#not entirely sure what was going through my head with this one

[yueebby]

head over heels – jason todd

synopsis. jason todd is smitten and everyone is tired of it 

contents. fluff, ooc?, so much banter and pining its painful, like can they just kiss already

notes. short moments i had written but decided to combine into one fic. maybe i'll make a pt 2. not proofread...

There have only been a few occasions where Jason’s family has seen him smile. And even then, it was usually a sick smirk as he wreaked havoc on his enemies. So, imagine their shock when they watch their brooding, battle-hardened brother smile at you, of all people.

You.

His sworn enemy. A dramatic title, sure, but fitting. Ever since the two of you met, you had butted heads at every opportunity. Your strong personalities clashed and neither of you were willing to back down. In fact, you had become a fixture in each other’s lives. Two forces of nature neither could ignore.

And right now, the storm was brewing once again.

"You were in my territory again, asshole!" You jab a finger into his chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

Jason scoffs, arms crossing as he looms over you. "Your territory? Last time I checked, Bruce took it away after that drug ring went out of control. Don't think you can handle it alone, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse me?!" Your voice pitches up, outrage and disbelief mixing together as your hands curl into fists at your sides.

On the sidelines, Dick nudges Damian toward the exit of the Batcave. "We should go before it gets violent."

"That, or they're finally going to kiss," Tim mutters, eyes glued to the scene. It’s like watching a car crash– horrific, yet impossible to look away from.

Jason doesn’t acknowledge them. He’s too busy watching you, his entire focus drawn to the way your face contorts in frustration, how your lips part as you struggle for a retort.

"You heard me," Jason says, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You were wounded when we found you. Wounded, and alone."

You huff, crossing your arms as if that could protect you from the memory. "I was fine."

Jason gives an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his hair. "You call a gunshot wound fine?"

"Just a gunshot wound," you correct, jaw tightening. "Nothing new around here."

"Just a gunshot wound?!" Jason repeats, incredulous. "I had to carry your stubborn ass out of there!"

"I didn't ask you to!"

Jason exhales sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, well, it’s not like I wasn’t going to!"

The argument should feel tense. But instead, there's a crackling undercurrent, something unspoken lingering in the space between you.

What you don’t see, what everyone else in the Cave does is the way Jason is looking at you. Not with his usual scowl, not with the biting irritation that fuels your bickering, but something softer. 

A smile ghosts across his lips. It’s subtle, but there nonetheless. Like a cat discreetly preening under attention, soaking in every word, every ounce of energy you throw his way.

And the moment his siblings notice, chaos erupts.

“Holy shit,” Tim whispers, eyes wide.

Dick sucks in a breath like he’s just witnessed something forbidden.

Damian, ever the blunt one, sneers. "Disgusting."

Jason barely notices. He’s too busy watching you, fighting the way his lips twitch up again as you huff and look away, cheeks a little warmer than before.

“You are absolutely insufferable, Todd.”

His smile widens, “You know you love it.”

Turns out, you and Jason can't even be within a fifty mile radius of each other without making everyone around you feel strangely uncomfortable.

Dick makes a mental note to never let the two of you spar again. At least, not with an audience. Whenever you and Jason were in the same space, the rest of the world might as well not exist. And the tension. It was painfully suffocating.

The Batcave was dead silent except for the sound of heavy breathing and the sharp clash of fists meeting blocks. Everyone had been watching for the past twenty minutes as you and Jason fought, your movements sharp and teetering between training and an actual fight.

To be fair, no one expected the two of you to take it easy on each other. You never had before.

Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after you landed a solid hit to his jaw. Instead of being pissed, though, he grinned. It was a dangerous thing that made your stomach do an annoying little flip.

"Not bad," he admitted, rolling his shoulders.

You smirked. "Starting to sound impressed, Todd."

Jason lunged, and before you could dodge, he swept your legs out from under you. You barely had time to brace yourself before your back hit the mat, the air leaving your lungs in a sharp exhale. In the next second, Jason was above you, his body caging you in, pinning your wrists down on either side of your head.

And suddenly, everything felt different.

The heat between you wasn’t just from exertion anymore. The way he was looking at you with his weight pressing down just enough to make your breath catch, it wasn’t just about winning a fight.

"Not starting to," Jason murmured, voice lower now, more serious. "I’ve been impressed."

Your throat went dry.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look away from Jason. His pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling against yours, and… 

Oh. Oh no.

He was smiling. And it wasn't a smirk. It was a real, genuine smile.

And worst of all, you found yourself smiling back.

The two of you stayed locked in a daze until you heard a cough in the background, a sharp reminder that the two of you were not alone. It knocks you out of your trance.

You take his short moment of weakness to headbutt him, leaving the male in a daze. Without wasting the split second advantage, it was your turn to pin him down.

“I guess I could say the same for you,” you shrug. “Could be better, but satisfactory.”

Jason groans at the impact of your forehead on his, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a hard head?”

“Yeah,” you snort, looking down at Jason. “You.”

Jason lets out a breathy chuckle beneath you, eyes still unfocused from the headbutt. "Yeah, well. Doesn't make it any less annoying."

You shift slightly, keeping his wrists pinned to the mat, and his grip tightens under your hands. It was instinctual, a sign that he isn’t actually letting you win. His chest rises and falls beneath yours, warm despite the cool air of the cave.

And then, there it is again. That rare, infuriatingly soft smile that no one ever sees.

You freeze for half a second. It’s barely noticeable, but Jason doesn’t miss a thing. His smirk stretches just a little wider, eyes gleaming in that way that makes your stomach twist.

"What?" he drawls, voice lower now, amused. "Distracted?"

You shove off him with a huff, standing up as fast as possible. Jason barely has time to react before you're already a few steps away, arms crossed, pretending like that moment didn’t just happen.

But Jason is still on the ground, propped up on his elbows, looking far too pleased with himself.

Dick, who had been trying very hard to mind his business, sighs dramatically. "For the love of God, just kiss already."

You whip around, glaring. "Gross! Nobody asked you, Grayson!"

Jason, still grinning like an idiot, finally hauls himself to his feet, rubbing the spot on his forehead where you hit him. "Y'know, for someone who acts like they hate me, you sure do love touching me."

You glare at him for enabling their behavior. "That's not true, and you know it."

Jason steps closer, slow, deliberate. Not enough to be threatening, but enough that the air between you tense again. Enough that you feel the heat radiating off him.

He’s still smiling.

Your breath catches.

Jason tilts his head. "Something wrong?"

You curse under your breath, shove past him, and stomp out of the Batcave without another word.

Jason watches you go, still rubbing his forehead, still smiling.

Tim exhales, shaking his head. "That was painful to watch."

Jason just chuckles. "Yeah," he mutters to himself, grin still lingering. "It was."

2 a.m. stakeouts were the worst.

It was cold and boring, the kind of hours that made you question why you even did this hero thing in the first place. To make matters worse, you were stuck on patrol with Jason, so there was no semblance of peace in the quiet Gotham night.

By the time you and Jason finally wrapped up surveillance, both of you were starving. There wasn’t a debate about it, just a silent agreement as he gunned his motorcycle toward a late-night diner on the outskirts of Gotham.

Now, you were sitting across from him in a vinyl booth, watching in mild horror as he absolutely demolished a double bacon cheeseburger.

"You eat like you just got out of prison," you observed, idly stirring your milkshake with a straw.

Jason wiped his mouth with a napkin, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your shake. "Nothing. Just surprised you have manners at all."

Jason chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head. And then, before you could process it, there it was again.

That damn smile. It was the kind of expression no one ever saw on him. The kind of smile that didn’t belong to Gotham’s deadliest vigilante.

The kind of smile that, apparently, only appeared when he was with you.

You felt your pulse stutter in your throat, caught completely off guard.

Jason must’ve noticed, because his smirk returned instantly, cocking his head, surging with a newfound sense of confidence. And you're not sure if you like that. "Like what you see?"

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. "You wish."

Jason leaned back against the booth, arms stretching over the seat as he regarded you with amusement. "Yeah," he said, way too casually, "I do."

You nearly choked on your fries, “Geez, Todd. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were flirting with me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.

“And if I was?”

“I would have to check to see where the real Jason is.”

“He’s right here.”

You eye him suspiciously. 

Jason watches you carefully, his smirk still in place but not as sharp, not as mocking. There’s something else there. It’s something you can’t quite place, something that makes your pulse stutter.

"You’re acting weird," you say, pointing a fry at him. "Where’s all the unnecessary aggression? The brooding?"

Jason exhales, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t feel like fighting tonight."

You raise a brow, popping the fry into your mouth. "That’s a first."

He leans back against the booth, arms stretching lazily over the seat, but there’s tension in his shoulders, in his fingers tapping idly against the vinyl. "Yeah, well," he muses, eyes flicking to you, "arguing with you is exhausting."

"You love arguing with me," you counter easily, leaning back to mirror his posture. "You start half of them."

Jason hums, tilting his head as if considering it. "Maybe," he allows. Then, after a beat, "Maybe I just like getting a rise out of you."

Your breath catches for half a second. 

Jason’s watching you now, really watching you, his gaze too steady, too knowing.

You force a scoff. "So what I’m hearing is, you’re an instigator."

Jason grins at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "You always read too much into things," he says, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he almost sounds amused.

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. You blame the fries.

Silence stretches between you, not awkward, but charged. There’s an awareness now, a shift in the air, like something unspoken lingers just beneath the surface.

Jason looks at you, and for the first time tonight, his smirk fades—not completely, but just enough.

Just enough that the teasing falls away. Just enough that you catch a glimpse of something softer.

Something terrifying.

You don’t know who looks away first, but when you do, your heart is hammering a little too hard against your ribs.

Jason clears his throat, reaching for his drink. "So," he says, back to casual, back to easy, "you gonna finish your fries or what?"

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you push the basket toward him. "Knock yourself out, tough guy."

Jason takes one, popping it into his mouth. He doesn’t say anything else, but when you glance at him again, there’s that damn smile.

It’s subtle, but it was just for you.

Across the comms, Dick sighs, exasperated but entertained. “Do they have any idea we can all hear them?”

[kxsagi]

back again with another idea, don't judge me these men haunt my mind 24/7

bllk boys with a manager gf.

imagine them having a manager in blue lock right? then she yk does what managers do. help with their training, give them water, monitor their plays and even sometimes suggest new playstyle that could improve their game and such.

then, one of their teammates gets injured and yk what that means? gf touches the other member to apply bandage or apply dressing to their wounds. bf gets jealous and accidentally reveals their relationship to everyone.

that's all, have a great day.

“𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐛𝐚𝐠”

a/n: thank you, have a great day as well!

blue lock manager! gf can be the same age as them to make things easier! (reader is too smart for this world and got a full-time job early lmao)

another a/n: i’m stuck between writing angst and writing crack headcanons idk (yes i chose a random header image this is my humor 💔)

ft. shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi

shidou ryusei

you were just doing your job like the incredible and competent manager you were, wrapping a bandage around one of the players’ thighs after a nasty slide tackle. 

and that was the moment you felt it – a murderous aura radiating from somewhere behind you. 

you turned your head slightly… and there he was, standing at the edge of the field with his hands on his hips, watching you with the most “i am one intrusive thought away from prison” expression you’ve ever seen. 

you weren’t sure if he was jealous of the player or the fact that he wasn’t the one getting manhandled by you. 

but oho, shidou made sure everyone knew exactly what was going through his mind. 

“hey. you got a license for that, princess?” he called out, his voice loud enough for the entire field to hear. 

everyone kinda just… stared at him like “bro what???”

then he casually strolled over and plopped down beside you, practically shoving the injured player away with his knee. 

“i’m next. wrap me up, baby,” he grinned, completely ignoring the fact that he had zero injuries. 

“shidou, you’re not hurt,” you deadpanned. 

“my heart is. you’re out here playin’ nurse with other guys,” he smirked dramatically, holding his chest like he was about to faint. 

that was the moment you realized you were doomed. 

“wait… you’re dating him?” one of the players finally asked, pointing at shidou. 

“dating? nah,” shidou snickered, throwing an arm around your shoulders and grinning maniacally, “i’m her full-time problem. she’s just lucky i’m hot.”

itoshi rin

rin was trying so hard to play it cool. 

but the moment he saw you kneeling on the field, gently holding a player’s ankle to wrap it with bandages, he damn near dislocated his own neck from how fast he turned to glare at you. 

he clenched his jaw, muttering under his breath like, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

if this scene were in anime, his eyes would be glowing red and his entire body would be surrounded by that ominous black aura. 

he didn’t say anything at first, just stared, so hard that the player getting bandaged started getting visibly uncomfortable. 

when you finally finished and stood up, rin suddenly appeared behind you like a final boss. 

“you’re done, right?” he muttered, staring daggers at the poor, confused player. 

you were like, “uh… yeah?”

but before you could even blink, rin grabbed your wrist in front of everyone and dragged you off the field like a caveman escorting his woman back to the cave. 

“rin, what the hell are you –”

“you were touching him.”

“wha – he was injured???”

rin didn’t care. he just turned around and deadass blurted, “you’re my girlfriend. stop touching other guys.”

there was a brief silence. then someone from the bench went: 

“…wait. since WHEN?!” 

rin, realizing he just accidentally revealed your entire relationship, muttered, “shit,” under his breath and immediately walked off.

he avoided eye contact with everyone for the next three hours. 

but you could still see the tips of his ears turning red every time someone smirked at him. 

kaiser michael

it started with a minor ankle sprain from one of his teammates. 

nothing serious, you just crouched down, carefully assessing the injury with your delicate and professional manager hands. 

kaiser, who was initially ignoring the entire scene, suddenly felt his eye twitch when he saw you applying pressure to the player’s calf with your bare hands. 

and that was it. his brain glitched. 

he stormed over without hesitation, yanked your clipboard out of your hand, and slapped it against the injured player’s leg. 

“here. use this.”

you blinked in confusion.

“kaiser, what –”

“don’t you have gloves or something?” he snapped, his eye twitching again. 

you gave him a blank stare. “… for bandaging an ankle?”

“yes. gloves. anything that keeps you from touching him with your bare hands,” he muttered, scowling. 

the injured player blinked up at him like “bro you good???”

and then, because kaiser had no filter, he added, “she doesn’t touch anyone but me.”

the entire field went dead silent.

one of the benched players went, “uh, excuse me?”

but kaiser, completely unbothered, just smirked, leaned down, and kissed your forehead right in front of everyone before turning back to practice. 

“she’s my personal medic. keep your hands off.”

you, sitting there with wide eyes, realized there was no turning back. 

the next day, you were trending online as “kaiser’s girl” and he was so smug about it. 

itoshi sae

sae was already grumpy after a long practice, and the last thing he wanted to see was you touching some random dude’s calf while applying ice. 

you, being the sweet and professional manager you were, were focused on being helpful. 

sae, meanwhile, was staring at you with the most judgmental boyfriend glare of all time. 

and then the player winced and accidentally grabbed your wrist. 

sae was across the field in 0.3 seconds. 

“get your hands off her.”

the entire field turned toward him like 👁️👄👁️

the player immediately let go of you and started stammering, “s-sorry, i didn’t mean to –”

sae didn’t even look at him. he was laser-focused on you. 

“you. come here.”

you blinked in confusion. “huh?”

