down and let you push her chair closer to the table before sitting down. “How do you like Coachella so far?” she asked as she leaned forward a bit, her focus was solely on you, and you felt the intensity of her gaze.

“Verdict to be decided, but so far so good,” you told her as you damn near mirrored her posture, you definitely leaned closer to her.

“I’ll have to show you all the good places,” she made it clear that this wouldn’t be the only time she expected to have you visit her. And you were willing to bet she wanted you to spend more than half a day with her as well. Maybe book a hotel room and stay a few days, that would probably work.

Maybe you could actually do that. “I’ll be counting on you. So, any new projects?” you knew she couldn’t talk much about them, just clarify if she would be busy.

For some reason she was blushing and maybe it was due to the project she would do in the near future. “Yes, actually. I have a movie in New Zealand next year, probably around February, and some voice acting as well,” she didn’t say much, she couldn’t, but she did give you a bit of a timeline. Enough to know where she would be. “You?”

“Well, there is that psychological thriller in Italy. That's confirmed and if everything goes as planned that should be in January,” Jenna hummed when you said that, clearly supportive of the idea. You were much more relaxed about things you talked about. You certainly knew when to shut up, but this was Jenna, and you trusted her. Well, regardless of that, there really wasn’t anything about the plot revealed in what you said.

“I can’t wait to see you in that role,” she told you, genuinely happy for you. “It’s based on a book, right? Who is the author?”

“Donato Carrisi, wrote a bunch of books, including The House of Voices that the movie will be based on, though very loosely,” you told her and abruptly stopped talking as you noticed the girl working in the coffee shop bringing you your drinks.

You and Jenna thanked the girl, and you quickly paid before Jenna could even get the chance.

“Come on,” she rolled her eyes as she put away her wallet. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Some other time,” you winked at her and chuckled when she immediately looked down, she was so fun and easy to tease at times like these.

She cleared her throat. “Is there anything else you are looking into?”

You hesitated for a moment, but then figured, what the hell. “Hugh wants to do a movie together, and this script is kind of hitting close to home. I think that's intentional on his part, I auditioned for it, but we’ll see how it goes,” you might have said too much, not about the movie or the role, but about how close to home it hit

And, of course, Jenna picked up on it. “Close to home how?” she asked, she could see the slight hesitation and it probably worried her.

“Just,” you paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Mirrors my own relationship with Hugh quite a bit,” yeah, that will do. It wasn't a lie, it really did mirror that particular bond you had. “It's kind of complicated,” and then your eyes widened because it didn't sound right, in fact it sounded really wrong. “It's not like that!” you quickly sat up straight and raised your hand before Jenna could overthink things.

She looked startled by your sudden reaction, but she just tilted her head to the side, silently urging you to explain yourself.

Fuck, you should have paid more attention to what you were saying. “Look, whatever you're thinking, it's not a bad thing. It's just personal,” she relaxed at that and you could feel yourself calming down as well. “Hugh was there for me during a tough period of my life, and he's still a huge support for me, and the movie kind of has that kind of similar relationship between our characters. It just feels personal,” you tried to explain to the best of your ability without actually talking about what happened.

You just weren’t ready for that conversation, and this wasn’t the place for it either.

You could see a relief washing over Jenna when you said that and she sank back into her seat, as if all of the tension within her just fading away with those words. “OK, I was getting worried there for a second,” Jenna chuckled a bit, but you could tell it was still an uneasy chuckle, so you stood up and went to hug her from behind.

She immediately relaxed into the hug, and you found yourself cursing the chair for putting a barrier between you. “I'm OK, Jen, I'm fine,” you assured her, resting your chin on her shoulder and she turned slightly to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah?” she whispered, and you nodded not trusting your voice to say the words she wanted to hear.

Jenna hugged you back one of her hands reaching up around your neck while the other she placed on top of your hand. Neither of you noticed a phone pointed towards the two of you before you separated, and you went back to your seat.

“So, tell me about this place?” you suggested, and it got Jenna talking. Before you knew it, you were walking all around the place, seeing all the best spots as Jenna led you anywhere she thought you’d like. Which of course eventually led you to a park similar to the one you ended up hanging out in when you first met up to get to know each other better.

“Now this is kinda nostalgic,” you laughed as the two of you sat on a bench, and just looked at the sky. Well this time it wasn't the night sky and you couldn't see the stars, but the cloudy sky above you was fairly nice to look at as well. It looked a bit depressing, but at least it wasn’t raining.

“Yeah, I remember how much my mom panicked when I spent so much time with you the first time around,” Jenna blurted out and blushed as she remembered that night.

You just hummed and leaned your head back. “That actually sounds nice, embarrassing, but nice,” you said earning the light elbow to your side which nearly made you hunch over because she hit the bruise right in the center. You somehow managed to hide your pain by making the wince sound like fake. You were an actress, after all.

“Yeah sure, that hurt so much! Do you see any muscles on my arms?” Jenna teased and actually went and flexed her biceps, and well, she wasn’t joking.

The two of you laughed and then Jenna just leaned her head on your shoulder. “I really-“ she began but your phone suddenly rang and she paused waiting for you to pick it up.

You didn’t really feel like picking up, you were content like this. “It's fine, what were you about to say?” you encouraged her to keep talking, but she just pointed at your pocket silently telling you to pick up your phone. “Fine, fine,” you pulled your phone out and saw it was Barbara calling you.

You didn’t notice Jenna frowning a bit when she saw Barbara’s name on the screen.

“Yes? What is it?” you faked being annoyed though the smile on your face gave you away.

“Asshole says what?” oh, she was playing that game. You guessed you could humor her this once. You actually deserved it for everything.

“What?” you rolled your eyes.

Barbara’s laugh sounded hollow, and you made a mental note to talk to her and see what was wrong. “Ah, just forget about that. Where are you?” she asked and for a moment that guilt came back. Since the fight Barbara's been extra worried about you, even more so than usual, and you knew she probably just forgot that you were meeting up with Jenna today.

“I'm with Jenna in Coachella,” you told her and moved your phone away from your ear before pointing at the speaker and raising an eyebrow. Jenna nodded, giving you the permission to put Barbara on the speaker.

“She's with me, I'm Jenna, by the way,” Jenna confirmed, and you both heard a sigh of relief from the other side. And then you heard Barbara snickering. She was worried about you, which didn’t mean she could not tease you.

“Well now, that's-“ you knew where this was going and you had to stop it. You would not survive Barbara’s teasing right now.

“I am busy! Talk to you later! Bye! Do not call me again, I'll call you back!” you hastily hung up before she could reply, and Jenna just stared at you in utter disbelief. “Remember what Enrique did to you when we last met?” she nodded, blushing at the memory of all the times you and Enrique made her blush. “Barbara is much, much worse, trust me this was for the best,” the amount of teasing Barbara could dish out when she wanted was horrifying.

