#just felt like talking about what i've read for the past month/month and a half

[firstdove15]

Guess it's safe to say I'm back into regularly reading manga/comics for the time being XD

1) Reading Ichi the Witch (forgot there was a chapter and caught up in time for the next one coming in a few days)

2) Catching up on Dandadan (Currently on chapter 108)

3) Reading One Pound Gospel

4) Reading Webtoon's Wanna Be Friends

5) Started Firefly Wedding

[neverendingford]

.

[eskumii]

yandere!genin!sasuke uchiha + darling who's secretly half uchiha hcs

TITLE: " LIKE WATER, LIKE BLOOD " — navi. — general yandere!sasuke hcs.

NOTES: i've been randomly feinin over naruto again and this idea just won't leave me alone :'D don't press me on lore specific stuff i just yap and pretend it's true ok. also i accidently posted this b4 it was finished ... if you read that, no u didn't.

☆ you're no stranger to the fact that your mother had an affair with an uchiha man a few years before the entire clan was slaughtered like cows. your father had been a high-ranking official in fugaku's inner circle, but you had never learned his name, even when he secretly visited you and your mother on weekends between his missions and clan dealings.

☆ this is not to say, of course, that he was a bad man. he often tried to instill core uchiha values into you (never dishonor the uchiha clan name, always seek to carry on its legacy and strength, etc..) but nothing ever seemed to stick. you were more interested in the little trinkets he would bring you: necklaces, bracelets, hair ribbons, hand fans, and various other accessories that were often branded with the uchiha symbol. none of it was ever worn out in public, though, so you just hung them on your walls instead.

☆ after your father's death, you eventually distanced yourself from the uchiha side of your identity as it had always been steeped in secrecy and the fear of scrutiny from the third hokage/konoha elders/villagers who felt strongly about the nine tails attack. after all, you aren't supposed to exist. you're not sure what your mother was thinking when she got knocked up at such a politically fragile time, when the uchiha clan were still under fire for conspiracy and treason.

☆ at the academy, you intentionally avoid sasuke. you've probably spoken to him a handful of times—many of which were him telling you to get out of his way, or to shut up if you were talking too loud with your friends (your assigned seat was directly behind his, unfortunately).

☆ it isn't until much later after you graduate from the academy and are placed into teams that sasuke somehow finds out you're also an uchiha. whether someone told him or he just... knew, you do not know. at this point, you haven't seen him in months (you're on different teams), so him appearing on the landing outside of your open window is a very startling jumpscare.

☆ he takes one look around your room, which has uchiha merch strung up all over the place, and is immediately pissed at you. all this time there was another surviving member of his clan and he had no clue? and it was you, of all people?

☆ sasuke always thought you were weird and suspicious during your days at the academy. whenever he interacted with you, you would cower from him, almost looking ashamed. you were adept at everything he was and, as much as he used to hate admitting it, you were often his competition when it came to scoring at the top of various skill tests. looking back, it all makes sense: the blood in your veins is special, as uchiha children often are. as he is. and now, instead of callousness, he feels a kindling of pride at your excellence.

☆ it takes no time at all for everything to change between you and sasuke. after he barges his way into your room (you don't how he found out where you live in the first place?!), he forces you to explain why you lied about being an uchiha. you have no choice but to comply after his threatening glares pin you into submission and he refuses to let you past him until you talk.

☆ sasuke really doesn't care that you're a "half uchiha." you descended directly from a member of the uchiha clan so as far as he's concerned, you're his kin through and through. this discovery immediately sparks something primal in sasuke, like a desprate clinging to preserve what has been, and to protect what can be.

☆ you're often dragged away to secluded places by sasuke—the training grounds, usually. you try to fight but sasuke is just stronger than you and you are easily wrestled into defeat; a reoccuring pattern that makes you feel unsafe around him. but despite your growing feelings of contempt towards sasuke, he is brutally relentless in his pursuit of you or, rather, his pursuit of molding you into a proud uchiha who is willing to restore the legacy of his clan with him.

☆ the uchiha boy is a little worried that you lack so many of the values that he himself has been taught by his parents and itachi. you don't know much about the sharingan nor the clan's signature great fireball technique. so he starts there.

☆ let's be honest though: you're not interested in being lectured on the history of the clan by sasuke, but you're not entirely opposed to learning a new jutsu so you allow him to train you for now. whenever you mess up or ask too many questions, he'll sigh in very clear annoyance but bites back any insult as a mercy to you.

☆ you notice how much more patient he is towards you. how he quietly praises you when your little flame grows, how he immediately checks on you when you're winded from using too much chakra. there's a general closeness that never existed before (sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, physically guiding your hands into signs, or poking your forehead when you say or do something he thinks is dumb). it's all strangely... intimate.

☆ the frequency of his visits begin to increase as the days go by, and there were a few times where you would wake up in the middle of the night to see him standing over you. obviously, this scares you, and you have to keep sasuke's sudden intrusions into your bedroom a secret from your mother, so you begrudgingly agree to his strict schedule of meeting at his apartment at least four times a week instead of him breaking into yours.

☆ in the following months, you see a side of sasuke that you're sure no one else has seen. one that isn't carefree, but deeply emotional and reactive, especially when it comes to you. soon enough, he reveals his plan of revenge against itachi to you. you're shocked that he would go to such a length, and the sentiment is not shared by you at all.

☆ before sasuke leaves the village, he of course tries to convince you to come with him. you aren't a fool, though. despite settling into your uchiha heritage at this point, you're no destined avenger. you followed along with sasuke's strange intrusion into your life thus far, but this is where you draw the line. you refuse.

☆ "no? what the hell, [name]? you're an uchiha." he'll spit heatedly, arresting you by the hand when you turn to walk away from him. "your duty now is to kill itachi and restore our clan. don't think for a second that you can just run away from this. from me."

☆ and... he's right. one way or another, you find yourself a traitor to konoha for the sake of the blood that binds you to sasuke. what happened to his family, he won't let happen to you. this time, he's the one who'll kill to protect the one he loves, even if you hate him for doing it against your will.

[harleywarley18]

God of prophecy, music, and plague 𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I was supposed to post this Sunday but got caught up with stuff so here's a midnight rundown on my relationship to Apollo ;-;

Apollo began showing up around a month after I began my worship to Aphrodite. I was afraid at first. Not of him, but of the idea of worshipping another deity. In the past, I had only ever worshipped one at a time. As a neurodivergent person I was also afraid that my relationship to Aphrodite was just a hyperfixation since I had been playing Hades a lot.

The thought of worshipping Apollo only further worried me. I wanted to assure Aphrodite that she wasn't;t a mere hyperfixation and that she would not be forgotten. The first time I tried to communicate with Apollo via tarot cards, Aphrodite showed up instead and voiced her concerns.

She was afraid that I'd abandon her and forget about her. I knew where this was coming from because I had told her about Hades. Early 2023 I had begun worshipping Hades but after about a month and a half it became too much for me to continue and I kind of just stopped my worship and never went back. I had felt so bad but worship can be so draining sometimes.

Anyways, after reassuring Aphrodite many times I believed I had the okay to begin doing proper research on Apollo before reaching out to him. What interested me about him is his Lo'xias epithet, meaning god of prophecy or messenger of Zeus. I was so drawn to it because throughout my entire life I have always had crazy intuition and predictions.

At first I chalked up to the fact that I'm autistic and can recognize patterns really well. Specifically, I take "data" I've collected about a situation or people and use it to make predictions about what will happen or what they'll do. But, too often did I predict something and it actually happened in a scarily accurate manner. There have been multiple times that it's felt as though I've actually spoken things into existence. For example, while I was ranting to my sister about someone who had talked major shit about me and I said that (for the sake of privacy I will not describe what I said) this specific scenario was going to happen to them. I said it out of anger and in passing but that very weekend exactly the thing that I said would happen to them HAPPENED.

With tarot cards, especially, my readings are always insanely accurate. Even my sister, who is not a believer in anything that I do, is wary about my readings because she knows that whatever the cards say will happen will actually happen. Furthermore, when I first moved to college I had visited a metaphysical store with my cousin and there the owner overheard me say that it had been so long since I had really done tarot that I probably couldn't ever do it again. And she said to me "tarot reading is like riding a bike, you learn once and never forget. She then brought out her own personal oracle cards and had me do a reading on her and her husband. She wanted me to use the cards to tell them who they are. According to them, everything I had said was more than true.

With Apollo, I thought I could use his help to groom and cultivate this proclivity of mine.

After having properly reached out to him, I've come to the realization that I love more than just his prophetic aspect. I stated in my previous post that I had been struggling due to a situation that occurred earlier in the school semester. Even when I was back home, I was struggling with panic attacks and bouts of major anxiety. What always helped, however, was taking my dogs out on their walk and feeling Apollo's rays of sunshine beaming down on me.

Every single time I stepped out of the house-heart racing, hands shaking, ears ringing-suddenly it would all melt away into nothingness the second I felt the sun on my face, enveloping my person, weaving its heat through my curls and over my ears. Even if it had been storming, when the time came to walk the dogs, the sky would magically become clear enough to allow the sun to shine through.

Eventually, I started keeping the tarot cards I dedicated to Apollo under my pillow and asking him to visit me in my dreams. The first night I saw a beautiful, swirling ball of light above my bed, with orange and yellow flares coming out of it. The second night, however, I woke up in a dream. I was in the back of this van sitting next to this man. He looked young with beautiful, black curls. He had his arm wrapped around me and my head rested on his shoulder.

I remember him feeling so warm. He felt like home. He felt like snuggling up under the covers in a cold room. And I just lay there, hands holding his, watching the scenery of the drive we were on. I woke up that morning with the sun shining on my face, clearly attempting to wake me up.

I've heard a lot of people say that Apollo feels like a golden retriever boyfriend or nice frat boy. And while I respect that everyone's experiences with deities is different, Apollo to me feels like some guardian. Maybe an older brother or a father or an uncle. I think people expect Apollo to be boyish and naive because he's always been described as a young thing. We forget that he is just as wise, if not more, as his cousins and aunts and uncles.

Praise Apollo, averter of evil, dark-haired, messenger of zeus!

[cjlouwho]

prompt: buck finds out tommy was a pow

how'd this get so long? I truly do not know.

They were four months into their relationship when Tommy started clearing out half of his closet for Buck. Others might've thought they were moving too fast, but that didn't matter to them. Buck spent most of his free time at Tommy's place anyway, and his lease was up in a month. There was no way either of them wanted to wait another whole year before living together.

So, on a random Saturday, they decided to do it. Clear the closet so Buck could slowly start moving stuff in.

They had invited Eddie over too, possibly under the false pretense of sitting and watching a game, but they needed someone around that would keep them on task. Or, at least keep them from getting distracted with each other's mouths.

“Can someone please tell me how my life became so dull that this is the most exciting thing I've done this past week?” Eddie asked, seated on the bed and folding up a shirt before placing it into the donation box.

“You really wanna go there?” Buck asked.

“No, I do not.”

“Eddie, I've got an extra pair of boxing gloves in here!” Tommy called out from the back of the closet. “They're new. You want them?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I've got like three pairs already.”

He came out and tossed the gloves to Eddie, who looked them over briefly. “Thanks, man!”

“Of course.”

Buck headed back into the closet and reached up for an old cardboard box high on the top shelf. As he lifted it, an item fell out and down to the floor. “Oops,” he breathed out, moving the box to one hand as he bent down to pick the item up.

It was service medal. Buck stared at it for a moment, lets his thumb brush over it. He'd done a lot of research on anything and everything military related, but he could not for the life of him remember what this particular medal was for.

He walked out to the bedroom, where Tommy and Eddie were in the middle of discussing how the team who won karaoke trivia last week definitely cheated and should be investigated, and dropped the box onto the bed. “Not sure what all this is,” he said, the box catching Tommy's attention.

“Oh, that's just army stuff,” he replied, sliding the box toward himself and starting to close it back up.

“This fell out of it.” Buck handed over the medal, noting Tommy's pause before he plucked it from his hand. “What's it for?” He could feel Eddie's eyes on him, could sense a tension in the air, but he couldn't figure out why. Tommy had talked to him about his time in the military before, but he'd never mentioned a medal.

“It's a... a Prisoner of War Medal,” he replied, dropping it into the box. He closed the box and plopped it onto the floor directly between the keep and throw away piles.

“Oh. Is it your grandad's?” One day Buck would learn to read the room before speaking, but today was not that day.

“No. Um, no it's not.” Tommy was still turned away from him, his attention now focused on a pile of old CD's they'd already gone through earlier in the day.

Buck took that all too quiet moment to glance over at Eddie, who was shaking his head and silently telling Buck to let it go.

The dots connected, and Buck felt a pain in his chest he hadn't felt since he got struck by lightning. This might've been worse actually, because he didn't technically remember the feeling of being struck by lightning.

“Lunch!” He exclaimed, a bit too brightly, but desperate to move on so he didn't cause unwanted pain. “I should make lunch.”

Buck excused himself from the room and headed into the kitchen, pausing to take a few deep breaths and calm his pounding heart. He could hear the low rumblings of Tommy and Eddie talking in the bedroom, but made no effort to listen to what they were saying.

He knew it wasn't for him to hear anyway.

*****

Twenty-seven hours later, Buck and Eddie were starting a shift. Buck lasted all of half an hour before sitting down across from Eddie on the couch and staring at him as he read a magazine.

“Can I help you with something, Buck?” Eddie asked, keeping his eyes on the magazine.

“You knew about it, didn't you?”

“Knew about what?”

Buck reached over and grabbed the magazine, yanking it from Eddie's lap and tossing it onto the table.

“That could've given me a paper cut!” Eddie whined.

“Eddie, this is serious.”

Eddie sighed. “You know my rule Buck. I don't discuss Tommy's business with you, I don't discuss your business with him. It's how we all live in peace.”

“I'm not asking you to discuss it, I- I'm just asking if you knew.”

There's a pause. Eddie stared at Buck, Buck stared back. They might as well have been having a contest; whoever blinked first won.

Eddie was the one to give in, rolling his eyes at Buck's stubbornness. “Yes, I knew.”

Buck huffed out a humorless laugh. “Great. Great, you know my boyfriend better than I do.”

“Buck, come on-”

“No, it's true! I'm- I'm not being an ass, it's just true. He's never mentioned that to me before. I've asked him all about his military career and I thought he'd told me everything, but i- it turns out he gave me a censored version.”

“It's not like that, Buck,” Eddie replied. “Listen, it was not long after Christopher left, Tommy invited me over for some Muay Thai. I thought he was doing it as a favor, so I could get all my aggression out, but it seemed it was more for him that day. I asked what was up and I guess it was the anniversary of the day he was captured. Don't be mad at him for this, man.”

Buck's face went from concerned to puzzled. “I'm not mad. I- I'm worried. Listen, I'm glad he has you to talk to, and I know I don't... get it like you do, but I'd like to know he trusts me with the tough stuff too. I don't want to move in with a guy who thinks he has to hide part of his life from me.”

“That's not it, Buck. It was literally just a right place right time thing. You had plans with Maddie that day, and apparently it's not something he ever talks about to anyone outside of therapy. It has nothing to do with you.” Eddie spoke the final sentence pointedly, making sure Buck comprehended the words.

Buck nodded. He did understand, and he really wasn't mad.

He hated that Tommy had gone through something so awful. Hated that he'd been going through it alone for all these years, however long it had been.

The worry lingered though.

Because if Tommy didn't tell him this, was there a possibility he'd been telling him revised versions of everything in his life?

Did he really know him at all?

*****

Two days passed before they got to see each other again. Buck was already at Tommy's place, settled into the sofa and reading a book on Egyptology when Tommy got home.

“Hey, hun,” Tommy greeted with a smile. He bent down, one hand on the back of the couch to hold him up, the other hand on Buck's cheek as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Hi,” Buck replied with the soft grin he always got after one of Tommy's kisses. “How was work?”

“Surprisingly calm.”

“Not a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Tommy agreed.

Buck returned his attention to his book as Tommy sat across from him. His eyes drifted toward the TV but he made no effort to reach for the remote and turn it on.

“Evan?”

“Hm?”

Tommy reached out and held onto the edge of Buck's book. “Can I?”

Buck eyed him, confused, but closed the book and let him take it. Once Tommy had set it on the coffee table, he returned his attention to his boyfriend.

He stared at him, mouth pursed, and each second that ticked by worried Buck a little more.

“Are you-”

“It was 2004,” Tommy started, “I was twenty, in Afghanistan. We were on a recon mission, our chopper got shot down.”