“now.”

you stood up and walked over to him, only for sae to grab your wrist again and deadass say, “she’s mine.”

the entire team went, “WHAT???”

and then sae, realizing he just exposed your secret relationship, simply muttered,

“oh.”

he quickly turned around and walked off without saying anything else. 

the next practice, everyone was making fun of him. 

shidou: “sooo… when’s the wedding, lover boy?”

rin: “pathetic.”

sae: “i hate all of you.”

nagi seishiro

nagi was napping on the bench until he heard your voice. 

he peeked one eye open, only to see you bandaging a player’s arm with your gentle, caring hands. 

he didn’t like it. not one bit.

without saying a word, he casually strolled over and collapsed on top of you like a human-sized koala. 

“nagi! what are you –”

“mmm. comfy,” he mumbled against your shoulder, making himself at home. 

you were literally pinned underneath his entire weight, trying to shove him off, but he only clung tighter, his limbs practically draping over you like a weighted blanket. 

the injured player blinked at the scene in confusion. “uh… is he okay?”

nagi, without lifting his head, muttered sleepily, “mine.” 

you stared at him, wide-eyed. “… what?”

“you’re mine,” he repeated, voice muffled against your skin, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

the entire field went silent.

the player you were bandaging glanced between the two of you, brows furrowed. “wait. are you two… together?”

nagi didn’t even lift his head.

“mmm. yeah,” he mumbled. “she’s my girlfriend.”

you could feel your soul leave your body.

the team, now fully aware of your not-so-secret relationship, was staring at you in shock. 

meanwhile, nagi stayed exactly where he was, fully prepared to take a nap on top of you, completely unfazed by the fact that he just exposed the two of you to the entire team. 

later, when you asked him why he did that, he just shrugged lazily and went, “too much of a hassle to keep it a secret.”

isagi yoichi

isagi was in the middle of practice, minding his business, being the good, hard-working soccer boy he was, when he saw you crouched down on the field, tending to someone’s knee. 

at first, he didn’t think much of it, until he noticed just how close you were leaning toward the guy. 

and that’s when his brain started spiraling. 

“wait. why is she holding his leg like that? … wait. is she… she’s SMILING???”

isagi tried to focus on practice, but his passes were getting sloppy because he kept glancing over at you. 

then, as if to personally ruin isagi’s life, the injured player casually rested his hand on your thigh for balance while you were wrapping his knee. 

and that was it. isagi blacked out. 

before he even realized what he was doing, he was storming over like a man on a mission. 

he didn’t say a word. just gently grabbed your wrist and yanked you off the field. 

you blinked up at him, startled. “yoichi? what are you –”

“you’re my girlfriend.”

you: ???

the injured player: ???

the entire field: ???

isagi, suddenly realizing what he just blurted out in front of everyone, stared at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“…i, uh, i mean –” he stammered, his face turning bright red. 

but it was too late. the damage was done. 

shidou (grinning like the menace he was): “ooohhh. so that’s why you’ve been smiling at your phone like a dumbass.”

kaiser: “figures. he plays like a lovesick golden retriever half the time.”

nagi (half-asleep): “mmm. knew it.”

isagi, face redder than a stop sign, sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

and now every single one of his teammates was planning to make fun of him for the next 10-15 business years. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[be4chywritez]

serious | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

rec: #37 with oscar piastri please? maybe they’re arguing or smth and he says something without thinking and reader starts crying? thank u!!

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

warnings: none except me being really high and writing this

You weren’t even sure how the argument started.

The plan had been simple—spend a quiet night with Oscar, finally get some time together before his schedule got crazy again. You had been curled up on his couch, legs thrown over his lap, teasing him about how helpless he was when it came to assembling furniture. It was harmless, the way most of your jokes were.

“You’d be lost without me,” you said with a grin, nudging his thigh. “Like, I’m pretty sure you’d still be eating your takeaway off a cardboard box if I wasn’t around.”

He chuckled at first, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be lost—I’d just have a slightly more… minimalist lifestyle.”

“Minimalist?” You snorted. “Oscar, you didn’t even own proper plates before I got here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I had plates.”

“Oh, my bad, I meant one singular plate and a set of mismatched cutlery you probably stole from McDonald’s.”

You expected him to laugh, to play along like he always did. But instead, his expression shifted—his jaw tensed, his fingers drummed absently against your shin. The lighthearted teasing suddenly felt heavier, like you had unknowingly poked at something deeper.

You should’ve stopped there, but you didn’t.

“Face it,” you said, grinning. “You’d be a disaster without me.”

And that’s when he sighed, long and sharp, before muttering, “You never take anything seriously.”

Your smile faltered.

“What?”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “It’s like nothing matters to you.”

The words cut deeper than you expected. You blinked, suddenly unsure if you had misheard him.

“Nothing matters to me?” you repeated, voice quieter now, more careful.

He sighed again, still not looking at you. “I don’t know, sometimes it just feels like you don’t take me seriously.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Are you—” You let out a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Are you actually saying that? After everything?”

He exhaled through his nose, frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed. “You’re always joking, always acting like nothing’s a big deal. I get that it’s just how you are, but sometimes… I don’t know, sometimes I just wish you’d be serious for once.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening.

It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, like he actually believed them.

Like he believed you didn’t care.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as your vision blurred. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt. But the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Oscar’s entire body stiffened.

“Shit,” he muttered, his frustration vanishing in an instant. His eyes widened as he reached for you, panic creeping into his voice. “Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

You turned your face away, wiping at your cheek quickly, but it was useless. Another tear followed, and Oscar groaned under his breath, like he physically hated himself for making you cry.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said hurriedly, shifting closer, his hands finding your face. “I swear I didn’t mean that.”

Your voice wobbled as you pulled back slightly. “Then why did you say it?”

He winced, his thumbs brushing over your damp cheeks, like he was trying to undo the damage. “I don’t know—I was frustrated, I wasn’t thinking.”

You let out a shaky breath. “You think I don’t take you seriously?”

“No,” he said instantly, voice thick with regret. “No, that’s not true. I know you do. I just—I was being a fucking idiot.”

You sniffled, eyes still glossy. “I always take you seriously, Oscar. I literally revolve my entire schedule around your ridiculous race calendar. I watch hours of onboard footage with you even though half the time I don’t even know what you’re analyzing. I show up to every race I can, I defend you when people online say dumb shit—”

“I know.” His hands were still on your face, his forehead now pressed against yours. His voice was softer now, desperate. “I know, baby. And I love that about you. I was just—I was just being an asshole.”

You swallowed hard, not fully ready to forgive him yet, but also not wanting to keep crying. His thumbs kept smoothing over your cheeks, his touch warm, grounding.

“I don’t like fighting with you,” you admitted, voice small.

“I hate fighting with you,” he murmured, tilting your face up slightly. “I especially hate making you cry.”

You let out a small, unsteady exhale, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “You really were an asshole just now.”

“I know.” He kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead. “Biggest asshole on the planet. Probably breaking some kind of world record.”

Despite everything, you huffed a quiet laugh. “I was this close to throwing a pillow at you.”

“I deserve worse.” He kissed your cheek this time, soft and lingering. “Like, I don’t know, maybe being forced to watch an entire season of your guilty pleasure reality show.”

You narrowed your eyes. “The Bachelor?”

He groaned but nodded. “Yeah. If that’s what it takes.”

You pretended to think about it. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

His lips finally twitched into something closer to a smile. “So lucky.”

And then, finally, he kissed you—soft and slow, like an apology woven between every press of his lips.

You let yourself sink into it, because even when he was frustrating, even when he made dumb mistakes, he was still yours.

And you took that seriously.

[halsteadlover]

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @lelaartt: Hey girl, I just got an idea for Lando… 😍 how about a fic, where he is dating reader, but keeps her identity in secret, only posting pics on ig, where is only her tattoo visible. She is always careful about hiding it while attending a race weekend, but once something goes wrong in the race for Lando and she rushes to his side in the garage making sure he is okey clearly visible the tattoo and fans get that 1+1 together. Love your work so much and this just popped in my mind.♥️♥️

• Warnings: mention of a car crash, maybe few curse words.

• Word count: 2730.

• A/N: hope you like this one! Let me know what you think and like, comment and reblog to support me ❤️ Thank you so much for your support I love you all ❤️

Lando had always been very protective of you and your relationship, ever since the very beginning, when you got together more than two years ago.

He wasn’t ashamed or anything, it wasn’t like he didn’t want the world to know about you but Lando knew the media world very well, he practically grew up in it and just the thought of you going through what he sometimes went through, made his heart tighten, so he wanted to protect you from it. He knew how mean people could be sometimes and he would be damned if he let a single negative word be said about you.

He didn’t keep you a secret though, the entire planet knew that Lando Norris was head over heels and happily in love. He didn’t make a secret of it and his Instagram page was full of photos, videos of you and the two of you together, without your face being visible.

The only thing that was visible of you were some tattoos that fans were able to identify after a video Lando once posted on his Instagram story. The fans, of course, noticed. They noticed everything. There was speculation for a long time who was the tattooed girl who had captured Lando Norris’ heart.

The weekend races were especially hard. You were always careful not to show your tattoos, to wear jackets or shirts that could cover them. But that wasn’t the really difficult part.

What Lando really hated was not having you by his side, he hated knowing you were standing among all the spectators as if you were just another person, he hated not being able to hug you, not being able to let you calm him down when his anxiety was sky-high and his stomach twisted because of it, he hated he couldn’t hear you whisper how proud you were of him, regardless of the result. The texts of encouragement you sent him—as important as they were—weren’t enough.

He needed you.

But that day, something went different.

The race seemed to be going well. Lando was at the peak of his concentration, pushing the car to its limits in an attempt to secure second place.

But everything changed in an instant.

A loud crash.

A collision.

The screens were lit up and continued to play images of the car crashing into the wall. It was violent, so violent you could see pieces of the car flying away.

Your heart stopped beating for a second and everything around you seemed to have faded. You couldn’t understand what was happening, you couldn’t process the commentators’ words, engineers and technicians who kept calling Lando’s name over the radio over and over again.

Your Lando.

You didn’t even realize the tears rolling down your cheeks as you had both hands over your mouth in shock, your eyes glued to the screen.

When you saw him emerge from the wreck that was the car, you breathed a sigh of relief and, without even thinking, you ran. You needed to hug him, you needed to hold him, to see with your own eyes that he was really okay even though you had seen him walk away on his feet.

The adrenaline drowned out everything else, your careful routine, your usual subtlety, all forgotten while you rushed to his side.

Lando was sitting on the ground while a doctor examined him, his helmet forgotten among the pebbles, when you reached him, not caring about the thousand cameras pointed at you. When you saw him, talking, breathing, conscious, you felt like you had started to live again.

He saw you and immediately moved away from the doctor and tried to get up, in an attempt to come towards you.

You threw yourself into his arms, holding him close like you had never done before, so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. He immediately returned your hug, deeply inhaling your scent, your skin, your hair.

“I’m fine baby, I’m fine,” he whispered, caressing your hair, your back and leaving a kiss on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat at his voice and the tears flowed more and more incessantly. You wanted to talk, to say so many things, but you couldn’t.

You pulled away from Lando just to be able to look at him, while your trembling hands cupped his cheeks, your eyes scanned his face with meticulous attention in search of even the smallest scratch that surrounded his skin.

“Are you okay?” You whispered and Lando’s heart broke as he saw you in a valley of tears, your eyes red and shiny, your voice broken.

He smiled faintly, drying your tears with his thumbs. He pulled you to him again, leaving a sweat kiss on your forehead. “I’m fine baby, it takes much more than that to finish me off.”

“You sure? You have to go to the hospital, you have to have a CT scan or an MRI, you could have a concussion, an internal bleeding—oh my God…” you babbled frantically, panicked.

“Hey, hey, hey, shh…” Lando placed his hands on your cheeks, wiping away the tears that kept running and stopping your flow of words. “Look at me. I’m fine baby, I promise, I’ll get checked out but I’m really fine.”

You remained silent for a moment, as if trying to convince yourself of his words. “I love you so much, don’t ever do something like that again.”

He chuckled, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “I promise, I’ll try not to crash again.”

You stood up and helped Lando do the same before letting the doctors finish examining him. Once the fear was over, the adrenaline had subsided, you looked around and only then you realized how the cameras were pointed at you, that in that moment your face had ended up in every gossip magazine.

Social media had gone crazy, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, they were filled with pictures after pictures of you and Lando together, collages of tattoos between you and Lando’s mystery girl had been put together, confirming how you were all along Lando Norris’ girlfriend. Articles after articles came out in no time and in a few moments your phone was exploding with notifications of messages and new followers.

Your DMs were full like they had never been in your life, messages of encouragement, some compliments on how beautiful you were and Lando couldn’t have made a better choice, other texts were less nice, with insults and unpleasant words.

Back at the garage, Lando went to see a doctor but you never left his side at his insistence. He knew what it’d be like out therefrom now on and he didn’t want to leave you alone even for a second.

Luckily he was fine, the doctor had only recommended some rest for the next week.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to go to the hospital?” You asked for the millionth time when the doctor left you two alone, ignoring the way your phone kept ringing in your bag. You’d deal with that later, your priority at the moment was Lando.

“I’m fine baby,” he reassured you but you didn’t believe him. You continued to look at him, caressing his face and his hair, still in disbelief of what had just happened.

“I think you should get a CT scan or an MRI or something, just to be sure,” you continued, completely serious but he laughed, pulling you close and holding you until you were almost breathless.

“I swear I’m fine my love, I just got scared. The cars are like fortresses and plus I had my helmet on, I was well protected. If I wasn’t okay I would’ve told you, I hate worrying you so much you know.” He kissed the top of your head and you sighed and then finally nodded, resigned.

“But you heard the doctor, you need to rest, so now let’s go back to the hotel.”

Lando knew there was no point in arguing about this so he hummed in agreement. At the umpteenth sound of a new notification on your phone you sighed deeply and Lando pulled away from your embrace just enough to look at you.

“Are you okay?” He nodded to your bag.

“Yeah I’m fine, I guess the secret is out,” you chuckled nervously. “I definitely didn’t want our relationship to come out like that but I don’t care, I just wanted to make sure you were really okay.”

His heart tightened at those words and he knew the mediating storm that was looming over him but, more importantly, over you. He didn’t care about himself, he was used to the media by now, but he was worried sick about you, he knew you hated being the center of attention and he hated he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Hey,” he whispered, placing a hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb, “Everything’s going to be okay you hear me? I’m here, I’m not letting out of my sightand I won’t let anything happen to you, you trust me?”

“Of course I do baby, blindly. You know I trust you with my life,” you replied, smiling. “I love you so much.”

He kissed you. “I love you so much more.”

He had prepared you, he had warned you about all the reporters out there, how they’d be after you but the reality was totally opposite to what you had imagined.

Lando walked in front of you, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours as he led you as quickly as possible out of the paddock, your face covered by one of Lando’s hoodies even if it was all in vain—it was already plastered all over social media.

He told you to ignore them, not to answer any of their questions but it was hard when everyone was screaming your name and pushing you left and right hoping to get your attention.

“Lando here!”

“Y/n! That’s your name, right?”

“How long have you been together?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“He pays for everything for you, doesn’t he? Are you with him for the money?”

These were just some of the things the reporters were shouting and each word hurt more than the last. How could they think such a thing? How could they think you were with Lando just for money?

Suddenly your hand left Lando’s, due to the shoving of paparazzi and reporters. Panic took over you when you realized you were completely surrounded by screams, voices, blinding flashes.