Jenna looked a bit disappointed. “I actually wanted to see that, it would be fun to see you flustered,” yeah, you figured that would be fair after all the teasing she endured. She’d likely get to see it, eventually, but not today. “Barbara is your best friend, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, she is actually kind of like a sister to me. Barbara's family is a bit smaller than yours, but all of her siblings are a decade or more older than her, so she spent most of her time playing with me and not them,” you explained, thinking back to your childhood. It was almost a perfect match, you being an only child and Barbara’s siblings being that much older.

“And she's the one that was in your apartment when you came back from filming Scream?” Jenna asked a bit cautiously and you weren't sure why. The audio message was fairly clear. At least you believed it was.

“Yeah, she is that menace. The trespasser,” you replied, snickering as you remembered just how many times Barbara barged into your place. “I swear they were meant to name her barbaric, but someone mixed up the letters,” you noticed Jenna mood dropping and turned to see a frown on her face. You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “What's wrong?” you asked gently.

“It's nothing, forget about it,” she dismissed it and even took it a step further and forced a smile. It didn’t suit her. In your mind Jenna should never have to force a smile.

“Please, let me fix what I did,” you leaned in closer and placed your hand on hers. “I said or did something to upset you.”

Jenna looked down and just pulled out her phone and the messages with you, and she scrolled up for a while which only made you more worried, until she reached the familiar photo you sent her and the audio message. Surprisingly she hit play.

“And this is the nuisance I found at home. Can you believe my luck? I wouldn't be surprised if she actually spent the two months at my apartment because that's just the way she is,” you cringed at the sound of your voice but then you looked at the message and saw it still had a long way to go until the end and your jaw dropped.

“Lies! All lies! Y/N loves having me around,” Barbara's voice came next, and that wasn’t how things were supposed to be! You could have sword you sent the message right after you finished talking. But there was no denying it, the message continued.

“You do know having someone around also means being there with them, and not in another state while you crash as their apartment, right?” and that wasn't the end yet and you cursed yourself for not paying attention back when you sent it. Still nothing either of you said was something worth getting worried about, especially for Jenna

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say babe,” oh… There it was.

“Fuck my life. God, that actually- this is the worst,” you buried your face in your hands and groaned out of frustration. “That's just a stupid inside joke. It doesn't mean anything, I swear it's just a stupid habit we picked up because I hated being called like that, and Barbara was being an annoying shit, and then it turned into an inside joke,” you tried to explain, fumbling slightly and overexplaining yourself, while at the same time missing Jenna smiling even brighter with every word of explanation you were giving her. And then it hit you.

Why were you explain yourself like Jenna was your girlfriend?

“You know we are just friends, right? You don't need to explain yourself to me,” Jenna pointed out and you desperately wanted the ground to open up underneath you and swallow you because that was right. You and Jenna were just friends!

And that meant…

You sat up straight an looked at her in disbelief, and she just burst out laughing. She got you good, the actress. “Unbelievable,” you shook your head, now more amused than anything that you fell for Jenna’s trick.

“Still, your best friend is beautiful, maybe I should get you to give me her number or something,” she did not just ask that of you.

And you did not suddenly feel jealous. Not in the slightest.

“Tough luck Ortega, Barbara is so straight you could use her as a spirit level,” you spoke dryly sending Jenna into another burst of laughter. “In fact, she is so straight she is like a black hole of straightness. She sucks straightness out of other people and becomes even straighter. It's a known fact and her constant struggle in love life stems from that. One day, when you meet her, she will confirm this story, there were so many examples of this,” it was funny the first several times, now it was just sad.

“Oh my God, you are such a goofball,” Jenna slapped your knee, and she looked at you, gasping for air as tears filled her eye from how hard she’s been laughing. “I really missed you,” she said and you pulled her in for an one-armed hug.

“I missed you too, more than you can imagine,” you told her.

~X~

One of the most nerve-wracking things about being a parent of a celebrity was just how many different people that child would meet and interact with. Sure, some of them were great and amazing, lovable people, but Natalie also got to know plenty of people who were the exact opposite. She was well-aware of just how many people weren’t actually on Jenna’s side, or even neutral. And she knew there was no way she knew everything, she knew Jenna was hiding things. From something as difficult to hide as her struggles with insomnia, to who knows what. Natalie didn’t dare to imagine. Jenna had grown to be very careful about who she let in, and this has never happened before. She has never invited a co-star to her home to meet all of them.

And now it was even raining. It wasn't that bad, but she knew Jenna didn't bring an umbrella along, so she just hoped the two of you stopped by somewhere and decided to wait it out.

So, understandably, she was nervous, fidgeting with the sleeves of her blouse. She met you briefly back when you and Jenna had the chemistry test and you seemed like a good kid, and from what Jenna told her, you were incredibly supportive throughout the filming of Scream.

“Jenna will be fine mom, you should have seen her this morning. She was panicking and going through her closet like crazy,” Aliyah, assured her but those words only brought even more worry to Natalie’s mind.

It was clear by now that Jenna didn't see you as a friend. That what her daughter felt were romantic feelings, and that scared her even more. Her baby had just turned eighteen mere months ago. And she knew how some people still were, she was worried that relationship with a woman would cause problems for Jenna.

And then a sound she didn't expect to hear echoed through the house. Jenna and someone else, clearly you, laughing. The laughter was unrestrained and free from the usual forced sounds Jenna made. Natalie got up, exchanging surprised glance with her husband just as Jenna and you walked into the living room with Jenna holding your hand as both of you still laughed. You were only wearing T-shirt, which wasn’t appropriate for this time of the year. A simple, plain dark green T-shirt that was now wet from the rain wouldn’t be enough to shield you from the cold, but one glance at Jenna explained everything. Jenna had a black and red jacket on, and it definitely wasn't her jacket. It was too big for Jenna, easily engulfing her smaller frame, so it was clearly your jacket.

“OK, that was unexpected,” you laughed and then as if being out of the rain bursts some bubble the two of you were in, you completely froze and looked around like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh, hi,” you greeted them kind of awkwardly and Jenna lightly elbowed you on the side. “Right, sorry that was awkward,” you apologized, smiling at them. “It's nice meeting you all, I'm Y/N L/N,” you greeted them properly this time and it finally made her family get over the initial surprise and the first impression of you.

“I'm just going to drag her to my room and let her borrow one of dad's shirt,” Jenna grinned and took your hand, pulling you up the stairs before any of them could react properly.

“Jenna likes her,” Markus commented, and Aliyah snorted at that.

“You guys have no idea,” her youngest daughter said and the worst part about it was that Natalie believed her. After all, she was the one sharing bedroom with Jenna when Jenna came home, so if anyone would know, it would be Aliyah.

~X~

Jenna pulled you along to her bedroom, well her childhood bedroom to be precise, not realizing the disaster that was about to happen. All the excitement and emotions she was feeling right now made her forget the mess she left behind when she left this morning, so she opened the doors and froze, causing you to bump slightly into her. The room was a mess, it looked like a tornado went through it, her bed was covered by different articles of clothing different shirts and tops and skirts and jeans and everything else and her chair wasn't doing any better. The pile on top of it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her entire closet was messily arranged all over every surface she could have used.