“Tommy, you don't have to...”

His voice trailed off as Tommy held out his hand for Buck to take. Tommy squeezed it, then continued, “It happened so fast, we didn't have much time to think let alone fight back. There were four of us. We all survived the crash somehow, but... anyway, I got shot in the thigh, and all the other guys were shot too. Weirdly, it's the only injury I've gotten that didn't leave a scar. We were blindfolded, had these sacks put over our heads, tied up, and thrown into the back of a truck.”

“My God.” The words slipped out without Buck even realizing. The thought of Tommy, not even old enough to legally drink, going through something like that was horrifying.

“I don't-” Tommy cleared his throat, and Buck could feel his hand starting to get clammy. “We were there for forty-three days. I didn't know that until we were rescued, had no idea when it was day and when it was night.” Tommy shifted, dropping Buck's hand so he could move around and try to get more comfortable. “Evan, I don't talk about it with anyone outside of therapy. Even my therapist doesn't know everything, and I- I just try not to dwell on it.”

Buck nodded. “I understand.”

“And I'm sure you know Eddie knows.”

“I figured it out,” Buck replied simply.

Tommy let out a deep breath, his eyes searching Buck like he was trying to read his mind. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, I know I should have said something.”

“No,” Buck assured him. “No, that's- I'm not mad about it or anything. That's a horrible thing you went through and I completely understand not wanting to get into it.”

Tommy eyed him carefully. "Evan."

Buck let out a groan. “This is gonna sound really stupid.”

“If there's one thing you're not, Evan, it's stupid.”

“I- I'm endlessly grateful you have someone like Eddie you can talk to,” Buck started. “Seriously, I get that you need someone who can understand. Eddie was in the army, he gets it in a way I never will.”

“But?”

Buck pointed at Tommy. “See, this is the stupid part. I did feel jealous, at first. That he knew a part of you that I didn't. And it made me worry that there might be other things I don't know, or pieces of you that you kept hidden from me to protect me, or something?”

“Ev-”

“No, I know that's not true. I had like fifty conversations with myself to get there, but I got there,” he added with a laugh.

“Did he tell you why I told him? Or what I told him?”

“He briefly mentioned a Muay Thai session when I went to him with questions. He's apparently very strict on not being a go-between for us, which is healthy I guess. It wasn't his place to tell me anyway.”

“Right.”

Buck moved closer to Tommy. “I'm not saying it was yours either, Tommy.”

A deep breath, then Tommy continued. “That day- the anniversary, or whatever- is not a great day for me. Usually I work, it keeps me distracted, but I was off and shockingly no one needed me to take their shift. You had made plans with Maddie, and I was... struggling. I invited Eddie over for a sparring session and I got a little, um, intense with it?”

Buck raised an eyebrow in question.

“There was blood.”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy nodded. “Not much. Cut the lip a bit, but he knew something was up and it came out. I didn't even tell him as much as I just told you. All I said was it was it had been twenty years since I'd been shot and captured. He asked how long I was a prisoner for and I told him. That's it. Then he put down the ice pack I'd given him and we went another round.”

Buck truly was endlessly thankful that Tommy and Eddie had each other. “He's a good friend to have.”

“Yeah, he is. Ev, you know things about me, my life, my family, that I've never shared with anyone before. I have never felt so comfortable with anyone; never was able to let my guard down until you. That- This thing, is something I'm still trying to share with myself. It's been twenty years, but I'm working on it.”

Buck nodded. “Take all the time you need. If you ever do need or want to talk about it though, I'm here. Or Eddie, or Bobby, or literally anyone.”

Tugging on Buck's arm to pull him closer, Tommy turned on the couch, resting so his legs were outstretched, parted just enough for Buck to fit between. He was more thankful every day for the extra wide sofa they'd bought so they could cuddle comfortably on it.

Buck curled into him, head resting on Tommy's chest, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I love you,” he muttered into the fabric of Tommy's shirt.

Tommy planted a kiss on top of Buck's head, running his fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

[uzuitengensfourthwife]

Home - Atsumu x reader (fem reader)

You dated in Highschool, but broke up after Atsumu lost against Karasuno. 6 years later, you meet again.

Warnings: bit angsty, otherwise none! Just fluff hihi.

Word-count: 2411

Author’s note: Well hi there! I’m back from the dead. So….. i haven’t written sth in a long time so I apologise in advance if it’s badly written or contains tons of mistakes! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

---

Atsumu never made life easier for you. Back in Highschool, when you two dated, the girls always gave you dirty looks whenever Atsumu and you walked down the hall, hand in hand. But it only worsened over time. The longer you dated Atsumu, the worse his fangirls acted towards you. Insults were thrown at you, judging looks were shared whenever you walked past them and even shoving you out of the way whenever they felt like it.

What you regret most, was stopping with your hobby to become Inarizaki's manager, of course upon Atsumu's request. You were once a very talented ice skater, but due to your relationship with Atsumu, you had stopped.

But even though all of this had hurt you, you stayed for him. His love towards you was so pure, he made sure to let you know he loved you. He was never too busy to not see you, even if it meant he had to sneak out his house to meet you at your place late at night.

However, that changed as well after Inarizaki lost against Karasuno. The once long nights you spent together, were suddenly spent alone. The Atsumu that once made sure to squeeze you in whenever, was suddenly long gone. His ego was more than hurt after this match, you remember it so well. He pushed you away even weeks after that match, he barely saw you and during practice nothing more than a little kiss was placed on your cheek, followed by a half assed "Sorry, love".

And when summer came, you've had enough. You've spent months alone. So you've asked Atsumu to meet up with you in front of the Convenience store you've usually hung out in during late nights. Surprisingly, he agreed to meet you at 4 p.m.

You waited patiently, well aware of the fact that he'd be running late. 15 minutes later he then appeared, still in his gym clothes.

"Hey love, how ya doing?" he pulled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly. "I'm fine 'tsumu.., how bout you?" you hugged back, knowing well this would be your last hug. "Ya know, good als always." He smiled as he let go of you again. However, his smile faded upon seeing you nervously fiddling around with your hands. He raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with ya? Yer nervous as hell."

You sigh loudly, trying to keep yourself from crying. "I.... I think we should break up." - "Yer not serious, right?" He's staring you down, his eyes clearly showing that he hoped for it to be just a silly joke. "I'm very serious Atsumu. I'm moving to Tokyo next week and you need to concentrate on your career anyway." He laughs out loud, he's not believing you one bit. "I've already talked about it with Kita and Suna. They're well aware of this." - " Tokyo or not, we'll still be able to date." You shake your head. God, you should've known this would happen. "No, Atsumu we can't." - " But we haven't even tried yet. How would ya know we wouldn't make it?" He said, his pleading eyes trying to read you. "We're done Atsumu Miya." And with that you turned away and just ran. You ran away from him and the fact you still loved him very dearly.

----

6 years. It had been 6 years since you've moved to Tokyo. You've only kept contact with Suna and Kita, both of them still texting you regularly. Suna himself even moved to Tokyo, after joining a Volleyball Club within Tokyo, which led to you both meeting up regularly.

Outside of meeting your friends in your free time, you were working. A well paid job within a law firm and a nice apartment, which was close to Shinjuku. You were leading quite the normal life.

Until Suna asked you to join him at a party on a random Friday.

"You free after work?"

"Yeah I am Rin, why?"

"There is a party in Shinjuku, wanna join?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes :) I'll pick you up at 8 p.m."

And with that, you knew you had no choice but to join Suna Rintarou to this party. You yourself weren't really into parties, however Suna always dragged you to go with him, since he didn't want to go alone.

So when you came back from work at 7 p.m. you took a quick shower and made sure you got ready by 8 p.m. And on 8 p.m. your doorbell rang, so you quickly grabbed your purse and ran to the door to open it. "Ready to go?" - " Good Evening to you too Rin, and yes, let me just put my shoes on!" you chuckle, grabbing your pretty black high heels. "I'm warning you, I'm NOT going to switch shoes with you again." - " Yeah yeah, don't worry. I'm not planing on staying for long anyway." He raises an eyebrow und holds your purse so you can put on your heels. Once you're finally ready, you take back your purse and both of you make your way towards the subway.

On the way to the club, both of you exchanged about your day. You exchanged some laughter and without really realizing, you had already arrived at the subway station. Within 10 minutes you had already made it to the doors of the club.

As you wanted to get in line, Suna grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the VIP entrance. And wishing seconds you were inside the club, marked as VIP guests with a wristband. "I keep forgetting you're quite the star within the Volleyball scene." He grins at you as the loud music surrounds you both. Without even telling you, he starts dragging you towards a lounge, solely reserved for VIP's. As you were let in, he starts looking around frantically.

You nudge him, letting him now you want to say something. He bends down, putting his ear towards your lips. "Looking for someone?" - "Yeah." he answers immediately. You thought it was just the two of you, however it turns out that he was dragging you to meet some friends of his with you.

Suna then seemed to have spotted the people he was looking for, which led to him dragging you towards a table with a few seats. They all greeted him with big grins. But before you could say anything, he pushed you forward, so you were able to see who was really sitting there. You greet them all kindly with a little bow, before your eyes met with dark brown eyes that you knew too well. Your smile immediately vanished.

It was none other than Atsumu Miya.

You froze in place, not really sure what to say. It has been 6 years since you've last seen Atsumu. This must've been some bad joke, you thought. Yes of course, Suna was trying to pull a mean joke on you, nothing else.

"You okay?" One of Suna's friends asked, pulling you back into the harsh reality. "Uh.. yeah!" You put on a forced smile, trying to hide behind Suna, but before you could do so, he disappeared to get all of you some drinks. Without any other choice left, you sit down as far away from Atsumu as possible. "I'm Bokuto!" One of Suna’s friends says. He was quite big and had a very well built body. His big eyes looked at you, while he flashed you a grin. "I'm Y/N." you answered, smiling slightly. The others also introduced themselves. So Sunas friends were called, Bokuto, Hinata, Kageyama and Wakatoshi, and turns out they were all part of the Japanese national teams.

"I'm Atsumu. 'Tsumu for short." Atsumu said, shooting you a quick but forced smile. He was pretending to not know you.

Before any of this could get more awkward, Suna appeared with some drinks for everyone. Everyone grabbed a drink and that's when the conversations started to strike. Since it was your first time meeting them, besides Atsumu, you just sat there quietly listening here and there.

"What do you do for work?" Wakatoshi suddenly asked, looking at you quietly. "I'm a Lawyer!" you answered , smiling proudly of your profession. "Woahhh! No way!" Bokuto exclaimed excitedly while slapping Suna's back harshly. You chuckle lightly at Suna's slightly annoyed face. Atsumu looked at you, slightly amazed.

The conversations continued and you kept listening to them all. You definitely enjoyed your time there. Yet, after some time you just needed to get a drink by yourself at the bar, but to still be polite you asked everyone if they wanted a drink at the bar as well. They refused, so you made your way to the bar and sat down on a stool to order a drink.

However, you were disturbed by a male presence next to you. It was a man that seemed quite drunk. "Hey there cutie..." He smirked, watching you up and down. You just shook your head and ignored him. Giving him attention would only fuel his ego. Yet, ignoring him was not enough. He leaned closer towards you. "Oh come on... don't ignore me princess..." He groaned, totally frustrated. Glaring at him, you got up to see if there was another seat possible, but he grabbed you by your wrist. "Let go." you said. "Beg." He grinned disgustingly. You were aware, that he had no good intention with you.

Before anything could happen, someone appeared behind you. The presence strong and dangerous. "She said let go." Atsumu's voice rang in your ear. The man instantly let go, mumbling something incoherent. You looked up at Atsumu, who was watching the man disappear amidst the people. "Ya should be careful, ya know?" He said, sitting down where the man sat before. He watched you quietly, before nodding towards the seat, indicating for you to sit down next to him. And so you did.

Atsumu ordered you both a drink. You decided to stay quiet, not sure how to even talk to him after all that happened between the two of you. On top of that, you never talked again after the break up.

"How have ya been?" He asked you, breaking the silence. "Been well... what about you?" Nodding at your question he answers "Can't complain, 'm part of the national team after all." - " Congrats, by the way." you said, smiling sincerely this time. "Thanks." he replies, handing you your drink. You take a sip, making a face as you taste the strong alcohol within the drink.

He chuckles lightly, observing you from the side. "M glad Suna made me come today." He suddenly said, looking at his drink. " It feels good knowing yer doing well." His words took you by surprise. You were expecting everything but this.

Atsumu slightly smiled to himself, while taking a sip from his drink. "Atsumu..." - " I've thought of ya every day... just wishing ya would be doing well." He turns back to you with a big grin. " Ya should be thanking me!" This was all an act. You've known him long enough to know that something inside of him hurt.

"How 'bout we get some fresh air?"

And suddenly you both were sat outside, barely covered up in midst of the cold autumn night. You tried to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms, but it barely helped. "Here." He said, while wrapping his Jacket around you. "No, you'll be cold yourself." You say, taking off his jacket, but he immediately reacted wrapping it around you again. "Such a gentleman." you chuckle, wrapping his jacket around you tighter.

Like. every other night, Shinjuku was lively. Lots of people were walking past you, enjoying the night for the time being. You watched the people passing by, while holding on to Atsumu's jacket. "You've really become even prettier." You turn your head to him with flushed cheeks, you weren't sure whether it was because of the cold air or him.

"I.... I'm sorry for what happened 'Tsumu." You said quietly, looking at the ground. You were ashamed at how everything ended back then. "Don't apologize. It was my fault... I.. I was an asshole." He stuttered. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was just.... broken I suppose." - " I know Atsumu..." You whispered, sliding closer to him. "I was an asshole too. I should've tried to talk to you before even making such a harsh decision."

He shakes his head. "No..it was best for ya. See how successful you've become without me?" - "I would've been happier if you were with me." You didn't even mutter. It was the truth after all. Yes, you were successful but you were more than sure that you would have been happier on this journey if he would have been part of your life. But you had cut him out of it, out of stupidity.

He looked at you surprised. You knew he didn't expect an answer like this from you. But it was the harsh truth, even to you. "I never stopped loving you Atsumu. I was just... scared. Scared you'd leave me if I had said anything. I was scared of conflict." His eyes widened in shock while you tried to stop yourself from crying. It didn't work. Suddenly tears streamed down your face.

Atsumu immediately pulled you into a hug. "God no.... I would've never left ya love...!" He whispered while pulling you closer. You've never felt better before, it felt like you were home again. You've found your home within Atsumu again.

"I... I still love ya... and never stopped loving ya while ya were gone.. Ask 'Samu, he's heard all about it.. " he joked, laughing slightly while rubbing your back in a calming manner. A chuckle escape your lips.

You felt inner peace, as if you've been lost for an eternity and then finally finding back home. Your home was Atsumu and nothing else mattered to you at the moment.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him. His cheeks were red and before you could make a funny remark, he placed a sweet but quick kiss on your lips.

"I see you two lovebirds have made up, hmm?" Suna was leaning against a wall, watching them with a big smirk on his face. "Oh shut up Rintarou!"

You were more than thankful that Rintarou dragged you here, if he hadn't, you wouldn't have found your home again.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T���Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[rui-xyz]

hii im from wattpad and i want to request :

Rui x reader (reader is afab), fsmut ig ?? both college students nd they both wanted to start a project but ended up.. yk 😭

HIHI WELCOME!! Honestly this ask is my entire rui sequel fic on wattpad (wink wink go read it and the prequel anyone who hasn't)

Anyway enough talking, let's just get into it ;)

⭒Synopsis: ^^

⭒Warnings: NSFW,

⭒Setting: College, so yall are anywhere from 18-22 or so

⭒Notes: AHH IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET OUT

"Alright, we have everything we need! I think..." You gazed over the messy pile of mechanic bits strewn across the floor, your boyfriend sitting in the middle.

"This should be all I need," he smiled up at you from the floor.

"Great! Then, let's get to work!" You hopped over onto your bed, starting to look through the brainstorming notes for just what kind of bot you'd use for this project.

That was over half an hour ago. So far, you had done nothing but add maybe 3 more things to your notes, and ramble endlessly. You suddenly stopped yourself mid-sentence, shaking your head in frustration.

"Noo, Rui, we're on another tangent..."

"Sorry, I knew this time, it just seemed like something you really enjoy talking about."

"Thank you, Sweetheart, but now's not the time to indulge my scatterbrain." You sighed, flopping back on the bed. "I still have no idea what this bot is even gonna do, let alone look like..."