Lando’s senses immediately went on alert when he no longer felt the warmth of your hand against his. He snapped his head back and a blinding rage hit him when he saw that scene: your terrified eyes as you tried to make your way through the crowd of people around you.

“Hey get out of the way!” He yelled, forcefully pushing the people in front of him to make room for himself. He didn’t care about hurting anyone or seeming rude, he just wanted to get to you. “Go away for fuck’s sake!”

A wave of relief washed over you when Lando’s familiar face returned to your peripheral vision. You threw yourself into his arms, his body shielding you, but you didn’t ignore the furious look on his face, an expression you’d rarely seen before in your life.

But when his gaze met yours, he softened, his anger almost overshadowed by worry. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I’m okay baby, please, let’s just get out of here.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes and he nodded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pushing the paparazzi away, who showed no signs of giving up.

Once you were near the car, he opened the passenger door and quickly let you in, placing a hand on your head to keep you from accidentally hitting it.

“Oh my god,” you breathed once you were both in the car and away from the paddock. Your heart was still pounding, so fast you could hear it in your ears, your breathing still shallow as if you had run a marathon.

He took out his phone and called the hotel where you were staying, asking to let you in from a side or back entrance, as long as it was isolated since—as expected—the paparazzi and reporters had already attacked the hotel.

But why the hell were they so interested in Lando? What was so important that they wanted to know? Why did they have to be so intrusive and not have the slightest bit of confidentiality? Damn, he was a human being just like them, why was it so weird he had a girlfriend? Why did it have to be the news of the century?

“Are you okay?” “Are you feeling okay?” You and Lando asked at the same time, once you reached your room, safe and sound.

You both chuckled and you hugged him, holding him close with a little more force than usual. That day had been nothing short of hellish, between the crash, the fright, the journalists and paparazzi as excited as hyenas, and you couldn’t even think about how this was routine for him, how this was an everyday thing.

He hugged you back while you were lying in bed, kissing the top of your head. He lingered a little more than usual, breathing in deeply the scent of your hair. “I’m so sorry, it was my fault. Maybe—”

At those words you sat up abruptly, pointing a finger at him. “Listen to me carefully Lando Norris because I’m going to say it now and I’ll never say it again. It’s not your fault okay? I know what you’re thinking right now and if you even try to say a word about breaking up I’ll kill you,” he chuckle even though it didn’t reach his eyes, “I knew what I was getting into when we got together, I knew what to expect and I don’t regret a single second of it because you’re the love of my life and because being with you is worth it,” you blurted out, trying to keep a tough face even though it was hard when he looked at you with that shy and sweet smile that made your heart explode.

“I know you think all of this scared me and I am to be honest, I’m scared, but I don’t care, this won’t make me distance myself. It’s just a matter of time, you know how the media is, soon enough they’ll find another chicken to pluck and our relationship will be just a memory,” you continued to speak, “I can’t imagine how you can live this every single day and I want to be with you, I want to be by your side and support you as best I can.”

“But I chose it because of the job I do, you have nothing to do with it,” he muttered, that little smile gone and making way for a sad expression. He grabbed your hand, playing with your fingers, stroking your skin with his thumb. “Just because I live it every day I don’t want this to happen to you. Baby I love you more than anyone else in the world, I live and breathe for you only and I always promised myself I’d protect you from all this and now I feel—” he sighed, “I feel like I’ve failed.”

“I don’t care,” you repeated, “hell I’m even relieved. I was getting tired of all the hiding and secrets. I want us to openly love each other, I want to hug you, kiss you, touch you, hold your hand whenever I want and if I have a few paparazzi following me so be it. I live a pretty boring life anyway, they’ll get tired soon.”

He let out a laugh and pulled you back in, holding you tightly to his chest.

“I love you,” you grabbed his face and kissed him, “so fucking much,” you kissed him again and again and again, making him finally full smile.

“I love you so much more baby, so much I don’t even know how to deal with it sometimes,” he whispered against your lips. “So, you don’t want to leave me?”

“No,” you kissed him for the millionth time, “you’re stuck with me darling.”

He smiled in a way that took the breath away from your lungs. “Now I can finally show the world all those beautiful pictures I have of you.”

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[echoes-of-a-dream]

mini me | matt murdock

matt murdock masterlist

synopsis: matt comes home from a long day of work only to get attacked and easily beaten up. luckily for his attackers, they're too cute to get the full wrath of the devil. unluckily for said attackers, he will have retribution--and it will be swift. or: a slice-of-life for matt, reader, and their kidditos.

established relationship | kid fic | married couple | literally just fluff | la lectora habla español por una frase (the reader speaks spanish for one phrase) | inspired by this post by @hellskitchenswhore and this post by @courtforshort15

Matt hears laughter before he gets to the door.

"Okay, bubs, great job," he hears you say. "Uncle Foggy is going to love these pictures."

Four heartbeats thud in the apartment as he opens the door, quiet in an attempt to not wake the slower-and-steadier-than-normal quick one coming from the crib in the bedroom. Three come from the living room, the two younger ones much faster than the older. He sets down his briefcase and removes his shoes, loosening his tie as he makes his way toward you three. Your back is to him and you're entirely focused on your activity of taking pictures of the kids, making this a perfect opportunity to surprise you; he wasn't supposed to get home this early, but the case wrapped up sooner than expected. It was more tiring than most cases, so he just came home rather than returning to the office, too tired to read through more legal documents. And causing you to jump three feet in the air? More than enough reward. Matt grins to himself, pressing a finger to his lips to make sure the kids don't say anything.

He gets closer and puts his hands on your hips, causing you to jolt--but not nearly as much as usual. He frowns as you merely turn your head, tilting it up for a peck on the lips he easily gives, calmly greeting him with a "Welcome home, babe."

There's no more time for conversation as he's jumped by his seven-year-old daughter, Jackie, named after his dad. "Daddy!" She yells as he releases you to catch her.

"Oh no! I'm being attacked!" He says as he 'fights' his oldest. To you, he adds, "You didn't jump." It's phrased as a statement, but you can hear the underlying question.

"Matt. Matty. Matthew, my love." He's pretty sure you're recording this. "Your children--fortunately for me--inherited your incredibly expressive eyes. I knew you were coming."

His huff of only half-faked displeasure at his surprise being ruined is interrupted as he lets out a little oof as a small hand punches his abdomen none-too-gently. Four-year-old-Michael, or Mikey (after Matt's middle name--you weren't a huge fan of the alliteration in Mikey's name, but Matt convinced you eventually) has joined the battle as a foot uses his as a futile step-stool to try to climb up him. He overdramatically doubles over with a groan, allowing Jackie to switch tactics and jump onto his back, hanging on his neck. There's a bit of restriction on his airflow, but he prefers it over, you know, having all his daughter's weight on one foot. It's not enough to make him pass out, at any rate.

"Mommy! Sword!" Jackie calls out as Matt drops to his knees, allowing her feet to touch the ground as she maintains the chokehold, so that it isn't as tight. Mikey continues pummeling Matt, no regard as to where he throws the punches but keeping them coming. He's not quite sure what the strange feel is from his son's hands, but is too caught up puzzling out the request for a sword to give it his attention. One of Jackie's hands leaves his throat to make a grabby motions in the air, and you're only too happy to fulfill your daughter's request, grabbing the plastic sword from the opposite counter--he can hear the shifts in air currents, locates it in his mind--and passes it to Jackie.

But Matt is faster.

"Sword?" He repeats as he unhooks Jackie and flips her onto her back, gently lowering her to the ground and pinning her. He tickles her, wracking his brain for information. Now that he thinks about it, he vaguely remembers you mentioning a costume birthday party for Mikey's best friend, Riley.

"She's-" You're cut off by a grumble from Mikey. No, not grumble. Growl. Or at least, as close to a growl as a four-year-old can get. He charges Matt headfirst, then, piledriving at top speed into his father and causing Matt to lose balance and land on the ground.

"Don' you dawe," Mikey says, register lower than usual. You're still working on pronouncing 'r's rather than 'w's, so it takes Matt everything in him not to laugh at what sounds like a four year old attempting the Batman voice. For your part, you have no such compunctions.

He allows Mikey to get in a few hits, feel like he's winning, while Jackie, no longer pinned, springs to her feet and takes the sword, pressing the point into his throat.

"Stay down, bad guy!"

"Yeah, s'ay down!"

"Oh, no! You've got me!" Matt grouses.

"Good work, guys," you input, smirking as you kneel beside your husband. He turns his head, sticking a tongue out at you. "What do we think should be his punishment?"

"Tickles!" Jackie, ever the ringleader, decides.

"Yeah, tickles!" Mikey agrees, ever the mimic.

Matt gasps in overdramatic horror. "No, not tickles! Anything but tickles!"

You click your tongue in mock sympathy. "Sorry, Mr. Bad Guy."

Matt has trained himself not to react, but for his kids, he'll gladly throw any training out the window, writhing far more than necessary for the delightful sound of his two oldest's giggles. He'd do far worse to get such a taste of what must be heaven. His pleas and 'no's, too, are theatrical, to the point that even you are laughing at his antics and there's no hiding that grin. After a minute, he's had enough, though. "You'll regret the day you messed with me, the horrible Mr. Bad Guy!" He threatens exaggeratedly, easily rolling over the kids and tickling them both. Jackie squeals and Matt winces as the sound seems to wake the littlest Murdock, Daisy, named for Sister Maggie, from her nap. Honestly, he's surprised she didn't wake sooner with all the ruckus.

"Help, Mommy!" Mikey cries.

"I would, but Mr. Bad Guy is too much for me alone, I need reinforcements. I'll be right back."

"No! No we-fowemints!" Mikey says, but it's too late--you're already gone. "N- no!" He gasps out, but is laughing too hard

"Da- addy, st- ahp!" Jackie tries, also fighting through giggles.

"Oh, yeah? What'll you give me?"

"In- in- infor- ma- ha- tion!"

Matt pauses, allowing the two to catch their breath. He hears Daisy quiet and you begin to make your way back to him. "Oh, really? What kind of information?" He hears you appear behind him, but pretends not to notice.

"Okay, Daisy-doo, there's Daddy, you're gonna get 'im, okay?" You stage whisper.

"Where Mommy is!"

"Oh, really?" He plays dumb.

"Yeah!" Mikey chimes in. "Wigh' behin' you!"

"Get him, Dais!" You say as you gently set your daughter on his back, one of Matt's hands coming up to support her there before you release your grip.

"No!" Matt calls. "My weakness! Babies! The cuter, the more lethal!" It's more a joke for you than the others, and he appreciates your snort at his attempt at humor.

"Tricked you!" Jackie sings as Daisy grips Matt's hair, mouthing at his back as if it's a teething ring. Matt "topples" forward, lowering himself between Mikey and Jackie in a one-armed pushup and removing his hand so Daisy can crawl around as she pleases.

"Yeah!" Mikey chimes in. "Twicked you, Daddy! Now you captuowed!"

"You'll never take me alive!"

"Sorry, darling," You say amusedly, turning his face towards you. "We found cure for Bad-Guy-itis. True Love's kiss."

"No, no! Please no!" He's given away by the curl of a smile peeking through.

You sigh heavily. "I'm afraid so." To Jackie and Mikey, you order, "Hold him down while I administer the cure."

Matt pretends to thrash while his oldest two comply, Daisy content to have moved mouthing at his back to gnawing toothlessly at the curve of his neck. His head stays still as you grin and lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips that he happily reciprocates, thrashing growing in intensity and gently bucking the kids around, who giggle as they hold on, before he stills. You pull away and he blinks slowly, as if waking up. "Wha- Where am I?"

Your serious tone is belied by the grin in your voice. "Welcome back, Mr. Murdock."

"You got sick!" Jackie chimes in as she climbs off, tired of not talking. "Mommy fixed you!"

"Yeah! Mommy kissed it all bettow!"

"Well, thank you," Matt says smoothly. He uses one arm to scoop Daisy off of his neck while rolling over, cradling her, as he sits up. "However can I show my gratitude?"

"Oh, it wasn't me," you deflect. "It was these other two heroes that saved you."

"Yeah! Saved you!" Mikey puffs out his chest proudly.

"Oh?" Matt's amusement shines through. "And who might they be?"

"Guess!" Jackie exclaims.

You laugh. "Jackie, baby, Daddy's got to feel it, remember?"

She grabs Matt's hand and yanks it to feel her jacket. "Guess!"

His hands run along the leather, over the fingerless gloves, jeans, and what must be a cotton t-shirt or tank-top. His eyebrows rise in confusion. "I thought you were a pirate?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Jackie huffs in frustration. "No!"

"If you're mad, use your words, baby," you chide gently. "Maybe let's let Daddy figure out Mikey's outfit, and then he can guess?"

Mikey excitedly thrusts a hand forward, accidentally smacking Matt's face. Matt snorts even as he coaches, "Calm down, buddy." He feels up the arm--a long-sleeve shirt, what must be... gauze? Why is gauze wrapped around his son's hands?

"Face, Daddy!" Mikey urges. Matt raises his hands and feels the mask and resists the urge to bust out laughing. He allows himself a large grin of amusement, a few more chuckles.

"I see I got brought down by the Daredevil," he observes. "Thank you, Mr. Devil."

"I'm the bestest!" Mikey agrees. "Bestest hewo in the whole wide wold!"

"No, you're not! I am!" Jackie argues.

Matt steps in before it can devolve. "However did I not recognize you? Thank you for your help, Jessica Jones."

"Sword Jessica Jones!" Jackie corrects vehemently.

"Right. Thank you, Sword Jessica Jones. And Miss Jones, Mr. Daredevil, I think there can be two bestest superheroes in the whole wide world."

Two responses hit him at the same time. "No!" "No, thewe can'!"

"How about you guys go grab Riley's gift and put on your shoes?" You divert. "Then we can settle who the best hero is."

Jackie takes off before yelling, "Last one's a rotten egg!"

"Hey! No faiw!" Mikey runs after her, having not gotten the same head start.

Matt turns to you as you offer a hand to help him up. Being the good, loving, exemplary husband he is, he instead tugs you down, moving Daisy out of the way so that when you land on him you won't crush your seven-month-old. "Hey," he greets.

You smack his chest lightly. "Asshole."

Matt gasps. "Mrs. Murdock! Such language, and around a child, too!"

"Matthew, I will divorce you."

He smirks. "Gonna need a lawyer for that."

"That's why I've got Fo- oh, no, you don't." You squeak as you avoid his pinch aimed for the sensitive spot on your side. He pouts, prompting you to give him a light kiss to turn that frown upside down. You turn to where your kids ran through, hearing bickering, and sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. "I really don't want to deal with this."

"I've got it," Matt offers, moving to push you off his lap and stand, but you resist.

"Just give me a minute, please." You don't want to move from the nice warm cocoon of being between his arm, wrapped around you tightly, and chest. "They've been at it all day, except for the two minutes I made them smile for pictures and just now, when the one thing that brought them together was destroying you."

"I'm glad I can be good for morale," Matt jokes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Speaking of, how did...?"

"Sword Jessica Jones?" You finish knowingly.

"Yeah. And mini-me."

"Well, Mikey was actually the first on the costume front." At that, Matt makes a noise of pleased surprise. "Actually, let me correct myself. Riley was the first--she's going as Black Widow, her favorite superhero. So Mikey decided to go as his favorite, as well."