You could not be allowed to see this, but then she realized you were right behind her and curse you, you were much taller than her. So, there was no going back right now, she hung her head in shame and pulled you in. “It's not like this all the time, I swear. I was just nervous this morning,” she tried to save face and she was telling the truth! Just last night the room was perfectly clean, but this amount of mess really wasn’t making her look good. “Fuck, what are you going to think about me now?” she buried her face in her hands in frustration and shame and then felt your hands around her waist pulling her back into you.

“You're good, it's kind of endearing actually,” you whispered in her ear. “Just breathe,” she barely even recognized the early signs of a panic attack though this definitely would have caused one. Yet you caught on to them immediately and she felt herself calming down bit by bit. “I'm flattered,” you admitted as she leaned her head back on your shoulder. She’s been missing this ever since you both went home. This feeling when you were close to her, holding her, she took a deep breath, calming down.

“I swear, you are too calm sometimes,” she put her hands over your hands and leaned back, looking up so she could look you in the eyes. There it was, that gentle, loving look, and she could almost see herself getting up to her toes and kissing you. She restrained that urge and reluctantly pulled away from you to take off the jacket you gave her, you really were a lifesaver, as this sweater would be a pain in the ass to dry. She cleared out some space on her chair and hung the jacket over it. You insisted on giving her your jacket even though it probably would have been more fair if she was the one who had to change clothes now. As it was, she was perfectly dry since your jacket had the hood on it and you were wet from the rain. “You need anything else aside from shirt?” Jenna asked and you looked yourself over.

“No, it's all good just a shirt and then I'll go and dry my hair if you don't mind,” your hair wasn't all that wet it was mostly just damp from the rain so there was some luck. At least you wouldn’t get sick and she wouldn’t have to kick herself for not paying more attention to the weather forecast last night.

“Right, I could have just taken you to the bathroom right away, but no you had to see this mess,” she lamented and went to her parents room to grab her dad's shirt and a towel for you.

“Hush you, I just made the worst first impression in the history of first impressions,” she could tell you believed that, but you actually did the opposite. Their first impression of you was her laughing, their first impression of you was you in a T-shirt with Jenna wearing your jacket. That wasn't a bad first impression, that was anything but that in one simple moment you proved to her family that Jenna could be comfortable with you, and that you put her needs above your own. So what if you went and greeted them a bit awkwardly?

“Sure, keep telling yourself that. They are going to love you,” she told you as she handed you the shirt and the towel and pointed at the bathroom “Now I’ll go and clean up my room a bit and you can bring the shirt to my room,” she had a mischievous smile on her face as she poked you. “And I'm keeping it, just so you know. Both the shirt and the jacket, so you have an excuse to come over again,” she winked at you, and you just shook your head.

“Like I need an excuse to come and visit you,” the smile on your face told her everything and before her emotions could get the better of her and she acted on certain urges she occasionally had throughout the day, she pushed you into the bathroom and rushed back to her room to start folding all of the clothes she left lying around.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

A/N: Guess who did some brief research and found out that underground street fight clubs aren’t always illegal? 🤣🤣 That’s right! Me! Anyway, to be perfectly honest, I planned on posting two chapters at once tonight, but then I figured that was ridiculous, so here, a slightly longer chapter for you all. (Chapter 8 was supposed to be Jenna and Reader hanging out, so original chapter 7 would have felt a lot angstier without that half)

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Brat Tamer | JJ Maybank

summary: You underestimate JJ when it comes to sex

pairing: JJ Maybank x black!readee

word count: 7,942

warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (m&f), face slapping, rough sex

AN: I’m high yall so when I started writing i literally could not stop .. and now here we are! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

________________

The summer heat was stifling, heavy enough to make tempers flare. But you didn’t sweat—ever. Not physically, not metaphorically. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of July in the Outer Banks or someone testing your patience—you stayed cool.

Today was no exception. You sat at your usual table on The Wreck’s patio, long legs crossed and nails tapping against your lemonade glass. Freshly manicured, your nails caught the sunlight in a way that was impossible to ignore. The poor waiter had already tried twice to get your drink order right, but still, the lemonade didn’t taste like what you asked for.

“Listen, baby,” you said, your voice syrupy-sweet but laced with edge. “How hard is it to add strawberries? I know y’all got ‘em. I can see them behind the counter.”

The boy stammered something about checking again, and you waved him off, exhaling in annoyance. “Can’t find good help no more,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair.

Across the patio, JJ Maybank lounged in his seat, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he tilted his head to watch you. He wasn’t subtle. That amused grin tugging at his lips wasn’t, either.

“She’s somethin’ else,” JJ said, low enough for only Pope to hear.

You caught him staring, though. You always caught them staring. But JJ didn’t look away like most people did when you locked eyes with them. No, he leaned into it, smirking like he knew something about you that you didn’t.

You let it slide for now, but when the waiter returned with your drink, still wrong, your patience hit zero. “You know what?” you said, voice sharp as the click of your heels as you stood. “Forget it. I’ll make it myself.”

You stalked toward the bar, every step calculated, hips swaying just enough to make sure everyone knew you were somebody. On your way, though, you couldn’t resist stopping at JJ’s table, your shadow falling across him.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say, or are you just gon’ keep gawkin’ like a lost puppy?” Your words were pointed, but your tone was teasing, a challenge wrapped in silk.

JJ slid his sunglasses off, eyes a piercing blue that raked over you slowly, boldly. “Maybe I’m just waitin’ for you to bite first.”

That made you pause. You leaned closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne and whatever mischief was brewing in those eyes of his. “Boy, you couldn’t handle it if I did.”

“Try me,” he said, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten.

You studied him for a beat longer than you meant to, then tilted your head, a slow smirk spreading across your lips. “Cute,” you said, straightening and taking a step back. “But I don’t do charity cases.”

JJ chuckled, low and gravelly, as you walked away. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

You didn’t stop, but you tossed a look over your shoulder, the curve of your smile enough to keep him hooked. “Don’t hold your breath, Maybank.”

But as you made your way behind the bar, the heat wasn’t just from the summer sun anymore.

The sun was setting now, casting the Outer Banks in golden light, but JJ Maybank wasn’t about to let you go that easily. Something about the way you dismissed him—like he wasn’t worth your time—lit a fire in him.

You weren’t his usual type. You were high maintenance, all diamonds and designer sandals. The kind of girl who expected the world handed to her on a platter. But damn, if you weren’t intriguing. Sharp tongue, sharp wit, and sharp enough to cut through his charm like a knife.

He stood up from his table, sliding his hands into his pockets as he watched you behind the bar, instructing the staff like you were running the place. Maybe you were. He wouldn’t put it past you.

When you turned, you spotted him leaning against the bar, watching. You rolled your eyes. “What now, Maybank?”

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, grinning as he stepped closer. “Figured you were too busy bossin’ everyone around.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” you shot back, resting your forearms on the counter. You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without a shred of hesitation. “Now, you followin’ me, or you just lost?”

