#she could have had him doing exactly what she wanted (nothing) by simply giving him some praise and assurance however false or insincere
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Donât You Leave Me
Hi guys! Back with more smutty stuff. Youâre injured on the job and Gibbs just about loses his mind. Smut and age gap and angst! 18 NOT PROOF READ
I skipped over my usual detailed smut writing and went for something more- romantic? Idk.
âWhere the hell is she?â
Gibbsâ voice rang out around the room, bringing everyone to attention. DiNozzo and Ziva shared a brief look, bodies stiff as Gibbs approached.
McGee stood and swallowed hard, voice trembling but firm as he spoke to the angry man in front of him. âSheâs in autopsy with Ducky. Not- not in that way, sir, sheâs alive, of course. But heâs checking her over and patching her up.â
DiNozzo and Ziva winced at the hard look Gibbs gave McGee before storming off towards the elevators, steps eerily silent as he made his way through the room.
"Nice, McGee," Tony started to jab, but the smack to his head from Ziva made him fall quiet.
Gibbs was furious with himself for even letting you out into the field. You were Abby's assistant, a job the dark haired girl initially didn't find necessary. But your humor was just like hers, and the caffeine addiction you shared made you two a comical duo. She soon came to love your presence.
You'd gone out with Ducky to help him while Palmer was sick, a simple task that should have taken an hour or so. But the suspect ended up still being in the house, and he'd gone after you in a panic. Trying to take you hostage, simply losing his mind because he was caught, that was for an interrogator to figure out.
You weren't sure how many kicks you'd taken to the ribs, or how exactly your face had gotten cut up. But Ducky was doing a fine job cleaning and bandaging them.
The older medical examiner was filing the silence with talk about some woman's body he'd examined years ago when the sliding doors to autopsy hissed open. Your eyes found blue ones filled with anger and guilt and panic. Ducky was quick to move out of the way and give you space with Gibbs.
His hands came up and cupped your cheeks, eyes studying the cuts and bruises on your skin. "Are you okay?" His voice was low and shaky, his thumb brushing over one of the bandages.
"Gibbs, I'm fine," you promised, gently grabbing is wrist and squeezing. "I'm just sore. I'll be alright." His eyes stayed glued to yours, as if he was looking for a flicker of deceit in your eyes. He eventually pulled away and looked at Ducky, the older man distracting himself with the equipment on a nearby table.
"Yes, Jethro, she will be just fine. Nothing rest and sleep and some Tylenol can't fix," he said with a wave of his hand. He didn't need to look up to know what the silver haired boss was asking with his eyes.
Gibbs cracked a faint smile and looked back to you, holding his hand out to you and helping you off the table. "You aren't staying alone tonight,â he stated, his tone leaving little room for argument.
You knew better than to tell him you didnât need a babysitter, but there was a part of you that wanted the company. The adrenaline had worn off and you knew he could feel your hands trembling.
He led you to the elevator and stood quietly beside you, waiting for the jostling and humming motors before flipping the switch. The lights dimmed, the humming of the elevator stopped, and Gibbs was facing you.
âAre you sure youâre alright?â
You looked up into his blue eyes, frozen in place by the concern and fear there. You swallowed against the lump in your throat before shaking your head, the trembling in your hands moving through the rest of your body.
âI didnât-.. Iâm not prepared for stuff like that. I donât-..â you trailed off as Gibbs pulled you to his chest, one hand on your back and the other holding your head, cradling you as he spoke.
âHe never should have been there. The area was cleared by the police and they missed the bastard. Iâm sorry, I never should have put you in that situation.â He mumbled quietly into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling back, hand still in your back as he flipped the switch and sent the car moving.
Your heart was still racing with anxiety and adrenaline as he took you back home, the car ride silent and riddled with a tension you couldnât pinpoint. He took your bags without a word, carrying them inside once you arrived before locking the door.
Your relationship with Gibbs had been nothing but tension when you started. The good kind. He refused to act on his feelings and you didnât have the nerve to make the first move. So the three years together had been a balance of subtle flirting and catching one another gazing at the other.
But now he was in your house, taking his coat off and hanging it up as if heâd been here before. You watching him untie his boots and set them aside, your body starting to ache with the bruises and cuts as he made his way over to you.
He always stood so damn close to, practically pressed to you. The heat from his body felt so inviting, and you didnât think before placing a hand on his chest, grabbing his shirt.
âI thought I was going to lose you out there,â he spoke quiet and soft, hands going to your waist and pulling you closer, head dipping down to rest against yours.
âI had no idea what was happening, I just heard the yelling and crashes from the house, and..â he trailed off as his nose brushed yours, eyes closed as he breathed you in.
You didnât hesitate before hugging him, arms like a vice around his neck as he clung to you, head on your shoulder. Your ribs protested at his grip but you didnât care.
It took only a moment before you gave in to one another, lips meeting in a heated kiss as he held you snug to his body. You stumbled with him to the bedroom, clothes in a trail as he undressed you and you him.
His body was familiar and soothing as he laid over you. Lips ghosting over your cuts and bruises, hands soothing your aches and pains as he devoured you like a man starved.
When he entered you it felt like the Earth was shaking. He groaned and panted in your ear, limbs tangled as he drowned his worries and fears with you. The feel of you around him, the scent and taste of your skin.
Your body arched and moved in perfect synchronicity with his, your pain and anxiety disappearing as he pulled you back to reality, his fingers ghosting and tracing your skin as you tumbled over the edge together.
He got up before you could gather your breath, cleaning the mess between your legs and checking your injuries before laying back down, arms around you in a protective vice.
âDonât you ever leave me, darling,â he whispered in your ear. You smiled and kissed his shoulder, legs tangled as you whispered.
âNever.â
#ncis x reader#ncis#leroy jethro gibbs#jethro gibbs x plus sized! reader#jethro gibbs x reader#jethro gibbs#gibbs
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egg 10 maybe!!
OH MY GOODNESS THIS HAS TO BE ONE OF MY FAVORITE EGGS ON THE WHOLE GAME. [Sorry it took me 57 years to answer, this was a long one.]
The Ouran Host Club welcomes a Little! Guest Headcanons.
[Minus Honey, he's baby.]
[Gender Neutral Pronouns Used. Trying my best to stay neutral so it fits for any regression age/experience.]
Tamaki Suoh:
Tamaki would be so excited to find out he had a little one as his guest. What's not to like? He'd get to pay them extra attention, spoil them with gifts and all sorts of things. He'd be the host to choose if you want to feel like the spotlight is on you!
He loves to be so over the top and extravagant. He'd have little tea parties with you, and of course, he'd go all out. He'd make little menus for the guests at your tea party, have the teas and orderves catered for you, and of course: use very beautifully painted plastic china [just so there's no accidents or nothing breaks!]
He calls you every nickname under the sun, but he loves flower names! "Rose/Rosey" "Lavender/Lav/Lavvy" "Sunflower/Sunny." He just sees you as a beautiful flower to be treasured forever, and his nicknames for you represent that. But of course, there's always "Princess/Prince/Monarch," those are classics.
He'd be so indulgent if you liked to play games. He'd make sure he knew whatever you were in the mood to play, and if the other hosts were playing too, he made sure they knew your rules, too.
"No, Haruhi! The little one is playing Littlest Pet Shops." He turns to you, asking if he may move where you've placed them, and after receiving a nod from you, he holds a few up to Haruhi. "This is Daisy, and she works at the café. Jaime and Adeline are here customers. And these dogs over here are all a friend group, and they're at the park, because they've already had their lunch, you see?" [He's so into whatever his baby is. Agh, I love him.]
Tamaki likes to give you a rattle, if you're very little. Or, if you're a bit older, a toy that makes noise, or a loud fidget toy, whatever you may like to keep you occupied. He likes to know where you are. The music room is large, especially with all the guests that come in there. He could lose his little one! And he can't have that.
Piano Lullabies before bed/naptimes. And if you feel like it, he'd give you piano lessons as well. He'd let you sit on his lap to learn, and put your hands on top of his to learn the keys!
Kyoya Ootori:
His initial reaction to having a little guest would be one of confusion, and perhaps a bit of fear? He's heard of age regression, but doesn't exactly understand the technicalities of it quite well. He'd be afraid that he may mess up, or make you upset by accident, and that's the last thing he wants. He asks Tamaki for advice before feeling more comfortable.
Kyoya would be a more quiet, and laid back caregiver. He'd love to give you activity sheets that fit well for your regression age: whether they be preschool activity sheets or complicated word puzzles, he believes in helping you learn while having fun. But he won't just simply sit you down with a worksheet. No, he makes them himself. If you have a comfort character, or favorite colors, he keeps those things in mind when making them for you! He also will sit and help you do it while guiding you through each step. He loves bonding over the things he makes for you.
Kyoya would have more traditional nicknames: "Sweetheart." "Dear/Dearest." "My lovely [name]" "My Little Lady, My Little Gentleman, My Littlest One."
Kyoya would not be good at playing, I don't think. His hidden talent is that he's very, very good at reading you stories. The way he tells them makes you feel like you could reach out, and touch the events the words of the pages are unfolding. His favorite book to read of all? Alexander and The Wind Up Mouse, only to be tied with Chrysanthemum. Both of which are the books he reads best, too.
"The next day," Kyoya read as he snuggled his little closer to him. "Chrysanthemum took the longest route to school. She dragged her feet in the dirt... Chrysanthemum, Chrysanthemum, Chrysanthemum..." Kyoya filled each time her name was mentioned with dread, including a sigh on the end each time to show the weight of the scene. He looks down at you before he continues. "Don't worry..." He smiles. "I think she'll feel better soon. Shall we find out together, dearest?"
Kyoya has a very good singing voice. He'll sing you a love song or a lullaby to calm you after a hard day. Or, he also loves to comb your hair to help you relax if you're okay with that.
Haruhi Fujioka:
Haruhi's initial reaction to finding out a little guest had chosen her would be shock. She's perfectly capable of taking care of a little one, and she regresses herself too. She'd especially understand if you regressed out of stress, or as a trauma response. No matter the circumstances though, I feel like she'd be a good person to handle a little one!
Haruhi would like to do things with you her mother did with her growing up. She'd love to teach you how to bake cookies, or make simple meals. She'd love to give you classic toys if you were younger [a yoyo, a teddy bear, building blocks, one of those things where you drop the shape in the right hole, a ring stacker.] She'd have a much more simplistic approach. She likes to keep you off screens, [minus your comfort shows/games] though. She feels like littles have enough of that in their big lives.
She calls you petnames like "Baby Girl/Baby Boy/Babycakes." She also likes the nickname "cookie."
Haruhi would be okay at engaging in what you wanted to do. I feel like it would depend for her. The littler you were, the harder it would be for her to engage. Even though she regresses very young herself, she had to grow up super fast, so in her big headspace, she cannot comprehend how to begin playing with toys. However, if you were doing something like playing a game, she'd understand that, and try to help you! She'd be good no matter what if you were frustrated, though.
"You want me to play?" Haruhi asks as she sits on the floor with you, and looks at what you're doing. "I'm so sorry, cookie... I don't really know how to play all that well... Oh, it's blocks? Let me see." After explaining your problem, Haruhi understands. "Ah, I see! You're building the tower too high without a strong base! That's why it won't stay up." She explains. "Here, want to try building it that way to see if it works? I'm here with you..."
If you are a fussy little, you've come to the right place. Haruhi wins out of everyone here for the best to deal with tantrums, fussiness, etc. She'll sit with you and comfort you until you're better. She has lots, and lots of patience, and would never rush your feelings.
Hikaru & Kaoru Hitachiin:
I feel like their reaction to having a little guest would be sweet. They'd see it as an opportunity to make a new friend, and they're a bit childish themselves! I feel like they'd both really enjoy it! I see them as big sibling CGs.
They're the trademark bad influence CGs. They'd help you play [innocent] pranks on the rest of the host club. They'd be laughing about how you made Tamaki sit on a whoopee cushion for weeks. They train you to be their little apprentice in mischief.
They call you lots of gender neutral petnames! "Pumpkin." "Cutie-Pie." "Kiddo." "Snuggle Bug/Bugaboo." "Troublemaker."
They may be full of jokes, but they're serious when it comes to protecting you from what you're afraid of. They don't like for anything to scare their little partner in crime.
A loud burst was suddenly heard across the host club. You whipped your head to see what it was. It was a balloon that they had for The Host Club's party. It had gotten too close to the chandelier, and burst. You started to tear up and cry at the sudden loud noise.
"Oh, little one..." Kaoru says, covering your ears gently and taking you somewhere quiet. "It's okay," he covers your ears just enough so you can still hear the two of them.
"Yeah, bugaboo. There are no balloons in here. We'll make sure one doesn't pop near you again." Hikaru reassured them gently.
They're the best at teaching you about problem solving. They give you accommodations for yourself and solutions you never once thought of. The kind that provokes yourself to take care of yourself in the ways they do.
Takashi Morinozuka
His reaction would be outwardly stoic [as it is to just about everything.] He'd actually be kind of excited at the familiarity of the situation, and hopeful that perhaps Honey can have a playmate.
He's the strict caregiver of the group. He'd make sure you had enough to eat, drink, that you had taken your necessary medicines if you needed any. He'd also keep one eye on you to make sure you weren't doing anything that may potentially hurt you.
He's not good with petnames, they're not his thing. He does always like the ever classic "little one" though.