"You have plenty of ideas down, I suppose it's just choosing that's the hard part."

"Are you sure the animated hologram is off the table?"

"That would take several months of research and work. You need this done by the end of the week."

You groaned and sat back up, slipping off your bed and leaning down over Rui's mess to cup his face and nuzzle his nose. "Thank goodness I have my pretty genius boy to help."

He chuckled softly, going along with your affection before standing up to stretch his legs. "I'll have you know, I didn't procrastinate on my homework this time, just to make sure it was done for when you get home."

You cooed, thanking him with a hug as he stepped out of his sea of silvers and metal. "Y'know, maybe a snack will help get us on track?"

"I don't think a snack is going to help you focus better."

"Awe, c'mon, we won't know til we try, right?" As you started walking out from your bedroom to the kitchen, you were tugged back by your shirt before the door closed in front of you.

"I know something that'll help."

"Hmn? And what would that be?"

Suddenly, you felt Rui pick you up and toss you onto your bed, jumping on you immediately after. He held himself up, hovering above you with a smirk on his face.

"If history repeats itself, this'll probably help out," he purred, before leaning down to start kissing and licking up and down your neck. You shuddered slightly.

"W-what in the world makes you think this is the solution?"

"You haven't noticed? You do much better work when you're... we'll say... relieved."

"What evidence is there of that?" You chuckled, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"I've witnessed it a time or two. Now, enough talking. That's what got us here in the first place."

You wanted to inquire some more, but refrained, instead just simply letting your breath shake with every exhale as Rui soaked your neck with growing impatience.

He wasted no time in slipping his hands under your shirt and pulling it up your body. His hands found their way to your sides, gripping and rubbing over your ribs, down to your hips. His mouth left your neck and pressed against yours, tongue slipping past your lips within seconds.

You kicked your legs up over his hips, squeezing his waist between your knees. He carefully pulled his face away from your kiss, smiling down at you darkly.

"Let's get this over with quickly, yeah? We shouldn't take too long when we have work to do."

"Yeah, you're right..."

His hands tugged your shirt all the way off, tossing it aside dismissively and going for your pants. Then his pants came off. Meanwhile, you tugged off his shirt, which he had neglected due to time. His leg pressed up between your legs so you could grind against it as your tongues licked together with hunger.

He felt over your body, squeezing roughly, grabbing at his favorite parts of you and feeling your soft, plush skin under his fingers. Fuck, were you irresistible, even with his eyes closed.

With the softest groan of frustration and impatience, he stuffed his face into your neck and shoved hastily at his all too tight pants. He sighed at the freedom once they were finally off, and paused before he made for his boxers. Rui lifted himself up and gave you a devilish look.

"Is my Darling ready for me?"

You let out a shuddering breath as his hand trailed down your stomach, dipping into your underwear and feeling across your folds. Just how easily his fingers slid told you the answer to his question. His smirk widened.

"Good."

With that, his fingers hooked into the leg holes and started tugging them down your thighs. Once they were off and discarded with all the rest of your clothing, you suddenly felt two of his fingers slide into you embarrassingly easily. You tensed, gasping, but huffed at the amused look on his face.

"I thought you said we shouldn't waste any time?"

"I wouldn't call this a waste. You aren't seriously asking me to just ram into you without a little preparation, are you?" He gave you a pouty look, to which you rolled your eyes and let him continue, stretching you out. Once he pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean before they wrapped around your hip, you mentally prepared yourself for what came next.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He propped your legs up onto his hips and carefully slid into you. You let out a shaky breath as each inch slid in, filling you up how he always did. He groaned out happily, smiling as his lashes fluttered.

"Mmh, yeah... that's it." Rui sighed as he leaned down, pressing his chest against yours. His arms slipped under your shoulder blades and grabbed your shoulders. He rubbed his cheek against yours and placed a few kisses across it, grinning all the while. "I love you... Want me to start yet?"

You wiggled your hips slightly, listening to his breath hitch. Once you were fairly sure your insides had adjusted, you leaned back and relaxed, then nodded your head.

"Yeah, you can start."

"Okay, Honey," he sighed happily, then pressed his lips to yours. He started to pull back, then thrust back in slowly, breaths uneven. Your own breath was shallow as you kissed him, feeling how gentle and slow his movements were starting out. He continued at that same pace for a while, then pulled away from your lips to catch his breath as his hips began to speed up.

The feeling of his cock brushing against your inner walls and his tip hitting so deep in you gave you a wave of goosebumps, how it usually did. A few soft moans started to leave your lips as your head fell back against the pillows. Your vision was blurry with pleasure, but you could see as Rui looked over your face, his muscles tensing as a moan escaped him. He leaned back down, groaning softly as he shoved his face into the nape of your neck and started to speed up more.

It felt glorious, the pleasure making your brows furrow and eyes roll back. Your hands gripped onto his back, and with every moan of his that sounded next to your ear, you felt your insides grow hotter, until a knot started to form in your stomach. The most you could do was squeal out Rui's name, but in response, he sped up to a pace that had you wailing with pleasure.

You could feel your finale quickly approaching, but it's not like you could muster the ability to warn him, especially when his mouth met yours again and your moans mixed together. As you reached the edge of bliss, all you could manage was a frantic shove to Rui's shoulder, before your back arched and you cried out. He immediately slowed down, now back to focusing on his depth as his orgasm also neared. You clenched around him as you soaked his cock with your release, and those sweet sounds you were making made his cock more solid than stone. Every second his orgasm neared, it felt like you were driving him more and more crazy. He could just barely sense himself getting louder as he kept slamming deep into you, until his pleasure peaked and he let out a long, shuddering moan as he released inside you. You shuddered, yet another wave of goosebumps raising over your body. As his cum gushed into you, he held you tight, squeezing you with euphoria. When the feeling finally subsided, his whole body relaxed, almost going limp above you. He let out a sigh and started catching his breath at about the same pace you were.

The two of you spent a couple moments just basking in the relaxing, post-orgasmic afterglow, before Rui dropped his head back down to your shoulder, shifting slightly to get comfortable.

"Don't fall asleep," you warned with a chuckle.

"I know, I know. We still have work to do."

His words made you pause, before you groaned. "Awe, fuck."

[megamindsecretlair]

Hey, since you made a Fic where Tyrone was a vampire, Could you do one where he’s a demon the reader does a deal with. He does the reader a favour and exchange, he has a night with them?

A/N: Whew. I'm trying to get to some of these requests! Forgive me for taking so long!

With This Sin

Pairing: Demon!Tyrone x Spooky!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of pet names. There is a power imbalance, there is a sexual favor being exchanged, but it's consensual. Use of magic. Mentions of Hell. ONE SHOT.

Summary: See ask. You found a spell in a thrift store and decided to try it, not knowing if it would work or not. When it does, you're unprepared for what awaits you.

Word Count: 5,242k

A/N: I hope ya'll ain't think I forgot about my baby. He just needed some rest. He been working overtime these past few months, LOL. Who's ready for more spooky Tyrone? I've been teasing this so long that it felt like I was the only one excited. Ah well, LOL. Sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90

You checked and double checked the incantations, the warnings, and the ingredients you gathered. The spell was written on old parchment and the wrinkly paper crinkled in your hand as you smoothed it out. Reading by a full moon was hard, but you didn’t want to damage the paper further.

When you found it in the thrift shop, you knew it was special. While you didn’t truly think this could work, why not try it? You had nothing to do and your friends were off being boring bitches at the club, shaking ass for lame fuck boys who didn’t have the dick to back up all their talk. 

The blades of grass sank beneath your knees as you fidgeted. You were nervous. Of course you were nervous. What if it really did work? What if? 

A quiet breeze caressed your exposed shoulders in your tank top. The instructions were too faint to see what else you were supposed to wear. You opted for a long skirt to protect your skin from any creepy crawlies in the ground. You loved nature, but not that much. 

You stood up from the ground and rechecked the circle you made. According to the spell, you were to spend all month collecting interesting rocks, seashells, pebbles, or whatever else that was shiny and happened to catch your eye. You made one giant circle, big enough to hopefully contain what you were going to summon. 

At the directional gates, you placed items of great value to you. You placed a necklace handed down to you at the North gate, a rook from a chess set at the West gate, a yo-yo at the East gate, and a photo of your grandmother at the South gate. You walked the circle to ensure that there were no gaps that the demon could slip through. No loopholes it could worm its way past.

The only thing left to do was…the actual spell. You took a few deep breaths, listening to the music of the meadow you were in. Finding this open place, away from nosy passersby, under direct moonlight, was a challenge and a half. You were about to give up when you found this place. 

There were sounds of chirping, crickets, and the breeze playing in the giant trees overhead. Your breathing slowed until it matched the natural rhythm of the space around you. Your feet were bare and your toes burrowed into the grass. Your hands were spread, fingers wiggling to ground yourself in your body. 

Here it goes…

You began the spell, chanting the exact words from the parchment. You studied it so many times, consulting several pronunciation websites, that you knew it by heart. You needed clear speech, clear thought, and intent in order to accomplish your goal. 

At first nothing happened. You kept going, watching the circle intently for any hint of a change. By the third stanza of the spell, the air before you shimmered like heat off of asphalt. Your heart leapt in your chest but you didn’t stop. You continued, focusing all of your energy to summoning a demon with enough power to accomplish your goal. 

The air split, like two hands poked through and ripped the fabric of reality. Red smoke seeped through, spilling into the circle and brushing against the boundary of the circle. You watched for any areas it might seep through. It held. 

It was working! Your heart worked double time, too excited to contain it in your chest. A grin crossed your face, eyes opened wider. You didn’t want to miss a thing. 

Out of the smoke, there was movement. There was so much red smoke, you couldn’t see what was coming out. Were there tentacles? Bones? Husks? Was it a meat suit? It could be anything.

On the last stanza, your voice rose. Amplified in the meadow. The birds stopped chittering. The breeze increased, blowing against you and making you sway. You continued. Mother Nature herself was watching what you were bringing into this world. Trying to stop you with the first element available to her. 

You planted your feet, hoping she wouldn’t open the ground beneath you and swallow you down to Hell. You were more of a cold weather type of girly. Plus you’d miss ice cream too much.

The final word dropped from your lips as a booming crack ripped through the open sky. You looked above for any sign of thunder or lightning. 

The sound of a sigh brought your attention to the circle. There stood…a man? He rolled his neck, stretched his arms as if he were waking from a long nap. He walked around the circle. Beyond him, the split in the air was still open, spilling that red smoke. The man kicked it up as he walked the around it.

Power radiated off of him. It made you take a few steps back as you were staggered by it. The sheer magnitude of it was impressive and only your little circle kept him in line.

He reached out his hand, pulling his hand back as if the boundary hurt him. You licked your lips and watched him. You did it! But what exactly did you do? Your impressions of demons were ugly, winged creatures with clawed feet and devil horns. 

This guy was…just a guy. He had thick, coiled hair. Wide lips. He wore black sunglasses, a black suit with a black turtleneck underneath. A gold chain was the brightest thing on him, glistening in the moonlight. His rich ebony skin was flawless. High cheekbones. 

“Not bad, human. Not bad,” he said. His voice was like sin personified. His voice invited all kinds of dirty fantasies, dark thoughts, and naughty ideas. It reached down into your core and rubbed against it like a cat. 

You placed a hand over your chest to calm it down. It should not have that type of effect on you. And yet…as far as demons went, he was damn handsome. You knew why devils were portrayed by the hottest people now. You’d almost sell your soul too if it meant you could hear more.

He faced you, looking at you over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes were slanted like cat’s eyes, a mix of orange and red. It was the only outward sign of his otherworldliness. His presence alone nearly choked you. 

“You’re really a…demon,” you said.

He grinned, showing off a neat row of teeth. The smile made your knees weak. You had to step in place to knock some sense back into yourself. 

“Demon is such a human word,” he said. 

“So what do you call yourselves then?” You asked.

“You can’t pronounce it,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure,” you said. “What’s your name then?” 

He chuckled, the sound smooth and slow as molasses. “Do you not know how this works, little human? Are you playing with grandma’s cookbook again?”

You folded your arms. “To be honest, I didn’t think this was going to work,” you said. You approached the circle but kept a respectful distance. Just because he seemed to be confined, didn’t mean he actually was. He could be trying to play you. Fool you. Trick you. Any minute he could step over a gate and snatch you up, killing you dead.

You walked around the circle. He continued to face forward. The suit jacket hid his backside, but there was plenty of moonlight overhead to highlight his features. When you made it back to his front, he tilted his head and licked his lips.

“What year is it?” He asked.

“2024,” you answered.

He tilted his head back towards the moonlight as if he were soaking it up. He merely sniffed the air, breathed deeply. Guess that answered the question on if he needed to breathe. If Hell or wherever he was from had oxygen. 

“Been a long time since I’ve been summoned. Your kind has forgotten why they’re scared of the dark. Your funny little lights and machines to scare away the big, bad, shadows creeping through the world,” he said. 

“According to this, I summon you and I get to ask for anything I want in exchange for a sacrifice. A sacrifice of great detriment to me that does not result in loss of limb, life, or otherwise get permanently maimed or disfigured?” You asked.

The man ran his tongue across his teeth, looking at you with renewed interest. He pushed his glasses up his face and placed a hand in the air like a mime. He pushed against the boundary as if there really was a wall right there. He leaned forward and tilted his head.

“Little human’s done her homework,” he said. “I’m not in that type of business. Blood, gore, and the like don’t excite me.”

“What does excite you?” You didn’t intend for that to sound flirty. Or like an invitation. Your voice naturally dipped, became sultry, breathy. 

He licked his lips slowly. You couldn’t see his eyes but you got the sense that he was paying attention to you. To the way your breathing increased, chest rising and falling a bit quicker. What else would he notice? What else could he see? Sense? You had a million questions but the full moon only lasted so long. 

“Well? What is it that you desire?” He asked.

“I want money,” you said. The man grinned but you continued, undeterred. “I want billions of generational money that sets up me and my descendants for thousands of years. It can never be taken away, stolen, conned, given away, or the target of nefarious conspiracies.” You added more caveats, things you didn’t consider before but had to.

You didn’t care if it was shallow. You didn’t care if it was selfish. You didn’t care that this was a petty fucking reason to summon a demon and play with the natural order of the world. You were tired. Tired in your soul. 

Your ancestors’ weariness was engraved in each bone in your body. You came from kings and queens. Entire Black ass empires that were world leaders in education, medicine, and agriculture. Thousands of years of dignity, unity, and a beautiful culture. Until four hundred years of bullshit that you were still paying for. Fighting for crumbs.

Your black ass was tired. Tired of the struggle bus. Tired of working and working with nothing to show for it. The powers in charge worked tirelessly to keep their boot on your neck. To keep your children poor and their children even poorer. So what if you wanted to game the system? Who the hell was gon’ stop you? 

The man laughed. A deep rumbling laugh that started in his chest and echoed as it came out of his mouth. “I like you,” he said.

The smile was on your face before you realized that you should not be that happy that a demon liked you. This whole scene was surreal but if he could truly deliver? You and your people were set for thousands of years. And you weren’t going to keep it entirely to yourself. 

You were going to help your friends, charity, start scholarships, all kinds of rewards for Black kids. You were going to pay their tuition, sponsor their businesses; you were going to be the Black Mary Poppins. You were going to upset the financial sector to the point that you’d have them mu’fuckas shaking in their boots to see what you would do next.

“So how does this work? Do you snap your fingers and boom, my bank account is rolling in money? Do you create the money? Can I take it from decrepit old white men who really shouldn’t be alive at this point?” You asked. 

The man straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. He looked up at the moon overhead. Soon, it would begin its next phase, transitioning away from a completely full moon. The parchment mentioned something of a time limit. Sort of like Cinderella. There was only so much time that Mother Nature would allow an intruder in her space.

“Does your little paper explain how I give you what you want?” He asked. “An ask like this requires a lot of power.”

“Power you don’t have?” You asked.

He rocked on his heels and grinned. “I have the power. But nothing is free. When I work in this…realm, let’s just say I need something to bond to.”

“Something like…?”  

He grinned and stared at you, you assumed. For all you knew, he was watching TV behind those glasses. Though you didn’t think so. He was too intense. Too focused. Too in tune with this dance between you. 

He waited there so long that your nerves got the best of you. “What do you need to bond to?” 

“Moments of heightened emotion. There’s power in anger, desperation, love…desire,” he said.