JJ leaned in, closing the distance between you until your faces were inches apart. His voice dropped low, just for you. “Maybe I’m both.”

You blinked, your composure slipping for half a second before you masked it with a scoff. “Cute. But if you’re lookin’ for a handout, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

He smirked, catching the faint crack in your facade. “Who said anything about a handout? Maybe I just like a challenge.”

“You? A challenge?” You laughed, leaning back, but your pulse betrayed you. He was too close, his presence electric, and you hated that it was working. “Boy, please.”

JJ’s eyes traveled down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess. But you’re the one still talkin’ to me.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but nothing came out. He had you, just for a second, and he knew it. That smirk widened, lazy and confident.

Before you could regain the upper hand, JJ stepped back, breaking the tension just enough to leave you wanting more. “Enjoy your drink,” he said, turning on his heel and sauntering away, his swagger as cocky as ever.

You stayed where you were, blinking, wondering how the hell you let him get the last word. But as you watched him disappear into the crowd, you felt it—that little spark of curiosity burning hotter than you wanted to admit.

JJ Maybank had your attention, and that was dangerous. For both of you.

The night rolled in, and the soft glow of fairy lights strung around The Wreck gave the place a dreamy vibe. You stayed longer than you planned, sitting at your table and letting the warm breeze dance over your skin. If you were honest with yourself, you were waiting.

Waiting to see if JJ Maybank had the audacity to come back.

You didn’t have to wait long.

“Thought you might still be here,” his voice drawled from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder, arching a brow. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, his T-shirt clinging to him in all the right ways, his hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of trouble.

“And what if I am?” you asked, turning back to your drink and swirling the straw lazily.

JJ took it as an invitation, sliding into the seat across from you like he owned it. “Figured you’d want some company. Can’t be easy keepin’ up that mean girl act all by yourself.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Oh, trust, I’m not actin’.”

“That so?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The way he looked at you wasn’t casual. It was deliberate, like he was daring you to react. And as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it.

“You must be real bored,” you said, leaning back and crossing your legs. “Or just desperate. I can’t decide which one’s worse.”

JJ chuckled, low and rough. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

“‘Bout what?”

“‘Bout you,” he said simply. “You act like you got it all figured out, but I think you like pushin’ people away just to see who’s stupid enough to stick around.”

The words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you leaned in, lowering your voice. “And you think you’re stupid enough?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again. “I think I can handle you.”

“Boy I’ll break you,” you scoffed, laughing softly. “You couldn’t handle half of me.”

“I dunno,” he said, his voice dropping, rougher now. “You seem like the kind of girl who likes seein’ people try.”

You stared at him, your stomach flipping in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t wrong. You liked the game, liked the power it gave you. But this wasn’t just any guy trying to impress you. JJ was playing your game and flipping the rules, making you wonder if you could keep up.

Before you could respond, he reached across the table, brushing his fingers against the back of your hand. It wasn’t much, just a light touch, but it sent a jolt through you.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t pull your hand away. You didn’t say anything. But the heat between you was undeniable, sparking in the space neither of you dared to cross just yet.

“Good,” JJ said after a beat, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Means I’m gettin’ somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching your hand away and shaking your head. “Keep dreamin’, Maybank.”

But you didn’t leave. Neither did he. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over.

The tension hung heavy between you and JJ, crackling like a live wire. You told yourself you were just bored, letting him hang around for entertainment. But deep down, you knew better.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk firmly in place as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And maybe he did.

“So, what’s your deal, princess?” JJ asked, breaking the silence.

“My deal?” You arched a brow, stirring your drink as if you weren’t fazed. “What’s yours? What’s a Pogue like you doing sniffin’ around Figure Eight?”

He grinned, the kind of grin that said he didn’t care what you thought of him. “Maybe I just like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you don’t know when you’re out of your depth,” you shot back, tilting your head.

JJ chuckled, leaning forward again. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I think you like that about me. You’re used to all those Kook boys doing whatever you say. Bet you don’t know what to do with someone who doesn’t play by your rules.”

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a line. He wasn’t wrong, but you’d never admit that. Instead, you let a slow, teasing smile curve your lips. “And you think you’re that someone?”

He held your gaze, his blue eyes piercing. “I know I am.”

The confidence in his voice made your stomach flip. You leaned closer, your faces inches apart now, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Boy, I could ruin you without even trying.”

“Do it,” he said, the challenge thick in his tone. “I dare you.”

The air between you felt suffocating, your heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, you wondered what it would feel like. You were a different breed, JJ would have his dick tucked, crying back to his friends if you got a hold of him

You could feel the heat between you intensify, like everything around you faded out, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. His gaze flicked down to your lips again, and you caught your breath, heart pounding as the words left your lips before you could stop them.

“Don’t tempt me, Maybank,” you murmured, the edge of your voice betraying the control you were trying to hold onto.

JJ’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it only deepened. “Then maybe you need to be reminded of how good it feels when someone calls your bluff. Maybe those kook boys don’t fuck you good enough, but me? I’ll fuck you just right.”

Your hand twitched, the urge to push him away—or pull him closer—fighting for dominance. But you stayed still, your breath shallow as you stared at him, a slow burn crawling beneath your skin. The space between you seemed to close with each passing second, and you fought the impulse to give in. To give him what he wanted.

He leaned forward, so close now that his breath was warm against your cheek. “I know you feel it, too. That thing between us. Don’t act like you don’t.”

You took a slow breath, the sharpness in your tone returning as you shoved the fire creeping up in your chest down. “You’re right,” you said, voice quieter now. “I feel it. But don’t get it twisted, Maybank. This little game of yours? It’s gonna cost you.”

JJ’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something darker. He leaned in just a little more, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I’m counting on it, princess.”

You froze. The tension was unbearable now, and for the first time, you felt that little bit of control slipping. But you weren’t about to let him see that. Not yet.

You pulled back quickly, putting a few inches of space between you, eyes narrowing as you gave him a look that said you wouldn’t back down. “You talk a big game, but can you actually keep up?”

JJ’s smirk never wavered, the cocky confidence radiating from him. “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He stood up, slowly, never taking his eyes off you. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

As he walked away, you watched him, heart pounding in your chest, a mix of frustration and desire swirling inside you. The game was only just beginning, and you weren’t sure who would end up winning. But one thing was clear—he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you.

The days that followed were a blur of half-hearted attempts to focus on anything else. You were used to getting what you wanted, on your terms. But ever since JJ Maybank had come into your life, it was like everything shifted just a little. He was everywhere. The way he looked at you, the way he challenged you—it made your head spin.

You weren’t used to this.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself back at The Wreck, seated at your usual spot with a drink in hand, waiting for your friends. You told yourself you were just there for a good time, not to see if JJ would show up again. But as the minutes ticked by, you found your eyes wandering to the front door with the hope that he’d walk through it.

And, of course, he did.

JJ strolled in with that same lazy swagger, looking like he’d just stepped out of a beachside magazine shoot. He scanned the room, and for a second, his eyes locked onto yours. You narrowed your eyes at him, giving him the cold shoulder, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you couldn’t ignore the way his lips twitched when he saw you.