Mori is a walking first aid kit. If you ever need anything like a bandage for a little booboo, he'd have it. Or perhaps, you have a chronic illness that flares up from time to time. He'd have you rest, but he'd made the recovery process fun.
Mori noticed you looked a little bit... out of it today. It wasn't just this moment he felt like that, it had been all day. "Hey, little one? Are you not feeling well... you don't seem to be acting like yourself?" He nodded at your answer. "I see... Perhaps it's time for some bed rest." He leads you to a private room with a bed, but sneaks you a cookie as a reward for getting some rest. "This stays between us, okay?"
Mori helps you understand how important self care is, and he's happy that he made such a positive impact on your life from hanging out with him a few days a week. It means a lot of him.
#age regression#sfw agere#agere#fandom agere#age regressor#agere blog#agere community#sfw interaction only#agere ask game#surprise egg ask game#ohshc agere#ouran host club#ouran agere
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i have another hot arcane take brace yourselves.
i think the war ambessa waged on piltover wasn't caused by caitlyn.
and yes, a lot of ppl were left with that impression, because even caitlyn herself believes this to be the case:
i saw it in her eyes. she'll burn piltover to the ground for my betrayal.
but there are a few things caitlyn likely doesn't know that we, as the omnipresent audience, know through other characters:
like the fact that ambessa came to piltover because she'd heard word of hextech, the hexgates, the piltovian progress in general, and wondered if it could be weaponized against her own enemies. she wanted an edge against the mages who were out for her.
this is one reason why she fueled the piltover/zaun conflict, aside from her own ambition to conquer and rule - she thought it would lead to the accelerated creation and exploitation of hextech weapons. this is exactly what she tried to manipulate/fearmonger jayce into.
ambessa was quite lucky - jinx blew up the council, renni wanted her revenge. but jayce and viktor basically disappeared, heimerdinger did too, other scientists were failing (so there was no one to create hexweapons) and even malleable commander caitlyn refused to arm the invading enforcers with hextech, let alone give it to ambessa.
this is why ambessa was so interested in singed, a scientist who could potentially weaponize hextech, or even offer something better such as shimmer or warwick, a fully formed weapon. here's where caitlyn's betrayal becomes inevitable.
caitlyn expressed knowledge of what singed has done and was capable of - shimmer, his other experiments, the stillwated massacre - she saw him as a monster and hadn't even thought of taking advantage of his "genius" or creations.
she also probably realized singed didn't know where jinx was, wasn't working with/for her, and didn't care for that conflict much - he only wanted to bring his daughter back.
she figured what ambessa was planning had nothing to do with the ongoing piltover/zaun conflict and that she wanted to use singed to get warwick/weapons for herself and her army, unless ambessa was planning to later unleash warwick (the beast whose savagery caitlyn recollected despite not seeing it firsthand) on the undercity, which caitlyn clearly did not want. she'd spoken up about the arrests without warrants, the instigated violence, as well as the noxians' demands for fortification. she also probably expected that whatever singed would do to warwick, it would lead to a massacre right there in viktor's commune, where weapons weren't allowed.
and then vi comes along and tells her that thing is her dad and they're trying to neutralize heal him.
and caitlyn's made up her mind.
caitlyn betrays her (and caitlyn knows well to expect consequences for it), which undoubtedly hurts ambessa, vi also fucks with her pride and escapes her, rictus and other noxian soldiers die in that battle. but is that enough to start a war against her missing daughter's city over? it seems like it, because even when mel returns and offers herself up as the weapon ambessa is looking for, and it still doesn't dissuade ambessa from waging war.
but that's because at this point, ambessa's got her hands on something way better. fuck little miss kiramman and those lost. fuck hextech. fuck warwick. viktor agrees to make ambessa's entire army invincible. for that, she just needs to siege piltover to get to the anomaly in the hexgates.
so no, she doesn't do it because of caitlyn's betrayal (or at least that isn't the main motivation behind it imo), she does it out of her own relentless ambition to have the better weapon so she can avenge her son and "protect her family", as well as the fact that she simply can conquer piltover, then the mages, then anyone else she pleases.
#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane spoilers#arcane s2#arcane season two#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn kiramman#arcane singed#arcane warwick#arcane vi#vi arcane#arcane meta#arcane speculation#arcane mel#mel medarda#ambessa medarda#arcane ambessa#ambessa arcane#arcane viktor#arcane jayce#arcane season two spoilers#mel arcane
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I know I'm out of step with most of my fellow Al*cent supporters on this, but idk, I just think it took a lot of gall to tell the son whom she pushed onto a throne he never asked for, and who's still grieving his own son who was murdered because of it, that he doesn't know about sacrifice.
#love al*cent and decidedly do not love aeg*n#but this was not a girlboss moment for me and i was not on her side#even apart from everything else it was logically just a very boneheaded way to handle the situation#i totally get her frustration with aeg*n but it's so obvious he's a weak man who desperately wants approval#it would be so much easier to manipulate and control him through praise and encouragement#she could have had him doing exactly what she wanted (nothing) by simply giving him some praise and assurance however false or insincere#but because she couldn't hold back her contempt she made sure he went and did exactly the opposite of what she wanted#and dgmw i kind of like that she managed it badly! female characters should be able to have flaws and not always be good at everything!#but i've seen a lot of girlbossifying of al*cent for that scene and i wanted to rant a little lol#because honestly as much as i love the character i've never respected her less than in that moment#and yes i am censoring the character names because i'm not looking for a fight
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02 | A QUITTER?
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The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
Bruceâs brows furrowed, his usually calm expression giving way to faint confusion. âYouâre⊠quitting?â
âYes.â
For a moment, silence filled the cavernous Batcave, save for the faint hum of the Batcomputer. He studied you, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to read your mind. âWhy?â he asked finally, his voice measured, almost clinical.
You froze, caught off guard. Why? Why had you suddenly decided to quit? Sixteen-year-old you wouldnât have even entertained the idea. This life was everything she had worked forâevery patrol, every bruise, every sleepless night fueled by a desperate need for validation. Why had the words come so easily to you now?
Your mind reeled, racing to string together an explanation that made sense. After a long pause, you took a deep breath and met his gaze. âBecause⊠you were right,â you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. âThis life⊠it was never meant for me. I was just too dumb to realize it before. But now, I do.â
The admission felt strange, almost foreign. Sixteen-year-old you wouldnât have said thatânot to him, not to anyone. And yet, as the words left your mouth, they felt right.
Bruce didnât respond immediately. He just watched you, his gaze intense, cold, and calculating. You could almost feel him inspecting every inch of you, every nuance in your expression, searching for cracks in your resolve or signs of insincerity. The weight of his scrutiny was almost unbearable, and you found yourself holding your breath.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back slightly and nodded. âIf thatâs what youâve decided,â he said simply, his tone unreadable. Without another word, he turned back to the Batcomputer, his eyes scanning the reports as if the conversation had never happened.
You blinked, stunned. That easy? He really just let you go like that?
For a moment, a flicker of relief passed through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by another thought: Just how much did he not want you to take up the Batgirl mantle? The thought gnawed at you, but you shoved it down, forcing yourself to nod.
âThank you,â you murmured, your voice barely audible. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward the staircase, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.
As you ascended, you couldnât help but glance back once, but Bruce didnât move, his attention fixed on the screen. You pressed your lips together and forced yourself to keep going.
Bruce heard your footsteps fading up the stairs, each one echoing through the cavern like a countdown. He stared at the Batcomputer, his hands resting motionless on the console. But his eyes werenât scanning the reports anymore.
He couldnât stop himself from glancing over his shoulder as the clock door slid shut behind you. His expression hardened, his brows furrowing deeply.
Something about this felt⊠wrong. Letting you walk away like thatâit felt final, like a line had been drawn in the sand. A line he couldnât cross.
Youâd said you were quitting because the life wasnât meant for you. Bruce should be relieved that you were no longer putting yourself on the line, no longer risking your life for the sake of crime-fighting.
But now, it was as if he was watching you slip through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Should he have said something? Say what exactly? That you shouldnât quit being Batgirl? That he wanted you in his this life?
Bruce clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back at the screen, willing the unease in his chest to go away. He told himself it was for the best. He already long knew that this path was never meant for you.
And yetâŠ
A faint, nagging voice whispered at the back of his mind, telling him heâd made a mistake. That letting you go like this wasnât just about the Batgirl mantleâit was about you. About him. About the growing distance between the two of you.
He couldnât afford to dwell on it, not now. Pushing the thoughts aside with the same discipline he applied to every other personal distraction, Bruce returned his focus to his work.
But that unease lingered, a heavy weight in his chest that no amount of reports or missions could quite shake.
âRichard,â Damian began, his tone flat and serious. âWhat does it mean when a girl cuts her hair short?â
The fast-food restaurant buzzed with the usual cacophony of clinking trays and murmured conversations. Damian sat stiffly across from Dick, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in a way that made it clear heâd rather be anywhere else.
Dick, mid-bite of his burger, froze. Slowly, he put the burger down, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. Then, with a sly grin, he leaned forward. âWhyâre you asking? Is there someone who caught your eye, little D? Someone from school, maybe?â
Damian scowled, his cheeks tinging slightly pink. âDo not be absurd. This is not about me.â
Dick chuckled, brushing crumbs off his hands. âOh, so itâs not about you. But you want my expertise on the matter? Man, I didnât know you valued my opinion so much.â
âI donât,â Damian snapped, his glare intensifying. âBut youâre a certified idiot when it comes to women, so your insight into their ridiculous behavior might be useful.â
âOuch.â Dick placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury. âAnd here I thought we were bonding.â
âWeâre not,â Damian replied flatly, though his posture shifted in discomfort.
At that moment, Tim approached the table, balancing a tray piled high with burgers and fries. He slid into the booth beside Dick, setting the tray down with a thud.
âWhatâs going on?â Tim asked, popping a fry into his mouth.
âDamian here wants to know why a girl would cut her hair short,â Dick said, his grin widening. âAnd apparently, Iâm the expert on âridiculous behavior.ââ
Tim raised an eyebrow at Damian, who was now scowling at both of them. âUh⊠okay. Who are we talking about?â
âItâs about⊠(name),â Damian muttered.
The lighthearted teasing immediately stalled. Tim and Dick exchanged a quick glance, their expressions shifting to something more serious.
Dick, however, quickly recovered, leaning back in his seat. âNah, no way. (name) wouldnât cut her hair. Sheâs been growing it out for years. Youâre making this up.â
âI am not,â Damian snapped, crossing his arms. âYouâll see for yourselves later if youâre too thick-headed to believe me.â
âOkay, first of all, rude,â Dick said, grabbing a fry. âSecond, I donât know, man. Sheâs always been pretty attached to her hair. Like, she used to freak out if even half an inch got trimmed too short when she was younger.â
Damian scoffed audibly, narrowing his eyes at Dick. âTsk. Itâs not just a trim, Grayson. She cut her hair to her shoulders.â He said the word shoulders like it was a personal affront. âAnd it looks ridiculous.â
Dick frowned immediately. âDonât say that, Damian,â he chided, but then his voice trailed off as his mind wandered. Shoulders? That was⊠really short.
His brow furrowed slightly as he thought about it. Had you really cut your hair? You were always so particular about it. He remembered vividly the offhanded comment you made years ago about how you liked your hair long because it made you feel elegant, prettyâlike yourself.
Wait, years ago?
That sinking feeling began to gnaw at him. Sure, people changed their preferences all the time, but this felt⊠odd. Why now? Why so drastic?
âGrayson?â Damianâs sharp tone cut into his thoughts. âAre you malfunctioning, or have I rendered you speechless for once?â
âHuh?â Dick blinked, refocusing on the youngest Wayne.
âUseless,â Damian muttered under his breath, shaking his head. âI should have known better than to seek advice from you.â
Dick snapped out of it, shooting Damian a half-hearted glare. âHey, you came to me, remember? And cutting hair isnât ridiculous; itâs just a personal choice. People grow, Damian. Maybe she just⊠wanted a change.â
Damian raised a skeptical eyebrow. âWanted a change? Thatâs the best you can come up with? Tt. I thought you were supposed to be insightful.â
âOkay, first of all,â Dick said, pointing at him with a fry, âyouâre lucky I donât throw this at you. And second, youâre the one acting all worked up about her hair. Iâm just trying to figure out why you even care.â
âI donât care,â Damian replied curtly. âI simply have standards, unlike you.â
âOh, trust me, buddy, we know your standards are very high.â Dick smirked. âFor someone who claims not to care, youâre putting a lot of energy into this.â
Damian glared, his lips pressing into a thin line. âI will not waste further time explaining myself to a fool.â
âLove you too, Dami,â Dick said with a cheeky grin, earning an eye roll from the younger boy.
Tim, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. âAlright, so⊠are we just going to sit here debating haircuts, or are we going to eat?â
âGood idea,â Dick said, popping a fry into his mouth. But the momentary distraction didnât stop his mind from circling back to you.
Why did you cut your hair? Was it really just a preference change? Maybe.
Damianâs voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts again. âGrayson, youâre doing it again.â
âDoing what?â
âStaring into space like a dim-witted cow.â
Dick sighed, shoving a fry into his mouth. âGreat talk, Damian. Really helpful.â
âLikewise,â Damian muttered, clearly unimpressed.
But Dick was already tuning him out. He needed to check in with you later. He heard you had patrol tonightâor at least thatâs what Barbara had mentioned. Wait, why didnât you tell him that yourself?