You scoffed and shook your head. “Sex? You’re saying you need to have sex with me in order to grant my request?” 

“If that’s where your mind went, who am I to argue?” He asked. 

A strangled, garbled sound left you. There was no way…there was no earthly way that you would open your body up to a demon just for you to get money. You weren’t a sex worker. You respected the profession but you needed a little more loving before you opened your legs. Certainly not to a supernatural being. No matter how many times your pussy fluttered whenever he spoke or the twinge of excitement low in your belly whenever he smirked or smiled.

“How do I even know you can do what you claim? You could be a liar,” you said. 

He nodded. “I can give you a demonstration. A kiss?” 

You folded your arms across your chest, feeling entirely too exposed all of a sudden. But…an errant, naughty thought bounced in your mind. 

What if it did work? Wouldn’t that be worth it? You and your people would have security. Something no one – other than rich people – got. You’d be able to live a life of luxury and leisure. Spending your days enjoying life, rather than stuck at a 9-5 you hated. Broke down, beat down, and old before you reached thirty-five. 

You stepped forward. “You can’t cross the line, but I can and no harm can befall me in the circle I created,” you said. “Right?” 

He sighed. “You was one of them teacher’s pets weren’t you?” 

“I like to be prepared.” This was insane. This was wrong. This was so beyond fucked up that you should banish him and find some other way to get what you wanted. But hell, if nothing else, you had a wild story to tell at parties. No one would believe you fucked a demon, but they didn’t have to. 

You took a deep breath and made sure to step over the circle of stones and shells and not through it. The man smiled as you stepped onto his side. His powerful aura was even more intense inside of the circle. As if he contained the combined might and power of all eight planets and their density was going to crush you. 

It was a bit hard to breathe around it. You began to pant as if you ran three marathons, weak and swaying. The man rubbed his hands together and his power began to recede. You hunched over, hands on your knees, as you sucked in more oxygen. 

There was still red smoke seeping from the gaping wound in the world, but you stayed far away from it. The last thing you needed was to be stuck on the other side. If you did survive, you had no way of getting back. 

He waited patiently as you regained some strength. You straightened up slowly, testing your body by shaking out your limbs. You were okay, you were okay. 

“I don’t even know what to call you,” you said. “If I’m going to give you my body, I ought to know your name.”

He smiled. “You may call me Tyrone,” he said. 

As far as names went, it wasn’t a bad thing. At least it was nothing crazy like Aurelius. Tyrone seemed to suit him for some reason. Besides his eyes, he could fit in with any other Black man off the street today. Then again, no one would mistake him for human if he walked past them. 

He walked closer to you. It took all of your willpower not to move. He reached out with a hand and ran it up your arm. You shivered from his touch. A full body shiver that almost set your teeth to chattering. But you felt it like a deep pull low in your belly.

He leaned in closer, taking a deep audible breath. You closed your eyes, the moment calling for a type of intimacy you couldn’t see with your eyes. You could only feel as he moved his nose across your cheek. Stepped closer and brought his chest closer to yours. He was incredibly warm. Waves of heat dripping off of him and making you forget that you were standing in the middle of a meadow. 

He brought his lips closer to yours but didn’t kiss you yet. Your lips parted, waiting for the contact. He paused, on the precipice of kissing you. 

Moving felt like it would break the moment. Destroy this bubble. You found yourself leaning forward, impatient for his lips. You felt him smile before he closed the gap and touched his lips to yours.

You gasped as power flooded through him to you by this small contact. It was as if you jumped into a pool of static. Electricity danced along your skin and underneath. He didn’t move his lips or seek more. He stood there, not touching you or pulling you closer.

The power became unbearable and he finally pulled away. It seemed like it took ages for your eyes to open. You gasped, a deep lungful of air that burned your lungs. The world seemed sharper or clearer. As if you had been blind your entire life and suddenly could see. 

He seemed to glow with some inner light that gave him a fuzzy outline. You looked towards the meadow and the green seemed more vibrant. The colors brighter. The glow bugs and birds looking down at you from the trees were curious little things. You could count how many feathers were on their tiny bodies.

“Check your little box,” he said.

His deep voice snapped you out of your rambling thoughts. You fished around your pockets for your phone. You pulled up your banking app. Your account had a few more commas in it and you clutched your chest seeing it.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. You screamed some more and looked at him. “Shit! Shit!” 

He chuckled and moved closer still. His lips caressed your cheek, temple, and moved closer to your ear. “Imagine what I could do with more than a kiss,” he said.

You dropped your phone to the ground. With that kind of money, you could buy an entire phone company. You could buy several. You moved your head and looked at him. He still wore his glasses so you reached up to remove them. He leaned back and cocked his head to the side.

“Are you sure? I can become whatever you want. What tickles your pussy? Wolves? Lions? The latest celebrity fucktoy?” 

“You. If I’m being honest,” you said. Now that you allowed yourself to feel the attraction and not just dismiss it, it was screaming at you from all sides that he was gorgeous. That he was unlike anything else you had ever seen or would see. Being with him would change your life on a fundamental level.

Accepting him into your body would change you atom by atom and you were perfectly fine with it. You continued to remove his glasses, taking in his strange eyes. He grinned as you did so. 

His fingers lightly grazed your skin as he lifted the hem of your shirt. You helped him take it off of you. You wore no bra underneath and Tyrone greedily looked at your titties. He held each one in each of his hands and kneaded your flesh. Playing with your soft, squishy mounds and running his thumbs across your nipples.

Your growing desire pooled in your panties and you squirmed from his questing hands. He held you reverently, like a goddess and he was a mere supplicant. He either dialed back his power or it only happened when his lips touched yours. While your skin tingled from the earlier contact, you didn’t feel like you were going to jump right out of your bones. 

His hands continued to play with your titties. He pinched your nipples between his fingers and you gasped, a tiny whine leaving your mouth. He grinned and did it again, not stopping until he elicited that same whine from you. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you said.

Tyrone captured your lips with his. Power ebbed and flowed between you and it wasn’t as intense as before. This you could stand. You appreciated even that bit of effort. 

His hands moved downwards, playing with your tummy and squeezing. “You’re so soft,” he whispered against your lips. “I could get lost in you.” His tongue played with yours, quietly seeking entry into your mouth.

“Fuck,” you moaned. His big, rough hands were the perfect contrast against your smooth skin. He continued to move downward, pushing your skirt and panties down to pool at your feet. 

You moved his jacket off of him. You took your time removing his shirt as well. He wasn’t gross underneath. You blew out a tiny sigh. Surely, he had to be anatomically correct if he got his rocks off seducing people that summoned him. 

He had a solid, muscle-bound stomach that you could bounce a quarter off of if he flexed. His arms were huge. And felt like rock underneath your hands. His pants were next, flowing down over strong hips, thick thighs, and long legs. You wanted to take a bite out of his ass. 

Now you were both naked, both gripping at each other’s bodies like you didn’t know where to start first. Where to kiss or grab or lick. You settled on licking his chest to see if he tasted as good as he looked. He tasted even better. The chain around his neck was settled like a weight around his neck. You played with it, while he dropped his head to your shoulders and kissed you there.

He nibbled on your skin while your hands traveled over his body. He didn’t need to pour his magic all over you in order for you to feel dizzy with desire. You were shaking with the burning need to take him. To ride him. Your hands cupped the length of him and you froze.

That…couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be that damn big. Your mouth dropped open as your hand continued to stroke him. He was long and thick, with a nice bulbous head that leaked precum. You…were in danger.

As if reading your thoughts, he dropped to his knees and took you with him. You gasped, finding a blanket beneath you now. You saw hints of red around the red smoke. Giving the illusion that you were sitting on a bed of red clouds in the sky.

He pushed you onto your back and gripped your knees. He grinned, eyes seeming to glow, as he pried your legs apart. You moaned, gyrating on the softest blanket you’d ever felt. It was a bit fuzzy and felt amazing on your back. 

Was the red smoke full of an aphrodisiac? Because you felt like your skin was going to burn off unless he did something. Anything to your body besides kiss and nibble on it. You were growing needier by the second. He massaged your thighs as he took in the sight of your dripping pussy.

He dropped to his stomach. No words. No warning. He flattened his tongue out and licked you from your entrance to your clit and you moaned, loud and desperate. “Oh fuck! Tyrone, please,” you said. 

“Please what, little human?” He asked. He returned to licking you, suckling at the sweet nectar your body produced. You trembled in his hands, trying to close your legs against his delicious mouth. It was too much!

Words left you as you surrendered to the pleasure. To the incredible, out of body experience you were having. His shoulders were too big to close against. He moved a little higher to ensure that you could not deny him your body. Could not deny the passion and desire flowing out of you and filling him up like a battery.

He moved his arms up to grab onto your nipples once more and roll them between his fingers. Your body arched off of the ground. “Oh fuck! Ouee, fuck, right there,” you moaned. 

His tongue flicked your clit and you were soon making teetering wails. You came with a viciously loud, echoing moan. If there was anyone nearby, they’d certainly hear you. Hear your screams in the meadow as this demon licked, sucked, and moaned into your pussy.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, trying to push or fight him off. As if that would help with the intense pleasure you were feeling. Like the orgasm couldn’t be contained in your body. Like it had to be let out somehow but was restricted by the confines of your skin. 

Tyrone’s gold chain was cold against your skin, but did little to help. Did little to help pull you back to reality. Eventually, your body did take over and you calmed down from such an intense feeling.

Tyrone kissed up your body, leaving wet kisses on your lower belly and between your breasts. He suckled one nipple into his mouth before continuing up and capturing your lips. Fuck, you smelled divine on his lips. Tasted just as good on his tongue. He kissed your jaw and your neck, licking the delicate skin there.

Your bottom lip quivered. You were still so needy for him. Needing to be filled. You were hollow. Empty. There was no existence in this life worth a damn unless he was sliding that piece of art he had in between your legs.

“Please, Tyrone. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you inside me,” you begged.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. He tugged on your neck with his teeth and you cried out, gyrating your hips against his.

“Please, please. I can’t stand it anymore,” you cried. Your voice wobbled a bit as tears gathered in your eyes. You were drunk with lust. Out of your mind. “Please.”

Tyrone lifted onto his hands and moved his knees forward. It pushed your thighs back until you were nearly folded in half. He watched you as he moved his hips and moved his dick against your wet folds.

You moaned from that alone. You sniffled, a few tears finally escaping your eyes and trailing down the side of your face and into your hair. You just needed to be complete. To be filled up. To have him…

“Oh fuck,” you rasped. He pushed inside with one hard thrust, cutting off your insane line of thinking. 

You clutched him to you as if you could absorb him into your body. You’d have to settle for the fact that he was as close as possible already. You bit his shoulder because there wasn’t enough air to scream.

He moved his hips in hard, deep strokes that made you hike your legs higher. Scratch at his back. Your titties bounced with each stroke and he licked his lips. 

Every few strokes, he’d drop down into a push up and suck a nipple into his mouth. He alternated between the two so each one got as much attention as the other. He rolled the sensitive little buds between his teeth, pushing you into another orgasm. 

On the heels of that one ending, he pushed you into another. Curses fell from your mouth like sparks from fireworks lighting up the sky. You looked towards the moon as Tyrone possessed you. Claimed you. Ruined you here right in this meadow. 

He licked the swell of your breasts as moans and grunts escaped him as well. As he closed his eyes and lost himself inside you. He groaned as he nutted, filling you to the brim with his cum. 

You came at the same time, widening your eyes as you looked at him. He looked at you as if you held all the secrets of the universe. Staring like he lived or died on your word. A different kind of power flowed between you. Something unnameable. Sacred. Cherished.

He grunted as he spilled every last drop and then removed himself from between your legs. That desperate clinginess from earlier began to dissipate. You huffed, falling back against the blanket and stared up at the night sky. 

“You will have all that you asked for,” he said. He was out of breath, same as you. You felt like you had been irrevocably changed. Unmade. Made in his image. He turned on his side and pulled you into him.

You turned to face him. You both laid there and panted, coming down from this incredible bond. “Thank you,” you whispered to him.

“The gratitude belongs with me, little human. I’ve never…experienced something like that before,” he said. He grinned. You couldn’t resist kissing him some more.

You began to tremble from the cold. He stole the heat right out of your body. He rubbed your arms, side, and ass, any bits he could get his hands on. 

You saw the look in his eyes before he said a word. “I know you have to go. It’s okay,” you said.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. He called your name softly. You weren’t even going to ask how he knew it at this point. Maybe he could read minds or something in the spell allowed him to know you. But he kissed each of your fingers and looked at you.

“You ever think of anything else you want, you know how to reach me,” he said.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. Yeah right. You could not have a standing monthly date with a fucking demon. Though the idea wasn’t without merit. How in the hell were you supposed to ride a mediocre dick after this? 

His lips returned to yours, lazy, sloppy things that made you giggle and gasp in between. He kissed you until the very last second, the pull of the moon signaling the end of your time together. You sat up and watched him as he stepped back through the gap in the world. He blew you a kiss and disappeared inside. It sealed itself behind him and you laid back down on the soft grass, staring up and up.

You would never meet someone like Tyrone. And you feared that you’d search for him everywhere now. In every blade of grass, flower bloomed, star that blinked, or whenever you heard a song that reminded you of him. You only hoped that wherever he was, he spared a thought for you as well.

The end.

Well, well. If you need some more after that, you're in luck! The Secret Tyrone Files

[jockbroski34]

New Blood (Chapter 2)

This is the second half of New Blood. If you haven't already, please read the first part here:

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

--Braden POV--

It’s been two weeks since Jacob changed into a jock.  I almost didn’t recognize him at first.  He seemed pretty chill when I saw him first, but now he acted like a spitting image of Zach and even started to look the part too.  I even heard rumors that they started dating, which was a surprise to me because Zach always came off as straight to me.

It was just like what happened with Bradley.  They would start hanging out more and more with Zach, and then the next time you see them, they become freakishly huge and start playing football.  I’ve seen it happen twice, but I am certain it has happened before.  It wasn’t the first time I saw someone in my class walk in looking like they took steroids overnight, but it was uncommon enough for it to not be a noticeable problem.

Even worse, I know he’s still at it.  I’ve seen Zach and “Jake” talking to a guy I know in my class, Charlie.  If I had to guess, he’s their next victim, but knowing him, I’m sure he’d be begging to join them.  He’s openly gay and he’s always thirsted over the guys on the football team, even preferring my brother “Brad” over me.  Zach probably has him wrapped around his finger at this point.  Honestly, I felt bad for him for being that desperate.  I knew it would be impossible to convince someone that down bad.

One thing became clear to me after the past several months.  Zach was obviously getting closer to people in order to convince them to join the football team and become jocks like him.  I’ve seen it happen multiple times, and at this point, he’s gone too far.  I could try to tell the school about what he has been doing, but without definitive proof, I would just look crazy.  The school obviously wouldn’t care anyways because they would benefit from a better football team to put their school’s name on the board.

As far as I know, no one in the school really seems to notice or care about people changing before their very eyes.  They are completely oblivious.  They don’t even care that they could be the one chosen to be targeted next.  I’m basically all on my own here.  This has to have been happening for almost a year at this point and I have to do something.  I have to stop Zach and the rest of the team from turning these students into meathead jocks.

I began to investigate Zach and the rest of the football team.  I went down the roster and made a list of every person who I definitely knew had been turned into a jock.  There were a few more than I had expected to be honest.  About thirty percent, I believe.  These people had all gone through the drastic changes involved with joining the team, including the increased body growth.

There was one person who I specifically wanted to find information on, Zach.  I decided to browse his Instagram to find even a hint of any tangible evidence that I could use against him.  He had a lot of photos, with most of the recent ones being him showing off his body or partying.  I wouldn’t expect much else from a douchebag like him.  Although my investigation did not bear much fruit, I did find something interesting.  As I scrolled through his old photos, I saw a boy both similar, yet entirely different to the cocky, muscular quarterback I knew.  Was he one of the ones that was changed too?

The photo, about two years ago, showed an entirely different Zach.  He was certainly still tall for his age, and definitely still taller than I am now.  He was more on the skinnier side, however, and his face had softer, more boyish features compared to his more chiseled self.  He had a longer hairstyle which contrasted with the short style he was rocking now.  He still had the same verdant green eyes, although they had a more innocent look compared to the confidence his current self was full of.  If you had shown me this picture without any of the information I know, I would’ve thought this was his cute little brother.

The more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder.  How did he do it?  Him being one of the earlier guys to transform combined with him being the quarterback and the team captain led me to believe that he had to be one of the first, perhaps being the prototype.