Without breaking eye contact, he made his way over to your table, sliding into the seat across from you without asking. His grin was cocky as ever. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “And what? You think I’m just gonna follow you around now?”

“I think you can’t stay away,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping a little lower. “I think you like the game. And you’re not ready to let me win yet.”

You huffed, trying to mask the little flutter in your chest. “Keep dreamin’, Maybank.”

But he didn’t back off. Instead, his gaze slid over you, slowly, deliberately, making your pulse quicken. He was testing you, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you.

“I’m not dreamin’, princess,” he said softly, his voice almost too low for anyone else to hear. “I’m just enjoyin’ the view.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your cheeks flush, but you kept your face neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his words had landed. Instead, you leaned forward, your lips curving into a playful smirk.

“Is that so? You sure you’re not just tryin’ to get under my skin?”

JJ’s smirk widened, and for the briefest moment, you saw something more in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper. But it was gone before you could name it. He leaned in, mirroring your posture, his face only inches from yours.

“I think it’s working,” he said, voice thick with something dangerous. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t feel it.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

JJ’s gaze flicked to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You don’t have to admit it, princess. But I know you’re just as interested as I am.”

You stood quickly, your chair scraping back as you leaned over the table, the distance between you vanishing in an instant. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Maybank.”

His smile didn’t falter. He leaned forward just enough to close the gap, his lips barely brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Maybe I’m just waitin’ for you to show me, then.”

The electric tension that shot through your body in that moment was undeniable. Your heart raced, pulse throbbing in your ears. You hated how much you wanted him—how much you wanted to break and let him win.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you pulled away, your composure returning as you straightened up. “Nice try, but I don’t do charity cases.”

JJ laughed low and easy, sitting back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. “We’ll see about that, princess.”

You walked away, but this time, you didn’t feel the relief you usually did. You knew something had shifted, and you couldn’t deny the pull toward him any longer.

And, somehow, you didn’t want to.

It was getting harder to ignore the pull, the way JJ seemed to be everywhere you went, always so damn close. The chemistry was undeniable, and every interaction felt like an unspoken dare. But the game was far from over. You weren’t about to let him think he had you figured out just yet.

But you also couldn’t help the way your body responded when he was near. Every time he got close, you could feel it—this electric charge between you that made it hard to breathe. You didn’t know whether to run or lean in, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy for him.

It was late one evening when you finally cracked.

The Wreck was quieter than usual, the late-night crowd thinned out, leaving the place with a calm, almost intimate atmosphere. You were sitting at the bar, swirling your drink in your hands, letting your thoughts drift. That’s when you felt the familiar presence.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was JJ. You could feel him, his eyes on you, drawing you in even from across the room.

“Couldn’t stay away?” he asked, his voice smooth, almost too confident.

You looked up at him, keeping your expression neutral. “What do you want, Maybank?”

He slid onto the stool next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body radiating into yours. “I told you, I’m just curious. Still don’t think you can handle it?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else lurking beneath it—something darker.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the temptation to let your guard down almost overwhelming. “I’m sure you don’t know the meaning of the word ‘handle,’” you shot back, though your words were laced with more heat than you cared to admit.

“Think I don’t?” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering, sending a shiver through you. “I can handle you. I think that’s exactly why you keep tryin’ to push me away.”

You looked at him, eyes locking. The intensity between you was suffocating, the kind of tension that had been building between you for days now. There was no going back.

Without thinking, you slid off your stool, standing right in front of him, so close you could feel the heat from his body envelop you. “Don’t try to act like you know me, JJ,” you said, voice steady despite the wild pounding of your heart. “You couldn’t handle a girl like me.”

His eyes darkened, lips parting slightly as he leaned in, not giving you any space to escape. “I think I could.” His voice was a growl, a soft challenge hanging in the air between you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you almost couldn’t breathe. The way he was looking at you, the way his body was just inches from yours—it was too much, and yet, you wanted more.

He reached for your wrist, gently pulling you closer. You could feel the calloused warmth of his hand against your skin, a contrast to the softness of your own. “I’m not some Kook who’s gonna back down,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “I’ll push you until you can’t stand it. Until you beg for mercy.” He licked your ear.

You swallowed, your chest rising and falling with each breath, your heart a wild mess in your chest. You wanted to fight him, wanted to say something, anything, to push him away. But it was hard to find the words when everything in you screamed to just give in.

Instead, you pushed him back, just slightly, your voice barely a whisper. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

JJ’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, the one that said he was already three steps ahead. “I’m counting on it.”

Without another word, he let you go, standing up slowly and walking toward the door, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You stood there for a long moment, struggling to collect yourself. But something inside you knew you weren’t done with him. Neither of you were. The line had been crossed.

And you both knew there was no going back.

It had been weeks since that night, and the tension between you and JJ hadn’t let up. If anything, it had only grown. There were still moments when you’d catch him looking at you with that cocky grin, like he knew something you didn’t, and then there were moments when he’d be all too serious, like he was trying to figure you out.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Your friends had dragged you out to a house party on the outskirts of the Outer Banks. The house was packed with Kooks and Pogues, loud music blaring from the speakers, people laughing and dancing like the world didn’t exist beyond this moment. You told yourself you were just here for the fun, to forget about everything else for a while. But you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

JJ Maybank was the last person you wanted to see tonight. And the first person you were hoping would show up.

You had been making your way through the crowd when you saw him—standing in the corner, drink in hand, with that same lazy confidence he wore like armor. His hair was slightly damp from the heat of the room, his shirt clinging to his chest, and that smirk? It was there, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

You paused, watching him for a beat. It was almost like he was waiting for you to come to him.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Instead, you found your friends and tried to lose yourself in the chaos, but it didn’t take long before JJ was on your radar again. You could feel his eyes on you, and every time you turned around, he was closer, moving through the crowd like he owned the place.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had been avoiding him long enough.

“Hey, princess,” JJ’s voice was low and smooth, right behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned, almost too quickly, your eyes locking with his. “What do you want, Maybank?” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his gaze slid over you made your chest tighten.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was something else in it—something deeper. “But I think I already know the answer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

JJ grinned, stepping closer, his body just a few inches away from yours now. The air between you was thick with tension, like a magnet pulling you toward him whether you liked it or not. “You’re thinking about me.” His eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, before meeting your gaze again. “Aren’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you hated that it was so obvious. But you weren’t going to let him win so easily. “Not as much as you think, Maybank,” you said, though your voice was a little less convincing than you intended.

JJ chuckled, a sound that made your stomach tighten. “You keep lying to yourself, princess. But you can’t lie to me.”

You tried to step back, but JJ’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist gently. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. I know you want this.”

The feel of his hand on your skin was like fire, and the tension that had been building for weeks came crashing down in an instant. You stood there, staring at him, your pulse racing.

“I don’t have to fight anything, Maybank,” you whispered, leaning in just enough so your lips were barely brushing his. “But don’t think you’ve won yet.”