Whatever. Heâd figure it out. If you were on patrol, heâd just join you and ask about that then. That is, if Damian doesnât insist later on being his patrol partnerâŠ
Maybe it was nothingâŠ
Tim sat in the booth, idly picking at a fry as his mind wandered. Heâd been the one to steer the conversation away from your haircut, but now he couldnât help but think about what Damian had said. You cut your hair? That didnât sound like you at all.
Then again, what did Tim really know? It wasnât like the two of you were close. Despite living in the same manor for the past threeâalmost fourâyears, there had always been this⊠distance between you.
He frowned, resting his chin on his hand. It hadnât always been that way. He remembered the earlier days, when both you and him were just starting out. Back then, you used to ask him the most ridiculous questions about cases and missionsâquestions that made him pause and wonder if you were even paying attention to the briefing.
âWhat do you mean, âHow do you know which lead to follow?ââ Tim had asked once, incredulous. Heâd given you a look, that signature are you serious expression he reserved for when someone asked something truly baffling. Then, as always, he ended up solving the issue himself, bypassing the need to answer you at all.
At the time, it was mildly annoying but manageable. He figured you were just trying to find your footing. He told himself it wasnât a big deal. But gradually, the number of times you came to him for help lessened. At first, Tim thought it was progress, that you were finally figuring things out on your own.
But no.
It didnât take long for him to realize that your work was slipping. Youâd miss key details, overlook evidence, or focus on the wrong leads entirely. And every time, it was Tim who ended up fixing it behind the scenes, covering for your mistakes before they could turn a caseâor worse, a missionâinto a disaster.
He hadnât minded at first. But as it kept happening, as he kept watching you barrel forward with that same stubborn, hard-headed determination, something shifted.
Timâs frustration grew. He started to wonder why you were even in this line of work. If you couldnât handle the basics, what were you doing risking your life out there? Of course, he never said it out loud. He wasnât that cruel, and he knew voicing those thoughts would probably lead to a fight neither of you wanted.
But still, it gnawed at him. That unspoken tension built over time, creating the invisible wall that now sat between you. Heâd distanced himself on purpose, convinced that staying out of your way was better for the both of you.
But was it?
Tim sighed, pushing his tray of fries away as Damian and Dick bickered in the background. Now, the idea of you cutting your hair had wormed its way into his thoughts, and he couldnât shake it.
You cut your hair.
It wasnât about the haircut itselfâit wasnât about aesthetics or style. It was about what it represented. Something had changed. Had you?
And while Tim told himself he didnât care, deep down, a small part of him wondered if heâd made a mistake keeping you at armâs length all this time.
âHold up, Babs, why exactly am I needed at the Batcave tonight again?â Stephanie said, twisting the tool in her hand to tighten a small screw.
She sat at Barbaraâs clocktower, absentmindedly flicking through her phone while doing a small repair on one of her gadgets. She was content, for the moment at least, doing something mindless and waiting for whatever task Barbara would assign her for the night.
But when Barbara called her name and asked her to suit up for the night, Stephanie couldnât help but frown.
Barbara sighed, her voice a little tired but still managing to hold a calm tone. âTonight, weâre a little short-handed, Steph.â
âA little short-handed?â Stephanie repeated, letting out a disbelieving scoff. She glanced up at Barbara, clearly unimpressed. âHow can it be short-handed when sheâs around?â
Barbara knew who Stephanie meant by âsheâ. Why? Because you used to grab every mission or patrol you could, like you were always hungry for action, hungry for validation. There had always been this one-sided animosity between you and the blondeâmore so you toward her. And it wasnât like Stephanie was oblivious to the reason why.
It was because sheâs Batgirl too. When Barbara and Dick allowed her to don the cowl during the events after Bruceâs âdeath,â Stephanie had been given the opportunities you wanted for yourself. Barbara knew that too, but she had chosen not to intervene, thinking that the animosity you felt would die down after a while.
Well, it did. But not in the way anyone expected.
Barbara adjusted her glasses as she leaned back in her chair. â(Name)âs not around tonight.â
Stephanie raised an eyebrow, confused by the simple statement. âWell thatâs a first. Why not?â
Barbara hesitated, the words slow to come. âShe⊠she quit.â
ââŠ..â
ââŠ..â
âWHAT??!?â
Barbara didnât flinch at the outburst, her calm demeanor masking her own lingering confusion.
âWait, wait,â Stephanie said, waving her hands in the air like she was trying to physically stop Barbara from speaking nonsense. âShe quit? Are we talking about the same person? (Name) Wayne? The same person who basically begged to be Batgirl?â
Barbara shrugged slightly. âBruce told me earlier today. Said she came into the cave, and told him she was done, and walked out. Thatâs all I know.â
âThatâs all you know?â Stephanie repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, scoffing. âThatâs insane. Sheâs gotta be pulling some kind of dramatic move. Like, I donât know, trying to get some attention or whatever. Sheâll come back. Give her, like, two days, tops.â
Barbara frowned, though she didnât entirely disagree. You were the type to make bold, emotional decisions, always seeking to prove yourself in some way. But there was something about how quiet and decisive youâd been when you quit that didnât sit right with her.
âYou donât think sheâs serious, do you?â Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow.
âI donât know,â Barbara admitted. âItâs⊠unlike her, Iâll say that.â
Stephanie scoffed again, shaking her head as she stood up to grab her Batgirl suit. âWhatever. Iâm calling it nowâsheâll be back, and when she is, Iâm going to remind her just how ridiculous sheâs being.â
Barbara watched Stephanie slip into her suit, her mind racing with questions she didnât have answers to. This wasnât like you at all. You were persistent, stubborn even. You fought tooth and nail for the Batgirl mantle, always pushing to prove yourself despite the doubts and obstacles.
For you to just walk away, without warning, felt⊠wrong.
As Stephanie tightened her utility belt and prepared to head out, she didnât notice the far-off look in Barbaraâs eyes. Even if you were planning to come back, the decision to quit felt too deliberate, too final.
And for the first time in a long time, Barbara found herself worrying about you in a way she hadnât before.
After telling your father that you quitâand seeing how easily he let you goâyou couldnât stop replaying the scene in your head.
You walked through the halls of Wayne Manor, your mind heavy with frustration, confusion, and a gnawing emptiness that you couldnât quite name. As you turned the corner, too lost in your thoughts to pay attention, you bumped into someone.
âSorry,â you muttered automatically, not even looking up at first. But when you did, you froze.
Cassandra.
She stood in front of you, already suited up in her sleek black Bat costume, the faint outline of her emblem catching the light. She looked ready for patrol, or maybe she was just on her way to the Batcave. Her mask wasnât on yet, so her sharp eyes were trained directly on you, studying you in the way that always made you feel exposed.
For a moment, you two just stared at each other in silence.
You were the first to move, brushing past her quickly without another word. But before you could make it more than a few steps, her voice stopped you in your tracks.
âYour hair.â
You turned around, confused, and caught her still looking at you with that unreadable expression of hers.
âYeah,â you said, your tone clipped. âI cut it. I know. I get it. Itâs awful.â
You made a move to leave again, but her next words surprised you enough to freeze you in place.
âNo,â Cassandra said simply, her voice softer now. âIt looks⊠really nice.â
You blinked, staring at her like sheâd grown a second head. A compliment? From Cassandra? That wasnât something you were used to.
âThanks,â you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. âI guess.â
Without waiting for her to say anything else, you turned and headed back to your room. Your mind raced with the strangeness of the interaction as you climbed the stairs, the faintest trace of heat rising to your cheeks.
It wasnât just her compliment that threw you off. It was the fact that sheâd initiated a conversation at all. Cassandra had always been silent around you, her communication limited to nods, gestures, or the occasional word when necessary. For her to speak up, to make an effort, felt⊠different.
Weird, you thought as you closed the door behind you.
Uncharacteristic.
But as you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldnât help but replay her words in your mind.
âIt looks⊠really nice.â
For some reason, they lingered longer than you expected.
From the moment Cassandra bumped into you in the hallway, she could tell something was off. The way you carried yourself, the weight in your movementsâit was different. Subtle, but undeniable. She couldnât quite place what had changed, but it unsettled her.
As she descended into the Batcave, the low hum of tension greeted her before she even stepped off the elevator.
Bruce and Damian were mid-argument, their voices sharp and escalating. Damianâs fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his face twisted in anger, while Bruceâs tone was firm but weary, as if heâd been repeating himself for the hundredth time.
Nearby, Dick stood between them, hands raised in a futile attempt to diffuse the tension. Stephanie leaned casually against the wall, scrolling on her phone while occasionally glancing at Tim, who was tinkering with one of his gadgets. They were the only ones who seemed unaffected by the brewing storm.
When Cassandra stepped into view, Steph looked up and gave her a warm smile. âCass! Finally, someone sane. Come join us before this place explodes.â
Tim glanced up as well, offering a quick wave before turning back to his project. Cassandra hesitated for a moment but walked over to join them, her eyes still flicking toward the argument at the center of the cave.
Damianâs sharp voice cut through the relative calm of her corner. âWhy is Brown here? Isnât it supposed to be (Name)âs turn to patrol tonight?â
Stephanie scoffed, rolling her eyes. âWow, thanks for the warm welcome, little guy,â she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Damian ignored her, his gaze locked on Bruce. âWell?â he demanded.
Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. âSheâs not patrolling tonight.â
Damianâs brows furrowed, his tone growing more impatient. âAnd why not? Where is she?â
The tension in the room thickened as Bruce finally answered. âShe quit.â
For a moment, the entire cave went still. Everyone except Stephanie and Bruce froze, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.
âWhat?â Damian said flatly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Dick was the first to intervene, stepping forward and addressing Bruce directly. âWhat do you mean, she quit?â
Bruceâs tone was even, but there was an edge of finality in it. âExactly what I said. She told me she quit, and I respected her decision.â
Damianâs jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. âAnd you just let her?â
Bruce gave him a calm but firm look. âIf thatâs what she wants, who am I to stop her?â
Damianâs expression darkened, his anger bubbling over. âUnacceptable,â he growled. âThereâs no way she just quits. Somethingâs wrong.â
Before Bruce could respond, Damian spun on his heel. âIâm asking her myself,â he snapped, already storming toward the elevator.
âDamianââ Bruce started, but Damian ignored him, disappearing up the elevator shaft before anyone could stop him.
The silence that followed was palpable, the weight of Damianâs fury lingering in the air.
Dick broke it first, his voice calm but resolute. âIâll go talk to him.â
Bruce hesitated for a moment before nodding. âGo. Make sure he doesnât do something reckless.â
As Dick followed after Damian, the remaining group stayed quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Cassandraâs gaze lingered on Bruce, her mind still replaying your distant expression from earlier. Something about all of this felt⊠wrong.
And she wasnât the only one who thought so.
The peace and quiet of your room shattered when the door slammed open without so much as a knock. You looked up, startled, to see Damian standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury and confusion.
âYou quit?â he demanded, his voice sharp and biting, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries.
Caught off guard, you blinked at him. âGood evening to you too, Damian,â you said dryly, already bracing yourself for the argument that was clearly brewing.
He stepped inside, fists clenched tightly at his sides. âDonât give me that,â he snapped. âWhat do you mean you quit? You seriously quit? Why?â
You let out an annoyed sigh, already tired of his interrogation. âWhy? Canât I quit?â you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.
Damianâs jaw tightened, his expression shifting from anger to utter disbelief. âAre you right in the head?â he shot back, his voice rising. âWhat kind of madness is this? Did all those late nights finally drive you insane?â
Ok, that ticked you off. Slightly.
âSeriously?â you deadpanned, giving him a pointed look. âYou think this is about me losing it?â
âYes!â Damian barked, his voice ringing through the room. âFirst, you cut your hair off like it didnât mean a damn thing to you, and now you suddenly walk up to Father and say youâre done being Batgirl? Just like that? Youâve completely lost it!â
You frowned, irritation creeping into your voice, but you kept calm. âNothing is wrong with me,â you replied firmly. âI made a decision. I donât see how thatâs any of your business.â
âNot my business?â Damian repeated, his voice incredulous. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. âThis affects all of us! You canât just make a decision like this without considering what it means for the rest of the family!â
You stood up, arms crossed. âAnd why does that bother you so much? Youâve never cared about what I do. All youâve ever done is criticize me, undermine me, act like I donât belong here in the first place! So why do you care now?â
âI donât care!â Damian snapped, though his voice faltered for just a second. âI care about what your actions mean for our family. You walking away like thisâitâs selfish, recklessââ
That was it. The breaking point.
âSelfish?â you shot back, the irritation in your voice finally boiling over. âYouâre calling me selfish? After everything Iâve done to prove myself? After all the crap Iâve put up with just to show all of you that I deserve to be here? And you have the audacity to call me selfish?â
Damian threw his hands up in frustration. âThis isnât just about you! Do you even realize what youâre throwing away? What your actions say about the rest of us? Youâre acting likeââ
âLike what? Like Iâm done?â you yelled, cutting him off. âBecause I am, Damian! Iâm done trying to live up to expectations that no one even thought I could meet in the first place! Iâm done being the one who has to prove herself every damn day just to get a shred of acknowledgment!â
âThatâs ridiculous!â Damian shot back, his tone defensive. âFather wouldnât have given you the mantle if you didnât deserve it. Youâre justââ
You cut him off again, your voice sharper, harsher. âHe gave me the mantle because I practically begged him to. Not because he thought I deserved it. And every day since, Iâve tried to make up for it, to prove that I do deserve it. But nothing ever works. I get sidelined, tossed aside, whenever Father or Dick or anyone else decides Iâm not good enough to help.â
Damian scoffed, crossing his arms. âYou donât get sidelined. Youâre just making things up.â
âOh, shut up,â you snapped, your tone biting now. âDonât act like you know what I go through.â
Damian opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off again, your voice rising. âNo, donât you dare. You donât know. You donât know how it feels to constantly feel like youâre not good enough, to be compared to everyone else and always come up short. You donât get it, Damian, and you never will. Because youâve always been the heir, the one Father sees as his true successor. But me? Iâve been nothing but an afterthought.â
Damianâs face faltered for a brief moment, something unspoken flashing in his eyes. He hated the way his chest ached at your words.