I saw another photo of the old Zach from three years ago.  It was him with two older men at a football game, each one of them adorning a jersey to match with the others in the crowded stadium.  The man next to Zach bore enough similarities with him that I assumed that he was his father, but the other man’s identity was still a mystery.  The face looked familiar however, but I figured it was just a coincidence.  Maybe he was an uncle or an old family friend?  Either way, I came to the conclusion that Zach was likely always into football even at a young age.  I wouldn’t find it surprising that he would want to play football, but anyone with eyes could see that it would be impossible to achieve that kind of body in just two years even with nonstop training and a strict diet.  I considered the possibility that steroids could have been involved, but how would he be able to even get his hands on them, let alone supply them to that many people?

I then tried to broaden my perspective a bit, and an interesting theory entered my mind.  The football coach would obviously know of the changes, right?  He couldn’t just turn a blind eye after some guys just randomly became jocks and wanted to join the team, right?  In fact, he would have much to gain by turning his players into the ideal version of a high school football player.  Stronger players mean more wins.  More wins mean more success for the team and for the school.  No wonder why the school doesn’t care.  They are directly benefiting from this!

So I decided that I would dig deeper on the coach.  Unsurprisingly, he was a former football player and coach, but decided to move to this town about three to four years ago.  At the college he went to, he majored in psychology.  I found the pair between football and psychology to be a strange fit, with very little overlap.  But then I started to think.  He obviously knows a lot about the human mind.  Maybe that’s why the guys on the team like Bradley and Jacob came out acting like entirely different people.  He had to have done something to them subconsciously, perhaps some form of hypnosis or brainwashing.  Bradley would often mention things that obviously never happened, so I am sure his memories were tampered with.  I would know.  I’ve known him my entire life and he never cared about sports before now.  Just as I had figured out a hypothesis on how they might have changed mentally, I still didn’t know how their bodies might have changed.  I defaulted to my original idea, steroids, but I didn’t know how a high school coach would get steroids for his players.  Surely he’s smart enough to want to avoid that scandal.

I remembered the coach’s face.  I’ve definitely seen it before at least once at school, but it was also the other man in the photo with Zach!  So it seems that the coach knew Zach before he became a jock.  I’m guessing he and his father were close?  If I’m on the right track, Zach could have been his guinea pig for his experiments, since he would have to be one of the first guys to undergo the jock transformation.

I wrote all of the important evidence I had into a document, but then I heard the front door open.  Shit, Brad, no, Bradley came home early from football practice!  I quickly saved the document onto my flash drive, and hid it in my pocket.  We shared the same computer, so I couldn’t risk him finding it, even though he would probably just look up sports statistics or porn instead.  Bradley was seemingly unaware by the time he entered our shared room.

“Hey bro,” Bradley said.  “Doing homework already?  You’re a much harder worker than me, bro.”  The old Bradley would never say bro.  And he was arguably a better student than me.

“Yeah,” I responded, sarcastically.  I was honestly getting tired of him after all that has been going on.  “Not that you would know anything about studying, you dumb brute.”  I grabbed my things and left for the living room, not wanting to be anywhere near my changed brother, nor near his sweaty, unwashed clothes that he left on the floor.

“What’s wrong bro?” Bradley followed me, his large feet stomping on the floor with every step.  “You not feeling alright?  I’m going on a run in a little bit if you want to come with.  It’ll help clear your head.”  I was fuming at his ignorance.  It was at this moment that I burst.

“You are what’s wrong ‘bro’!  Ever since you started hanging out with Zach and joined the football team, you’ve been completely unrecognizable!  You’re just another jock now!”

“So what?  I like being on the team and I like hanging out with the guys.”

“Is that really you in there or is that Zach or Coach doing the talking for you?  You were never like this before you met them.  I know that they changed you!”  I realized I may have said too much.

“I guess they did rub off on me a little, but I did this for me, bro,”  I rolled my eyes at the idea that anyone would willingly agree to be transformed into a jock.  “I know you and I have grown apart these past couple months, but I just want us to get along again like we used to, bro.  No matter what.”  He reached out for a hug, but I pushed him away.  The man in front of me was not my brother.  Besides, he’d probably break a bone or two.

“You are not my ‘bro’!  If you want us to be brothers again, you can start by quitting the team.  You’re never gonna get anywhere in life by throwing footballs and getting concussions.”

“You’ll never understand, little bro.”  Bradley seemed disappointed, and left through the front door, likely going on another one of his runs.  I felt a wave of anger and shame rush over me, not just at my foolish brother, but at myself for being unable to connect with him.  The rest of the night went by as usual, only we were even more cold towards each other than we were earlier.  Dinner was incredibly awkward, with our tension hanging over the dinner table.  We avoided eye contact and didn’t even say a word to each other the whole night.  As I tried to fall asleep, I knew that we couldn’t keep living like this.  Something needed to change.

--Jake POV--

I woke up to the sound of an alarm in Zach’s warm embrace, his toned arms barely wrapped around my new, larger body.  His thick legs tangled in between mine like a knot and his 9-inch serpent in his jockstrap pressed against my back.  I had slept the night at his place again, but it was pretty common these days now that we were officially a couple.  We saw each other almost every day, whether it was at school, practice, the gym, or watching football together on Sunday.  The other bros grew a little jealous of us, but it’s a little hard not to be.

I thought about what happened the other day.  Memories of the lessons prior were drowned out by the practice, and by me and Zach recruiting the newbie to the team.  You see, Zach was not only the team captain and our star quarterback.  He was also responsible for recruiting new members to the team and getting people interested in football, and he asked me to help him out, which I obviously agreed to.

Obviously I now know how the recruitment process actually works, seeing as he had done it to me weeks ago, but it is different watching it compared to seeing it happen to yourself.  Unlike me, the new recruit took less time and was very eager to join the team.  Charlie was a nerdy kid, and gay too, but he had a slight interest in football, but mainly for the hot guys who played it.  I empathized with him, seeing as I was lusting over Zach just weeks ago.  Naturally, me and Zach helped him realize that he could be one of those hot football jocks who he jerked off to, while also allowing him to appreciate the art of the game on more than a surface level.  I watched Charlie transform and he was already in love with his new body and jock persona.  He’s now one of the guys he’s thirsted for, and maybe if he’s lucky, he can get to suck off one of the bros.  I don’t think any of them are gay, though, but if little bro tries to make a move on Zach though, I’ll beat the shit out of him.  Maybe I’ll try to hook him up with another new gay recruit.

I heard a buzzing sound from the nightstand in front of me.  I grabbed my phone, which lit up in the dark room.  My new lock screen was a picture of me and Zach, our arms over each other’s shoulders, in our football uniforms after a hard-fought victory.  Brad had messaged the group chat and it seemed like he had something important to share.

“hey bros my little bro braden is mad at me for joining the team and i think he knos about wat teh team is doin hes obv mizrabl and i want us to get along agan think zach and coach can turn him into a jock liek me?”

I remembered Braden and how antagonistic he acted towards me and the other members of the team.  I still haven’t forgiven him for being so judgmental towards us.  We just wanted to play football and be bros together.  What was wrong with that?  Judging from what Brad said, it is clear that he’s already gathering evidence on us just like he had said, as he knows about not just Zach, but Coach too.  If the secrets of our program leaks, it could be very bad news.  Because he was an enemy to the team, he was an enemy to me.  However, I felt like I could forgive him if he joined us.  Plus, I wanted him to see firsthand why we loved this lifestyle so much.  I responded in the group chat.

“yea we shud do it b4 he trys telling any1 he knows about zach alredy and he knows i changed and tryd to warn me lets talk after practice”

Zach started to rise from his slumber, realizing that he had slept past his alarm and he gave me a kiss on the lips.  I informed him of the situation with Braden and he agreed that this was probably the best option.  I didn’t care if he would try to resist us, but he needed to know that we were not to be fucked with.  Zach went downstairs to make breakfast for the two of us while I got ready for school.

I changed into one of Zach’s T-shirts that he let me wear and a pair of basketball shorts, and then I put on my hat, adorned with the team’s logo, and twisted the brim backward.  Damn, I looked good.  I got turned on by the man staring back at me in the mirror, with his toned body and cocky smirk that showed everyone that he was on top of the world.  I could tell that my transformation was corrupting me, but in the best way possible.  I loved it.  This was everything I ever wanted.

On my plate were eggs, bacon, and peanut butter toast.  Zach didn’t take his studies too seriously but at least he knew how to cook a good, protein-rich meal.  It was a feast fit for muscular kings like ourselves.  I chugged the protein shake that he made for me, rich with a chocolate flavor, before we got into my car and drove to school.

We arrived at school, sat through a bunch of boring lectures, and as soon as that was over, we went straight to practice.  Earlier in the day, I bumped into Braden to show him who he was up against.  He just glared back at me.  It was an odd feeling knowing the power I had over others, but the idea of being stronger and better than everyone made me hard.  While we waited for Coach to arrive, we discussed what to do about Braden.  Charlie said that he had final period with him and that he looked at him funny.  I found the coincidence that Charlie shared a class with him to be quite hilarious, and I imagined the irony of the situation to drive him insane.  Brad said that his mom was going out of town for the week to visit family and his dad worked late hours, so he would have no one to pick him up.

With that information, I devised a plan.  Since Brad would probably have to pick up Braden from school, we could use this opportunity in our favor and get him alone with us.  Since we have practice tomorrow, he will have to stay until after we are finished, so as long as we can keep track of him, we should be able to take him to the locker room in order to be transformed.  With the plan ready to go, we started practice.  After that, me and Zach went to the gym and my biceps were swollen after a hard workout.  I definitely reached a new high today, and I felt great.  Zach decided to spend the night at my place as we tried to iron out any potential flaws in our plan.  Zach seemed proud that I was taking an active role in the team.

“Hey bro, you’re doing a great job helping me to keep this team going.  Whether it’s winning games, or helping out during practice, or giving new recruits the sweet taste of what it’s like to be a jock, you’re really awesome.  When I first met you, I never imagined you would make this great of a jock.”

I blushed.  No one had ever praised me that much.  “What can I say bro?  I learned from the best,”  I responded as I kissed him.  He wrapped his arms and body around me and spooned me like the night before.  As I drifted to sleep, I reflected on Zach and the other guys on the team.  They brought out the best in me.  I fought for my life for them on the field just as they did for me.  Off the field, they were like the brothers I never had.  But Zach was the only person I felt truly understood me on a personal level.  He made me who I am and he showed me how to make other guys as great as we are.  And I eagerly awaited tomorrow when we would have yet another new recruit.

--Braden POV--

Looks like the jocks are at it again.  Charlie was officially turned into yet another musclehead jock.  We were kinda close, since we talked a bit during class, and I genuinely did get along with him despite his preference for jocks.  To be honest, I thought he was kinda cute, but all he would talk about is how hot the football guys were which was a turn-off to me.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he gave in to them.  I’m sure he’ll have a great time taking dick in the locker room like he always dreamed of.

It was at this point that I finally developed a plan to put an end to the football team’s schemes.  I learned the other day that my mom was going to visit family for the week, so I would be alone with “Brad” until my dad got home.  Normally this would be a nightmare for me, since I’d have to stay at school until after his practice since he would be responsible for driving me home.  I decided that while he and the other jocks were at practice, I would sneak into the locker room in order to find any evidence that these guys were turning into jocks.  The more the better, but even just one piece of evidence would surely be enough to raise some suspicion against them. If I find any incriminating evidence, I’ll report it straight to the school and the police.  It’s all up to me at this point.

After class, I went to the library to get some peace and quiet and to get a headstart on some homework before commencing with my operation.  I found it hard to concentrate because I was so on edge.  I figured I wouldn’t have any problems since practice was still over an hour long, but the anticipation was killing me.  I was also distracted by heavy stomping outside.  It was after school!  Couldn’t they keep it down at least a little?  And then, even though I should’ve been alone, I heard someone else enter the library.

It was Charlie!  What was he doing here?  Shouldn’t he be at practice?  He was still wearing his uniform too.  I had to admit, his new look did suit him.  I found myself staring at his nice round bubble butt.  It was always on the larger side, but it had to look even bigger now.  His football pants helped to emphasize his best features.  What am I even saying?  Even if he was objectively more handsome, any attraction I would have for him would vanish as soon as he opened his dumb mouth.

“Hey, Brady!  I didn’t know you were still here,”  Charlie greeted me with a stupid grin on his face.  I hated that he was trying so hard to be friendly with me.

“Yeah, Bradley has to pick me up today,”  I responded.  Surely just putting up with him would get him off my back for a while.  The last thing I wanted was for him to interfere with my plans.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you’d be at practice.”

“I forgot my book in class, so I went to go get it really quick.  But then, I saw you.  Brad did say that he would be picking you up today.”  What an odd excuse.  I couldn’t imagine the coach letting him leave practice early for a stupid reason like that.

“Couldn’t you just go after practice?  Like don’t you have better things to do?”

“I told Coach I’d be quick.  Plus, I wanted to see you!”  He wrapped his meaty arm around my scrawny shoulder.  I could smell a strong waft from his armpit, from the sweat of a hard workout.  I would’ve pushed him off me, but there was little point fighting back against a man as strong as he is.  It was a friendly gesture anyways.

“I’m kinda sad that we don’t talk much, bro.  I know I spend a lot of time on the football team, but I would’ve liked to get to know you better.  I think you should join the team so we can hang out more.”

“I’m not…” my annoyant tone was paused as Charlie pushed his face into mine.  He was kissing me?  I had to admit, he was a good kisser, both strong and passionate.  I wasn’t sure if he was naturally like this or if his jock side made him a better kisser.  As our lips parted, I felt my face turn beet red.  I was overwhelmed, embarrassed, confused, furious, annoyed…No.  I couldn’t find any one word to describe how I felt.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to kiss him, but it did genuinely feel nice even if I couldn’t stand Charlie the jock.  I had to get it together.  He was obviously trying to mess with me, but my answer stayed the same.  “I’m not joining the team.”

“Yes you are,” a voice said as a set of hands grabbed me from behind.  Before I could call out for help, one of the firm hands covered my mouth, deafening my cries for help.  Fuck, it was Jake!  He must’ve snuck in while I was distracted and disoriented.  He effortlessly picked me up and shoved me into a black gym bag.  I was trapped.  I couldn’t see a thing and no one could hear me either.  It was a tight fit and I couldn’t fight back against the scent of old, sweaty gym clothes.

“Good work, little bro,”  Jake said as he high-fived Charlie.  “Now let’s take him to the locker room.”  Shit, they were already one step ahead of me.  I had to admit, these meathead jocks were smarter than I thought.  I remembered Charlie’s words and I realized what they were going to do to me.  They were planning to turn me into a jock!  This cannot be happening.  As I tried to think of a plan to get out of this situation, my mind became clouded by the intoxicating scent inside the bag.  I hated the smell of sweat and musk, but for some reason, I started to feel a little hard.  For some reason, I picked up one of the articles of clothing, a sweaty unwashed jockstrap, and out of curiosity, I found myself sniffing it.  I became distracted by the pungent smell momentarily as I was carried to my destination.

When I finally saw light again, I was surrounded by a horde of members of the football team in the locker room.  They all stood in a circle and they looked like predators, and I was their prey.  I contemplated the idea of running, but I knew it was physically impossible to outrun even one of them with their superior athletic abilities.  I thought about begging for mercy, but I knew they could not be reasoned with and because of my pride, I didn’t want me to come across as weak.  Brad walked over to me, carrying an entire football uniform that seemed way too big for me.

“Put them on, bro,” he ordered.  I obliged, seeing as I no longer had any say in the matter.  I felt a sense of embarrassment because the clothes were way too big on me.  It felt like I was a kid trying to wear his dad’s clothes.

“You’ll grow into it, trust me,” Jake said, his hand on Zach's shoulder, a proud smirk plastered on his face.  My worst fears were realized.  I didn’t know how but they were going to turn me into one of them, yet another jock.

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here, little bro.  Well, we know you’ve been trying to get in our way.  You’re the only student in this school who knows or even cares what we do.  You’re the minority, bro,”  Brad explained.  He reached into my backpack which he was holding and pulled out the flash drive that stored all my evidence.  “I noticed that you were trying to hide this the other day when I came in.  You might just think I’m a ‘dumb brute’ but even I couldn’t miss something that obvious.  I wonder why you had to hide it, bro…” he teased as he inserted it into a laptop on one of the benches.  It didn’t take long for him to find the document I used to share my findings.