JJ’s smirk grew, and for a second, it was almost too much to handle. He leaned in, lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “Oh, princess. We both know I’ve already won. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve said something—anything—to end this before it went too far. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your body betraying you once again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I think we both need a little privacy.”

The offer was tempting, too tempting. You knew the consequences, knew where this could go. But at that moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t ready to stop, not yet.

Without saying another word, you let him lead you through the crowd and upstairs, your hands brushing against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

JJ had this way of making everything else disappear, and the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hand in yours, the pull between you two undeniable.

As you stepped inside a random room, the cool night air from an open window hit you, but you didn’t feel cold—not with him so close.

He turned to you, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes locked with yours, the playful smirk replaced by something more intense, more real. “You’re not gonna regret this,” he murmured.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and every inch of you screamed to step back. But all you could do was nod, your voice barely a whisper. “I already am.”

JJ’s lips curled into a grin, and without another word, he kissed you.

The kiss was all fire—fierce, hungry, and urgent. You could feel everything in that moment: the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed, pulling you even closer. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but your body didn’t care.

“JJ..” you whispered, as his hand urgently went all over your body, tilting you head back as he started to place wet, open mouth kisses on your neck.

“I know baby…I know.” He whispered, as he started to take your clothes off one by one.

Wanting to have control, you pushed him onto the bed, a grunt escaping his lips as he watched you run your manicured hands along his thighs, that siren look in your eyes, making him wait to cum in that moment. Without another word, you bit onto your lip, as you watched yourself zip his pants down, him helping you get him out of his jeans, leaving him only in his drawers.

“Remember when I said you couldn’t handle me?” You asked him, seductively. JJ gave you a small chuckle and nodded his head. You hummed, looking at him as you stuck your tongue out, running it along the outside of his plaid boxers, a moan falling from his lips as his back fell onto the bed. You licked again, this time slower, and harder.

“Jesus..do something.” he groaned, looking at you again as you kept licking the base of his dick in a teasing manner. The music from the party was still going loud so if anywhere were to hear you, they would be listening to damn hard.

“What do you want me to do baby? Talk to me.” You spoke, pulling his dick out from the pee hole. It was red, very red, and pre-cum was leaking from the tip so you did what any girl would do and licked the pre cum from his dick before taking his entire tip into your mouth, making sure that your mouth was wet, before abruptly stopping, JJ’s eyes popping open, almost scowling at you.

“What happened to you putting me in my place? Guess you just like every other kook den huh white boy.” You teased, giving his tip another soft lick.

Your words must’ve ignited something inside him, because he immediately reached forward and gripped your neck, catching you off guard. It wasn’t enough to kill you but enough to stop a little air flow. He leaned close, until your lips were barely touching.

“I’ve tried to play by your stupid ass rules. You’re gonna see why those kook idiots could never handle a girl like you like I can.”

You were suddenly thrown on the bed, JJ growling in the process. He immediately started to discard your clothes, not wasting any more time and not giving you a second to say a thing. He looked at your underwear and smirked.

“Matching set huh? How’d you know my favorite color pretty girl?” He asked, leaning down to rub his hands along your neck, wrapping both his hands around it before running them along your chest slowly, feeling it ride up and down quickly as he continued to move down to your breasts. He smiled at you before opening your legs and getting in between them properly. He continued to rub, going along your sides and your stomach, truly admiring your soft brown skin, before stopping right where he wanted to. The party on the other side was long forgotten.

“That’s a coincidence. You ain’t nobody special boo.” You retorted, despite the vulnerable position. You mouth would never let up, and he knew that.

JJ smiled, almost as if he were taking you for a joke, as he started to pull your underwear off. “Okay baby.”

With your panties gone, he finally got a chance to get a good look at what he had been thinking about so much. It was like watching a kid get his favorite toy. Your pretty legs were wide and welcoming, your pussy leaking, almost as if it were fucking fake.

He was in awe, he had never seen anything so pretty. Not only were you fucking soaking, you had a fat fucking pussy, a fucking perfect, and he would’ve came in his pants right then and there if he didn’t wanna eat you so bad.

He took one long sniff and moaned loud, almost catching you off guard. Nobody had ever done that.

“You smell so fucking good mama , can’t wait to eat you til you cry…” He whispered, placing open mouth kisses on your plump thighs, holding a tight grip on them. He licked the space between your right thigh and your pussy, causing you to gasp and bite your lip “You talked so much shit I swear to god I’m gonna make you regret agreeing to let me have you.”

Part of you was scared of that statement, not knowing what he truly meant, but you knew you were about to find out.

“Such a pretty pussy..” He whispered against your lips, slurping and sucking on your clit until he pulled it into his mouth and let it go. You let out a loud whine as your back arched against the bed, trying to close your legs from the immense pleasure but JJ growled and snapped your legs firmly back in place, watching your facial expression as he sucked your clit harder, shaking his head into your sopping wet folds.

“What were you saying? About me not being able to handle you?” He asked against your lips. Before you could answer, he placed his lips back on your clit, sucking harder and harder until you were pushing his head off you, not like he’ll let you. As his sucking continued, he added two fingers into your pussy, slowly fingering you as he watched you unfold. His mission was to make you come at least two times. That way, you never stop wanting more.

JJ flattened his tongue on your clit, and set rubbing circles, using his tongue, enjoying the feeling of your clit throbbing against him. You moaned, almost too loudly, pushing his head into your waxed pussy.

“Fuck yourself on daddy’s tongue. Give me that nut baby.” He rasped, allowing you to move your hips against his mouth, letting you use him any way you wanted. He was eating your pussy better than any guy you had come across.

“Fuckkkkkk JJ, Im gonna come.” You cried, gasping loudly as he sucked your clit harder. Your vision going white as you came, not realizing the liquid that came out of you. When you came down, youopened your eyes to see JJ looking at you like you were a prized possession.

“I just made you squirt…”

You widened your eyes, but before you could say anything, his mouth was back on you for the second time and you almost choked on your moan from how sensitive you were, but he didn’t care. He had a point to prove.

JJ slide two fingers into you, and started fingering you hard, and fast. Not caring about how loud you were, JJ watched as you continued to let out the most beautiful moans he had ever heard, and he wanted to heard more. He moved up to your mouth, placing his lips on yours but not giving you a full kiss. His ego got bigger as he watched your eyes twitch before they rolled in the back of your head.

“Hey hey..eyes on me or I’ll stop. I need two more baby, two more and I’ll think about taking it easy on you.” He whispered, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips finally found yours. You pulled your top down, pinching and playing with your breasts as you kissed him

He swallowed your moans, his fingers never letting up as you unraveled even more. He knew you were still sensitive, but you were so adamant and couldn’t stop running your mouth. It was his mission to give you what you been asking for. He tilted his head, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you suck on it before pulling it away, biting your bottom lip and letting it go. You were drunk off him and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped your face in his hands, squeezing your jaw to open it as he spat a big glob on spit into your mouth, smiling as he watched you swallow it and smile at him with your tongue out. You were a fucking freak. And he was going to take advantage of every minute of it.