âThatâs not true,â he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.
âIsnât it?â you challenged, your voice trembling with exhaustion and frustration. âBecause it sure doesnât feel like it. Not when Iâm constantly being sidelined, not when I have to fight for scraps of approval while everyone else gets a free pass. And definitely not when even you canât see me as anything but second-rate!â
Damian hesitated, caught off guard by the raw emotion in your voice. He quickly shook it off, doubling down. âThis is beneath you,â he said coldly. âThrowing a tantrum and walking away wonât fix anything.â
âA tantrum?â you echoed, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. âYou think this is a tantrum? Damian, this is me saying Iâve had enough. Iâm tired of breaking myself for a family that doesnât even see me!â
âThen make them see you!â Damian countered, his voice rising again. âYou donât just quit because itâs hard! You donât just give up!â
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. âOf course, thatâs your answer. Just fight harder, right? Because thatâs all you know how to do. But Iâm not like you, Damian. I canât keep pretending that this fight is worth it.â
âNot worth it?â Damian repeated, his tone disbelieving. âAre you actually kidding me? Richard told me that fighting for family is always worth itââ
âWell Richard can go fuck himself for all I care,â you snapped, cutting him off. âFor someone who prides himself as a family guy, heâs done a great fucking job proving that, hasnât he?â
Damian bristled, his voice rising. âDonât talk about Richard that wayââ
âOh, Iâm sorry,â you said with a roll of your eyes. âI forgot he actually gives a damn about you. No wonder you have such a biased perspective on how he really is.â
Damian froze, stunned into silence by your words. The room grew unbearably quiet, tension heavy in the air.
Finally, Damian let out a sharp breath, his voice low but laced with finality. âThis isnât over,â he said, turning on his heel.
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone, your chest heaving from the intensity of the argument. You sank back into your chair, exhaustion settling in as the adrenaline faded. But the ache in your heart lingered, sharp and unyielding.
Damianâs words echoed in your mind, each one like a sharp jab to the chest. Selfish. Reckless. The words rang in your ears, infuriating and unfair.
Damnit. You hadnât meant to blow up on him. But everything was just⊠too much. It wasnât like you could keep pretending it was fine anymore.
Your fingers dug into the armrest of the chair as you shut your eyes, the headache beginning to set in behind your eyes. You could almost feel the physical ache of the emotional turmoil. I donât care⊠You repeated the words silently, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. You had always cared about this family. You had tried so hard to belong, to prove yourself.
But what had it gotten you? You fought tooth and nail for the mantle of Batgirl, begging for the chance to prove you were worthy of it. Yet, here you were, useless in Damianâs eyes, ready to walk away. Maybe he was rightâmaybe you were being reckless, selfish. Because if you werenât being Batgirl, who were you anymore? You certainly didnât feel like the Bruce Wayneâs daughter.
You scoffed bitterly, shaking your head. Theyâd be fine without you, you thought. They always are. It wasnât like your role in the family made a difference. You had always felt like an afterthought, never quite fitting in the way your siblings did. They all had their rolesâDamian was the heir, Tim was the brain, Jason was the wild card, Cassandra was the silent powerhouse, and Dick was the one holding everyone together. You? You were just⊠there. Batgirl, but only when they needed you, only when it was convenient. When Stephanie wasnât around. You hated to admit it, but she was undeniably a better Batgirl than you could ever be. You only saw that now, after everything youâve been through.
âI shouldâve quit a long time ago,â you muttered to yourself, your voice hollow.
They didnât need you. Not really.
You clenched your fists at your sides, frustration building again. But then, as much as you tried to convince yourself that quitting was the right decision, you felt the doubt creep in. The sting of Damianâs words lingered like a cut, refusing to heal. What had you really thrown away?
Damian thought it was selfish? Well, maybe it was. But that wasnât all there was to it. He couldnât see it. He didnât know the pain youâd been carrying all this time. The weight of the mantle, the pressure to be someone you werenât sure you could be. You literally died because you wanted to prove you deserved this mantle.
But Damian didnât know that. No one in the family did. To them, you were still 16. But you were 20, somehow in your 16 year old body. And frankly, you didnât think anyone would have believed you if you told them. Theyâd probably rule you off as delirious.
Was it selfish to want to take a step back, to breathe, to figure out who you were without the costume, without feeling the need to live up to unrealistic expectations?
You ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the ends of the newly cut strands. It felt differentâlighter, maybeâbut it didnât fix anything. The ache in your chest remained.
Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the Gotham skyline. The night was quiet, peaceful even, but you felt nothing but turmoil inside. It wasnât supposed to be like this. You werenât supposed to feel so lost, so empty after making a decision that was supposed to bring you peace.
But all you felt was the sting of Damianâs words, the echo of a family that would carry on without you. Maybe you werenât meant to fit in. Maybe you were never meant to be Batgirl. Maybe quitting was the only way to let go of the weight you couldnât carry anymore.
But the thought of it didnât bring relief. It only brought more questions. More doubts. And the ache in your chest kept growing.
Dick made his way out of the Batcave, the soft hum of the caveâs equipment still echoing in his ears as he began his search. He knew the halls of the Batcave well, had spent hours running through them as a child, but for some reason, he couldnât place exactly where Damian had gone.
Where would he be?
He knew Damian wasnât the type to go off and brood in silence. No, if Damian had something to say, heâd say itâloudly. So the question was: Where would he go to find you?
Dickâs feet moved without thought, his mind running through options, trying to remember every possible place Damian could have gone. There was the training room, sure, but that didnât seem likely. The library, maybe? No. He probably went to look for you in your room.
Dickâs boots echoed softly on the polished floor as he headed toward the hall where your room was supposed to be. His steps slowed, however, as a troubling realization settled in his chest.
Wait⊠where was your room?
Dick froze in the hallway, blinking in confusion. His gaze wandered down the corridor, his mind grinding to a halt. Heâd known you for years, shared the same space, even lived under the same roof for what felt like foreverâbut for the life of him, he couldnât remember where your room was.
It was a simple enough questionâwhere was your room? Heâd been there countless times, right? Heâd spent so much time around the Manor, yet now, all he could think about was the fact that he couldnât pinpoint the location of your room. The door had been right there, hadnât it? Near the end of the hall? Or maybe down by the study?
Dickâs breath caught in his chest, and he quickly shook the thought off.
This is ridiculous.
He was probably just overthinking it. He was the oldest, the one who had been around the longest. It didnât make sense for him to suddenly forget something so simple. Get it together, Grayson.
But the more he tried to focus, the more his thoughts twisted into a spiral. He knew where everyoneâs room was.
How could he not know? Sixteen years. Heâd known you for sixteen years. Heâd visited this house, stayed in this house, lived in this house for years, and yetâŠ
His breath hitched. The realization was almost too absurd to comprehend.
He knew where Damianâs room was. Knew where Timâs was. Knew Cassandraâs, hell, he even knew where Jasonâs childhood room wasâJason, who didnât even live here anymore. He even knew the little quirks about each of their spaces: the sword display in Damianâs, the books stacked haphazardly in Timâs.
But your room?
His mind was blank. He couldnât even picture it.
Had he ever been to your room? Surely, he must have at some point. Right? His stomach twisted as he tried to remember, as if dredging up a memory he wasnât sure even existed. Why couldnât he see it in his mind? How could he have let this slip past him?
Panic began to rise in his chest as the uncertainty clawed at him. Heâd been part of this family for years. He knows you the longest out of everyone. He should have known this.
Dick stood in the middle of the hall, mind reeling. How could he forget?
Before he could descend further into his spiral, he heard it. Muffled voices, raised in anger, followed by the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut.
Your room.
Without thinking, Dickâs instincts kicked in, and he started moving toward the sound. He rounded the corner just in time to see Damian storming off, his face set in a mask of fury. He didnât even spare Dick a glance, his steps quick, purposeful.
âDamian!â Dick called, jogging after him, a mix of concern and confusion flooding his mind. âHey, wait up.â
Damian didnât slow down. If anything, his pace quickened, and he shot a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. âI donât have time for this, Grayson.â
Dickâs frustration only grew. âWhatâs going on? What happened in there?â
Damianâs fists clenched at his sides as he turned his head back toward the direction he was walking. âNothing you need to know.â His voice was tight, clipped.
Dickâs steps faltered, but he wasnât about to back down. âDamian, come onâdonât shut me out. What happened with you and (name)?â
Damian, however, wasnât interested in talking. His head jerked up with a scowl. âI donât need you to fix this, Grayson. I donât need anyoneâs help.â
Dick, unwilling to let it go, caught up to him and blocked his path. âDamian, Iâm not trying to fix anything. I just want to understand what happened. Why are you so upset?â
Damianâs jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something more than anger. âBecause I donât understand it!â he snapped. â(Name) quit. She quit, Dick! And youâre all just standing around pretending like nothingâs wrong! That it doesnât matter!â
That stopped Dick in his tracks. His heart sank as the weight of Damianâs words hit him. Standing around and pretending like nothingâs wrong? That it doesnât matter? Of course not. Heâs worried too. You quit? It didnât make sense. But before Dick could respond, Damian was already pushing past him, practically shoving him out of the way.
âDamianââ Dick started again, but the younger boy cut him off, raising a hand to silence him.
âDonât. Just donât. Iâm done with this conversation.â
Dickâs hand shot out instinctively, grabbing Damianâs arm before he could walk past. âDamian, stop. Just talk to me for a second.â
Damian whirled around, his eyes full of frustration and barely contained rage. âWhy? So you can tell me everythingâs fine? That weâre just supposed to accept this?â His voice cracked, just slightly, and Dick saw the sharp pain beneath the anger. âYou donât get it, Grayson. She quit. She walked away, and it feels like no oneâs doing anything about it. No one cares!â His fists clenched tighter, the tension in his body radiating off him like a live wire.
Dick felt a heavy lump settle in his throat, a mixture of confusion and concern. He understood Damianâs angerâhe was angry too, but his reaction was much more raw, and far more personal than Dick had anticipated.
Dickâs hand remained on Damianâs arm, his grip tightening ever so slightly, trying to ground him in the chaos of the moment. He stared at Damian, confusion and concern evident in his eyes. âWhat do you mean by that?â Dick asked, his voice softer now, tinged with confusion. âOf course I care about her, Damian. But getting upset wonât change anything.â
Damian let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing in frustration. âSure, you care now,â he scoffed. âBut it doesnât feel like that to her, does it?â
Dick froze, his hand still gripping Damianâs arm, but now it felt more like a lifeline for him, trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of this emotional storm. âWhat are you talking about?â he asked, his heart starting to pound. âYouâre not making sense.â
Damian pulled his arm away sharply, his movements tense and jerky. âWhatever,â he muttered, his voice growing colder. âI donât have time for this. Iâm going to the cave.â He turned on his heel, striding away, his anger still hanging heavy in the air.
Dick stood there for a moment, his mind reeling. Damianâs words were like a punch to the gut, and Dick couldnât make sense of them. It doesnât feel like that to her. What was he talking about? Was Damian implying that you didnât believe Dick cared about you? That youâd somehow gotten the impression that no one cared, that no one was doing anything to stop you from leaving?
A knot of anxiety formed in Dickâs stomach as the implications of Damianâs words settled in. Did you really think he didnât care? The thought gnawed at him, twisting and turning in his chest.
He had always assumed you knew how much he valued you, how much he cared for youâas family, as his sister. But now, he wondered if heâd ever truly shown that.
Damianâs words continued to echo in his head as he stood there, frozen for a moment longer. What did he mean? Dick couldnât fathom why you would feel that way.
With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside, his mind refocusing. He had to find you. He couldnât let this go on any longer, especially if you thought you werenât seen, werenât valued. He had to fix this, whatever it took. But when he makes his way to your room, Dick just freezes in his place. What should he say to you? What would make you feel better? Dick hates how nothing instantly comes to his mind, hates how he couldnât form a solution to try and resolve whatever conflict you had with Damian.