Matt lets out a hum, honored. Pride and fondness fill him, and he can tell from the sound of your smile in your voice that you feel much the same. "And Jackie?"

Your expression twists, a little more pinched. "She also wanted to go as Daddy. Which led to a fight and since Mikey came up with the idea first, I said he could go as Daredevil."

"How does Jess feel about being the second best option?"

"Very proud. She donated her leather jacket for the cause."

Matt chuckles. "I thought I smelled her. Figured she was just letting Jackie use it, didn't put the pieces together then."

"Yeah."

You're both silent for a moment, until Matt can't keep the question out of his head anymore. "So, what was up with the sword?"

"Jackie wanted to be authentic."

"And authentic means sword?"

"No." You tilt your head to gaze up at your husband. "Authentic meant carrying a bottle of booze."

"And you talked her down to a sword."

"And I talked her down to a sword," you confirm. Before you can talk further, Matt gently but efficiently moves you and stands suddenly, passing Daisy to you. It's just in time for you to hear a crash and get up in an instant, both headed towards where there is now the sound of crying.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

"A sword I assume she just used on her brother?" You ask, frustrated. It's been a long day and this just takes the cake.

"A sword she tried to use on her brother, who in avoiding it ran straight into the dresser. Knocked over the plant."

You enter the room to find, sure enough, the plant is on the ground, dirt spilled across the room and into the bag holding Riley's gift--which is also on its side. Mikey sits on the ground, cradling his head and crying, while Jackie stands there staring at him in horror. When she spots you and Matt, she immediately starts on her defense. "He started it!"

"Jackie," Matt admonishes, kneeling beside Mikey. In a gentle, quiet tone, he greets his son, "Hey, buddy, can you move those hands for me? Let Daddy check on that boo-boo?"

Tearily, Mikey complies, while you move towards Jackie. "Are you okay?" You check in first. She nods mutely. "Okay. Give me the sword, please." She shakes her head. You count down from ten, exhausted, fed up with the fighting, but refusing to take it out on her. "Jackie. If you can't handle having the sword, you can't have the sword. Give it to me, please."

"No."

"Jacqueline. I won't ask again. I will count down from three, and if I do not have a sword in my hand by the number three, you can stay home from the party with myself and Daisy, and Mikey will go with Daddy."

"No!" She stomps a foot. "How come Mikey gets everything? He gets to be Daddy! How come I don't get my sword?"

"Jacqueline Murdock." It's Matt this time, voice calm and even but not without soberness. He doesn't glance up as he affixes a bandage to Mikey's head. "Give your mother the sword."

She huffs but complies. "I hate you!"

You look to the ceiling. Señor, dame paciencia. "Thank you for giving me the sword, Jackie," you say. "I'm very proud of you. May I give you a hug?"

"No! I hate you! I don't wanna be with you!"

Okay, no hug then. "That's alright." You love your daughter, you love your daughter, you love your daughter. "I love you. Do you still want to go to the party?"

"No! You messed it all up!"

Matt presses a kiss to Mikey's head, having finished patching him up. "Jackie, please use kind words," Matt cuts in. "We can be angry, but we respect others even when we are angry, okay? They are still human."

Jackie ignores her father. "How come Mikey gets to have fun?"

Matt appears to have got it, so you stay silent. "You can have fun if you want, sweetheart. You just can't have the sword today. Would you still like to come to the party?"

Your oldest daughter hesitates before sullenly nodding. Tension leaves you as you mutter a Thank you in your husband's direction, who tilts his head in a silent you're welcome.

"I'm very proud of you," Matt continues. "Now, can you tell Mikey you're sorry?"

"'M sorry, Mikey." It's a half-assed apology at best, but it's an apology nonetheless.

You reintroduce yourself to the conversation. "Great job, sweetheart." Despite the encouragement--or maybe because of it--Jackie refuses to look at you. "Mikey?"

"I f'give you," he responds quietly.

Matt presses another kiss to the mop of his son's hair. "How late are we running?" He asks you.

"With or without cleaning this up?"

"Without."

"With this whole thing... about ten minutes."

"Okay. Jackie, please take Riley's gift to the car." At your look, he shrugs. "A little dirt never hurt anyone."

You lovingly roll your eyes and opt not to respond. "Can you grab Daisy? I'm bringing dessert."

"Yeah. Mikey, you mind following Jackie to load up?"

You stop your son on the way out, giving him a tight one-armed hug that he easily reciprocates, burying his head in your chest--larger than usual right now from breastfeeding--and causing you to wince slightly at the pressure. Matt smirks and mouths Like father, like son. "I'm very proud of you and I love you," you make sure to tell Mikey, faux-glaring at your husband simultaneously. You're a parent; multitasking is your profession.

"L'k like Daddy," he sniffles into your shirt.

"Yes, you do," you agree. "The blood on the mask makes it look more authentic. But next time let's go with fake injuries if we want to look like Daddy, okay? I don't want you getting as many boo-boos as really looking like Daddy would take." Matt coughs to cover a laugh at you pointed tone.

"Mkay," Mikey agrees. You squeeze him tightly, which he reciprocates, before releasing him and letting him take off after his older sister.

You brush your pants with your free hand and stand, exhaustion reigning. "They've been like this all day?" Matt asks.

"Try longer. More like all week."

Matt makes a noise of sympathy. "I'm sorry I wasn't-"

"No. You've been at court all day, every day. It's not your fault."

"It's just, sometimes-"

"Matt."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I would not be married to a man who neglects his children. You have had an abnormally consuming case. If you regularly spent all week too busy for your children, I would have no qualms leaving. But you do not. This is an outlier."

"I still feel bad."

"I'm afraid you're actually not allowed to do that unless I approve."

"Oh?" His hand slides around your waist, other one coming to cradle Daisy's head. She coos at the contact.

"Yup. Had Foggy put it in the contract."

"Mm. I don't recall reading that."

Your own free hand comes up to the nape of his neck, working through the hair there. "We didn't put it in the braille version."

"I'm afraid that counts as fraud, Mrs. Murdock. I might have to sue you."

"That's okay." He hears the veiled laughter in your throat. "I know this really hot lawyer who can represent me."

"Sweetheart, if you say Foggy-"

"No, he's this blind guy, very sexy, very smart. You might have heard of him. Matt Murdock?"

Matt chuckles. "That might get a little confusing, representing two different sides. Pretty sure that might be called a conflict of interest."

"Huh. I guess you shouldn't sue me, then, if it's too confusing."

It's a full laugh, now. "Touché." Matt cocks his head suddenly, before dropping his head to your shoulder with a groan.

"Fighting again?" You ask knowingly.

His Yeah is muffled by your shirt. Like father, like son, indeed. He lifts his head. "You want to sit this one out? I can take them?"

You shake your head. "I need a break from elementary school speak. Some actual adult conversations." You pull away, and Matt lets you, taking Daisy and following you into the kitchen where you grab the cheesecake brownies you were asked to bring.

Matt's mouth and eyebrows quirk suggestively, voice lowering--not quite Devil-voice, more bedroom-level. "We could see if someone wants to have the kids over for a sleepover tonight. Have some... adult conversations of our own."

You grin back at him. "Renegotiate some terms of that marriage contract?"

"More like fulfill."

You laugh. "I could be amenable to such an idea," you agree. Your words cause Matt to speed up and you to laugh again, following him out. "What's got you in such a rush?"

"Easy." He gives you a peck as he locks the door from the townhouse to the garage. "Faster we get there, faster we can come back. I want a whole set of Avengers."

"That wasn't in the contract, dear."

"Maybe not in yours, but..." He winks. "It was in the braille one."

[writing-girlie]

Push & Pull • Part 2

Pairing: Intern!Reader x Mentor!Michael Robinavitch & Platonic Reader x Langdon

Blurb: Robby has fought his feelings for weeks, but after a teasing push from Langdon, he can't hold back any longer. Confronted in a quiet room, he admits what he's been trying to deny—he wants you. Now, there's no going back.

WC: 2.3k

Part 1 is here

Note: Willing to write Part 3 if y'all want it, thinking about making it smutty but if you don't want that lmk

Robby had been keeping his distance for a few weeks now, and you had let him. What once had been easy and playful had become something else entirely. He had drawn a line, and you felt it. Every time he walked past you without a word. Every time he spoke to you in clipped, professional tones. Every time his eyes skimmed over you like you were just another intern.

Except, he wasn’t perfect at it because even though he tried to act indifferent, his body betrayed him. Like now.

Robby stood across the nurses’ station, reviewing a chart. His shoulders were stiff, the grip on his pen a little too tight. He was aware of you. You could feel it when you laughed at something Dr. Langdon had said.

"You know," Langdon drawled, stepping closer to you, voice low enough for only you to hear. "For someone who's supposedly ignoring you, Robby sure as hell keeps looking over here."

You didn’t turn your head, but you didn’t need to. You felt it.

"You’re imagining things," you murmured, flipping through your notes.

Langdon let out a brief laugh. "Please. That man is suffering."

You finally glanced up at him, arching a brow. "Are you enjoying this?"

His smirk widened. "Immensely." Then, with a sudden movement, he leaned in just a little too close, resting his elbow on the counter beside you, angling his body towards yours. His voice dipped, smooth and teasing. "You know, if he really wants to keep pretending he doesn’t care, maybe we should give him something to really be jealous about."

You smirk and shake your head. "You’re ridiculous."

"Am I?" Langdon hummed. "Because I think it’s working." Langdon leaned in even closer, voice barely above a whisper. "He’s going to snap. Just a little more of my flirting and he'll drag you to the supply closet"

Your pulse quickened slightly “Shut up” You push his arm softly.

You weren’t playing along. You humoured Langdon, sure, but you didn’t lean into it. You didn’t flirt back, didn’t give him more than a casual smirk or an eye-roll. You weren’t interested but Robby didn’t know that.

He only saw the proximity, the way Langdon spoke to you in low, teasing tones, the way your body language remained open in his presence. He saw Langdon Place his hand on your back, and the way you didn’t immediately move away and it was getting to him.

He strode closer and called out your name. 

The single word cut through the air like a blade, firm and controlled. You turned, finding Robby standing there, his expression unreadable.

Langdon, for all his amusement, merely grinned. "Dr. Robby," Langdon greeted smoothly. "Something wrong?"

Robby didn’t even spare him a glance. His eyes were on you. "I need you in Trauma 3. Now."

There was no room for argument in his tone.

You hesitated, glancing at Langdon, who winked at you before stepping back. "Better not keep the boss waiting," he murmured. 'Have fun' he mouthed as you began to move.

You exhaled sharply before following Robby down the hall, your heartbeat drumming a little faster than it should have been.

Trauma 3 was quiet. Too quiet, there was no one moving or making orders. The second you stepped inside, Robby closed the door behind you then stood in front of it

You turned, blinking. "Where’s the patient? What's the situ-"

"There isn’t one," he admitted.

Your brows furrowed. "So you dragged me in here for..?" you let the last word drag on a moment.

"Langdon needs to stop."

The words came out tight, clipped. His posture was rigid, his hands planted on his hips, as if he was barely holding something back.

You stared at him, folding your arms. "Stop what?"

Robby exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to keep his patience in check. "Flirting with you."

A slow, smile curves at your lips. "Flirting with me? Since when do you care about that?"

His jaw tightened. "I don’t."

You let out a dry laugh, stepping closer just to push him a little. "Right. That’s why you’re standing here, all tense and brooding, looking like you want to harm someone"

His gaze locked with yours, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "I don’t want to harm him."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "No? Because it kinda seemed like you did back there."

Robby took a breath, steadying himself. "He’s doing it on purpose."

"Yes, and?"

His brows furrowed. "And you’re letting him."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "Letting him? Am I supposed to control how he acts now?"

"You’re not stopping him," Robby countered, voice lower now, tighter as he takes two steps toward you.

You then stepped closer, the tension between you so thick it was suffocating. "You want me to push him away? Why? So you don’t have to deal with how much it bothers you? What if I like the attention from him?"

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

“Talk to him if you have a problem with flirting in your ER then maybe take a look at yourself.” You walk past him and out the door.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of movement and noise, but you felt every second of it. Every time you caught a glimpse of Robby, every time his voice cut through the chaos of the ER, every time you were too aware of the space between you and how deliberate it was, it felt so much heavier now.

You were signing off a chart at the nurses’ station when Langdon appeared at your side. “So,” his voice heavy with amusement, “on a scale of one to he confessed everything, how was it?”  

You let out a slow breath, closing the chart in front of you. “He told me to make you stop flirting with me.”  

Langdon grinned, his eyes lighting up like he’d just been given the best news of his life. “Oh, that’s beautiful, and?” He urges you to go on. 

You turned to face him fully. “And he was seething, Langdon. Trying to act like he wasn’t, but it was obvious.”  

Langdon clicked his tongue. “Poor Robby. So close to admitting it, yet still so stubborn.” Then he gave you a look, one full of knowing amusement. “And you? How’d it feel having him look at you like that?”  

You ignore his question and fold your arms. “Why are you so hell-bent on making him snap?”  

Langdon’s smirk deepened. “Because he wants to.” You frowned, but he continued before you could interrupt.  

“He’s dying too. He’s barely holding it together, and every time I flirt with you, it pushes him closer to the edge.” Langdon tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “And you? You’re not exactly unaffected either.”  

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “You’re stirring up something you have no business messing with.”  

Langdon gave you a lazy grin. “Or maybe I’m just giving him permission to feel what he already does.”  

You met his gaze, trying to gauge just how much of this was a game to him and how much was something else. “Why do you care?”  

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Because it’s rare to see someone like Robby lose control. He’s spent his whole life keeping it together, being the guy who doesn’t crack, doesn’t get caught up in things that aren’t logical. But you?” Langdon’s smirk softened into something almost admiring. “You get under his skin. And that?” He gave a satisfied nod. “That’s something worth watching.”  

You exhaled, glancing toward the hallway where Robby had disappeared earlier. The air between you and him had changed. You could feel it.  

Langdon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “You know he won’t last much longer, right?”  

You turned back to him, brow raised.  

“He’s going to break,” Langdon continued. “And when he does, I hope you’re ready for it.”   

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Robby isn’t the kind of man who gives himself permission to want something, not fully. You’re the one thing he can’t ignore.” He paused, as if letting you process that before adding, “and you’re making him feel things he’s never allowed himself to fully feel.”

You tilted your head, as you absorbed Langdon’s words. There was something almost fascinating about how he seemed to understand Robby so well. 

"He’ll either let you in fully, or he’ll shut you out completely. These lines that he’s drawn? They won’t exist anymore. It’s going to be all or nothing for him."

“Shut me out, you mean like what he's doing now?” 

“No,” he said, tilting his head slightly as if considering his words. “What he’s doing now? That’s him trying to convince himself he’s still in control.”

“God, he's gonna hate me” You state, you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

Langdon’s laughs softly “He won’t hate you. He’ll hate that you’ve made him feel something he can’t ignore.”

You frowned, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen.” You sighed, anxiety crawling up your chest. “What if it all goes wrong?”

Langdon shook his head, dismissing your thought. “Then you two will figure it out. You both want this and you're both stubborn, neither of you will just give up easily.” A nurse than calls his name “Gotta go” he gently pats your arm. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day unfolded with the same heavy tension in the air. Except today you knew what you wanted. You needed to push Robby over the edge, no matter the result, and Langdon was just the person who could help her do that.