“Well, well…” Zach teased.  “Looks like someone did their research.  I’m kinda impressed at how much you use your brain, bro.  Too bad you won’t be needing it for much anymore.”  He then proceeded to delete the file as my hard work was erased from the flash drive.  I felt mortified as my hard work was all for nothing and I realized what was going to become my fate.  I then heard footsteps coming in from outside.

“I believe this is our first time meeting,” a commanding voice stated.  From the way he spoke, I felt any amount of defiance I still had in me turn into submissiveness, like a father catching his son sneaking out at night.   “It seems you already know who I am, but I’m Coach Myers.  I’m sure you’re full of questions, and don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to answer every last one of them.”

I was looking at the man in charge, the mastermind behind all of the jocks who were transformed.  I had so much I wanted to ask him, both out of curiosity and anger, that I didn’t know where to start.

“What caused you to turn these students into jocks?”  I asked.

“Good question.  I was always interested in bringing out the best in one’s self, but I never knew where to start until recently.  Me and Zach’s father were close friends in the NFL.  As a result, Zach always looked up to me, but even though he wanted to be a football player like his father, he wasn’t able to cut it.”

I looked at Zach, who normally seemed very confident and arrogant, but for the first time since I’ve seen him, for just a split second, he felt humbled, reminded of his shortcomings.  For once, I kinda felt bad for the guy even though I thought he was a total douche.  Despite the sob story, I still realized that what he had done was too far.

“He approached me in tears one day.  He wished he was stronger, wished he was more like the guys he looked up to at school.  And that’s when I realized that maybe I could help him.  And so we spent almost a year studying ways to transform his body and even his mind into the perfect football player.  And eventually, we succeeded.  Zach was exactly the person he dreamed of being.”

I now knew why and how it began.  Zach was the first, the alpha.  But why did he keep doing it?  “You helped to make Zach who he is now, but why did you continue to do it to other students?”  I asked.

“I’m glad you asked.  Although changing Zach was my finest achievement, I realized that there were many kids his age who were just like him.  Some felt inadequate, incomplete, inferior, and some just lacked any purpose in general.  So I gave these boys that purpose, and I made them into the strong men that they always dreamed of being.  And not just in this school.  High schools and colleges all across America are doing the exact same thing we are doing, all thanks to my innovations.”

I was shocked by this revelation.  This jock problem was happening at an even larger scale than I could’ve possibly imagined.  Surely there had to have been hundreds of guys turned into jocks just like here at this school, perhaps even some of the ones that tried to oppose them like me.  I realized how hopeless I felt.

“I know my research is unethical but I believe that what I am doing is right.  But back to you, do you not feel at least a little envious of your brother?”

I looked over at Brad…why was I calling him Brad?  I have to admit, I was always a little jealous of him.  He always seemed to be the favorite child, and now that he’s been jocked and has joined the football team, he’s infinitely more popular than me.  If I were just like him, then maybe…No.  That’s what he wants me to think.  But at the same time, I could imagine myself becoming as strong as him, becoming as popular as him.

And then I realized the futility of this decision.  They were going to turn me into a jock anyways.  But for some reason, I had warmed up to the idea, in a way that would’ve sickened me just an hour earlier.  Maybe I was experiencing Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe I did feel envious of Brad this whole time just like how Coach Myers described.

“Coach can make you just like he made me.  We’ll finally get along again, and we can bond better than we ever could before.  What do you say bro?”  Brad asked.

I looked at my brother, then around to the other jocks around me, then finally to Coach.  If I said yes, then I would have a brother again.  I’ll be more attractive and more popular and maybe I’ll even be happier this way.  Maybe Charlie will want to go out with me.  But that would mean erasing who I am to become yet another jock.  That I would lose and all of this would be for nothing.  Who am I kidding?  I already lost.  I was doomed to become a jock the moment I tried to intervene in their plans.  But you know, maybe this isn’t so bad.  I tried to imagine my jock life with a newfound sense of optimism.

“You’ll have to consent to joining the team before we can move forward,” Coach informed me.

“Enough with your monologue, I’ll do it,” I answered, with a sense of humiliation as I surrendered.  However, there was a slight smirk on my face, either from embarrassment or from how absurd my situation really was.

“That took less time than I expected,”  Coach responded.  “The rest of you, resume practice drills.  Braden, come with me.”  I obliged, anticipating what the Coach had in store for me.  I signed a form, put on some earbuds, and put the helmet on.  

As the hypnotic video in front of me played, I slowly became entranced by the spiral that was sucking me into my new life as I felt parts of my mind become erased, including any part of me that still tried to resist this.  “I wanted this,” I thought to myself as new thoughts and memories started to fill the gaps in my mind.  It was like a computer deleting old files that weren’t important in order to make room for stuff that mattered way more.  I always looked up to my brother Brad, as he was a year older than me.  He was incredibly talented at football, so naturally, I followed in his footsteps.  Being younger, I was less experienced than him, but he was a good role model and I aspired to match him as a player.  He was like the touchdown in the endzone and I was at the 50 yard line to put it in better terms.

My body changed entirely.  Every muscle in my body expanded, like I was being pumped full of air.  My football uniform that was way too big at first, soon fit me like a glove.  It was a little painful at first, but I soon felt a wave of euphoria rush over me as I became obsessed with my body, especially my new dick, which more than doubled in size to a massive 10 inches.  I started to resemble the new Brad, with the same short buzzcut.  Before we didn’t look much alike.  Brad was always more on the chubby side and I was on the skinnier side.  But now, we could almost pass as twins.  You could still tell which one of us was the little brother though.

This is who I am.  This is who I always was.  I am a football jock.  I started to love the idea of playing sports and working out, along with other things.  Except I always did?  Part of me remembered thinking the jocks were stupid, arrogant, and annoying brutes, but that’s wrong because all my friends are jocks and they are really cool, bro.  Bro.  Bro, bro, bro…I’m starting to like that word, dude.  Eventually I woke up, without any knowledge of what had taken place today, reveling in my new changes.

“I take it you won’t be a problem anymore, kid?”  Coach inquired.

“No Coach!  I’m sorry for causing you trouble dude,”  I answered.  Part of me felt off, and I felt confused for a second.  I wondered what got me in trouble, but I shrugged it off because I don’t think about that kind of stuff.

“I did keep some of your smarts, unlike the others, but you definitely won’t come off that way.  Your grades were better than the rest and I figured it’d be a waste if they were to completely go away.  How would you like to help me expand upon my research?”

“That’d be awesome, sir!”  I answered.  My new self couldn’t comprehend the irony that I would be directly helping Coach with the very schemes I was trying so hard to stop in the first place.  But why would I ever want to put an end to the very thing that made me who I am now?  I didn’t look or act the part, but I’m kinda smart I guess.  I’m not a fucking nerd or a know-it-all though.  Not that I really want to use my brain more than I have to except for counting calories and football plays.  I was interested in turning more men into awesome jocks like me though.  “Can I go back to practice?”

“Yeah, go meet up with the other boys.  I’ll be out in a sec.”

I joined my fellow bros and we resumed practice.  Playing football just felt natural to me.  We held a party after the game on Friday to celebrate our win.  We were on a huge winning streak.  We hadn’t even lost once this season!  At the party, Charlie asked me out, impressed with my masculine new look.  Turns out he did like me back after all.  He kissed me in the library after all, although I don’t remember why we were there in the first place.  He was always kinda hot, so I said yes, and we quickly realized how much chemistry we had beyond being bros.  We were soon the second couple on the team, the other being Jake and Zach, who were a year above us, who were just as cool.  Nothing wrong with some bro on bro action after all.

Me and Brad had a bit of a fight a while ago, but we’re cool now.  I’m even closer with my big bro than I had ever been before, especially now that we’re on the team together.  I loved life with my bros and I knew my bros loved their lives too.  After practice, I would stay after with Coach and Zach and we would look into ways to create more and even better jocks.  I haven’t been filled in on the finer details yet, but I know that they have big plans not only for this school, but for other schools as well.  I found this purpose along with playing football to be much more compelling to me than anything else.  If there was a part of me that was upset about this life, it definitely wasn’t there anymore because I loved being a jock.

--Zach POV--

I spent the night at Jake’s place again.  Today was a long day though.  Between practice and all the stuff with Braden, I was exhausted.  It did feel like everything was resolved though, and I felt satisfied knowing that our secrets were safe now.  I laid in Jake’s bed and I talked with him.

“Another jock well done bro,” I said, as I wrapped my arms around and kissed my boyfriend.

“We were awesome today,” Jake responded.  “I can tell that Braden is already loving his new jock body.  Glad he could finally see the light, bro.”

“Can’t blame him.  I have no regrets about anything though, even Braden.  How about you bro?”

“Me neither.  I love being a jock and I love making my bros into jocks too.  I’m with you every step of the way, bro.”

“That’s my bro!”  I rustled Jake’s hair before leaning in for a kiss.  For the first time ever, I felt completely content with my life.  I have Jake, Coach, and all my other bros to support me.  I’m the captain and star quarterback of the football team and I carry us to victory every game.  The jock life is perfect for me and for all my bros.  If even Braden could see how awesome it was, I knew that anyone could if given the chance.  I got hard as I imagined what it would be like if every guy at school was as strong and handsome as me.  If everyone was a jock.  With Jake on my side and everyone else, I knew we could take on anything, anyone.  Maybe even the world.  “We still have lots of work to do.”

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

This is the end of this series for now, so thank you for reading it. I'm open to expanding upon it even more in the future if the demand is high enough and if I have ideas on where to take it. I also have a lot of other shorter transformation story ideas that I want to write eventually, so stay tuned.

[str4ngr]

STARTERS [ SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY ]

cw: none, strangers to lovers, first meeting, not beta read, might be military inaccuracies because im not in the military, medic! fem!reader. notes: i've worked so hard [exaggeration] to make this look cute but ik its gonna devolve in 0.5 seconds. this is part one of a series. words: 1,065.

"This won't be easy."

A fair warning, a meager one too, from your new, technically, superior, Kate Laswell. You had accepted her offer as a combat medic, seeing as their next mission was supposed to take months. But those months weren't even this year, they were the next.

This year, it was your mission to become familiar with your crew, have a starter and a taste.

Considering you've dealt with plenty of irritable, ill-mannered patients in the E.D. before, it shouldn't feel so stuffy when you enter the base. You I.D. card was scanned, and you were permitted entry past the intimidating security guard who's eyes nailed you like you were his prey. You might've been.

Heels clacking, you rushed to your new office,

MEDICAL WING

A sign read, in red, right above your head. You wanted to feel like you were walking into a new life, but the stares and exhausted attempts at a smile the veteran nurses tossed you made a breath you didn't realize you were holding leave.

Luckily, offices were assigned, and yours was on the first floor.

Empty and quite sad, you tossed your backpack and purse onto your desk, which didn't even have a chair, and put your hands on your hips. Laswell had told you that they wouldn't be back until evening, it was morning.

It felt like walking into your first job, gingerly taking your steps to the staff lounge where you introduced yourself to the nurses who were lounging. They returned the gesture graciously, luckily understanding of your nerves.

Soon enough, your actual superior came to greet you, smiling and laughing with the rest of the staff as she raved about you. As soon as basic information was given, you were tossed out of your nest, bidding you a good flight. The ED never waits for anyone after all.

⚬

As your first day ended and your night began, you sat in your office, which you finally got a chair for, to sift through paperwork. Boring things never really last for long, and as much as you'd like to one-go your work, it definitely wasn't happening. Especially when your sweet nurses and the other doctors bombarded into your office, playfully asking, more like dragging, you to come with them to the mess hall.

It's impolite to say no, isn't it?

It was fun. It was like being in high school again, smiling and giggling before everyone leans into to whisper, bursting back out into laughter. Oh, and it was juicy. Real juicy, juicier when they mentioned him.

"Ghost?"

You ask, tilting your head as you raise a brow, "What kinda' callsign's that?" There was a strange inkling of familiarity of the name, just right under your nose. The nurse who was telling the story went wide-eyed, grinning at you,

"Oh, honey, he's the one with the skull mask."

The mask. The fucking mask.

Everyone could see it, how you face paled like snow, your head dropping as you gawked at them. They all laughed at your reaction, it was quite comical, though they found it funnier for reasons different than yours, teasing, "I haven't even said the story yet!"

Well, Laswell did. God, were you stupid? He was from Task Force 141! They all, allegedly, saw him in the gym, allegedly lifting double his weight, and allegedly you were blushing at the idea of the number, allegedly. And that was essentially the whole story. The nurse beside you poked as he cooed at you,

"Aw, does the doctor have a crush on her first day?" Laughing as you smacked his arm playfully, a stupid grin on all of your faces. The conversation moves on, talking about the soldiers that got into a fight, and how funny it was when one got a rhinoplasty. It felt like you were half-present, like a fever dream as your thoughts swirled together. Maybe your shift was a little too long.

But you couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating?

You couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating? Your mind ran with every though, you hadn’t even seen him today, and yet here you were imagining him, strong, tall, muscular. And of high status? he sure seemed like the pear most imaginative women would like.

But you can't expect him to be a perfect romance lead, especially the more you listened, seeing as he was quite the topic.

Everyone else seemed to just know him, know him in the sense that he was a figure of admiration. The strongest, the fastest, the most intricate, coolest man on one of the greatest task forces affiliated. They knew every little intricate detail of his service. But you didn’t. You don’t even know what they mean by a ‘skull mask’, was it a full skul? does he do face paint like a 3-year-old? You've never seen him, not that you were reluctant to the chance to.

Maybe you were insane, especially since there was the entire rest of the task force for you to get familiar with too. Well, he was one of them so you should go one by one, right—

"Ya' like to talk, dinnea ya?"

You twitched at the voice, "Scottish," You thought to yourself, "John 'Soap' MacTacvish." Laswell had some comments about him, mostly about his inability to speak understandable English, and his refusal to get a military standard haircut, aka he has a mohawk. But it wasn't just the Scot, the devil answered when his name was called.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

It was almost as if he knew who you were the moment your eyes met, like a fuse set off between you. Brown eyes, deep like dark chocolate, and cold like the tundra, and more magnetic than any other man you've ever seen, he stared at you, speaking to his friend,

"Seems like they do, Johnny."

Gravelly and low, almost inaudible if it weren't for your fixated ear, his voice whispered to Soap, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap, or Johnny as Ghost had so endearingly called him, grinned, plopping beside you,

"Aye, yer that new medic Laswell's been talkin' 'bout?"

You blink a couple times before you smile, nodding as you introduce yourself. Soap smiles back, polite yet inked with a bit of his eccentric personality, taking your hand into a firm shake. You smile up at the masked figure,

"You must be Ghost, right?"

He gave a bland grunt, not that you expected much more from a quiet man. Soap grinned, ignoring Ghosts lack of proper manners to introduce himself. With small conversation, they left, almost.

Although he walked away, he never left your mind, and you never left his.

⚬ ☠︎︎ ⚬

i think i'm just gonna set the reader to female bc ik i'm eventually gonna do suggestive bits so it'll be easier in the long run. lmk if you have any ideas for simon. [or the others i wrote about!!] also lmk if i should make a taglist. [part two]

EYES THAT HOLD SECRETS

directory

[gayeddieagenda]

2024 fic roundup

tagged by @iinryer!! i had soo much fun writing fic this year (and im working on plenty more, though not any that will get posted before the new year).

quick stats: 11 fics, 49,015 words. averaging over a fic a months since i picked up writing fic again in april(ish). i love buddie and i love writing fic and i love everyone who's read anything i've written this year <3

APRIL

i wear your socks and slippers - 6k, slightly post-get together; buck and eddie discovering that they can't just stumble into a relationship and have to talk about it, actually

With Eddie, though–when Eddie looked at Buck like this, Buck came to an easy stop to meet him.

MAY

it's not like a movie when we kiss - 12k, in progress, post-season 5; eddie takes buck home after hen and karen's wedding

“You’re good to me,” Buck says. His voice is quiet enough that Eddie could almost believe he isn’t hearing Buck, just feeling his words somehow. “You’re good for me.”

JUNE

one single static frame - 4k, pre-buddie, pre-season 8; a classic buck and eddie babysitting jee-yun and mara fic

Eddie wanted to turn around and see Buck. He wanted Buck’s hand on his shoulder, the first thing that felt anywhere close to good in a day. He wanted Buck in his house; he wanted Buck to stay there. Eddie wanted something, the one thing, that has always felt easy. He wants that now.