Without another word, Dick turned towards the cave, his resolve hardening. Heâll just wait until youâve calmed down from your emotional argument with Damian, and then talk to you.
how we feeling about this chapter đ
taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinosankles @vebbiewuzhere | ask to be added <3 (idk why i canât tag some of yâall, must be your settings i think đ)
#angst#batsis#batfamily#batfam x batsis#batfam x reader#batsisreader#bruce wayne x daughter reader#damian wayne x sister reader#dick grayson x sister reader#jason todd x sister reader#tim drake x sister reader#cassandra cain x sister reader#bruce wayne#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#cassandra cain#alfred pennyworth#barbara gordon#stephanie brown#duke thomas#x reader#batman#imagine#regressed reader#regressor reader#undoing fate
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dizzy (aka clumsy reader x protective jason)
civil!reader x jason todd
prompt: jason and his really clumsy girlfriend who is so used to her bruises from simply bumping around, that she forgets that it's not exactly the usual for other people to walk around with bruises. jason who isn't exactly happy to see his girlfriend hurt and makes it his new mission to take care of her.
a/n: that one i think it looks really cute, i'm also a really clumsy person, so it was pretty easy to come out with this one, him taking care of her was just so cute, i can sleep better knowing that they got eachother, anyways, english is not my first language, hope you guys enjoy it đ
Jason was used to bruises and injuries, part of the job he chose, but he didn't expect that on a cold thursday night, he would find his girlfriend with a bandaged wrist and bruises all over her body, some that even looked old. He expected even less that she would give him a bright smile and run to hug him as if everything was normal, what he didn't know was that bruises and a bandaged wrist were just everyday nonsense for the clumsy girl.
"Honey, what happened to your wrist? Did someone hurt you?" he asks, carefully picking up her injured wrist to take a look, a worried expression on his face, his brow furrowed as he studies it. "Oh, it's nothing, I just got distracted and fell on it, it's okay."
And Jason looked at her face with a huge question mark on his face. "Did you fall on your own arm?" he said looking more and more confused. "Yeah? It was no big deal, really, I've had worse. Come in, i made hot chocolate" she said with the brightest smile on her face, as if she didn't have a fractured wrist.
He followed her into the apartment, the confusion never leaving his face as he slowly closed the door and followed her into the kitchen. Before he could even reach the cozy kitchen, he heard a soft groan of pain, followed by a muttered curse.
He rushes into the kitchen, afraid that she was hurt, even more hurt. And he was right, when he came inside, he found two colorful mugs of boiling chocolate with small marshmallows on the counter, some of the very same hot chocolate spilled around, and his girlfriend, with the hand that was not bandaged, under the cold running water of the sink, with a light burn on the torso of her hand.
"Love? What happened?" he asks, getting closer to her so he can see the injury more clearly. "Nothing serious, Jay, just a lil' burn, i'll be fine, just give me a minute to clean it up." she says, smiling and looking really calm for someone who just burned her own hand.
And as she moves to grab the rag to clean everything up, she bumps into the counter, holding onto it to steady herself, and it hits him, something finally clicks. All the times he watched her get hurt, bump into something or someone, get burned, fall awkwardly, it's too many to count.
She made a joke or two about being a distracted person and clumsy, but he didn't realize how much until now.
He smiled slightly as he watched his girlfriend try to balance the two mugs, knowing how this would end terribly, taking the mugs from her hand. "Honey, go sit on the couch, I'll take these." He noticed her frown, already starting to protest. "You don't have to do this, Jay, I want to help." But he was already interrupting her. "Sweetheart, please, you're going to help me by going sit on the couch." She huffed slightly but went anyway, sitting down and waiting for him to come right behind with the mugs, he put the mugs on the coffee table and went towards the bathroom to get the burn ointment.
And from that point, it just became a routine, her clumsily hurting herself, him taking care of her right after, and at some point it was like he had a sixth sense of when she was going to get hurt, being a vigilante also helped a lot with his reflexes.
So, they were walking down the street and she tripped? His arm was around her before her body could even dream of falling. They were cooking and she was cutting something? The knife was out of her hand before she could cut herself, and he told her to do something safer, like opening the dough.
And just like that, it became something of his, caring for her and looking out for her, knowing how to take care of her when she got hurt, and knowing how to stop her from getting hurt, and for that, she was eternally grateful.
#jason todd#jason todd imagine#jason todd thoughts#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#red hood#red hood imagine#red hood thoughts#red hood x you#red hood x reader#batfam#batfamily
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simply a joke êš lewis hamilton
lewis hamilton x assistant!reader
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), lewis was pining and reader was oblivious [1.6k words]
request: đ¶ I would request for Lewis Hamilton and [20. âIâm gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.â]
The bill was placed down on the table, the waitress giving you a sympathetic look as she openly asked whether it would be cash or card.
âYou donât mind paying right? Iâll forward you the money, just forgot my wallet of course, such a lapse of memory sometimes,â he said, an arrogant smirk on your blind dateâs face while he waited for your response.
Humming in acknowledgement, you muttered that it would be on card to the waitress.Â
You didnât give him much of a chance to say anything further, bidding him a farewell the moment the bill was paid, and a denial to a second date. The shock on his face made your smile grow when you whirled around, making the trek towards your car while you contemplated how your life had even got to this point.
A quick text sent off to the only person you actually wanted to see was met with an easy âIâll leave the door unlocked, see you soonâ, prompting you to direct your car in the opposite direction of your own home.
Lewis was always happy to have you over, saying more than once you may as well just move in with him with how often you were there anyways. Always shrugging the comment off, you would just laugh and remind him the two of you see each other enough during the week and that you were pretty sure Mercedes would be unhappy with a driver and his team-assigned assistant living together.
âIâm pretty sure thatâs exactly what they would want, actually? Full access for both of us, love,â Lewis practically had the response memorized, a shove to his shoulder the only answer he ever received to it.
Huffing as you flopped down on the couch next to the Brit, Lewis quirked a questioning eyebrow at you, silently imploring as to what could possibly be creating your current set of emotions.
âIâve just come back from a date, what an absolute nightmare, Lew. Iâve never met someone who managed to talk about themselves more than that guy. Donât think I even got a word in,â you complained.
A small chuckle fell from Lewisâ lips, his hand gently patting your knee with a sympathetic expression falling across his face.
âLike⊠am I the problem, Lew? Be honest, because Iâm going insane here, I donât think Iâve even had sex in months. I genuinely think Iâm on the verge of insanity,â you said, practically begging for a response from the Brit.
Huffing, Lewis turned his gaze onto you. Looking you up and down, you felt yourself heat under his gaze. You would never admit it aloud, but you couldnât deny that the Mercedes driver was borderline gorgeous.Â
âI think if all youâre looking for is sex, going on a date in the outfit youâre wearing right now⊠well itâs not doing you any favours, really.â
Pouting at him, you looked down at your outfit while trying to decipher what was wrong with it.
He continued, âbefore you start, thereâs nothing wrong with the outfit. You look gorgeous, really. But youâve got the buttons up all the way to the top, the pants arenât formfitting at all, and youâve got incredible legs, you just refuse to wear shoes that accentuate them. Youâre dressed like youâre going to a business meeting, not like youâre going on a date with the intention of being taken home after.â
He emphasized his words by coming closer, flicking open the top four buttons, allowing the top of your breasts to peak through, the lacy bra you were wearing visible to the open-eye.Â
âYou donât get it, Lew. Sure, I could wear a shirt that shows off my breasts, pants that accentuate my ass⊠but I donât just want sex. Sure, yes, I want sex⊠but I want to be taken seriously, I want to be taken on a real date and actually enjoy myself.â
âI could give you both, but you keep denying my offer,â he shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back towards the television.
Trying to wrap your mind around his words, âYou act like your offer is ever serious, Lew. We both know itâs a joke.â
âYouâre the one who says itâs a joke and that Iâm not being serious. Not sure what else Iâm really meant to say thatâs going to make you believe me, love,â he said.
You couldnât believe what you were hearing. He had been making jokes like this for years. It was easy to assume they were comments he made with everyone, his personality naturally flirtatious.
Your body moved on instinct, pressing yourself closer to him as you contemplated your next words.
âCan I kiss you, then?â
He didnât give a response before he was pressing his lips to yours, his hand instantly pressing to the back of your neck, tugging you closer to his body. His lips were soft, his tongue wet as it pressed gently at your lips, begging for an entrance.Â
A soft moan fell from your mouth when Lewis pulled your body on top of his, your legs encircling his waist. You ground your core against his, a rumble of a groan falling from Lewisâ own lips, his head falling back against the couch behind him.
âGod, baby. Iâm gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard, about fucking all of them, I swear.â
The whimper that fell from your lips was unintentional, your body subconsciously grinding down against the hardness growing between his legs; the pit in your stomach growing, the desire for him so prevalent in your actions.
You had never realized how much you truly wanted this, how much you wanted those comments you thought to be jokes, to be real.
âThat better not be a joke, Lew,â you moaned, his lips pressing to your neck as he guided your hips back and forth over his lap.Â
You felt your back hit the couch, Lewisâ body crawling over top of yours as he began kissing down your body. The buttons on your shirt having come undone at some point making it easier for the Brit to continue his ministrations across your skin.
Looking up at you imploringly, his tattoo-covered hand tugged gently at the waistband of your pants, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips slightly so he could tug the offending material off.
He lightly nipped at your hip, pressing a kiss to sooth the heated skin before continuing his actions to the other side. Small love bites, kisses, short presses of his tongue to your skin as he continued to move down your body. Lifting a leg to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, you moaned at the action.
It didnât take long for your panties to join the discarded pants, his eyes hungrily taking in the display. You couldnât help the self-conscious thoughts, your legs instinctively closing around his body.Â
âNuh-uh, none of that, pretty girl,â he said, his hands pushing your legs open.
A finger gently pressed to your core, parting your lips as he ran a finger through them, collecting the wetness that was seeping from you. A tiny whimper departed your lips as you watched Lewis bring the finger to his mouth, sucking the collected juices from the digit.
It was like watching a man possessed as he got in between your legs, your hands finding their way to his head as the first press of his tongue resonated throughout your body.
There was no surprise that he was skilled with his tongue, the same way he was skilled with his fingers; the same way he was skilled when he put his mind to anything else he desired success in.
His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, pressing against the spot inside your core that had you practically keening for him, your hips pressing up against his face; the only thing keeping his mouth from drowning in your wetness was the hand he had pressed to your pelvis, pushing you back down against the bed.
A loud moan fell from your lips as Lewis sucked at your clit, a third finger joining the other two inside you, a squelching sound vibrating throughout the living space as you felt yourself hit your peak.
Your orgasm crashed through you, your legs shaking as Lewisâ fingers and tongue slowed down, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. Your head was still thrown back when you heard the sound of more clothes hitting the floor, your eyes peaking open to a view that had your mouth practically watering.
It was common knowledge that Lewis was an incredible sight. From his hardened muscles, to the pops of ink that covered his body, everyone knew he was gorgeous. But his cock? All you wanted to do was wrap your lips around it, which in time, you knew youâd be able to.
But for now? All Lewis wanted to do was press inside you, feel the way your walls pulled him in, the way your wetness coated him, the way youâd stretch so lovely around him.
âOn your knees, pretty girl. I wannaâ see this lovely arse when I push inside you for the first time, been thinking about it lots.â
You were quick to do as he demanded, flipping your body over so you were on your knees, resting on your elbows as you felt the couch dip behind you.
A low whimper fell from your lips as you felt him run his length through your wetness, coating his cock in your juices before pressing the tip inside. The stretch was delicious, your body pushing back against his, begging for more.
Obliging, his entire length pushed forward, your lips wrapping around him, the wetness dripping from your core making it easier for him to slide inside.
âGonna fuck you so good, make you never wanna leave, baby. Canât wait to feel you cum all over my cock, been wanting to feel that for ages,â he whispered in your ear, biting at the lobe as he pulled away.
Moans and grunts fell from your lips with every thrust of his hips, his body seeking the release he knew yours could give him. The way he made you feel, the feelings his body evoked from yours; it made you insatiable, made you crave the feeling more and more. Made you regret ever believing his comments were simply a joke.
anyways. i got carried away. please enjoy (reader has a hand kink specifically for lewis as i also do sorry!!! bye!!!)
#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton smut#f1 x reader#f1 smut#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton imagine#f1 one shot#f1 fanfic#formula 1 smut#formula one x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#formula 1 blurb#lewis hamilton fic
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"What do you think our wedding will be like?" She asks, and Rafayel feels his heart still immediately. He gives it a second, letting the two opposing sides of his heart battle it out.
A part of him feels giddy - she wants to be his bride again. It will happen again, because they are fated mates! All of the worrying was for nothing because look - she wants to get married, bonded to him again! Sure, the "sanctity" of marriage amongst humans on this earth is laughable and ludicrous compared to the solemn oath he literally has embedded on his chest... but he'll take it nonetheless. He'll take anything she has to offer, honestly.
Albeit, the other part of him wants to sulk and throw a tantrum. Because this question is simply yet another reminder of what was left forgotten. The fact that she had already been his bride, but that fact to be so horridly and devastatingly taken away from him. Ripped away from his clutching fingers. Sea of God he may be, but the strength of fate has no competition. What a painful reminder that question is, to be reminded that... Oh yeah you were my bride... until?..
Rafayel doesn't realise that dancing between the two emotions has taken some time. Purple eyes swirling with mixed emotions as his lips pursed to the side in silence. This reaction causes her to shift nervously, afraid that she's made him uncomfortable with the question.
She clears her throat soon after, sitting up after spending hours on the couch with him, slouching against the backrest as his purple hair splays out against her chest. The movement shakes him out of his trance, a brief moment of confusion (and a dramatic look of "how could you!â) plastered on his face as he turns around, sitting up for the first time in 2 hours as well. He faces his blushing partner who is clearly flustered at his lack of response.
"Um.. I mean - I'm not saying we will definitely get married or like whatever, it was just a question! I don't even know if you wanna marry me. again, it was just a question, you don't have to answer it if you-"
He gasps dramatically, brows furrowed deeply as he scoots away from her in bewilderment. "Did you say you don't even know if I want to marry you?" He scoffs, standing up and begins to pace around the room. "Is my devotion - and quite frankly - obvious and constant yearning for you not enough? For you to even question that?"