You told him what to do and when to do it. As the end of your shift was approaching Langdon caught your eye, silently asking if you were sure. You give him a brief nod. Robby was on the other side of the nurses station and would have a perfect view. 

You stand at the desk, looking through a file when Langdon walks up to you. His hands rest either side of you, keeping you in his vicinity and his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“I better not get reprimanded for this you softly chuckle, turning your head towards Langdon. 

He smiles at your tone. “You won't.” He then let's his lips graze your cheek. 

"You’re playing with fire," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Langdon smirked. "And yet, you’re the one who asked me to light the match."

Before you could respond, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Robby called out for you. You didn’t turn immediately, just felt his presence, the heat of his gaze burning into you. When you finally looked, his grip on the chart in his hands was tight, knuckles white.

Robby didn’t acknowledge Langdon. His eyes were on you. "With me. Now."

You arched a brow, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"

"Now."

Langdon takes a step to the side allowing you to follow Robby, you go down the hallway and into a small sitting room.

Robby’s hand slammed against the door as he closed it behind you both, his body blocking the exit, trapping you in the small, dimly lit room. The tension between you both felt unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words. He didn’t waste a second before speaking. 

“Are you interested in Langdon?” His gaze was hard, his jaw clenched.

You shook your head quickly, desperate to ease the sudden weight of the moment. “No,” you answered firmly, trying to meet his gaze, but his intensity was overwhelming.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Then why let him get so close to you? Why let him touch you like that?”

You felt your heart race, knowing what this conversation was really about. Taking a slow breath, you finally spoke, your voice softer now. “It wasn’t me, Robby. It was Langdons idea. He saw how you were at first. Said you seemed happier than normal near me, but then you pulled away. You were cold, distant to basically everyone.” You paused, your throat tightening as the next words came. “He said you deserve something good. That I was that good thing but he knew that you wouldn't allow yourself to let go.” You looked away, ashamed, even though you knew it wasn’t your fault. “I'm so sorry I don't know why I let it happen, I should've told him it was stupid and wrong to try and push you especially after the talk you had with me.” The words just pour out of your mouth. 

Robby stood motionless for a moment, just letting you talk. “I didn’t want to pull away, not from you,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself. “I don’t know how to deal with this. With you.” His voice was softer but full of conflict. “Everything between us... it’s not easy. I didn’t want to complicate it.”

You swallowed, your heart aching as you took a step closer to him. “You don’t have to pretend anymore,” you whispered.

He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair, as if battling himself. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I try to push it down, it just comes back stronger. You’ve got me all messed up inside. I’ve tried not to feel anything, but I can’t.”

His confession was a raw admission, and it left you breathless. You took another step forward, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel the same way, Robby. I’ve been trying to ignore it too, trying to pretend but I can’t. I want you.”

“I’ve spent years building walls around myself, not letting people get too close” he reasons.

You step forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “My plan isn't to make you uncomfortable, I'm not saying let's jump into a relationship right now, just let each other in like we started to. We can take our time”

He nods “Alright, Yeah. We're not in a hurry” His arm pulls away from your comforting gesture and he takes your hand. “One step at a time.” You gently squeeze his hand. “Let's start with dinner. Tonight at mine”

You nod. “That sounds nice”

[qardenofeden]

ushijima wakatoshi is not a man of many words, and when he does talk, he comes across as pretty blunt. but it’s not with ill intent; he means well, he’s just so brutally honest sometimes, which is why you immediately shut down when you hear the words “i don’t like you,” escape his lips.

your classes had just ended, and it’s a friday afternoon when you finally work up the courage to confess to the man who stands before you. the cherry blossoms around you dance in the air, painting a romantic, picture perfect scene between the two of you. your arms are outstretched as you present to him your favorite brand of chocolates.

“i…” you look down in disappointment, avoiding his gaze as much as you could, as if it’d miraculously hide you from him.

“i don’t understand you one bit,” he says, his monotone voice unwavering.

you’re thankful you didn’t bring any of your friends along. this was humiliation at its finest. on the bright side though, it’s a friday and you don’t have any classes after. so you’re free to cry your eyes out and curl up in bed as much as you want.

but these thoughts of yours do little to distract you from the moment, and your eyes can’t help but water a little as you look down and take a shivery breath.

“i asked tendou about you.”

that catches your attention, and suddenly you’re taking a deep breath as you look up in shock. he asked tendou?! now that’s going to spread throughout the entire school!

the tears resting on your eyes reflect the golden sun above. your brows furrow in confusion, and if it stuns wakatoshi, he sure as hell doesn’t show it. “why are you tearing up? you did not even let me finish before crying.”

“what else is there to say, ushijima?” the use of his last name sends a small shock through his veins, and yet ushijima still remains unmoved. “you don’t like m—”

you’re quickly interrupted when he speaks, saying “there it is again.”

and you scoff, because he’s not listening. but maybe you should, so you look behind to see just what he was referring to, but nothing’s there.

“what are you—”

“i feel strange whenever i’m around you.” he interrupts again, before clearing his throat and quickly apologizing. “i’m sorry, i did not mean… you can continue.”

“wait, no, what?” you scoff again in disbelief, brows furrowing as your eyes fidget around, searching for something that can help you understand just what the hell ushijima was talking about.

“when you looked up at me with teary eyes, i felt a pang in my chest,” he says, before continuing like he was explaining his symptoms to the doctor, “and when you referred to me as my last name.”

and finally, ushijima’s unwavering confidence almost looks like it falters as he looks away, breathing an exhale. he speaks again, tone finally somehow… softening. “i feel a different pang though when you visit my practice matches and cheer me on…”

no way. you made the ushijima wakatoshi shy? japan’s number one best ace?

he must be rambling, he thinks, but regardless, if wakatoshi hurt you, he wants to apologize and make up for it. starting by explaining. so, he dismisses his thoughts and continues.

“but, more specifically, i asked tendou why i felt irritated when i saw you tutoring that boy in your class,” he finally looks at you now, confidence returning as he tilts his head slightly to the left, “i have a crush on you too, it seems.”

you’re at a loss for words. because, didn’t he just say, moments prior, that he doesn’t like you?!

“i do not, however, like sweets.”

and you let out a chuckle as you bring your hands up to your chest. maybe it hasn’t fully sinked in, because you still can’t talk.

“i do not understand you because you make me feel all these emotions. and i don’t like what i don’t understand, but…”

ushijima brings his hands to yours, taking the chocolate as he opens it. he takes a bite, and there’s a faint hint of pink in his cheeks.

“there are a few exceptions in life.”

and then you see it. the man before you isn’t ushijima wakatoshi, japan’s first best ace. it’s wakatoshi, your wakatoshi, whose biggest enemy is the concept of emotions.

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˙⟡ Study Break.

Short Summary: there is one simple rule. No distractions while he is studying. But what happens when you have been craving his touch all week long and he hasn’t given you an ounce of attention?

Warnings: 18+ only! somewhat rough sex, choking, hair pulling, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v, slight begging, needy!reader

A/N: when is it my turn?

wordcount: 1,2k

He’s told you to be patient.

To wait until he is done studying.

But it’s been hours, and you swear by now you have memorized every single word of the books he’s stored in his dorm.

You have never understood how someone could study and revise for hours on end without getting tired of it, but Tom has always been, let’s say—special.

For the past week his attention has been entirely dedicated to his textbooks, barely having spent time with you at all. His grades have always come first for him, no matter if it’s you or his friends in question. Tom does let you stay with him during his exam preparations, with the only instruction being not to distract him.

And until now, you have been following this rule without any exceptions.

However, the lack of attention he has given you has kept you from studying. Every time you try to sit down and revise, your mind wanders elsewhere. So, after another failed attempt, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

You’ve been with him for the entire afternoon, running your hand through his dark curls, trying to ease the tension in his muscles with your fingertips, rubbing soothing circles into his back—anything you do, he doesn’t grant you more than soft hums and short, clipped answers to anything you ask him.

Filled with frustration, you lean back against the wall as you sit down on top of his work desk. One of his hands comes to rest on your bare thigh, just below the hem of your skirt, the other writing down the recipe and brewing steps for the Polyjuice Potion, which you swear is the millionth time today.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, getting ready to leave. If he wasn’t even going talk to you, he would be no assistance in easing your frustration either. You finally decide to take care of your “problem” yourself.

As you scoot closer to the edge of the desk, Tom places his quill on the parchment, getting up from his chair before he stops you, standing in between your parted legs.

“What is it that you want?” He finally asks, his tone laced with exhaustion and slight annoyance.

A smile forms on your face, and your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer before you press a kiss to his lips.

“Your attention.” You drawl, meeting the intensity of his dark brown eyes. “It’s been three hours, Tom. I am sure a little break wouldn’t hurt.”

He raises a brow at your words, his eyes flickering with a hint of understanding. His breath is hot against your skin as he leans in, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tilting your head to grant him better access to your neck. 

“Like this? Is this what you’ve wanted all this time?” He purrs, one of his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt, fingertips brushing over your thighs as they wander higher, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

All you manage is a nod followed by a sharp hiss as you feel the feather-light touch of his thumb brushing over your still-clothed cunt, humming lowly when he feels your already soaked panties.

“Fuck, you really are pathetic.”

Before you even get to react, he helps you off the desk, spinning you around and bending you over the cold, rough wood, the hard edge of the desk biting into your hip bones. His hands make quick work of your skirt’s zipper, leaving the cotton material pooling at your ankles, followed by your lace panties.

Tom doesn’t waste much time, mere seconds later wrapping the leather of his belt around your wrists, tying them behind your back. Time’s tight, attention for you very, very limited—and he lets you know it in his own way.

He normally isn’t one to do this, quick sex without any real reason behind it, he likes taking his time with you, teasing you until you are practically begging for him to fuck you.

But now—his cock is pressed against your thigh, painfully hard, tip glistening with precum. He slips between your folds, sliding up and down, once, twice, brushing over your clit so lightly you barely feel it, yet it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, whimpering a small “please” as you buck your hips against the heat of his touch.

His knee nudges your legs further apart and you obey, eager to finally feel him inside of you.

“Mmm, would you look at that. All pretty and spread open. You are aching for me, aren’t you?” He croons, thumb circling your entrance but never actually pushing inside.

“Tom, please—“ you whine, and he ultimately gives in.

“Very well.”

Aligning himself with your entrance, he pushes inside with a singular sharp thrust, drawing a small whimper from your lips at the sudden sharp stretch on your walls. Again, he doesn’t give you much of a chance to adjust to his size, hands gripping your hips tightly, fingertips digging into your skin in a way you are sure will leave bruises.

“Just needed me to fuck you, is that it?” He manages through gritted teeth, hips snapping against yours so harshly the desk squeaks with every single thrust. “So fucking needy for me.”

Tom grabs a fistful of your hair, roughly wrenching your head back, the other wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to leave you feeling lightheaded. You know he’s close when soft groans fall over his slightly parted lips, thrusts growing rougher, almost punishing. There is no air left in your lungs to complain, but feeling your own release building in your lower stomach is enough to have pain and pleasure blur together, only pushing you closer to the edge.

“Gripping me so tight—like a fucking vice,” he hisses between his words, hand leaving your hair, instead holding onto your tied wrists for leverage. Tom leans forward then, breathing heavily against your hair as he buries himself to the hilt with one final thrust, hips stuttering as he finds his release deep inside your pulsating walls with a low groan.

He doesn’t pull out immediately, staying in position to catch his breath, grip on your throat loosening, allowing you to fill your lungs with much-needed oxygen as you gasp for breath. Only when he feels you clench around him does he pull out, freeing your wrists and dressing himself. You turn your head to meet his expression, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Tom? Please, I was so close—“ you whine, but he merely helps you stand, turning you to face him.

He tilts your chin upwards, having you meet his eyes. “I told you to wait until I am done, to have some patience. It’s a simple rule, darling.” He murmurs, voice laced with fake sympathy as he takes in your expression.

You open your mouth to complain, eyebrows drawing together. “But—“

“No. Only good girls get to come.”

With that, he sits back down, focus instantly back on his unfinished potions recipe.

And after your fifth denied orgasm later that night, tears streaming down your face, he finally decides to have mercy on you.

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[kathryn-maraudersversion]

Serpents & Stars Part 4

Summary: You are not falling for the Marauders. You are not. They, however, seem determined to prove otherwise. And when James Potter pushes you a little too far, you finally snap.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders (James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin) x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6

Your plan was simple.

You were going to pretend nothing had changed.

You were going to ignore the way your stomach flipped when James smiled.

You were going to ignore the way Sirius’ teasing didn’t bother you as much anymore.

You were going to ignore the way Remus’ quiet warmth made your chest ache.

You were not falling for them, and you were going to prove it. The next morning, you arrived at breakfast with a purpose. You sat at the farthest end of the Slytherin table, as far from the Marauders as physically possible.

Did that stop James from finding you? Of course not.

Did it stop Sirius from sliding into the seat beside you like he belonged there? No.

Did it stop Remus from watching you, patient and knowing as ever? Absolutely not.

James leaned in, all confidence and mischief. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You took a deep breath. Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.

“I wish I could say I didn’t know you,” you muttered, stabbing your eggs aggressively.

Sirius snickered. “She’s in a mood today.”

Remus sipped his tea. “She’s been avoiding us.”

You froze, damn Remus and his stupid perception.

“I have not,” you said, voice clipped.

James raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t show up to the library yesterday.”

“I was busy.”

“You left the great hall the second we arrived.”

“I had things to do.”

Sirius smirked. “You ran away from us last night.”

Your jaw clenched. “I. Did. Not.”

James tilted his head, studying you, and then the bastard grinned. “Ohhh,” he said, something dangerous and delighted flickering in his eyes. “You’re scared.”

You slammed your fork down. “I am not scared of you, Potter.”

James’ smirk only widened. “Not of me. Of us.”

That was it. The last crack in your armour shattered.

You stood up so fast your chair scraped against the floor. The entire Great Hall turned to look.

But you didn’t care.

You glared at James, anger burning through you like wildfire. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

James blinked, clearly not expecting this much rage.

Sirius sat up straighter, intrigued. Remus, of course, just watched.

“You think you can just waltz into my life and what? Wear me down? Make me fall at your feet?” Your voice was low, sharp, venomous. “Because it’s a game to you, isn’t it? The thrill of the chase, the Slytherin girl who hates you, the one challenge you haven’t won yet.”

James frowned. “That’s not-”

You laughed, but it was bitter. “Well, congratulations, Potter. You win.”

His eyes widened. Sirius’ smirk faded. Remus’ jaw tensed.

You took a step closer, your voice dropping. “You want to know why I’ve been avoiding you? Because I let you get in my head. I let you make me think-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

You turned to walk away.

And that should have been the end of it.

But James Potter was a Gryffindor.

Which meant he had absolutely no self-preservation.

He grabbed your wrist before you could leave. “Wait.”

His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm. Anchoring.

And when you looked at him.

Gone was the teasing glint in his hazel eyes. Gone was the cocky smirk. There was only sincerity. Frustration. Something raw and real.

“Is that really what you think?” James asked, voice low. “That we’re just playing with you?”

You couldn’t answer because if you said it out loud, it would mean you believed it and deep down, you weren’t sure you did.

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You are impossible.”

Sirius leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You think we don’t mean it? That we don’t actually care?”

Your throat felt tight.