JJ pulled away, but kept fingering you as he looked you in your face, watching even facial expression you make.

“Gimme another one, Gush on my fingers baby, I need it.” He whispered, fingering you harder, watching you writhe under him. He leaned down and took one of you nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting on the brown nub until you were a whining mess under him. He smiled against you.

“You talk all that bullshit, but look at you. A bitch for my fingers. A pogue. Wonder what your friends would think if they saw you.” He teased, slowly moving his fingers, his thumb rubbing at your clit harshly.

You smirked slowly, “What I do ain’t nobody business but mine, welcome to the roster big daddy.” You whispered, almost like a moan,

The way you were reacting to him made him want to do unimaginable things to you. He knew he had to really give it to you. You had too much mouth, never had anyone to put you in your fucking place. Tonight that changes, and JJ could give a fuck if anybody hears.

“Keep talking to me like that. It just makes me more eager to fuck you up mama. After I’m done with you, there won’t be a roster.” He replied, pinching your nipple, making you squeak.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of your pussy and shoved them in your mouth, making you suck them. You moaned, silently thanking yourself for your good hygiene. Your tongue moved slowly in between his fingers, moving from one finger to suck, and then the next, making sure you stick your tongue out to lick up his finger slowly as he watched you, biting his lip.

“You’re a fucking slut.” He laughed, pulling his fingers away and pushing you back on the bed. “But i’m not done with you.”

JJ’s then went back to your pussy, slurping on your juices as loud as he could as you shook under his touch, hold his head with both your hands as you thrusted into his mouth, biting your lip. He moaned against you, letting you use him as your thrusts started to get rougher.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkk, I’m gonna fucking cum.” You cried, your face scrunched up in pleasure, using the same hand to hold him close to push him back, but he grabbed both hands and did his face in deeper, as you screamed, squirting on his dick.

“Stop running, or i’ll fuck you until you pass out.” He growled, before moving your legs up high, “Hold your legs up.”

You did as told, watch as he went from your pussy to your ass, suck on the rim. You gasped, from both pleasure and shock, watching as he went to town on your asshole, using his tongue to push past your rim, fucking your rim slowly. With you holding your legs up, rubbed your clit with one hand and pushed four fingers into your pussy with the other, thrusting aggressively

“Tell me how good i’m making you feel or i’ll stop right now and leave you right here.” He growled, sucking at the puckered hole, his hands still moving. Before you could say anything, you let out a loud gasped as you arched your back off the bed, squirting around JJ’s hands. Your legs shook violently as you came.

“Guess that said enough.” He laughed. “Suck my dick and I’ll think about giving you some dick mama.”

You said nothing, as you sat up and got in front of the bed, letting JJ move back to give you some space. You got on your knees and began rubbing his thighs, looking up at him with a drunk smile as he ran his hand across your cheek, before trialing up to your braids and gripping them hard. He used his other hand to hold his dick and guide it to your mouth, not giving you a chance to adjust to the size and length of his dick before he started thrusting into your mouth, Luckily for you, you give extremely good head, and adjusted quick, getting your mouth wet as he trusted in and out harshly. You wrapped your lips around his dick, watching as he hung his mouth open and let out a loud groan before taking his lip into his mouth and looking down at you as you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

JJ gripped your hair with both hands now, thrusting even harder into your mouth until he couldn’t reach anymore, smirking as he watched you take his rough he was being. Your eyes looking up at him was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He was looking foward to ruining you.

Before JJ could come, he pulled you off of him, leaning down to pick you up, and throw you right back on the bed, and turning you around on your hands and knees. He pushed down the middle of your back to deepen your arch, your ass perfectly in front of him. He moaned, giving your ass a loud smack causing you to gasp, before leaning down to kiss the area he hit.

“Read to get your life fucked up?” He asked, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You scoffed, wiping his kiss off.

“Fuck me, or don’t. Either way I’ll get fucked.” You shrugged, wanting to rile him up. JJ must’ve caught, because his face turned dark and before you knew it he was thrusting into you from behind, having a harsh grip on your hips, one that’ll probably bruise later. His head tipped back as he roughly fucked you from behind, using one hand to grab you by your back and pull you to him, his thrusts powerful and firm. A moan coming ron you ever thrust.

“Imagine…dick like this every day for the rest of your life.” He moaned, using both his hands to hold into your breasts, your whines becoming louder as you feel yourself about to come again. “Shit it’s so fucking good, i’m gonna fuck you up over … and over .. and over…”

You moaned at his words, as he pushed you back down, your face in the pillows as his foot was now on top of your head, angling your body so he could thrust deeper. His thrusts were ruthless, not letting up on you at all. You almost felt dizzy, but you couldn’t tap out…now now, he just started fucking you.

But it was so good, You grabbed onto his ankle of his foot that he planted on your head and started aggressively throwing your ass back, catching him off guard, his hands now on his own hips as he watched you do the work, sounds of smack and squelching along with your combined moaned filled the room.

“Jesus fuck, slow down.” He gasped, his head tilted back but you didn’t listen, in fact, you went harder, loving the small whimper that just escaped him.

JJ was in bliss, he smiled into the ceiling as he felt your ass crash back into his pelvis again and again. He rubbed his hands slowly up and down your back, loving the feeling of you gripping the shit out of his dick. He quickly pulled out of you, turning you on your back and immediately thrusted into you, leaning down on you, grabbing your neck with both hands and pounding you into the mattress until you kept tapping him, officially tapping out but that didn’t stop him, he smiled. He took one of his hands and slapped you across the face before placing it back on the side of your neck, spitting in your mouth.

“Nobody could ever fuck you like this. Fuckkkkkk.”

“Perfect fucking pussy. That dick feel good baby? Hm?.” He groaned, grabbing his phone from the nightstand before propping it up on the lamp right across from you and pressing record, and ramming his dick into you at a unforgiving pace, causing you to choke on your moan, your cream creating a white circle around his dick.

“Tell the camera who’s making you feel good.” He demanded, forcing you to look at the camera. You finally got a look at yourself, your braids were kinda frizzy, and your eyes were low and tearful as you tried your best to take what he was giving you.

“It’s yours, daddy. It’s all yours.” You cried, feeling yourself sauirt once again tonight, your legs shaking drastically. You cried against him as you came again. JJ smiled, pulling you in for a kiss. Never in your life have you submitted to a man…ever. It felt foreign, but good at the same time.

“Good job baby.” He praised, allowing you to come down from your high. “Too bad I didn’t come yet.”

Your body went limp as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, turning the lower half of your body to the side, before lining his dick up with your pussy and thrusting harshly before pulling out and doing it again. You slowly started to slide up away from him, your pussy too sore to keep going. JJ growled and yanked you back down before pounding into your pussy, grabbing your hip and your thigh as he punished you.

“Stop *thrust* fucking *thrust* running.” He snapped, in between thrusts, using one hand to slap harshly at your face before stuffing his fingers in your mouth.