"Rafayel, I-" "Maybe the hunter's association should put you on bed rest if your brain's not functioning properly. Oh perhaps, it's not the brain, it's your heart and its inability to feel the love I have for you. Is that right, hm?"
"Rafayel," she repeats louder this time, sighing. "That was not what i meant - I just.. You went completely silent on me when I asked the question, so I thought you felt uncomfortable with the topic of marriage." shrugging, the red on her cheeks deepens as a replay of the scene comes to mind. she shrivels into herself, crossing her legs as she begins to play with the loose threads of her sweater. "And I know weâve never talked about it either, so I shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that."
His face softens immediately, guilt pricking his chest as he watches the vulnerability she was expressing. While she isn't exactly wrong - the topic of marriage does make him uncomfortable. As much as he wants her to be his bride, itâll undoubtedly open new doors for pain all over again. But as uncomfortable it is, Rafayel knows that she is someone he'd carve his own heart out for (well....).
"You have nothing to apologise for.," He reassures her gently, the tone contrasting the loud rant he performed earlier, and he's back on the couch, crawling onto the space next to her. His fingers are careful, he reminds himself he's holding onto his reason of being, his kryptonite, the atoms of sunlight itself. He feels his stomach flip, and the soft warmth that begins to exude from the side of his chest tells him that if she peeked underneath his shirt, she'd bear witness to the physical embodiment of his sacred vow. "It threw me off guard, yes. But only because i've been keeping it myself for far too long, cutie," he smiles, still ever so gentle as his thumb caresses the smooth of her cheek.
"Iâve known that i have wanted to marry you for years now," and while she'll take that as a mere dramatisation (Rafayel being Rafayel), he means that as literally as it gets. Only he is well versed with the pain, humiliation and fear that comes with the wait and longing, and for a moment, he's almost grateful that she doesn't know. He doesn't want her to be burdened with such hardship-filled emotions, so he'll carry it for the both of them.
"You won't be in white - maybe a light shade of blue. I'll obviously wear the best suit ever to be worn. We'll have a ceremony by the beach," he's speaking straight from the vision he's replayed in his mind countless of times, the smile on his face unconsciously growing as he mindlessly twirls a piece of her hair. "You'll have your hair down, and it'll probably get caught in the sea breeze - but it just makes sense to me."
"and," he pauses for a moment, hesitating before he continues. "We'll say our vows twice. One for everyone to bear witness to, and one just for you and me." A vow so sacred and intimate, Rafayel refuses to share with the world. He refuses to taint it even a little bit, it should simply be meant only for his lover and him, and his pure everlasting love for her.
"Oh," he has rendered her speechless, and now it's Rafayel's turn to be nervous, fearing he has made her uncomfortable. Hiding the embarrassment behind a scoff, he pulls away with a pout. "Y-You were the one who brought it up first!" Immediately, she shakes her head and pulls him back into her chest and Rafayel doesn't fight his body when it relaxes immediately. "I was just a little surprised, Raf - in a good way. Didn't think you would've had all these little details in mind already." Her voice mirrors his previously gentle one, and Rafayel feels his eyes flutter shut, coaxed by her fingers running through his hair.
She hesitates, but braves herself to say it. time and again, once peeling off his layers, she's beared witness to his endless courage so why not walk in his footsteps? "I do hope we get married." Her voice is quieter, but it speaks volumes to him. He feels a lump form in his throat at the emotions that begin to overflow within him. He reaches out to catch onto her hand that's combing through his hair and brings it to his chest in attempts to quell the tears that threaten to form behind his closed lids.
Shakily, his lips whisper against her knuckles, "In my mind, we already are."
In his world, they already were. How lucky is he to get married to her, again and again, and again.
God, he'd do it a million times over.
#i find it hardest to write for rafayel but here's a first try!!!! hehe lmk what u think#love and deepspace#lnds#lnds rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#rafayel fluff#l&nds#rafayel#rafayel x reader
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Nothing but Hate: Azriel x Rhysand!Sister!Reader
Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Slight Eris x Reader
***
You grinned wickedly at the male in front of you, a dagger held tight in each hand. His golden eyes flashed with warning, hands lit up blue. You circled each other slowly, each sizing up the other.
You moved first, flinging a dagger towards his stomach. A flash of blue met the blade, disintegrating it in front of your eyes. Your smile dropped from your face, and you threw the second one rashly. It missed, as you knew it would. You groaned, hands coming up to cover your eyes.
âYouâre up here to train,â Azriel chided, âso why donât you act like it?â
You dropped your hands and turned to glare at him. âHas it ever occurred to you I have more important things to do than this?â
He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. âLike what? Organizing your pretty little ball gowns? Polishing your countless tiaras?â
âI provide valuable intel to this Court,â you said, slowly looking him up and down. âSomething you could learn a thing or two about.â
His eyes narrowed. âI do my job well. Your brother would not keep me employed if I didnât. Or do you doubt the judgement of the High Lord?â
You gave a dramatic pout. âOh, did I hurt your feelings? I care not what my brother does with you and that other brute. I was raised to gather information under the guise of a sweet, innocent lady.â You made a show of batting your eyes, lips in an exaggerated pout. âMales crumble far too easily.â
Rhys had been trying to get you and Azriel to get along for the better part of the last century. Something about him irked you to your bones. Cassian wasnât much higher ranked in your mind, but you could at least tolerate him. You felt you would never know why your brother had latched on to these two idiots.
âYou think rather highly of yourself, princess.â He spoke your title like it was an insult.
âI donât see any great cause for why I should not,â you shot back, head high. You knew exactly what you were worth.
âStuck-up brat.â
âYou enjoy being my brothers bitch?â
Azriel opened his mouth to retort when he was cut off by a sharp yell.
âEnough!â
The two of you turned to see Rhys storming into the training ring. âI cannot think with you going at it like little children!â
âWell if he-â
âRhys, sheâs-â
âI said, ENOUGH.â Rhys stopped in front of you, hands coming to massage his temples. âYou are being insufferable. I will not listen to your ceaseless bickering any longer. Figure out how to get along, or you will both be reassigned to the training camps.â
You and Azriel gave sounds of protest, quieted by Rhys holding up a hand. âI do not wish to hear it. Iâm giving you one last chance. If you complete this mission without trouble I will allow you to yell at each other as much as you want. Otherwise, say goodbye to your nice little lives here.â He looked pointedly at the both of you. âAm I understood?â
You both grumbled your agreements, waiting to be given instruction. âGood. Now, I need you to go to Autumn. Beron is hosting a ball this coming week, and I need intel on what it is heâs doing. I do not trust the Vanserraâs, especially with Lucienâs recent departure.â He frowned deeply. âHis father is a truly evil man. I want eyes on him.â
You and Azriel nodded, understanding the importance of this mission. Regardless of how you felt about each other, Rhys was right about the evil that runs the Autumn Court.
***
You stared at yourself in the mirror, a deep dread weighing down on you. You ran your hands over the front of your gown, watching the minuscule diamonds in the black fabric sparkle in the light. It was a stunning garment by all accounts, with the flowing skirts and romantic off-shoulder neckline. You looked every part the Night Court Princess, simply attending a ball as a Lady should.
Accompanied byâŠAzriel.
A knock at the door reminded you of his irritating presence. You walked over to open it, silver heels tapping on the ground.
âAre you-â He began, stopping as he looked you over. You couldnât help the smirk that made its way onto your face.
âSpeechless, Shadowsinger?â You quipped, winking at him. That brought him back to reality and he rolled his eyes before begrudgingly holding an arm out for you to take.
âI would almost say youâre beautiful, but then you had to go and open that annoying little mouth of yours.â You pinched his arm under your hand, though you noted that the usual bite behind his words wasnât all there.
This night was extremely important to the both of you. You had to figure out a way to work together. Neither one of you wished to go to the training camps, far away from your home. It sent a chill down your spine to recall the ways you were treated anytime you were at them, and you didnât dare to think what it would be like if you were there alone. Truthfully, you were a little angry with Rhys for this level of threat. Was the punishment equal to the crime?
âLetâs just get this over with, Azriel.â You were looking forcibly ahead, otherwise you would have seen the worry that flitted over his face.
***
Evil as Beron was, he knew how to throw a party. The ballroom of the Autumn Court castle was dressed to the gods, golden elegance dripping from every inch. The male himself sat on an intricate wooden throne, a crown sat atop his head. His sons stood in a line next to him, each dressed in varying shades of orange and red. You carefully surveyed the room, putting on a show like you were admiring the decor.
Beron took note of you quickly, standing to loudly welcome you. âPrincess! Come, let me introduce you to my sons.â You gave a shy smile and made your way over to him, playing the role Rhys had instructed you to. âYour brother tells me he is interested in a possible match between our Courts,â Beron continues, too loud for comfort. You knew the offer of your hand would go to his head. The elusive, dark, Night Court heiress betrothed to one of his sons? How could he resist?
You gave a small nod, glancing over at his sons lined up like prizes for you to select. âI am honored that you would deem me a good match for any of your sons, my lord.â You could almost feel the laugh Azriel held back at your demure tone.
Beron smiled widely, placing a hand on your back to lead you to the line of males. âEris, my eldest and likely heir, would be your most advantageous match,â he drawled. Eris held his hand out for yours, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.
âIt is an honor to be considered by the Princess of Night.â His voice dripped with honey-like sweetness, a gleam in his eyes that drew you in. You couldnât help the light blush that crossed your cheeks in his presence.
âThe honor is all mine,â you said with a curtsy, biting your lip when you looked back up at him.
âWould you like to dance?â He asked, as gentlemanly as expected. You bowed your head in agreement before letting him lead you out to the dance floor.
A shadow swirled briefly around your ankles, a subtle sign from Azriel. As annoying as he was, you knew you could trust him to keep you from danger. You made a point to catch his eye over Erisâ shoulder, a silent gesture that you understood his message.
Eris placed one hand on your waist and held yours in the other, a proud smile on his face. You allowed yourself to be immersed in the music, following his every move like youâd spent hours practicing together.
âHave you been to this Court before?â He asked you, spinning in a circle. âYou do not look familiar.â
You shook your head, giving him a small laugh. âMy brother does not like it when I travel far without him.â A sweet, innocent answer.
âHe does not trust you, then?â
âNo, I would not say so. He simplyâŠworries, doesnât he?â You tilted your head in the direction of the other sons. âDo you not worry for your brothers?â
Something flickered in his eyes as he looked over, an unspoken pain. âThem? No.â He looked back at you. âNot those ones.â You understood what he was saying, the unspoken message behind his words. The brother he worried for was long gone, away in Spring. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know you understood.
Eris spun you out and pulled you in, your back hitting his chest as his arms wrapped around you. He bowed his head enough for his breath to tickle your neck, your body giving an answering shiver. âYouâre not like the other High Court ladies,â he whispered in your ear, before spinning you back out and away.
You turned into him again, his hand coming back to its spot on your waist. âAnd you are not like other High Court lords,â you responded with a playful smile.
âHow so?â
âWell, usually they hardly ever let me speak,â you laughed when you said it, playing it off like a joke.
âHmm,â he said, the hand on your waist sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you in closer, âthen they do not know the enjoyment they are missing.â âšThe song had ended, the two of you left standing there improperly close. You were lost in his eyes, in the secrets he held in them. He leaned down and for half a second you believed he was going to kiss you.
And you were going to let him.
Instead he moved to whisper, âWould you like to see something special?â You nodded, and allowed him to lead you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you that running off with a male you did not know was not the safest choice, but Eris made you feel safe. You could only hope his actions matched his words.
You were pleasantly surprised when he lead you to a library, books up to the ceiling. Everything was made of dark wood, shelves as if the trees simply grew that way. A roaring fire warmed the room, the smell of cinnamon and old parchment welcoming. âOh, Eris,â you said in awe, âit is beautiful.â
He came up behind you as you stood in the center of the room, lost in the beauty around you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed flat over your stomach, the other resting on your arm. He bent his head again, lips millimeters from the bare skin of your shoulder. You couldnât help the way you leaned into him, the mission you were on long forgotten.
âI thought you might enjoy this,â he hummed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. âNot many care to come here. My father especially.â You felt the angry twitch in his fingers at the reminder of his father. You turned your head to look up at him, recognizing the longing in his expression.
âI am sorry,â you began, âabout Lucien. I imagine that has been hard on you. Being forced to pretend you do not care.â He stayed quiet, looking at you with an intensity you had never experienced. Like it was the first time anyone had seen him.
âYou are not what I thought you would be,â he whispered, before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He kissed you with the passion of a thousand suns, his mouth moving with yours in their own dance. You turned in his arms to press your chest flush against his, your arms twining around his neck as you pulled him closer. Eris groaned at your touch, one hand coming to tangle its way into the hair at the back of your head.
He started moving the two of you until your back hit one of the bookshelves, never breaking the kiss. Tongues created art as the two of you lost yourselves in each other. âEris,â you moaned when he moved his lips off yours, instead running them up and down the skin of your neck. He growled in response, one hand slowly gathering the skirts of your dress. Your breath was coming in fast spurts, his teeth dragging along your skin making you forget everything you were supposed to be doing.
âSay my name like that again,â he murmured against your skin, your skirts up high enough that he could slide one hand onto your thigh.