“You call it a game,” James murmured, “but we’ve already lost.”

Your breath caught.

James let go of your wrist, stepping back. “Go on, then. Walk away.”

Sirius leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. If that’s what you really want.”

Remus just nodded, as if he already knew you wouldn’t.

And that was the problem because you could. You could walk away. Right now. Leave them behind. Pretend this had never happened. You could end it here. So why weren’t you moving? Why did your feet feel like they were glued to the ground? Why was your heart pounding like it was trying to tell you something? You clenched your fists. You were so close to freedom.

So why-

Why did it feel like letting go of them would be the real loss?

Taglist: @amatoanima @flaviaandbooks @nymanas @maraudersgirlsposts @bridkesby @yvessentials @treefairy-28 @navs-bhat @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @zoleea-exultant @hermionelove @starmaniii @kitcat912

[writingwithgeoffrey]

It was a normal day in the forge. Cold weather was kept at bay by the fires that enabled your work, the constant working of your muscles held off the shivers, and the handling of enchantments kept your mind working through the fog.

You weren’t like others in your area, and you knew that. It was your entire business slogan. “Spell-and-Knell Forging,” you called yourself, because—according to a friend, at least—rhymes brought people. You had no idea what a knell even was, though, just that it rhymed.

There was your fair share of oddball requests over the years, from magic swords that could change size to enchanted daggers that could explode. You always did your best to keep the bad eggs away from your forge; you didn’t want that kind of reputation hanging around your head. This request, however, you weren’t sure how to judge.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

The adventurer before you—a bit of a lanky man with ill-fitting leather armor and an overeager glint in his eyes—shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited across your anvil.

“I want a metal tube, about yea big.” He held his fingers in a circle less than a half-inch wide. “Perhaps about as long as my forearm.”

You arched an eyebrow at his words. “Uh-huh. I can do that part. It’s the other part I’m askin’ about.”

“Right, right. Then, I want there to be an enchantment on it. A fireball spell that won’t rip it apart, ideally. Oh! And it has to be reusable, as well.”

You tapped at your chin as you pondered the request. It was odd, no doubt, but with his excitement, it was hard to judge him negatively. Usually, the criminals acted all hush-hush about their desires.

“Well, I can think of one problem.” You pulled over a piece of parchment and set it on your anvil, thankful it had cooled down enough from your last job, and began drawing with a charcoal stick. “If you wanna point and shoot flames at someone outta it, you gotta keep one side sealed.”

“Oh, no, I plan to use tiny metal balls small enough to fit inside.”

You paused in your drawing long enough to let the ridiculous statement wash over you, blinking at the adventurer like he’d grown, not just a second head, but two more.

“Right. Okay. We’ll get to that after. My point is, you keep this tube open on both sides, that fire’s gonna hit you, too.”

You didn’t want to tell him your concern for his safety was more founded in your desire for a repeat customer.

“Oh, yeah! It would, wouldn’t it?”

“Yep.” You sketched out a long metal tube with a cap over one end. “Now, this thing ain’t like a wand. It’s gotta be pretty thick to hold together under all those fireballs, which means it’s gonna hurt to hold it for long periods. So, how about somethin’ like this?”

You added onto the sketch, letting the half-baked idea become fully formed in the journey from thought to paper. By the end, you’d drawn something similar to a sword hilt, though at an angle from the tube to more naturally fit the motion and contours of the wrist.

“Ooh, I like it.”

You smirked. It always made you feel nice when a customer complimented your process. “Then, right here, we put a little spot for mana crystals, ‘cause you gotta touch one to the rune to cast it. So …” You drew on your limited knowledge of mechanisms and springs as you let the charcoal glide. “This way, you don’t have to manually touch a crystal each time. You can just push a button and it does it for you.”

“Fantastic!”

The adventurer swept up the paper and held it up to the light. You would’ve told him to be careful with it if you hadn’t already committed the important bits to memory.

“This is incredible!”

“Sure is. Think you’re the first guy with a weapon like this.” You rested an elbow on your anvil. “That means you get to name it.”

The adventurer’s eyes sparkled like the brightest mana crystals. “Truly?”

“Go ahead.”

The adventurer stuffed the paper beneath an arm as he paced, thinking long and hard. “Well, I suppose it could have the same power as one of those old ballistae that are used to siege castles. And— Oh! What was that famous one from Windsor?”

“Gunilda?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” The adventurer came over to hug you tight. You gave him a slow pat on the back, unsure how else to handle the affection.

“But we shouldn’t call it that, because Gunilda was huge, and this thing.” He motioned to the paper. “This thing is so tiny. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A gun?” It was a pretty good guess in your books. Of course, the adventurer cut you off in his excitement.

“That’s right! A gunildula!”

You are a blacksmith who was trained in the arcane, leading you to specialize in enchanted equipment. Today an adventurer arrives with an odd request: a metal tube with a reusable fireball enchantment on one side, as well as several metal balls small enough to fit in the tube.

[7-deadly-cats]

୨୧ his shy angel ୨୧

genre: one-shot, smut, 18+ mdni

pairing: bf!rafe cameron x fem!shy!reader

cw: suggestive language & sexual content, mention of alcohol consumption (reader being tipsy), masturbation, cowgirl-position, praise kink elements, embarrassment & shyness (reader), light teasing & encouragement (rafe), visual stimulation, unprotected sex

summary: at a party, drunk and needy reader suddenly gets the desire of wanting to please herself while sitting on rafe’s cock. back at home, she brings up this idea.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wanted to try sth different for once (this is my first time writing smut like this lmao) and i’m incapable at writing short stuff so this is a lot longer than intended. honestly idk what else to say (help), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think <3

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“Are you sure about this?” Rafe let out an amused chuckle after you had explained it to him.

You had just gotten home from a party at Kelce’s, and the entire night, you’d been clinging to his side. Well, clinging wasn’t the right word—you’d been needy.

When you were drunk, you were a lost cause. Everything around you faded into the background—everything except Rafe. And the thought of what was underneath that perfectly fitted polo and shorts.

You could practically feel the pulse in your clit, the way your nerves tingled. Sitting next to him on the couch, having to hold yourself back from thinking about how he’d take you from behind or shove his thick cock down your throat…

Fuck, that was impossible. And Rafe knew it.

He knew exactly what was going through your head as you sat there, looking all seemingly innocent and half-asleep while he chatted with Topper.

And God, he loved to see you squirm.

You were naturally shy, and when you got this obviously needy, fuck, it took everything in him not to take you right here on the couch in front of everyone.

But that was what made it fun. Teasing you. Keeping his own self-control in check. It only took his hand resting on your thigh—too close to where you really wanted it—to have your panties soaked.

And that frustrating, unbearable need to wait had your clit throbbing, aching. You’d seriously considered locking yourself in Kelce’s bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, and getting yourself off—because the pressure was downright excruciating.

Because ever since you’d felt Rafe’s cock inside you for the first time—fuck, you’d winced at his size—but what had come after that?

Short answer: you were addicted.

And it was so incredibly embarrassing—because before Rafe, you’d been a clueless virgin. Opening yourself up to someone like him had taken everything in you. But Rafe was a good boyfriend, he had been very patient, waiting until you were ready, and ever since then, you couldn’t think about anything else but his cock pushing inside you.

Saying that out loud, though? That was still hard sometimes. No matter how much you craved him, you were still a shy girl at heart.

You barely spoke to others unless spoken to, and just like that, you only ever initiated sex when Rafe made the first move. And because he worried that his need for you might be too overwhelming—that he might intimidate you—he tried not to push too hard.

But the pressure, the want, was still there. And instead of asking Rafe to help ease the ache, you often took care of it yourself.

And every time your fingers explored your soaked folds, all you could think about was bouncing on Rafe’s big, throbbing cock.

Fuck.

And then, sitting on Kelce’s couch, a thought hit you. An idea. Something you wanted to try.

Sober, you’d never say it out loud. But like this? Tipsy? The alcohol loosened your restraint just enough.

Still, you decided to wait until you were back at Tannyhill—because whispering it into his ear right here, while he was mid-conversation with Topper? Yeah, his reaction alone would make it obvious you were up to something. And you’d die if anyone else caught on.

So you held onto the thought until, finally, you stumbled into Rafe’s room, collapsing onto his bed with your sweet little ass pressed into the mattress.

And when you looked up at him—big, wide eyes, warm, flushed cheeks?

Fuck. That alone made him crazy.

And as much as he wanted to push his cock down your throat in that exact position, watching your eyes tear up from his size, he reminded himself—you’d been a sweet, innocent virgin just a month ago.

And he certainly didn’t want to overwhelm his shy little angel.

But then you told him your idea. Nervous. Hesitant. And fuck, that made his cock twitch in his shorts.

Still, he let out a low chuckle as if he couldn't quite believe you.

“I’m serious,” you said, suddenly uncertain, cheeks burning from the alcohol and embarrassment. “I wanna try it.”

Shit. Your tipsy state, the way you were practically begging without even realizing it… You were playing a dangerous game.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips. If this time, you were the one calling the shots? Fuck it. Why not?

“Alright,” he said, watching the way your eyes lit up. And that look alone? That only fueled his own need. “If it makes my baby happy.”

A few kisses and teasing touches later, you found yourself hovering over Rafe, your soaked pussy just inches above his hard cock—your body completely bare.

And even though Rafe had seen you naked dozens of times by now, you still felt so incredibly shy, so unsure.

His hands trailed slowly up your thighs, sending a shiver down your spine. “Shit, I haven’t even done anything, and you’re already this wet,” he muttered, his fingers gliding through your dripping folds. “You sure you don’t want me to take over, baby?”

A soft, unbidden sigh escaped your lips, and your cheeks burned an even deeper shade of red. You shook your head, still uncertain, your eyes wide.

Another moan slipped past your lips as his fingers ventured further, searching for your entrance.

Fuck, you wanted to give in to him—but not tonight.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, not too tight but firm enough. Your gaze met his, and holy shit—the way you looked at him, bratty yet so innocent at the same time…

Fuck.

He wanted to flip you over, bend you in half, thrust into you from behind, tell you just how fucking perfect you were. For a second, he seriously considered it. But he was too intrigued by your sudden need to take control.

Rafe let his fingers glide over your slick folds one last time, savoring the soft little sigh that left your lips, before pulling his hand away. Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Go on then.”

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Your courage almost wavered—but the hunger in his gaze gave you the push you needed.

Your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, and you felt his body tense, every little movement you made watched like a predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the wrong move before it pounced.

You bit your lip, guiding him to your entrance, and with a breathy sound, you sank down onto him.

Rafe let out a deep grunt as his cock slid inside you. You were already so fucking wet that his entire length went in with ease.

“Taking it all in like a good girl.”

His hands found your hips, adjusting your position just slightly. You whimpered softly when the shift sent a gentle jolt through you, his cock pressing against that perfect spot.

His eyes flickered down to your pretty tits, bouncing slightly from the movement. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your sides, reaching the soft curves of your breasts.

He stroked the sensitive skin, sending a shiver across your body.

You smiled shyly, but now that it was actually happening—

Shit. It was so embarrassing that you’d even voiced the desire in the first place.

Rafe’s hands found your thighs again, his grip firmer this time, his voice low. “Come on, baby, there’s no need to be shy with me. I can take over if you want.”

You shook your head, painfully aware of his thick cock inside you, just waiting for you to move.

“No,” you murmured, your voice coming out smaller than you’d intended. “I… let me do it.”

Rafe leaned back into the pillow, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, baby.”

You nodded, biting your lip, probably looking as embarrassed as you felt. But the alcohol had dulled your senses, and you’d been waiting for this moment for hours—sitting next to Rafe on Kelce’s boring-ass party couch, needy, panties soaked.

And then, almost on instinct, your fingers found your outer folds.

You closed your eyes, hoping to push the embarrassment away.

Rafe’s cock twitched inside you as his eyes followed the movement of your index and middle fingers finding your clit.

Fuck. Now that you felt it yourself—you were so fucking wet. And somehow, that turned you on even more.

Slowly, you started moving, gentle circles, applying just the right amount of pressure—still so tense that your thighs clung to his hips. Your clit pulsed beneath your fingers, and your breathing grew shallower.

Mentally, you were still caught up in the fact that you were exposing yourself to Rafe in a way you never had before.

But the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, his uneven breathing, and the pleasure steadily building inside you, fueled something in you that made you forget your embarrassment.

“No, baby.” Rafe’s soft voice pulled you from your attempt to let go. “Look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers pausing their movement.

Your brows furrowed slightly, uncertainty flickering in your expression. A small, breathless, “What?” was all you managed to say.

Rafe’s hands traced slow, soothing circles over your hips, but his gaze was firm. “I want you to look at me while you do it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and instinctively, your walls clenched around him. You barely shook your head, clearly flustered. “I…”

"You’re perfect, baby. No need to hide from me." Rafe’s blue eyes bore into you, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Okay?"

The thought of keeping eye contact with him while you touched yourself—fuck, it sobered you up and made your heart race at the same time.

It gave you a thrill, something about it feeling forbidden, so revealing.

However, like a good girl, you only nodded, cheeks flushed, too afraid that speaking would make you even more self-aware.

"Good girl," he murmured, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

So, you kept your eyes open, holding his gaze with the kind of shame and hesitation that made you feel like a deer caught in the eyes of a wolf.

Then, your fingers slid between your folds again, finding your swollen clit. All the waiting, all the teasing—it was catching up to you.

Rafe’s gaze never wavered. "Go on, baby. You’re so fucking beautiful."

You bit your lip, embarrassed, and started moving again—slowly, carefully, too shy to let yourself fully go.

Of course, you’d already ridden his cock, let him fuck you from behind, moaned sounds you never even thought you were capable of, but this…

This was different.

It was so incredibly exposing—not just physically but as if you were baring your entire self to him.

You pushed those thoughts away and kept going, fingers pressing down a little harder.

The sensation of his thick cock inside you, the way his hungry gaze followed your every movement—it turned you on more than it should.

"Yeah, baby, keep going. No need to hold back."

And then, hearing those little praises, seeing the way he was barely holding himself back—

Fuck.

It awakened something desperate in you.

Your fingers kept circling that sensitive spot, and then, almost instinctively, your hips started to move—slowly, deliberately, rocking back and forth.

And feeling Rafe inside you sent a soft moan tumbling from your lips—only making your embarrassment worse.

His fingers dug into your hips, and he let out a primal sound. "Fuck, baby, this is so hot."

Another sigh escaped you, and your need grew—like your pussy suddenly remembered just how desperate you had been earlier, sitting next to Rafe on that couch.

Your fingers moved faster, more urgently, and seeing you in this flustered state—your wide eyes looking down at him, brows knitted together, lips swollen and parted—fuck, you looked so innocent, so shy.

Rafe wanted nothing more than to thrust up into you, to watch you bounce on his cock, to hear you whimper as his tip pressed against your inner walls—but this…

This was almost better.

Watching you pleasure yourself on his hard cock, watching you slowly push yourself toward the edge, letting go right in front of him—holy shit.

And the way you moved on him, slow and teasing, you felt so fucking good.

He made sure you knew just how beautiful you looked—how perfect, how fucking pretty you were. He praised you between his own deep groans. "Fuck, baby, don’t stop. You feel so fucking good."

Your fingers worked your clit more firmly now, needier. Little whimpering sounds slipped from your lips, and your hips moved more deliberately—up and down, chasing the feeling.