JULY

here's my hand, there's the itch - 4k, talking on the phone fic <3; eddie calls buck from texas

“Eddie?” Buck says. He feels obvious, in a middle-of-the-night, just-woke-up kind of way, like Eddie will hear his voice and know every thought Buck’s had about him for the past two days.

SEPTEMBER

cool dry place - 5k, pre-season 8, getting together; buck and eddie trying to figure out what, exactly, they're ready for

He wondered what it would be like if Eddie could see into his head, if he knew what Buck thought about when he looked at him. In his head, Eddie smiled at Buck just like this.

stand there and get hit - 6k, pre-buddie; eddie tries to talk to buck about his new relationship and stumbles headfirst into his own feelings about it

He told himself he would do everything right, and if all blew up in his face—wounded, wife gone, the only thing in his life that wasn’t ruined a kid who barely knew him—then at least he’d only failed in the ways they all expected him to. He wasn’t remarkable.

OCTOBER

all tumblr emoji prompts, all the time:

a new year - 1k, new year's eve get-together fic

Eddie's smile was small, a private thing between them. His eyes were lit up with something bright and amused. Buck couldn’t stop looking at them.

reaching, reaching - 1k, bandaids and hand holding and getting together

Eddie could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Eddie had an old feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach—the yawning sense that they were standing on the brink of something.

one of those things - 1k, pre-relationship; mistaken for being married fic

“No, Buck,” Eddie says. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m coming to terms with the fact that half the parents of my son’s friends think I’m married to you. I’m not spiraling about it.”

NOVEMBER

ode to joy - 3k, s8e6 coda; a classic ill-advised post-breakup hookup between friends

This close, he feels the hitch in Eddie’s breath before he hears it.

in a heartbeat - 1k, tumblr emoji prompt fic; eddie returns from texas and buck checks for his pulse

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXIV. “natural curiosity”

parts: previous / next

plot: under extreme pressure to perform, you prepare for your first and final interview with Bruce Wayne. Batman learns intriguing info on the gruesome murder of John Doe.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mental illness, anxiety

words: 3.2k

a/n: this brings me to the end of my back-posting! we are now up to date across tumblr, ao3, and wattpad 🥳 excited to keep writing more soooon 👀

Was this some kind of cruel punishment?

If it hadn't been for Dr. Vry's unfortunately logical and desperate plea, you wouldn't have said yes—now you were left flying back for half a week. With enrollment for freshmen starting the first day of September, you had to have this in to Bridgit the morning after meeting with him. Thinking of all the belongings you'd just bought for the apartment you thought you'd be living in, you decided against a flight and booked a U-haul for that weekend instead. You'd see if Mar wanted to drive back with you in it, and if not you'd buckle down and do it yourself.

Your parents came back not an hour later. After a few minutes of hugs and chitchat they put themselves to bed, exhausted. Your mom didn't appear critically ill or markedly different in any way (besides a darker tan), so you let yourself relax for the evening out on the couch. A rerun was on the television, the air was stale, and the setting sun stabbed your eyes. You grappled with feelings of guilt as the minutes turned into hours of nothing. You loved them, but was this all you had to look forward to?

Bruce busied himself with monotonous tasks the rest of the day. The panic attack had wiped him out physically, but his mind was wired. A still-relevant yet menial task he felt he could get into a rhythm with involved stealing the giant stack of newspapers Alfred kept by his fireplace in his office for kindling. He flipped through pages and pages of decades-old Gazette publishings, refusing to indulge his curiosity as he passed the months directly preceding or proceeding his parent's murder. It felt like an impossible feat as he discarded them to his left, forcing his eyes to remain tethered to the current moment. Eventually he found clippings from the past few years, and he nestled into the corner chair to pore over their contents. Why was the Gazette failing? Why was the journalism department going to shut down? He distinctly remembered his parents reading the Gazette together every Sunday before church. On the walk to church, he remembered people sitting on park benches reading it. He only paid attention to the comic strip curated by the art majors, but even as a young kid he knew the paper was influential.

As he skimmed through the recent few years of publishing he couldn't discern why sales were lower. It was putting out relevant information that was decent to read... He stood up and walked down the hall to Alfred's room, and found him buttoning his cuffs. "Master Wayne, what's wrong?"

Bruce shook his head. "You read the Gazette, right? Do you know how many people read it?"

Alfred finished the last button and shook out his sleeves to straighten them. He shrugged. "I don't know precisely, but in concept it seems to be doing rather well. On my grocery trips I see lots of people reading it."

Bruce nodded and made some small talk for a moment about dinner ("I've been craving some sausage and cabbage soup, would you mind that, boy?") before making his way back to Alfred's office. He logged onto the computer and looked up sales for the Gazette. While there had been a decline, it had been slow and not enough to completely shut down a department. After looking into Gotham's budget, he realized there was enough budget and in fact, the majority of the Gotham finances were allocated between GCPD and GU. Looking into the school attendance rate there was still a good amount of students applying to the university; less people going into journalism, sure, but still enough to warrant continuing the major. Was Vry a particularly attentive and anxious president, or was it manipulation to get him to agree to be interviewed?

Alfred forced him away by physically walking upstairs to bring Bruce down, and they ate the soup in silence. It was warm, and soothed him enough to take the edge off his guttural sense of impending doom.

The next day he got a call from Gordon. A quick change into the suit and a back exit getaway later, Bruce found himself at the police station. The guards stiffened their spines and glared at him as he walked up; usually it didn't bother him, but after being discovered he felt every eye on him was an x-ray. He walked down a dingy, slim hallway to Gordon's office and knocked on the door. Gordon invited him in, appearing visibly stressed. "In the office on a Saturday?"

"Hey. I don't know what to tell you, but the results came in inconclusive."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "No idea what the metal is?"

"That's not exactly the problem." He reached into the desk and pulled out a plastic EVIDENCE bag smattered with pokes from the sharp metal inside. It landed on the table with a sharp rap. "We know what it is, but we are lost as to its function."

Bruce swirled the bag so the shrapnel tilted and moved about its cage. Gordon continued. "We brought in a few dentists, even one doctor, to clarify why this might be used as a filling but no one had heard of it before." He quickly continued. "Well, one guy did. Said he used to be a chemist. He'd heard of the metal, but said it was bordering on corrosive. He couldn't make head nor tail of why it would be used in a man's mouth."

"What is it?"

"The man said 'Electrum'. I made him repeat it because it sounded made up." Gordon rolled his eyes and bit his lip, lost in thought. His tone was biting. "I just want to find these punks. Can't have someone causing crime scenes like that running loose."

He'd never heard of Electrum. He opened his mouth to speak but Gordon continued again. He's talkative today. "The man said its properties are that of a 'spark to light up the wire'. Something about conductivity. I think it's just some man who got an under-the-table dental. Probably cracked open a soda can and peeled off a clip to tuck into his gums." By the end he was mumbling, and quickly stood up.

"They were certain it's Electrum?"

Gordon nodded. "He said it was clear. Bet his life on it." And with that he left, motioning to be followed out.

Electrum. Nothing could be found on the web about it. Alfred didn't know, and there had never been a mention about it in any newspaper since 1800 (any further back he couldn't find). By this point he was exhausted, and hadn't even realized he'd pulled a whole weekend staying wide awake. He physically pored over every newspaper article himself pre-1900, his smart engine struggling and misreading the small, fuzzied print. There was nothing that could even be vaguely related to Electrum. Fuck. He dragged his feet up to bed and crashed early Sunday evening.

Had it really only been a strange, foreign filling? Usually this would be his favorite type of thing to sleuth out, something no one could find but he could; he would read the small print from an article in 1806 and solve the mystery, following its crumb trail to an ultimate victory. It was the perfect catharsis, but he was too in his head. All Monday afternoon he twiddled his thumbs and waited for evening, but when evening came he couldn't bring himself to put on his suit. That one scrap metal felt like it was lodged in his tooth, giving him an emotional toothache. He slipped into bed and laid on his back with his arms behind his head. He gazed up at the ceiling, drawing a mental map of the situation. The John Doe couldn't be traced back. Dentist, former chemist, clarified it was Electrum. Electrum can't be found anywhere. No trace of it. Testing was inconclusive. Bordering on corrosive. Man was stabbed repeatedly and hung by the blades. Owls were etched into hilt. Owls were etched into pins and rings of the Gotham University president... Bruce squinted. How could he gain more information on Dr. Vry? His first thought was a Batman interrogation, second idea stalking her in his car for a week to see what she was up to. Both options, especially the latter, caused an internal cringe. Much like he couldn't shake his suspicion about Electrum, he couldn't shake the thought you embedded in him that he was too invasive.

Being invasive to criminals isn't bad. Often, it's the only way to catch them. Your voice came into his mind. And you're assuming she's a criminal. What happened to probable cause?

Her jewelry insignias perfectly match those on the weapon in an unsolved murder.

Perfectly, huh?

Almost.

Almost, yeah.

Even imaginary you mocked him. He continued having a conversation with himself until Alfred knocked on his door. He bristled and sat upright in bed. The old man leaned against the doorframe and gazed at him, spectacled. "Wanted to check in. Social battery ran out, I assume?"

Bruce stared down at his sheets. "Unsolved murder. Can't find any clues."

"Peculiar. Not much stumps you these days."

He struggled not to receive it sarcastically given how vigilant Alfred had been about his mental wellbeing the past few months. He hoped this wasn't another request for him to meet with his therapist, but his hopes were quickly dashed. "I called New Discoveries, they have a few openings this week and next."

Bruce bit back a retort. "If I ever need her, I'll give her a call."

"Bruce,"

"Stop, please. I've got enough to deal with right now."

He leaned in and raised his eyebrows at the boy. "Your analyst could help with that."

"I don't need someone to tell me my parents died."

Alfred heaved a deep sigh. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm not talking about this." This was the push he needed to get out and into his suit. He jumped out of bed and strode firmly past him, ignoring Alfred's calls to get him to 'just make a phone call'. He was surprisingly swift getting into the suit and out on the town. Guilt plagued him at abandoning Alfred, but this was about the tenth time they'd had that conversation since June and it was making him ill. He wouldn't mind seeing his therapist again, he'd liked going after the murder, but he didn't think he could handle being forced to reckon with his mortality at this point in his progression. He still wasn't sure it existed, and until he tied up all the loose ends about the owls, or his symptoms got significantly worse, he was going to ride this last high as long as it let him.

The next few days with your parents went smoothly. It was almost like before your mom had gotten sick, plus Walter. Walter was ecstatic to see your parents back, and you no longer sobbed in the shower out of lonely desperation. You were able to distract effectively through various arts and crafts with your mom, and by the time you were starting to need 'me' time she would tire. You spent some time with your dad fixing the back deck and pulling some weeds out of the raised flower beds. You tended to the pumpkins your parents had planted in June, and harvested some bell peppers and blueberries.

You avoided thinking about Gotham until you were in Gotham; you hadn't even mentioned to your parents you'd been fired/quit, and figured they'd know when a U-Haul ended up at their house with you and Mar inside. The quiet neighborhood was relaxing when your family was around, but that desperate feeling of loneliness was pinned to your chest. The town felt more desolate after being in the city, the quiet felt heavier when they were gone, and knowing how fragile her health was you figured you'd spend more of your life without her than with her. The combination threatened to consume you, and you spent every lull in conversation and every night lying in bed unable to sleep from worry about finding your purpose in life. What interested you? What motivated you? What were your values? How could all of the above be translated into a livable life?

Where did you belong? Did you belong here, in the sleepy town with wide open skies? Did you belong in a city with skyscrapers and sardine-squishing sidewalks? You liked the access the city afforded you. When you'd first moved there, you'd been enthralled by the hundreds of restaurants and stores within a mile's radius. You'd maxed out a small credit card being silly and young, trying cuisines you'd never even heard of. You found cute themed shops that were abhorrently overpriced but nonetheless aesthetically pleasing to visit. But the city moved so fast, and just in time for you to settle into a routine with a favorite restaurant they'd be closing shop. It was cutthroat and intimidating, and you felt softer. Too soft. Life here was too slow as to be entirely, aggravatingly boring. There were only a handful of restaurants in town and they were all dying fast food chains strung out amongst various struggling mom and pop shops that wouldn't dare invite in a health inspector. But the nature was beautiful, and sometimes you loved the quiet breeze of it all. You had no friends besides Mar who you could never see leaving the city, a degree that was worthless in the current economy, and your extended family lived in south Florida for some unknown reason. You only saw them once a year at a family reunion that was usually in July, but had been postponed to Christmas. Ugh.

On Monday you set off for Gotham. You'd arrived on time a few days earlier to ensure you could properly pack your stuff. Day one was filled with throwing out the perishable groceries and giving yourself a moment to breathe outside of your childhood home. The food tasted bland, your favorite shows had lost their spark, and your bed was lumpy and hard. The floors were cement and made your feet ache with every slapping step. The water took ages to heat up compared to home, and you kept watching your step for Walter who never showed. The flight had been frustrating. Your head pounded. You felt like screaming into an empty field, creating a dust storm from pounding your hands into the dirt until you were bruised.

Day two after arriving back to Gotham, you sat down at your small desk in the corner to think up some questions. It was impossible to focus, but you kept yourself to task by repeating you'd be out of here permanently, genuinely, so, so soon. As you stared at the blank page, anxiety sprouted. It hadn't before occurred to you that everyone would be reading this; in fact, everyone would likely be seeking this out so much it would be translated to different languages hours after being published. For a moment you couldn't wrap your head around why this time felt so much more high-stakes, and then you remembered the fate of an entire university department rested on how marketable and quality this interview was... and remembered how obscenely rich and powerful the subject was. You twiddled your fingers just slightly above the keyboard, nervous to even begin to dive into it.

The first thing you did was peruse Scypher, especially their forum sections.

SEARCH: Bruce Wayne

SEARCH: Mr. Wayne

SEARCH: Bruce

SEARCH: billionaire

SEARCH: Gotham

SEARCH: Gotham City

SEARCH: Gotham and Bruce

SEARCH: Gotham and Bruce Wayne

You sifted through hundreds—if not thousands—of posts thirsting after him. There were pap photos, one-shots written daydreaming about him, some tweets hating on how rich he was (you liked those), but the vast majority were simply pining after him in a public arena. You got a small sense of what people wanted to see from him, but not enough to create a substantial question.

You went onto Google and searched the same things. A handful of articles from major news outlets were titled similarly: What We Know About Bruce Wayne, the Orphaned Billionaire. People generally knew about the circumstances of his parent's murder, that he lived at home with his maids and butlers (was there more than one Alfred?) and everything that he'd announced at Gotham University graduation. There was logistical data on his Wikipedia page such as his height, birth date, current age, and where he went to school growing up. Information for the past decade was slim, the only bits being where he attended college, his date of graduation, and his major. It appeared the only times since his parent's death he peeked out into the public eye were school-related.

No one knew anything about his personal life, and you worked yourself into a tizzy brainstorming ways to persuade him into talking about himself. Where was the line between too benign of a question and too invasive of one? What was relevant information to someone high-profile's first interview? You'd spent hours digging into the first interviews of now-major celebrities, but they all happened before they rocketed into fame. This was different: he was born famous, and now at age 30 he was finally speaking to someone. After a certain point in your research you feared you would need to be the blueprint for this kind of thing; even nepo babies had been interviewed as children, asked questions such as their favorite musicians, movies, books, and colors. How did you show the public he was normal, personable, even? Did you even want to make him appear normal, because he didn't seem it. He was an enigma. Someone you couldn't quite peg.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What's my goal with this? No one else's, mine? What do I want to learn about him? What are my natural curiosities? This led to an immediate rush of creative energy, questions popping up left and right; you didn't care about how invasive or off-kilter they might seem. After the brainstorming, you gathered the questions into three categories: COMFORTABLE - DEEPER - DANGEROUS.

The first contained questions that were more basic, and likely wouldn't elicit an emotional response in any way to the interviewee. The second probed a bit more, considered more thorough and juicy. At this point an interviewee might be more choosy with their phrasing, or pause to think about it. The final category was fully questions of your own mind, questions you didn't think you'd ever ask but wanted to be put to paper. These were so juicy as to be intimate, so personal as to be disorienting.

When else would a woman have the leverage to ask such a dizzyingly powerful man anything she wanted?

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

"I want you there ..."

Tech Grief Ficlette

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Warnings: Sad, Grief.

Summary: A grown up Omega has some news for an old friend.