You opened your mouth to oblige when he was suddenly ripped off of you, the stark coldness of reality washing over you. You were stunned, still panting against the bookshelf as you took in the scene in front of you.
Eris was thrown backwards, slumped against the shelf across from you. You started to rush towards his unconscious form, concerned for him. You knelt by his side, gently laying his limp body all the way down as you looked over him for any serious injuries.
âOh, give it up,â came an angry voice, and you shot your head towards Azriel.
âWhat is your problem?â You yelled, standing once you ensured Eris was otherwise okay.
âMy problem? My problem? Maybe itâs the fact that we were sent here on a job, and you are too busy whoring yourself out to care!â He was glaring at you, shadows swirling angrily around him.
âYouâd better rethink your words, Shadowsinger,â you warned, dark lightning flickering at your fingertips.
âRelax, princess. Rhys is calling us back.â He looked over at Eris on the ground. âSorry to interrupt your littleâŠmoment,â he said, sounding not very sorry at all. You looked sadly back at Eris, worry still creeping in your mind. Azriel noticed, rolling his eyes. âHeâll be fine. We will not be if we do not go,â he emphasized, grabbing on to your arm.
âFine.â
The two of you hastily winnowed back home, Azriel flying once your powers grew weary. You did not inherit the Illyrian wings from your mother, much to your dismay. Especially in this moment, in which you had to be in Azrielâs arms as he flew you high above the ground.
âWhat did you see in him?â He asked, breaking the chilly silence that had ensued since you left the Autumn Court.
âWhat?â You asked, shocked by his question.
âI mean, theyâre evil, arenât they? The Vanserras?â
You looked out over the night sky, quiet for a moment. âI believe some of them are. I believe Eris pretends to be.â
âI see,â Azriel mused. âButâŠwhy choose him?â You turned to look at him, puzzled.
âAzriel, are you jealous?â You teased, waiting for him to act disgusted.
Instead he remained silent, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. You stared at him for a long time, processing the underlying meaning in his actions. âAz?â
He reacted then, looking at you sharply. You had never called him by that name. âI do not know what you mean,â he finally said.
The rest of the flight was done in silence.
You were thankful when you finally landed back at the House of Wind, the marble under your shoes a welcome feeling. A cool nights breeze blew through the balcony as you turned to Azriel.
âWell, thank you for not abandoning me in the Autumn Court,â you joked, trying for a smile.
His expression stayed stoic. âI would never have left you.â
You blinked at the intensity of his words. It was then that you noticed how closely he was standing to you, how he was looking at you. It was rather similar to the way Eris had looked before he hadâŠ
You backed away abruptly, stumbling slightly in your heels. Azriel caught you smoothly around the waist, hand burning you through the fabric of your dress.
âAzriel,â you whispered, âRhys did not call us back, did he?â
âNo.â
âAh.â Your body was trembling in his grasp, a barrier dangerously close to being crossed as he tugged you flush against him, his nose tracing the slope of your neck. âThen why did you say he did?â
His hands fisted the material beneath them as he inhaled your scent. âI couldnât stand it.â
You hated the way you were reacting to him, the fire coursing through you. It was entirely different than the way you had felt with Eris. This was more. Much more. You took a shaky breath before asking the question you already knew the answer to.
âCouldnât stand what?â
Azriel brought his head up, eyes boring into yours. A century of untold feelings swam behind them. âI couldnât watch him touch you any longer,â he began, one hand coming up to caress your throat. âIt was driving me crazy. His lips on your skin, his hands on you.â His thumb rolled across your pressure point, pressing down ever so slightly. An embarrassingly needy noise fell from your lips. âGods,â he breathed, pressing a kiss to your jawline. âIâve held back for so long. Forcing my feelings down,â he started kissing down your throat, down your shoulder. Following the same path Eris had left a mere few hours before. âI chose to become your enemy instead, someone you couldnât stand,â he bit down on your shoulder, dragging a soft moan from you as his tongue soothed the marks his teeth left. âBut watching him touch you? The way I should be? No,â he laughed cruelly, dropping to his knees in front of you. You looked down at him in shock, heart racing at the hunger in his eyes. âI couldnât let him have you.â
You reached behind you for the railing of the balcony, grasping onto it like it was your lifeline. âAzriel,â you whispered, watching him lift the bottom of your skirts. He kissed your bare ankle, eyes catching yours once more.
âTell me to stop, and I will.â
Yet the both of you knew you werenât going to. His lips continued their transgressions up your leg, painfully slow. He was leaving dark marks in his wake, a reminder that he was there. Your hand twisted in his hair when he reached the top of your thigh, leaving one final mark for you to see in the morning. âAz,â you gasped, feeling as though you were going to erupt into flame at any moment. âPlease.â
He smiled wickedly at you, tearing your underwear off of you a moment later. You gave a small shriek at the action, eyes wide as you looked at the torn garment. He allowed you no chance to comment, his mouth on you before you even knew what to say.
âOh,â you moaned, head falling backwards. His tongue swirled around you like you were the most delicious desert he had ever tasted. He sucked onto your clit, ripping a loud cry of his name from you. You were lost in the haze of lust and pleasure, all the years of anger and hate gone as if they never existed.
He continued the sins he was committing with his tongue while his fingers ran up to join. You moaned his name again and again as one pushed inside of you, curling in the exact spot you needed it to. Cool shadows swirled around your burning skin, a sensation so intense you werenât sure you could handle it. He added a second finger, stretching you pleasurably. âAzriel, I, oh, Az,â you gasped out, unable to form coherent thought. He kept his movements steady as one shadow wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to moan again.
Eris was long gone from your mind.
Azriel continued working you, clearly pleased by the increasing volume and intensity in which you were saying his name. You knew you were close, forcing your orgasm at bay as long as possible. You wanted to live in this moment forever. He touched you like he had studied you for years, like he knew exactly what would make you tick. In his hands you were nothing but clay for him to mold, creating the beautiful sculpture that was this moment. Your body began to shake as he kept steady, thrusting his fingers in and out of you while humming against your clit.
That was all you needed to explode against him.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, your head thrown all the back, mouth open in a silent scream. Stars exploded behind your eyes, the sensation of your orgasm rolling through you. Azriel pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling as long as possible. He didnât cease his actions until you were gasping for air, his name falling from your lips like a beautiful song. Only then did he slowly pull away from your wrecked body, standing to hold you steady.
One hand came to gently cup your face, thumb running lovingly over your cheek. âHow long?â You asked, leaning into his touch.
âSince the first day I met you.â
You sighed, shaking your head. âThen why lie? Why battle me for so long?â
He looked guilty, moving to rest his forehead on yours. âYou are his sister. I was scared.â He took a shuddering breath. âIt was too risky. You were off limits, you see. He had explicitly told Cassian and I to not even think about it,â he gave a humorless laugh. âBeing around you was overwhelming. Everything in me was screaming for you. I had originally decided to just be friends, that I would settle for that.â The arm around your waist tightened. âBut even that was too much. I needed you, and the longer I went without you the more i began to lose it.â His eyes turned sad. âI had to push you away.â
You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. âSometimes I hate my brother,â you whispered, a century long confession on the tip of your tongue. âFor it has been the same for me all these years. So long, in fact, I forgot why I started to dislike you in the first place.â With that, you closed the remaining space between you, pressing your lips to his.
A hundred years of lost emotion poured from the both of you, holding on to each other like you may disappear. You kissed Azriel like this was the only chance you had, allowing him to open your mouth with his.
Passion flowed between the two of you, the taste of yourself on his tongue reigniting the fire under your skin. He whispered your name over and over against your lips, like a prayer he had been longing to say. In that moment the two of you were the only ones who existed.
âWell, this is most certainly not what I meant when I said I wanted you to get along.â
Your eyes shot open as you pulled your lips from Azrielâs, looking widely at your rather angry brother. âI, uh, hello, Rhys,â you stuttered, taking a step away from Azriel. Who, in fact, was having none of that, and immediately pulled your lips from back into his arms.
âRhysand,â he said coolly.
âI would be careful with your tone if I were you, Azriel,â Rhys warned, anger simmering in him. âThat is my sister.â
Azriel simply tightened his hold on you, capturing your lips in another kiss. âSo she is.â He looked back at your brother. âYet she is also my mate.â
Mate. Mate?
No.
Surely you didnât spend a century warring with your fated mate, because your brother was too much of a hard ass to allow you to make your own choices?
No.
It couldnât be.
And yet, at his declaration, you felt it in your soul. The golden bond tying the two of you together.
You glared at Rhysand.
âBrother, you and I will speak tomorrow.â Azriel leaned his head down to press a kiss against your neck, mumbling âor in a week.â You swatted him away, ignoring the laugh he let out. âBut for now, you will go. I do not care where, but you will leave us be. Do you understand?â
Rhys stared at you in disbelief, not used to having someone else boss him around. âWell, I, but,â he spluttered, looking around the balcony as if for someone to save him. âYouâre my sister!â
You gave him an exaggerated nod, speaking slowly. âYes. I am. I am also fully grown and capable of making my own choices. Now, I suggest you leave.â Azriel happily began peppering kisses over your skin again. âImmediately.â
***
AHHHHHHH i absolutely LOVED writing this. happy 2025 friends. i hope you enjoyed <3
#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel x reader#acotar x y/n#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel x reader smut#eris x y/n#eris x reader#eris x you#nothing but hate#azriel masterlist
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àšà§ a very klutzy christmas ; lh43
âȘ summary: something always seemed to go wrong when luke hughes, y/n y/l/n and the Christmas spirit were put in the same place together
âȘ warnings: reader is klutzy, being late, forgetting things, running into people (?)
âȘ word count: 3.2k
âȘ cupid's notes: part of ho ho hockey! i'm so excited for you guys to read this fic, it was supposed to be a four times their christmases were less than ideal but i got carried away with writing this one that i just decided to leave it at this! if you guys want me to write the other three i definitely can, just let me know :)
© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here
âLuke câmon! We have to go, weâre already late.â
She bounced on her feet as she waited to hear the footsteps of her boyfriend, every passing second felt like an eternity. She flicked her eyes down to her watch, groaning at the time it displayed. They were supposed to have left over half an hour ago, and for once it wasnât her fault that her boyfriendâs family was sitting around their house waiting for them to arrive.Â
âLuke, I swear if youâre not out here in 30 seconds Iâm going to lose my shit!â
And exactly 30 seconds later she heard the footsteps of her boyfriend climbing down the stairs, pulling his sweater on that was no doubt what she had laid out for him the night before. He jumped off the last step, ruffling his hand through his hair, flashing her a smile, âIâm ready.â
She only stared at him, anger shining in her eyes. Luke simply walked over and placed a kiss on her cheek, giving her an innocent look, âDonât be mad at me.â
âWe were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, probably more now, and youâre over here taking your sweet ass fucking time-â
âBaby calm down, look at me,â He placed his hands on her arms, looking down at her with a comforting smile, âEverything's going to be okay. Theyâre not going to be mad at you, theyâre not going to be mad at all. Well, maybe my mom will be but definitely not at you. Take a deep breath, alright?â
She sighed and ran a shaky hand over her coat, âFine, but Iâm still mad because I have to wear this,â she pulled on her red turtleneck, âbecause someone couldnât keep their hands to themselves.â
Lukeâs boyish grin made its way onto his face as he slipped his new sneakers on, moving to open the door for her, âMâlady.â
She stepped through the doorway, making her way down the hallway as Luke trailed behind her, easily catching up to throw an arm around her shoulder and place a kiss on her temple. She softened slightly and looked up at him, a small smile gracing her lips.Â
Maybe she was over-stressing just a little bit. It would be her and Lukeâs âsecondâ Christmas together, but only her first with his family and it was getting to her head. She had met his family plenty of times before, even spending the summer at the lake house, and spending countless nights at Lukeâs old apartment with Jack before he moved in with her. But something about the Christmas energy made her nervous, and something always seemed to go wrong when you put Luke Hughes, y/n y/l/n, and the Christmas spirit together.Â
ïŸ+*:àšà§:*ïč€
The car ride to the Hughesâ house was quick and familiar, y/n watching the snow fall with nothing short of amusement and nervousness. Lukeâs hand rested on her thigh, emanating a comforting feeling and a warmth that she could only associate with him.
She glanced over at him, watching as he removed his hand from her thigh to make the turn down his parentsâ street. He was dressed in one of her favorite sweaters of his, it was a nice dark but muted blue that she always loved on him and the collar of his white dress shirt folded over the neckline. His legs were adorned with one of the many pairs of black jeans he owned and his favorite pair of new white sneakers on his feet.Â
Luke looked over at her, a smirk on his face once he caught her staring, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, but thankfully the darkness that settled at only 4:00 pm covered it well. He held out his hand, making a small gesture to get her to place hers in his. Once she did, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, âWhatcha lookinâ at pretty girl?â
âYou.â Y/n replied in a murmur, curling up in the car seat as best as she could, âI did a good job at picking out your outfit.â
ââCourse you did, why do you think I let you?â
She only blushed more at his response, going back to look out the window just in time to see Ellen and Jimâs house come into view. A new wave of nerves settled over her as they pulled into the driveway. She felt Lukeâs hand squeeze hers as he turned the car off, shifting to look at her.