You were dripping wet, your fingers coated in your own slick, and feeling Rafe’s cock inside you, stretching you open as you gasped and held his gaze, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

And all that previous waiting had only made the sensation between your legs even more intense—your clit swollen and pulsing, fuck, you were a whimpering mess now, bouncing on his cock.

The need for release poured into your desperate movements, your sweet little noises.

"Fuck, baby, you close?" Rafe’s fingers dug deeper into your hips, his own breathing now shallow and low.

You only nodded, another whimper slipping out, your folds so slick and wet that you had to be careful not to let your fingers slip from your clit.

One of Rafe’s hands slid from your hip down your thigh, stroking the sensitive skin as he exhaled, heavy and deep. "Do you want me to finish it for you?"

This time, you shook your head, continuing to pleasure yourself—the slick sounds of your fingers working your clit the only thing filling your mind as you chased that release.

Rafe chuckled lowly. His hand wandered back to your hip, his grip tightening as if to steady you. As much as he loved watching you touch yourself, he had reached his limit. "Then let me help you another way."

You gasped when he suddenly thrust up into you, his tip pressing against your inner walls. But fuck—it only heightened the pleasure, sent a whole new wave of sensation crashing over you.

You leaned forward slightly, giving him better leverage as his arms held you steady. "Does that feel good?"

Again, you only nodded, lips trembling from the overwhelming sensations, swollen from how hard you’d been biting down on them.

All the while, your fingers kept moving—faster, more desperate. You were so fucking close, and it showed in the messy whimpering sounds slipping from your lips, spurring Rafe on even more.

His thick, throbbing cock kept pounding into you, his breathing ragged and unsteady.

Fuck, you were driving him insane.

Your pussy was so wet, stretched around him, that you had to clench just to keep a grip on him—and that, fuck, that nearly sent him over the edge.

The way you were bent over slightly, your sweet tits practically begging to be squeezed—but his hands stayed locked on your hips, holding you in place as he thrust into your dripping pussy with a desperate rhythm.

And you—fuck, just a little more, just a little bit…

Your fingers slipped from your slick folds for a moment, and a frustrated whimper escaped you.

Needy, they found their way back to your swollen clit, and the urgency for release was unbearable.

Fuck, you couldn’t think about anything else—only Rafe’s thick cock stretching you open, the way he was looking at you, full of satisfaction, pride, and just a hint of amusement. Like he was thinking about how embarrassed you had been at first, how shy you were to even admit you wanted this—

And now you were a needy, whimpering mess, desperately trying to make yourself come.

Fuck—Rafe himself was right there. He could feel his release building, the pressure at his tip, the overwhelming need to fill your aching pussy with his cum—

But you were his sweet little angel.

He wanted to watch you fall apart on his cock first.

So, he slowed his thrusts just a little—but made them stronger, more deliberate. And that—fuck, that pulled the sweetest, most desperate little noises from you.

“Rafe…” you sighed, holding his gaze, your fingers working your clit uncontrollably, your cheeks burning with heat. Your breathing was rapid, desperate for release.

"Yeah, baby, let go. Just let yourself go."

His deep moans only fueled the primal hunger building inside you, and you stopped holding back. Letting him thrust into you while you pleasured yourself, whimpering, fuck, that, that—

Your lips parted, brows furrowed, and your eyes rolled back.

Fuckkk.

When you moaned his name again in that sweet, whimpering sound, his cock slammed against your inner walls at the same time, sending a shaking, nerve-wracking wave of pleasure through your entire body—

And you let go.

Breathless, you sank down onto his lap, your fingers moving in slow, delicate strokes to prolong every last bit of your orgasm.

And in that exact moment—when you collapsed fully onto his cock—you felt it.

The warmth of his cum spilling deep inside your pussy.

Rafe’s fingers dug into your skin, his head pressing back into the pillow as a deep groan left his lips. “Oh, fuck, baby, you’re so perfect.”

With shaking hands and a racing heart, you pulled your fingers away from your dripping pussy, reveling in the lingering waves of pleasure as you came down from your high—still wrapped around his cock.

Rafe kept his grip on your hips as he slowly sat up. A cocky smirk played on his lips when he caught the quiet sigh slipping past yours.

One hand found the side of your neck, soft and gentle, while the other caressed your flushed cheek. His thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip, and an amused chuckle rumbled from his chest as he noticed the faint bite marks on the inside.

Even though you had been an absolute whimpering mess on his cock, you’d still tried to hold back your sounds.

Rafe leaned in, pressing a kiss to the spot, his next words filled with a protective, almost possessive urgency. "Still my shy little angel."

The hand on your cheek drifted down, fingers grazing your throat until both rested lightly at the sides of your neck, his thumbs pressing just barely against your skin.

"Don’t worry, baby," he murmured, voice low and full of promise. "Next time, I’ll make sure you’re singing my name at full volume."

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masterlist

[kxsagi]

reader telling bllk boys (i request rin, sae, isagi, shidou and whoever else you want 😉) their waxer or whatever they re called 😭 cancelled and maybe reader and bf are going on vacation so reader turns to him and asks if he could do her brazilian wax 🙏🏼

“𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐟”

a/n: THIS REQUEST LMAOAAOAOAO

i’ve never been waxed before anywhere, but i am lowkey curious on what it’s like (i need a woman to do it for me, not even a boyfriend). and thinking about it… reader has a lot of trust if she’s just gonna ask them that straight-up i could never 😭

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei (definitely suggestive + saved the best for last trust)

itoshi rin

rin was scrolling through his phone when you randomly turned to him and went: 

“hey… my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

he didn’t even blink. just slowly turned his head toward you with the most judgmental side-eye you’ve ever seen. 

“… what.” 

“come onnn. it can’t be that hard,” you grinned, batting your lashes. 

rin blinked once. twice. then stared at you like you had just asked him to perform open-heart surgery with a spoon. 

“no.” 

you pouted. “why not?” 

“because i play soccer, not whatever the hell that is.” 

but you were relentless. you hit him with the puppy eyes, clinging to his arm dramatically, whining about how your shared vacation was coming up and you were running out of time. 

and like the whipped man he secretly was, he finally gave in with a defeated sigh. 

“… fine. but if i mess it up, it’s your fault.” 

so there he was, sitting on the bathroom floor with the most concentrated expression of his life, holding the wax strip like it was a ticking time bomb. 

he hesitated for a good ten seconds before muttering, “this is a mistake,” under his breath. 

and then he yanked. 

you screamed, grabbing his wrist in reflex. 

“rin, what the fuck –”

he stared down at you, horrified. 

“… did i just rip off your entire skin?”

this man deadass thought he had maimed you for life. 

he immediately started apologizing like he had committed war crimes, swearing he would never do this again. 

but lowkey? he got weirdly good at it by the third strip and started acting cocky about it. 

“you doubted me,” he muttered smugly, holding up the next strip like a trophy. 

sir. this isn’t a game show. 

itoshi sae

you brought it up so casually while the two of you were packing for your vacation. 

“oh, by the way, my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?” 

sae didn’t even look up from his suitcase. 

“yeah, sure.”

you blinked. “… wait, what?” 

“what?” he shrugged, tossing a pair of swim trunks into his bag. “it’s just hair. i’ll rip it off or whatever.” 

you stared at him, slightly disturbed by how unfazed he was. 

“you’re… way too calm about this.” 

“should i be scared?” he asked, raising a brow. “it’s just waxing. not rocket science.” 

you squinted at him suspiciously. 

“have you done this before?”

sae simply smirked and walked off, leaving you with more questions than answers. 

when it was finally time, he showed up with zero hesitation. 

he was so calm and composed, gently smoothing the wax strip down like he was making a PB&J sandwich. 

“sae, you’re supposed to rip it fast –”

he yanked it off before you could even finish. 

you winced, grabbing his wrist. 

but sae, completely unfazed, inspected the strip like some kind of waxing connoisseur. 

“huh. smooth,” he muttered with a nod of approval. 

bro was judging his own craftsmanship like it was a professional art piece. 

the worst part? he was good at it. 

like… weirdly good. 

at one point, he paused mid-wax to squint at the strip and mutter: 

“hmm. could’ve angled it better. should’ve pulled with the hair growth.”

you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief. 

“why do you sound like you’ve done this before?”

“don’t worry about it.”

isagi yoichi

you brought it up while the two of you were watching TV. 

“baby boy… my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

isagi immediately choked on his drink. 

“huh?!?!” he coughed, eyes wide as he slapped his chest dramatically. 

he stared at you like you had just asked him to sacrifice his firstborn. 

“you – you want me to what?!”

you repeated your request so casually, like you were asking him to pass you the remote. 

“come on, yoichi. it’s not a big deal.”

“NOT A BIG DEAL?!”

bro was panicking. 

“baby girl, i love you, but i don’t think i’m… i’m qualified for that. i mean, what if i mess it up? what if i accidentally rip off… i don’t know, something important?”

you laughed, rolling your eyes. “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, you’re being insane,” he shot back, already sweating. 

somehow, you convinced him with your persuasive pouting powers, and that’s how isagi ended up kneeling on the bathroom floor, holding the wax strip with shaky hands. 

“baby… i’m scared,” he mumbled, voice trembling. 

you squinted at him. “yoichi. you play in literal life-or-death matches.”

“yeah, but THIS? this is real danger.”

he counted down like he was about to defuse a bomb. 

“three… two… one –”

he ripped it off, eyes squeezed shut. 

you yelped, grabbing his wrist in reflex. 

isagi, panicking, immediately blurted: 

“I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY!”

his hands were shaking as he inspected the strip, his eyes wide in horror. 

“i think i just ruined your entire vacation.”

poor boy was so stressed that he had to lie down afterward, claiming he needed to “recover emotionally.” 

shidou ryusei

you were folding laundry when you casually turned to shidou and asked: 

“hey babe, my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

he didn’t even hesitate. 

“hell yeah. where’s the wax?”

you blinked. “wait, seriously?”

“yeah, why not?” he grinned, cracking his knuckles. “i’m gonna rip that shit off with the wrath of god.”

you immediately started rethinking your life choices, but it was too late. 

shidou was already holding the wax strip like a man on a mission. 

“you ready, babe?” he smirked, cracking his neck like he was about to bench press 300 pounds. 

“wait –”

he ripped the strip off with the force of a thousand suns. 

you screamed, grabbing his arm. 

and this mf had the audacity to grin and go: 

“damn. you’re smooth as hell.” 

you glared at him, tears in your eyes. 

“ryusei, what the FUCK.”

but he was having the time of his life. 

“you got any more strips? this is fun as hell.”

he genuinely offered to finish the whole wax, lowkey getting competitive with himself, trying to make each pull smoother and faster. 

and when he was finally done, he just leaned back on the bathroom counter, arms crossed, and smirked smugly. 

“not gonna lie, babe. i kinda missed my calling. think i’m gonna open a waxing salon.” 

“i’m never asking you for anything ever again.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[spr1ngtweaks]

DESPERATE REQUEST:

what would happen if Stella, Leith, and Eddie forced Harley and his partner to join them in a game of hide and seek in the factory where every location is open after hours in the middle of the night and s/o has to be the hider and they are absolutely impossible to find meanwhile the executes are paranoid and terrified (especially Harley) knowing that a/o won’t be able to resist jumping out and scaring them!? Headcanons?? :3

A hide-and-seek game in an abandoned toy factory at midnight? With a partner who thrives on scaring people? With executives who are already on edge? And with Harley being the most paranoid of them all?

This is going to be so much fun.

Headcanons – Midnight Hide-and-Seek in Playtime Co.

(Or: How to Give the Entire Executive Team a Heart Attack in One Night)

🌙 The Setup

This whole thing probably started because Eddie and Stella were bored out of their minds and somehow convinced (read: pressured) Harley into participating.

Leith, being the reasonable one, initially refused. But then Eddie threw in some corporate-level guilt-tripping like, “C’mon, Pierre, don’t be a killjoy. You already make us suffer during work hours—let us have this.”

Harley, naturally, thought this was the stupidest idea imaginable and was completely against it.

“This is a waste of time.”

“You do realize we work in a factory known for its many mysterious disappearances, yes?”

“If any of you so much as touch my lab, I will make sure you regret it.”

He only relents when Stella, in all her unhinged glory, insists it’ll be “fun” to see who lasts the longest before they start losing their minds.

🦇 The Rules

Your job? Hide. You get a full five-minute head start.

Their job? Find you. But there’s a catch:

No lights—only flashlights are allowed.

No splitting up (because even THEY know that’s how horror movies start).

No chickening out halfway through.

…Harley is already suspicious. Way too suspicious.

👣 The Game Begins…

As soon as the game starts, you vanish. Completely. No sound. No trace.

The factory is massive, labyrinthine, and filled with shadows. The further they go, the more uneasy they get.

Eddie, at first, tries to play it cool. “Okay, okay. This isn’t bad. We just gotta—”

Something creaks.

Leith freezes.

Harley pulls out a scalpel like it’s going to help.

😨 The Executives Start to Panic

Leith is the most vocal about his regrets.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“I knew I should’ve stayed in my office.”

“I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Eddie tries to stay rational, but his nerves are showing.

“Okay, but seriously. Where the hell did they go? They couldn’t have just disappeared—”

Stella? She’s THRIVING.

Absolutely living for the tension.

Is the only one laughing while the others are actively regretting their life choices.

🔦 Where’s Harley in All This?

PARANOID.

ON EDGE.

CONVINCED YOU’RE GOING TO JUMP OUT AND GIVE HIM A HEART ATTACK.

“This isn’t a game. This is psychological warfare.”

“They’ve been waiting for this moment. I know it.”

“This is a calculated attack on my well-being.”

Every slight movement? Every distant noise? He notices.

His brain is in overdrive.

If they were hiding in ventilation shafts, they would’ve had to access it from…

If they were in the old testing chambers, there would’ve been a slight reverberation in sound…

If they were in the prototype storage area—

Oh, wait. The door creaked.

HE KNOWS.

And yet—he still jumps when you finally strike.

👻 The Grand Reveal (AKA: Your Victory)

When you finally decide to end it, you wait until the absolute worst moment—

They’re huddled together in some darkened corridor.

Their nerves are fraying.

Harley is visibly tense, Leith is done with everything, Eddie is regretting his life choices, and Stella is just watching chaos unfold.

Then?

You jump out.

With zero warning.

Directly behind Harley.

🎤 Reactions:

Harley?

JOLTS like someone just defibrillated his soul.

Immediately turns around, ready to commit a crime.

“I should have you thrown into a furnace.”

Leith?

Screams.

Not even an ashamed scream—just pure, unfiltered terror.

“I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN.”

Eddie?

Nearly drops his flashlight.

Tries to act like he wasn’t scared.

“I— I wasn’t scared. I was— I was just—”

Stella?

CACKLING.

Absolutely delighted.

“Worth it. Every second of it.”

✨ The Aftermath

Harley refuses to speak to you for the rest of the night.

Leith files an unofficial complaint against you.

It goes directly into the trash.

Eddie still insists he wasn’t scared.

But he is now suspiciously avoiding dark hallways alone.

Stella? Already planning the next game.

“Next time, we blindfold Harley and make him the seeker.”

“NO.”

…And you?

You have a new favorite pastime.

[tiki-was-here]

This was supposed to be ONE PARAGRAPH LONG but I got carried away. I wrote this one my phone and took king breaks throughout so just ignore any errors mwah

Ig content warning for dub con and canon typical violence.