WC: 661 Read on Ao3

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Omega’s boots crunched along the gravel of the familiar path. It had been a while since she had trekked back to Pabu, now the sea breeze danced about her, caressing her cheeks like a welcome from an old friend. 

Her portfolio case swung from one hand, the familiar broken goggles from the other. She was almost never seen without them. Today though, she was heading to a special place on Pabu… the place she came to talk while she finished growing up. Talk to him. 

The cliff line finally broke, giving her a gorgeous view of the sunset. Brilliant orange, just like the amber glass in her hand. She sat at the rocks edge, opened her portfolio and with a sigh, slipped on the goggles. 

She hit record. 

“Hey, Tech… it's been a while, I wanted to update you on what I've been up to…”

It had been forever since she talked to him like this, panic and dread had set in one day when she realized the internal data storage was running low. She didn't want it to loop and record over anything but today was worth talking to him… formally. 

She pulled out the first etching, a dark umbra alive with bonfires and crude little drawings of people. 

“I've been doing well with the rebellion, we won an important skirmish a few months ago, Partied after harder than Hunter says you guys did… but I guess he might have down played what you boys got up to…”

She trailed off, stroking the figures around the little fire, just to have her hand come away black with sooty medium. She furrowed her brow, and wiped her fingers on her pants before drawing out another sketch. 

“This… well, I was trying to design a call mark for the hull of the marauder… nothing really worked out,”

There were over a dozen half finished figures with exs through them, and scattered notes. It wasn't what she was really after. She looked more carefully through her etchings, finally pulling out one of a full body figure. Their back was on full display and every detail and shadow had been filled in lovingly. 

…

“I'm getting married soon… it's gonna be here, on Pabu. I met them out there and well, life is short on the battlefield… you know that more than any so…”

A lump was starting to form in her throat but she swallowed the old pain gracefully, continuing. 

“I'm planning on wearing your goggles… so you can come to, I just wanted to give you a heads up before… before you were just, walking me down the aisle… I hope that's okay,”

It was nonsense, but it always felt like putting his goggles on and pressing record… it was like Tech could open his eyes again for a brief moment. 

“I was always gonna wear them anyways… Hunter insists he should be the one to walk me, but Wrecker said it was unfair and I think it upset Crosshair too… they're taking turns now. Hunter starts, Wrecker in the middle and Cross'll finish it… but you'll be with me the whole time… I want you there…”

She stopped the recording and whipped the goggles off, squeezing her eyes as a few hot tears grazed her cheeks. It had been a long time since she last cried for Tech, but the heightened stress of the past few weeks left her vulnerable to the old wounds. 

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have insisted we go, it's my fault…

She caught the thoughts there, releasing them with a shaky sigh as the cycles of grief lit through her for the life that should have been. Thoughts she'd never be rid of even though she knew they weren't true, almost a comfort that she could still feel his absence so greatly… that she never forgot. 

Catching her breath, she checked the remaining storage. Only a few hours left… 

I hope this is okay … I want you there. 

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

[drewharrisonwriter]

On the Mend - Ch 1: Not Today

No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Read this on AO3 | On the Mend Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

Word count: 829

A/N: (EDIT 09/17/2023) Okay so I heard ya'll! LMAO and decided to turn this into a mini-series. Not sure exactly how things will play out for these two, but I've written a part 2 and decided to call this mini-series On the Mend. LOL hope you like it. This is a one-shot for now, not sure if and how to continue this. I just got this idea recently and wanted to write it.

The merciless sun bore down as she parked her car. The Austin summer had been relentless, and today, it seemed as if even the universe was conspiring against her. 

It had been a thoroughly miserable day. Work had been a disaster; she'd spent hours redoing half of a project her co-worker had botched because she was still hungover from the previous night. 

The Texas summer heat, relentless and unforgiving, only added to her misery. As if fate had a personal grudge against her, she realized she'd left her house keys on her office desk when she was already halfway home. 

She sighed in defeat and turned her car around to retrieve them. All of this was compounded by her lingering morning sickness, a term she found deceptive as it had resurfaced with a vengeance upon entering her third trimester. She had naively believed she had bid it farewell for good when she'd crossed into the second trimester.

"Whoever called it morning sickness should be shot for lying," she grumbled, attempting to quell the rising nausea that threatened to surface.

Dressed in biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt she kept in her car for emergencies, she got out and beelined to the frozen aisle for a popsicle stick and savored the brief respite offered by the melting ice cold treat.

She sighed in relief and grabbed a pushcart. Her only mission in the store was to grab some Oreos, pickles, and frozen pizza to satisfy her cravings that were so intense, she literally cried in the car on her way over. 

As she rounded a corner in the store, she was suddenly face to face with the last person she wanted to see: Joel Miller. 

Great. She thought to herself. Couldn't have been on a better day. 

Ah, Joel fucking Miller.

The man who had once been the love of her life.

The same man who had taken her on the most memorable first date she'd ever experienced, and had filled the past five years of her life with the kind of joy she'd never known before.

But this was also the man who made it clear to her months ago, after five whole years of being together and living together for three, that he has no plans of marrying her and having a family with her. 

She and Joel were arguing at the time when he said it. 

--

In the midst of their emotional clash, she couldn't help but speak her mind, her frustration boiling over. 

"Joel," she began, her voice trembling with pent-up feelings, "if you get mad at every damn little thing, what's going to happen if we were married? That's not the life I want, and it's not the husband I need."

Joel's eyes flashed with anger as he retorted, "Of course it’s not! And who told you I was going to marry you?" His words cut like a knife, and she felt her heart shatter into pieces. 

"We never talked about it, what put the idea into your head?" he continued, his tone harsh and unyielding. 

Her jaw went slack in shock, as tears welled up in her eyes as she choked back her emotions. 

"But I thought we--," she whispered, her voice barely audible, she couldn't even continue her thoughts when Joel cut her off.

"No." He barked. "You knew from the start that Sarah is my priority. Always was and always will be. I'm not going through the whole marriage thing again." And have our hearts broken all over again when you realize that we're not what you want, he wanted to add. But instead he allowed the silence to linger. 

Silent tears slipped from her eyes but she did not respond. 

Instead she stood up and went into the closet and started packing. So be it, she told herself as she zipped the last of her bags before going into the bathroom to hastily shove her toiletries into another bag. 

She stopped when she pulled one of the lower drawers open. The positive pregnancy test sticks under her box of tampons glared at her, and for a brief moment she contemplated telling Joel. But when she heard the front door slam shut, she pulled herself together and shoved the sticks in the bag as well. 

--

That was seven months ago and she hasn't seen nor heard from Joel since. 

Their eyes met for a moment before his gaze fell upon her very round baby bump. Acting on instinct, she hastily placed her handbag in the shopping cart, a futile attempt to hide it from him, though it didn't do much given the fact that she looked like she had tucked an entire watermelon under her shirt.

She grimaced, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she locked eyes with him once more, she began walking backwards, her eyes not leaving him and before he could say anything, she had rounded the corner and all he heard was, “Nope. Not today!”

Next Chapter 👉🏻

[someplace-darker]

In The Static | Ted Lasso

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader (no y/n) Wordcount: 2.1k Warnings: panic attack/talks of panic attacks, vague mentions of trauma. That's about it I think, it's a touch angst and hurt/comfort I suppose. Fluff. Summary: Ted thought he was past his panic attacks until he encounters another, and you follow him to make sure he's okay. A/N: "now jay" you might be saying "wasn't the last thing you posted smut almost a year ago?" and the answer is yes. But i've recently become insanely attached to Ted Lasso, and I dipped my toe into writing more than a wip. SO here's my middle aged white man of the month. Enjoy :)

“REFEREE!!!” Keeley stands with a force that causes her to latch onto your arm to keep from falling forward. It continues to astound you that for such a tiny lady, she really contains an insane amount of spunk. One of the opposing team’s men had just slid Sam’s legs out from under himself, causing him to land hard on his shoulder. The game had been a rough one so far, more aggressive and bitter than most. Richmond had been respectful at first (as per usual) but the second their opponents had started playing violent and dirty, that changed.

Roy and Beard were obviously shouting and pointing angrily, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying from your seat in the box. Ted, however, was standing stiffly with his balled fists shoved into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. You can feel that something is off. Even if you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to read his body language. There’s mere minutes left in the game and the teams are tied.

Rebecca is already standing and gathering her belongings to head back in, gesturing for the lot of you to follow. That’s exactly what you begin to do before the crowd goes ape-shit, jumping from their seats and screaming so loud it makes your head thrum. 

“ROJAS INTERCEPTS THE KICK AND PASSES TO TARTT AND JUST LIKE THAT-”

You turn just in time to watch Jamie kick the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in cheers that shake the ground.

“AFC RICHMOND TAKES ANOTHER VICTORY 2-1 IN A SHOCKING LAST SECOND SCORE”

Keeley, Higgins, and Rebecca rejoice, grabbing at each other in shock. Placing your fingers between your lips you let out a piercing whistle, jumping up and down as thousands of chants echo. You look down to your coaches, expecting to see all three soaking in the sweet relief of not gaining another loss. Instead, you see Ted darting for the locker room, head down with his phone held two inches from his face. It was obvious to you that he was trying to use it as a cover. 

“I’ll meet back with you guys later, I’ve gotta check something real quick.” 

They smile and wave you off, relishing in the buzzing excitement clearly felt throughout the facility. As much as you wish you could join them in celebration, you were pretty sure Ted needed you more. So you slip through the small crowds with ease, having much practice during your time with Richmond, taking the back staircase to the locker room hallway. 

At first you check his office, finding only his jacket laying on the floor. The second spot you search is the right one, opening the door to darkness. You almost turn and leave but a staggered breath gives him away. 

“Ted?” you whisper, stepping into the boot room and closing the door gently. He sniffles almost silently and hums in response, curling in on himself when the lights flicker on at your touch.. You’ve never seen him look so small before, his entire body condensed into half of his height in the corner of the room, the sight moving you to shut the lights back off for his sake.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, walking over to kneel in front of him. He has his head placed between his knees, hands on the back of head with his fingers intertwined tightly. As much as you know of his panic attacks, you’ve never been present for one. Something tells you he tends to keep it that way with everyone around him. 

However, you’re well versed with them yourself.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, but I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay.”

You lower yourself onto the ground, the floor cold beneath your already freezing ass. England's weather was not kind to the warm blooded. Ted doesn’t lift his head all the way, simply angles it towards you just enough for an eye to peek out from behind his arm. He looks at you with the gaze of a wounded puppy, eyes red and wet, smeared with warm tears.

The silence that follows is deafening, a faint ringing the only thing you hear. Ted looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. It’s not like you can blame him. The last time he opened up to someone he considered close about his panic attacks, it ended up plastered on every magazine and tabloid across the country. Trust within himself and others had been fractured- not broken. No one could ever betray Coach Lasso enough to break that within him, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.

After a few more minutes of silence his foot slides over to yours, just barely nudging it. He lifts his head and sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe the mix of tears and snot off his face.

“I want to tell you about it, I do. I’m just… stuck. Feels like if I tell you, it’ll be too much,” he murmurs, keeping his foot pressed to yours.

“I understand, Ted,” you whisper. “I started having panic attacks before I was even a teenager. I’d been through things- rough things -and they plagued me for years.” He begins to unfurl himself, listening intently to every word you say, the blatant honesty and vulnerability easing his anxiety. “It took me a while to open up to anyone about them, let alone a therapist. I spent so long trying to hide them, that when I finally did get help I felt like a fake.” 

Ted adjusts himself to sit up straighter, shimmying closer so your shoulders touch. You can tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, but the man is known to be anything but subtle.  Outside you can hear the boys begin filing into the hallway, headed for the locker room surely for some type of victory activity. Their shadows dance across the wall in the darkened boot room, slashed into segments by the blinds slanted slightly open. Both of you seemed to have held your breaths as they passed, because as soon as they’re gone there’s a simultaneous exhale of relief.

An amused breath comes from Ted, palm pressing from the corner of his eye to the tip of his cheekbone to wipe away the stray tears. He knocks his knee against yours and dares to glance at you, opening up enough to make eye contact. Here in this room, he looks more human than you think you’ve ever seen him. For the most part he keeps his mood insanely optimistic, tending to care more about others happiness than his own. It gave him an almost otherworldly bounce to his step and light to his eyes. 

But now that he’s sat no more than two inches in front of you with puffy eyes and a chewed lip, Ted is just… a broken man. 

“You’ll never be too much, Ted. It’s normal to feel stuck, and it’s okay to not be able to talk about it yet.” His eyes flick to your hand when you lift it towards him, a lifeline of trust, openness in the form of warm skin and an upward facing palm. Internal conflict tugs at his lungs, his breath hitching as he weighs his options for all of five seconds before taking your hand. You are someone Ted knows he can always find solace in. 

Someone who he could spot in a crowd of thousands, someone who he will always seek out. 

His other hand reaches to pat the top of yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing circles. A shuddered breath begins to pass his lips, but he smothers it to ashes with the cool press of a kiss to your wrist. 

Humming amusedly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, you lean your head on his shoulder, moving slightly as they lift with the intake of air into his lungs. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel bad that I haven’t spoken to you ‘bout it,” he tsk’s softly to himself, carefully navigating his brain for the right words. 

“I was fine out there, y’know? I’ve been doin’ better, Sharon’s helped a lot. But it just got so loud, and everything felt out of my control- out of any of our boys’ control and I- I just couldn’t breathe. Tunnel vision, boom, just like that.”

You whisper encouragements softly under your breath, murmurs of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘you can keep going’ pushing him gently in the right direction. Voices can be heard from the locker room, loud cheering and chanting from the team acting as muffled background noise for Ted’s moment of vulnerability. 

“After everything that happened with Nate, I learned to mask it a bit better I guess. That’s the fancy word Doc told me about,” the corner of his lips quirks up “I figured I’d be okay in here for a bit anyway, then you walked in.” Your brows furrow and you pull away from his shoulder, opening your mouth to apologize for intruding but he beats you to it.

“No, no, that sounded different than I meant. I am very glad that you found me here. I needed you even if I didn’t know it,” he traces the details of your face with his eyes, not stopping you when you move your head back down to his shoulder. 

“I think you’ve worked on it so much quicker than you realize, Ted. It wasn’t that long ago, yeah? Healing and improving takes time, and it’s okay that it takes time. I certainly took my time,” you muse, channeling your own therapist’s word. “But I think it’s right on par with who you are, who I know you to be, that you got on it as fast as you did. Even if it was begrudgingly at first.”

“Yeah, Doc definitely had her work cut out.”

You laugh, normally at first but then Ted snorts and you both lose it, bodies bumping against each other with the shakes that come with post-meltdown laughs. Soon enough you’re both wiping away tears of a different variety, the air in the room much lighter than before. You take that moment to push yourself up and off the floor, lending a hand to Ted to pull him up.

“I am immensely proud of you, Coach Lasso. So is the team. You have a very large family backing you up, as unorthodox as said family is.” You take one step closer, hand still holding onto his, pressed between your bodies. Taking your free hand, you hold the side of his face and lean in to kiss his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw. 

Ted presses into your lips, chasing your touch even when you turn to the door. Twisting the knob open you find Will standing there, boots tied by their laces hanging over his shoulder, hand outreached to grab the now absent handle. 

He blinks at the two of you for a second, gaze one of vague shock, before curling his lips in an embarrassed smile and stepping out of the way.

“Not a word, Will,” you sing-song when he opens his mouth, pulling Ted down the hall to stand outside of the locker room door. 

You can hear Roy in the middle of a somehow happy/angry sounding congratulation speech that only he is capable of, grinning and turning to face your Coach once more. “Now, get your butt in there and relish in the sweet taste of winning.”

“I mean, relish is pretty tasty-”

“Ted.”

“Yep,” Ted takes a deep breath and nods, squeezing your hand “you coming in with me?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your moment, Coach.”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and pushes the door open, dragging you with him. The boys’ faces light up, immediately rushing to storm him, all reaching to touch him and jumping up and down. Their team song buzzing and bouncing along with them.

“WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE KNOW WE ARE, WE’RE SURE WE ARE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE”

You slide past the group, safely reaching Roy and Beard without your feet being stomped on. The smile on your face is one of pure joy and contentment, not faltering when Beard slides to your side, bumping your elbow. 

“Thanks,” he speaks, nodding towards Ted. It’s easy to know what he means immediately, always one to be of few words. 

“No need to thank me,” you reply easily, watching your family bond even more “it’s what we do.”