“I want everybody to hear you. I want every man whose ever fucked your to hear you.” He moaned, grabbed the phone from the night stand and turning the camera to face you.

You were ethereal, your eyes big and glossy, lips puffy and raw from the kissing and biting. You had hit marks and buckles littered across your collar bone and neck. A true masterpiece. JJ smirked at the thought.

Your walls began squeezing around JJ, prompting him to want to nut faster. He leaned down, face to face, moaning against your check as his breathe hit the side of your face. JJ’s moana and groans were getting louder, more rough. Him pumping his dick into made you moan loud, the way he touched you, sucked you. You just might drop all your other hoes.

“G-god I’m gonna cum all in your fucking pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good mama.” He could feel his orgasm coming as he watched your face etched in pleasure. JJ bit his lip, tilting his head back and he thrusted harder into you, chasing his own orgasm, the bed hitting the wall with every thrust.

“W-wait JJ- I’m not on birth control.” You gasped, clenching around him. He hummed.

“Guess we’ll be busy for the next 9 months.”

JJ thrusted into you one hard time before letting himself go inside you, moaning as he looked down at where you were connected and kept thrusting slowly, fucking his cum back into you as much as he could. When he was finished, he pulled out of you, laughing at your fucked out, cock drunk state.

Your body was limp, only thing moving being your chest because of how hard you were breathing. Your eyes towards the ceiling, not sparing JJ a glance as he looked at you lovingly.

“Hope you know this means your mine now pretty girl.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, which made him laugh.

“Told you I could handle you.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

"I didn't want to overstep"

My honest reacton

NOW *make a man out of your plays in the background* LETS GET DOWN TO BUSINESS

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

She is so me

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze.

🙄 gago I hate him stfu

You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

I WOULD LITERALLY HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON CARAXES AND LEAVE THIS PLACE

The man smiles. He winks at you.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

Main character things

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes.

🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 YUCKKKK CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMALLLLLLL CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMALLLLLLLL YUCCKKKKKK

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships.

We love to see it. DIVINE FEMININE

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 SHUT THE EVER LOVING FUCK UP????????? A MAN WILL WANT SOMETHING THEN THINK THEY ARE ENTITLED TO IT????? EAT SHIT AND DIE?????????

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

🧍‍♀️ oh. I personally don't fuck with strangers tickling me please goodness I hope it's addam

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Men shouldnt have rights

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

CRISTI WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT I WILL RHAE ROYCE THIS FUCKING DEGENERATE

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️STAB HIM????!!!!!

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓ LICK THE BOTTOM OF MY SHOE YOU CAME TO ME???????? 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

?????????????? DONT TALK TO SOMEONE BENEATH YOU????? 100 YEARS IN JAIL????

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

HE WAS WHAT????? 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 IM GOING TO FUCKING GOUGE HIS EYES OUT

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

??????? BEAT HIS FUCKING ASSSSSS STAB HIM AND BASH HIS FUCKING FACE IN ALYNN???????

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

STAB HIM CORLYSSSS

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread.

CASUALLY BREAKING INTO PEOPLES HOUSES????????? POLICE 🚓🚨

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal.

STAB HIM GURL STAB HIM RIGHT FUCKING NOW

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

)))): my poor girl. My baby girl

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

Am I supposed to be impressed? Am I supposed to pat you on the back?

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

Baho mo gago

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

))): I hate this so much for them

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

Be conceited diva WHO IS THIS DIVAAA

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

Ew

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

I believe all men should experience the pain of child birth and labor constantly forever

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

First of all fuck you second of all you're not cute third of all ITS HER FIRST TIME fourth of all I'm glad you can AT LEAST make her happy. THE BAR IS IN HELL

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 MILK HIM BLEED HIM SUCK HIM DRY

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

Not all men EXPLAIN THIS THEN

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

😬 yeesh famous last words

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

MY POOR GIRL MY POOR POOR GIRL

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

BROTHER EUGHHHH GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER GIRL RUNNNN ILL WWE ROYAL RUMBLE SMACK DOWN ELBOW TO THE FACE STEEL CHAIR THIS BOZO

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

MY FUCKING GOODNESS CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMAL IS IT SO HARD FOR HIM NOT TO FUCKING THINK WITH HIS COCK FUCK YOU DIE

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

You think? Terrible idea btw fuck off

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

NOTHING IS FUCKING SACRED LITERALLY KEEP YOUR HANDS RO YOURSELF MY SCARF IS MY BUSINESS YOU HAVE TERRIBLE MANNERS AND YET IM THE PEASANT FUCK YOU CHOKE ON YOUR GREASY FOOD I HOPE THE ROWDY CROWDS TEAR YOU APART

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

Why would you write him this way. Why is this endearing. HAJIMA STOP

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

Ok alcoholic.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

No cuz she's better than me I fucking hate being stared at I hatttttteere it she's so much better than me

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

So you agree

You're a predator

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

NDJDJD YUCCKKKKK (I'm into this shit) YUCCKKKK FUCKING HELL DIE RUNNNNN GIRL RUNNN

“Do you trust me?”

Absolute the fuck not. Eat broken glass

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

RHAENYSSSS NOOOO PLEASEEE NOOOO NOT THE VILLAIN ARC NOOO PLEASE )))): I DO NAWT BLAME HER BUT NDJDJNDKSKSKKSKS

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

THE WAY I FUCKING SCREAMMMEDDS

BEATTTTT HISS ASSSSS

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️BEATTTT HISSS ASSSSS

“Are you calling me a whore?”

Well I ain't callin yo ass a prude IF THE SHOE FITS DIPSHIT

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

IM DOING A DANCY DANCE LITERALLY EXPLODE

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

😭😭😭😭😭 IM CRYING MY POOR POOR GIRLLLL

“Daughter.”

😃🔪🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

“It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

BURN IN HELL ❤️

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

))))))))))))))))):

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.”

FUCKING HELLLLSSSSSS DAMNNNNN MDIRNSJJSJSNSJSMSKANSNNSSJAJAKAKAKAKAKAKJANANAN STOPPPPPP

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

? I don't like you never have never will I hope you have a heart attack

You bloom under his praise.

I hate that for you.... *Sigh* congrats ig

There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

)))): I hate this for you so much baby girl

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

? Ok? Get it ig. Fuck shit up for her. It's the only thing you're good for.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

Oh that's not

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

😭😭😭😭😭 my girllllll. Get it ig. I'm glad she's happy. That's all that matters

THIS WAS A RIDE. I LOVE HOW MUCH I HATE HIM. I HOPE HE DIES 😃😃😃😃

On a real level, it made me think how fascinated I am in exploring themes such as gender class whatnot and how I as a writer myself am unashamed to admit 'yeah I write daemon fucked up, s'part of the appeal' while simultaneously just being unwilling to let him take the piss ya know HAHAHAH LIKE I WONT DEFEND THIS MAN HES FUCKED UP AND FICTIONAL DIEEEEE ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.