Yeah changed my mind about it being “some random fling”

Reader is now the grandchild of the owner of Dorsia and is staying in NY after taking a break from school. Someway somehow they meet Bateman through mutual acquaintances. At first Bateman finds them utterly unappealing but as soon as he learns this information he’s ready to be a kiss ass.

At first his jealousy made him want to just take the sharp end of a hammer and scrape your brains out but his more sane side reminded him that this would be a perfect chance for him to climb the social ladder.

He could see the way you looked at him,feel the way your eyes lingered in his ass when you opened the door for him “just to be nice”. Disgusting. He couldn’t blame you though, he didn’t spend hours a week working out for nothing.

Anyways he starts subtly trying to get in your good graces. Complimenting your business card and asking where you got your suits tailored (let’s be real here this much “kindness” is enough to give this man an aneurism).

And even though you know what he’s trying to do because he’s horrible at talking to a person whose head isn’t that far up their own ass it’s cute to see him struggle. The stupid little nods and fake laughs he gives as you ramble on about a topic that you couldn’t give a damn about just to see him simmer with boredom.

He thinks he’s so sneaky with the way pretends to love your music taste, and claims any worldview you have as his own because yes, despite him looking like he’s about to throw up whenever he has to speak to someone he deems lower than him he definitely thinks that rich people should give more to charities that actually do something instead of just using it as a tax write off. He has always felt this way.

Definitely.

You finally decide to stop torturing him and you ask him one day when you guys are infront of his “friends” that your grandfather would like to meet him because he heard how Patrick made you feel sooo welcome and he wants to give a personal thanks (a lie you pulled straight out of your ass)

He was ecstatic, head already doubling in size as he accepted your invite quickly, much to the annoyance of his peers, not even batting an eye at the fact that you requested to stop by his place for a few drinks before you guys made your way there. He’s bragging to everyone he knows in the days leading up to the reservation, telling them how he’s actually good friends with the owner of Dorsia and how he just might be able to squeeze in a reservation for them because he’s that close.

Once your at his apartment though you tell him that you’re here for more than just drinks, and that his oh so perfect personality isn’t enough to get you to fulfill your promise.

He’s livid, mask seconds away from slipping and unleashing the monstrous nothingness that truly lives inside him. That is until you tell him that you just need him to do one little thing for him.

That all he has to do is get on his knees and put his pretty little mouth to good use. Obviously he objects, threatening to rip your eyes out of their sockets but you just laugh and tell him that he’s free to do so. He knows he can’t take that chance cus he’s spend the entire week inadvertently telling everyone that you’d be with him tonight.

He worries that you’d go as far as to check the records tonsee if he’d ever actually gotten a reservation there before (you did) and was sure that you wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone about it. Like him, they’d eat up every word that came out of your mouth in hopes of getting closer to you.

And even though he’s upset he kinda respects the fact that you played him like a fiddle, because it’s not everyday that he finds himself backed into a corner like this. So very reluctantly he sinks down to his knees, telling himself that this doesn’t mean anything and that he’d kill you as soon as he had the chance.

And we all know what happens next.

Teehee having a random fling with Bateman and secretly taking photos of him sucking on your cock, blissed out expression with tears in his eyes as he all but chokes on ur length. Then using those photos to blackmail him into becoming your personal slut. Having him do more and more degrading things like wearing a collar, being your personal maid (skimpy dress is mandatory obviously 🙄) and even wearing a cock cage to work, all the while taking photos of his debauchery.

Little do you know that although he snaps and bites at you and tells himself that he’s only doing this because he’s being blackmailed he has to will himself not to cum whenever you take out your camera. And he spends hours dolling himself up, practicing his slutty little faces in the mirror just so that he can look good for you.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Is it not Obvious?

For decades, almost my entire life, I’ve had to hide some parts of me. Mostly, to stay of out of trouble. I was good at it too. Still am, truth be told. Or so I believed. Until my nosy brother answered my question with one of his own.

“Is it not obvious?”

That got me thinking, and when I came back from my Mind Palace, Mycroft had left 221B.

Every comment regarding my relationship with John; sorry, friendship, has gone over my head. He answered them loud enough – “not gay!”

On more thorough inspection, those comments weren’t all wrong. Granted, we’ve never had a romantic or sexual relationship, but our friendship was, is, unique. Intense, possessive, easy, complicated, and filled with hidden emotions. The latter is the reason for the complications. 

Like I said, I am good at hiding parts of me I don’t wish exposed. That changed one January day when John Watson entered my life. My abilities to conceal my feelings, were thrown to the wind, and they have been quite difficult to reclaim.

I realised that John was hiding too. Not as well as I once did. His admiration for my deductions was instant, unshielded, honest. The way he looked at me then… I just wanted to…

***

We’ve been through hell a couple of times since the mentioned January day at Barts. I have hurt him. He has hurt me. I told myself I deserved every blow he gave me. Now, I’m not so sure.

“I can’t ever forgive myself for what I did to you, Sherlock,” John said when we finally reconciled, and he reluctantly agreed to move back home.

He cried, which was an alien sight. I had never seen John cry before. It broke my heart, and I slowly got up from my chair. My body was still bruised, and every movement hurt.

I slid one hand up his right arm, while the other rested on the nape of his neck. His left hand was still covering his eyes, which hindered me from pulling him tighter toward me. To my utter relief, he didn’t pull back when he had calmed.

“Why are you so good to me, Sherlock?” he whispered hoarsely.

The words resting on the tip of my tongue, were too dangerous to speak. Perhaps one day.

“You are my best friend, John,” I told him, reminded him.

“Some friend I am,” he huffed and moved.

I let him go with a heavy heart.

“You were grieving.”

“No excuse,” he said angrily.

I winced involuntarily at the vehemence in his voice. Thank God, he didn’t see it. Or so I thought.

When he lifted his head, new tears trickled down his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve your friendship,” he whispered and took my hand in his. “If you still want me and Rosie to move in, I promise I’ll do better. I’m working on my anger, and…”

I gripped his hand so hard I thought he would squirm, but he seemed unfazed. His face, though tear and grief stricken, was open, unveiled, and I realised that my feelings for him weren’t as unrequited as I’d feared. 

His phone buzzed before I managed to catalogue everything, but he didn’t let go of my hand, which I took as a good sign.

***

After John left, I thought about the previous conversation with my brother. I admit, I didn’t pay full attention. My mind was elsewhere. With John. As always. I was nervous about his answer to my request of moving back. So, when Mycroft mentioned the hidden chemistry between me and John, I honestly had no idea what he was on about.

“What are you talking about, brother mine?” I snapped.

“Is it not obvious?”

The question soared around the corridors of my Mind Palace until it led me to the door of John’s Room. Behind said door was the truth I had avoided for so long. When I looked at it from a distance, it was crystal-clear. Our chemistry was a tangible thing from that particular point of view. 

Sentences and statements from us both lit up the room:

“Where he goes, I follow.”

“I would be lost without my blogger.”

“Of course, you’re my best friend, Sherlock.”

“You are the bravest and kindest and wisest man I have ever known.”

***

Two days after John and Rosie moved in, John finally noticed what was missing from the flat.

“Sherlock, please tell me you haven’t given up on doing experiments for our sake. I don’t want you to – “

“John, it is one thing to have chemicals and body parts lying around when two adults live together. Bring a toddler into the equation, and things change considerably.”

“I get that, but – “

“221C. That’s where I’ll be doing the more…dangerous and malodorous experiments. Mycroft had it renovated. It even has proper ventilation now.”

“So, you’ve hidden your chemistry set and everything down there?”

“Yes. Well, almost. I’ve kept the microscope up here. Molly had a spare one I keep down there.”

“Wow, well, I guess that’s good. I never thought I’d say this, but 221B’s kitchen wouldn’t be the same without that microscope.”

His voice was teasing, and…happy?

“I am happy, Sherlock. This is the only home I’ve ever wanted. Sharing it with you and Rosie…well…”

“Since when did you become a mind reader, John?” I teased back.

“Learned from the best,” he replied mirthfully, before he turned serious. “I’ve missed you, Sherlock. I’ve missed us.”

His hand found mine so easily, as if it was a habit, normal.

“I’ve missed you too, John. And us.”

Carefully, I pulled him closer. He didn’t hesitate, but put his arms around me, and placed a hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes and said the words I had hidden for so long.

“I love you.”

He echoed my words reverently before he kissed me.

“No more hiding,” we agreed when we could think straight again.

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

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[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 44. Unexpected Reunion

Summary: Dahlia's Squad and Bodhi are dragged into their first assessment for RSC. Land Nav. And just her luck she'd end up with not one, but two people she would like to be as far away from as possible. A/N: This is going up while I'm travelling for a week away for my birthday, so not sure if I will have reception or time to check my phone before I don't have it. But I can't wait to come back and see your comments and asks! Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

My eyes fly open, jolting back as someone moves something away from my face. I squint at the bright morning light, shielding my eyes I look up to see our RSC teacher Professor Lee backing away as he approaches Liz who lies on the ground next to me. My head feels foggy as I sit up and take in my surroundings. We’re in the middle of the forest, somewhere definitely close to Basgiath as the foliage is similar.

”Let me guess, RSC?” I ask Proth as I reach out to him.

I feel agreement flow through the bond. “Yes, something I hope you can over come quickly. A waste of time if you ask me.”

”Why is it a waste of time?” I ask, as I push off the ground, dusting grass and dirt off my flight leathers.

”You only need it if you don’t stay seated. Or we somehow get separated, which has never happened.” He growls in annoyance.

Noted. Don’t leave my dragon. Something that’s already been drilled into us. Though you never know what could happen. I look to my left seeing Kai, Austin and Bodhi waking up as well. My eyes widening as I take in the squad next to ours. You have to be kidding me. Dain and I lock eyes, both of ours narrowing at each other. Great. On top of being stuck out here for up to two days, I had to spend it with him. And work with him. Movement next to him catches my eyes and I can’t help but smile slightly at Imogen who pokes her head around him as she assesses the area. I hadn’t had much to do with her, but the interactions I did have with her were good. I could see myself getting along with her.

”Well, look who we have here. Haven’t seen you two in a long time.” A deep, but somewhat familiar voice drawls.

I turn my head to see two squads of infantry cadets, my blood running cold as I recognise the one speaking to Dain and I. Despite how much time had passed, there was no denying who stood in front of me. Ethan Caldwell. The boy who had thrown that rock in that clearing. The actual reason my mother was dead. This day was just getting better and better.

”See you took after your father in infantry.” Dain says through pursed lips.

Dain and Ethan were never close, always butting heads as kids. So I know his displeasure is not due to what happened that day. But mine definitely is. He was my friend up until that point. At least I thought he was.

”As did you two. Though I’m honestly surprised after that little incident.” He drawls as he turns his attention to me.

My hands tighten into fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands as I stare at him. I would enjoy nothing more than running him through with one of my daggers, but I don’t think it would go down to well if I took out a cadet from another quadrant in front of two Professors.

”Everything ok?” Liz asks as she steps closer to me.

”Fucking fantastic.” I growl out as I hold Ethan’s stare.

”You sure? You look like you want to murder him.” Bodhi adds as my squad gather behind me.

”Trust me, that’s not even the start of what I want to do to him.” I say as I tear my gaze from Ethan and look at Bodhi.

There’s no denying the worry in Bodhi’s eyes as he looks at me. But he clearly understands this is something I can’t talk about right now. And honestly didn’t entirely want to. Though there was no stopping Ethan from spilling what he was referring to. I just had to hope that he kept is damn mouth shut.

”What the last thing you guys remember?” Kai asks as two healers cadets walk around handing out a small ration and water. Which I’m thankful for seeing as I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and it was now the morning.

”Walking to dinner from the gym with Dahlia.” Austin says as she opens her water skin.

”Yeah, the last thing I remember is heading there with Kai.” Liz adds.

Seems we were all taken after we left the gym. They had definitely been watching and waiting. Maybe that’s where Garrick and Xaden ended up? No, third years didn’t go through this. Their equivalent was being sent to an outpost to assist.

”Sorry for the abrupt change in scenery, but welcome to your first land navigation exercise of the year.” Professor Lee starts as his eyes scan us. “In the last two weeks, we have hopefully taught you how to read a map and survive. And now you get to put those skills to the test, and seeing how well you can adapt to working with other cadets you have never worked with before.”

Two squads of infantry, two quads of riders, two healers and a scribe. All of whom have never worked together. This was going to be interesting.

”For this exercise there will be two maps, two teams, but you will work together as one cohesive unit. Aetos, your squad-”

”Which one?” Dain and I say perfectly in sync as we cut off the Infantry Captain, causing all the riders to look at us in shock. Almost surprised with how in sync we’d been, even down to the tone in our voice. Perks of being twins I guess.

”Of course they sent you two together. Second squad-”

”Which one?” We both ask again in sync, Dain turning to glare at me as Bodhi and Imogen snicker behind both of us.

”You’re both second squads?” She asks, looking annoyed.

Professor Lee chuckles as he steps forward with two maps clutched in his hand. “Yes and both from the same wing. Dahlia, you’ll be with third squad.” A blonde haired infantry cadet raises his hands. Thank the gods I wasn’t with paired with Ethan. I step forward and take the map from Lee. “And Dain you’ll be with second squad.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon.” The infantry captain says before turning and walking away from us with Lee and leaving us on our own.

”Oh, and just to make it more fun, there are other groups out here with you.” Lee adds as he turns back to us. “You are also not allowed to mount your dragons. But they are hunting the other groups, and their dragons are hunting you. Best work together so you don’t die.”

And with that, we’re on our own. The infantry, healer and scribe cadets look pale now Lee has mentioned the role our dragons are playing in this. Two days to find our extraction point and not get burnt my another dragon. Oh and add the fact I’ve got Dain and Ethan to deal with. What could go wrong? Oh wait, everything.

”Did he just say we could die?” The scribe squeaks out as they clutch their satchel.

”Sure did. Kinda part of being around dragons.” Imogen says with a smile, though it does nothing to ease the now petrified scribe.

”Don’t listen to her. You’ll be fine.” Dain says as he tries to ease the scribe’s nerves.

”Don’t sugar coat it Dain. You know very well how deadly dragon fire can be.” Ethan snickers as he eyes Dain and I.

”Pretty sure we all do. So lets get to work and get moving.” Bodhi says sternly, ending the conversation. I’d almost swear he was innistic with how he could read situations.

”Good idea. Dain give me your map.” I say as I hold out my hand towards him.

”You have your own map. You don’t need mine.” He tells me as he puffs out his chest.

”Well aware, but I wouldn’t put it past them to give us different maps or do something to confuse us.” I tell him as I cock my head at him.

He grumbles but quickly hands his map to me so I can lay them out next to each other. We all gather around to assess the two maps, and it’s immediately clear our maps are completely different. Our extraction points are in the same spot, but the markings and layout of the maps are completely different.

”Well look at that, you were somehow right.” Ethan says smugly as he looks up at me.

”Yeah, she generally is. Without her we wouldn’t have won war games last year.” Austin snaps at him, causing him to glare at her.

Great we were already at each others throats. This was going so well.

”Let’s figure out where we are and get moving then.” The blonde squad leader from infantry commands as he cuts off the bickering that was definitely about to start, all of us nodding in agreement. We needed to win this.

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