Y/n looked over at him and smiled before glancing in the back seat. Her eyes widened as she saw the lack of her favorite Christmas dish, âLuke!â
âWhat? Whatâs wrong?â
âWe forgot the pie.â She groaned, sitting back in her seat and throwing her head back against the headrest, âFucking hell.â
âY/n/n itâs okay, theyâre not gonna-â
âThatâs not the point Luke. I promised your mom I would bring something and now I forgot it.â
Lukeâs face settled into a pout at the disappointment that tainted her face. He reached for her hand again, clutching it between both of his, allowing his thumb to rub over her knuckles, âBaby, listen, please. I know how well you wanted today to be, how perfect you wanted it to be. And I understand that them not being mad isnât the problem.
âBut they love you, probably more than me. Theyâre not going to be upset because you were having to deal with your childish boyfriend.â
She glanced over at his teasing tone, a huge smile on his face once he saw her lips turn up. She only let out a small âhumphâ before responding, âYouâre always making dumb jokes at the most inappropriate times.â
âIâm just trying to get my girl to smile, is that such a crime these days?â
âI suppose not, but you still have to make it up to me.â
âAnd how do you propose I do that?â A mischievous glint lit in his eye as he leaned closer to her.
âI donât know.â She murmured quietly before replicating his actions, meeting his lips over the center console.
Luke grinned into the kiss before pulling away and leaving a small kiss on her forehead, âLetâs go, yeah?â
She nodded as she pulled away, climbing out of the car. She pulled her coat tighter around her, watching as Luke opened the trunk and grabbed the presents, stacking them on top of each other.
âBe careful Lukas, you know what happened last year.â
He rolled his eyes, making his way up the front steps after slamming the trunk closed. He knocked on the front door just as y/n walked up beside him, looping her arm through his.
Soon, the door opened and Jim stood in the entry of the house, âHey you two.â
âHi, Mr. Hughes!â
Jim took the presents from his youngest son, before gesturing them into the house, âHow many times have Ellen and I told you to just call us by our names, Y/n?â
A sheepish grin made her way to her face, stepping inside of the Hughesâ house, and immediately she was met with the comforting atmosphere of the home. She moved to slip off her boots, but Lukeâs hand placed on her lower back stopped her, âI got you.â
This only made her face flush more as Luke knelt down and unzipped her boots, sliding them off with ease. Her nervousness didnât falter, however, slightly stumbling as Luke pulled her into the kitchen where his mom stood, âHi momma.â
Ellen looked up from what she was doing, smiling much like him, âHi! Oh, Luke whyâd make the poor girl wait to be here? Probably stressed her out a ton.â She pulled her son into a hug, squeezing him tightly as she pestered him.
As she pulled away, she turned her attention to his girlfriend, her smile getting even wider if that was possible, âHello sweetheart. Thank you so much for coming, weâre so happy to have you.â
Y/n hugged her back, âThank you for having me! And youâre right, Luke did make me stress.â
The woman only briefly pulled away to swat at her sonâs arm, who held his hands up in surrender before making his way over to where his brothers were, whatever that may have been. Ellen finally pulled out of the hug to continue working on the mashed potatoes.
The girl raised up on her toes as a nervous habit, âDo you need any help?â
âIf you want to! You can start setting the table if you wish, dear.â
As she grabbed the plates and started setting the table, she released a small sigh before speaking up, âAlso, I may have sort of forgotten the pie. I had it in the fridge and then I just got so flustered before we left that I forgot it.â
âOh honey, itâs okay. I made extra dessert anyways because Jack always eats all of it.â
âI do not. That is extremely hurtful.â Jack walked into the kitchen, hand brushing an invisible piece of fuzz off his shirt, âQuinn helps too.â
He wrapped an arm around y/nâs shoulders, bringing her into a side hug, âAnd nice to see you y/n/n. Good job at dressing Luke.â
She couldnât help but laugh at his words, a small smirk playing on her lips, âI do try to make sure my boyfriend is dressed nicely. It seems you donât have anyone to help you.â
He scoffed playfully, âI am wounded. You are supposed to be on my side here too.â
âIf youâre going to be in the kitchen, you are going to be helping. Help y/n set the plates- Donât whine at me, Jack.â
He grumbled, taking a stack of forks into his hands and placing them on the side of the plates.Â
âForks go on the left, Jacky. Knives go on the right, â Y/n teased, now placing napkins on top of each plate, laughing as she heard another annoyed groan from him and watched his eyes roll.
ïŸ+*:àšà§:*ïč€
After a while, dinner was nearing ready, y/n having spent most of the time in the kitchen talking with Ellen and helping out when she could. She wiped her hands on her skirt, trying to rid herself of the sweat that clung to them.Â
âIâm just going to run to the bathroom quickly if thatâs okay?â
Ellen laughed, âYou donât need to ask to go to the bathroom, hon. Just go, Iâll be fine here.â
She blushed, another wave of embarrassment washed over her as she took in her words, âRight.â
She started walking out of the kitchen, scolding herself softly at her actions, stop embarrassing yourself. She froze halfway out of the kitchen, backtracking once she realized she didnât actually know where the bathroom was, âMrs- Ellen? Where exactly is-â
âDown the hall and to your left, baby.â A hand fell on her shoulder and a kiss was placed on her temple.Â
She turned to look at who it was, grinning when she saw the familiar face of her boyfriend, a lopsided grin that practically matched her own on his face. He kissed her head again, wrapping her up in a hug. He hadnât seen her since they arrived, catching up with his dad and oldest brother in the living room as they watched whatever sports game was on.Â
âMissed you.â He murmured into her ear, squeezing her a little tighter afterward.
âWeâve only been separated for what? 40 minutes?â
âDoesnât matter, still missed you.â
They stayed like that for a minute before she reminded him softly that she had to go to the bathroom. He pulled away and walked over to his mom, starting up a conversation about something she had no clue about. She was already heading out of the kitchen and down the hallway when she heard them talk.Â
She got halfway to the bathroom, looking down at her feet as she thought to herself, when her head knocked against something, groaning in pain, âMother fucker-â She blinked the tears away that stung in her eyes, clutching her head.Â
Once the tears were cleared enough that she could see, she saw Jack standing there, mirroring her actions with a hand to his head. He had been just heading out of the bathroom when it happened, thoughts also racing in his mind causing him to not look where he was going when he ran into her, heads meeting.
âFucking hell that hurt.â He exclaimed, rubbing at the spot on his forehead that took most of the impact.
They didnât say anything for a few minutes, just trying to ease their rapidly growing headaches. Once they both got it calmed down enough, they stared at each other before letting out laughs of amusement, âWe really need to pay better attention to where weâre walking huh?â
âYeah, I donât need everyone to stare at my forehead and then explain that the Jack Hughes caused the bump.â
He ushered her forehead, planning to get him and y/n ice packs from the freezer, but when she took a step, black dots clouded at the edge of her vision causing her to stumble, just barely catching herself against the wall. She heard Jackâs curse, leaning into him as an arm came around her waist, âYou okay?â
âDizzy.â She murmured back, closing her eyes and opening them again, hopes of clearing her fuzzy vision failing.Â
âHold on. Luke!â
Y/n winced at Jackâs yell, pain worsening in her head. She could only give a soft nod of acknowledgment at his whispered apology, holding onto him tighter as she felt the overwhelming dizzy feeling wash over her.Â
Luke came walking out of the kitchen, eyes drifting down the hallway, âWhatâre you yelling for?â
His gaze fell upon his brother and girlfriend, huddled together against a wall, a worried expression on the former and a pained one on the other, âWhat happened? Is she okay?â
He walked briskly to get to the two, immediately taking his girlfriend into his arms, pressing multiple soft kisses to her head, and rubbing her arm up and down, âWhatâs going on?â
âWe knocked our heads together, was going to get us ice packs when she stumbled. Said she felt dizzy.â
âIâm fine, just dizzy like he said.â
Luke shook his head, tucking her into his side safely, walking them back to the kitchen to sit down, âLetâs get you some ice, sweet girl, câmon.â
He sat her down on a chair, brushing the hair away from her face. He heard Jack mumble something to their mom but his focus was solely on his girlfriend, cupping her face and looking over her head. She winced as his thumb brushed over the point of impact, shaking her head slightly at his apology.Â
There was a tap on Lukeâs shoulder, Ellen now standing behind him with an ice pack wrapped in a towel in her hand, âHere. Put this on her forehead for ten minutes and then take it off.â
He nodded, taking the ice pack from her and placing it gently on y/nâs forehead. Ellen smiled softly before switching her gaze to the girl, âHowâre you doing?â
âCould be worse,â she murmured, blinking slowly to clear her vision again. âHas to be the first time Iâve knocked heads with someone this hard.â
âThatâs just because Jack has a big head.â A new voice entered the room and as best as she could, she moved her eyes to find the third Hughes brother.
âI do not!â
âDo too!â
âDo not!â
âWould you shut up?â Luke asked exasperated, pressing the ice pack a little harder into his girlfriendâs head as she winced from the noise.
âSorry.â The two murmured.
âSâokay. Just fight quieter please if youâre going to fight.â She spoke up, leaning into the cold compress.
They nodded taking their seats at the table as they watched their younger brother and his girlfriend. Luke slowly took the icepack away from her head, placing it on the ground next to her chair. He moved the hair that had fallen back into her face, tucking it behind her ear, âYou feeling better?â
âYeah, I think so.â
He stands up, placing a kiss on her temple before sitting down next to her. The six of them start eating, easily falling into a conversation about hockey even after the multiple attempts Ellen had to end it. Y/n doesnât mind it, her head is still pounding and even the thought of thinking about hockey is hurting it more.
She eats the majority of the food Luke has placed on her plate, taking her time and pushing it around slightly. She feels bad, she doesnât want Ellen to feel like she doesnât like the food, but itâs hard for her to focus right now and the knocking her head against Jackâs has left her more tired than she was when she arrived.
ïŸ+*:àšà§:*ïč€
After dinner, the six of them all clean up, or y/n tries to and then is scolded by Luke and his mom to sit on the chair or go into the living room and lie down. So thatâs where she was when Luke came and found her, curled up on one side of the couch, her head resting on the armrest.
âHey,â he kisses her softly, sitting down next to her, âYou want to head out?â
She went to protest, saying they hadnât opened their gifts or even had dessert yet but the idea of going home sounded really appealing, so she nodded, using Lukeâs help to stand up. They walked back to the kitchen, informing everyone that they were going to be heading back home.Â
Luke grabbed the small platter of cookies and pieces of pie from his mom, y/n thanking her for him. They then made their way into the foyer where Luke helped her get her boots on, patting each thigh when he was done.Â
They said their goodbyes and then walked down the driveway with gifts and dessert in hand, placing them in the backseat before climbing into the car.
âYou sure youâre okay, baby?â
âYeah, I feel better after eating.â
âThatâs good.â
He pulled out of the driveway, making their way down the street when he heard her voice, âCanât believe the first Christmas with your family we show up late, we forget the pie and I knocked heads with your brother.â
He chuckled, âHonestly, did you expect anything less?â
She thought about it, and no she didnât expect less. Ever since she and Luke met their Christmases had been less than ideal. When they met, she knocked into him at a coffee shop, successfully spilling coffee all over herself and Luke. On their first Christmas together, Luke broke his gift for her, and she had to deal with a flustered and anxious Luke. And now this.
âYouâre right. I think weâre just destined to have dumbass Christmases.â
âHey, at least itâll be my turn next year. Letâs hope I donât break something.â
ïŸ+*:àšà§:*ïč€
He did indeed break something, his arm. He was setting up Christmas lights around their house, it would be the first one in it. He didnât know how it happened, all he knew was that one moment he was connecting sets of lights and the next he was on the ground clutching his arm in pain. It was a long night in the ER.Â
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Drive Me Crazy
Chapter Four
None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.
Lestappen X Reader
Series Masterlist
"You're okay, Beastie. You did good."
It hadn't been an easy race for either Ferrari driver. You and Charles had both struggled, through no fault of your own, during the race. The strategy was shit and the car struggled on track.
"You're okay, Beastie," your handler said, combing her fingers through your hair. "You can stop now. You can breathe."
She was trying to calm you down, Charles realised as he watched you.
Beastie. What an awful nickname, simply awful. Charles watched as your handler handed you earbuds. Your hands shook as you placed them into your ears, a whimper leaving your lips.
Beastie. You weren't a beast. Charles could see it, and he was sure that everybody else could see it, too. You weren't a beast; you just wanted to be free.
He strode across the garage, strode over to you. "What're you listening to?" He asked, his voice soft.
A whimper left your lips and you clawed at your shock collar. "Woah, woah," he whispered and grabbed a hold of your hands, stopping you from hurting yourself. "You're okay, Birdy."
Birdy. Charles wasn't very sure where it came from, but it felt right. It suited you. Birdy. You just wanted to be free. Free as a bird. Another noise left your lips, one that Charles was unable to place. "Wanna tell me what you're listening to?" He asked and pushed your hair out of your face.
You wouldn't answer. Charles knew this, he wasn't expect you to open your mouth to answer, but to somehow communicate it to him. Maybe pull your earbud from your ear and offer it too him instead.
Your handler stepped forward. "She discovered your music last night," she said and nodded to Charles. "She finds it's calming, so I thought it might help take her out of 'Race Space'."
"Race Space?"
Race Space. The headspace you went into as soon as you were in the car. It left you acting on instinct, going for every gap and having no self preservation. It would have been terrifying to watch, if you had anybody that cared about you."
"She likes my music?" Charles couldn't stop himself from answering as he looked at you. You liked his music. At that very moment, you were listening to his music. "Birdy," he whispered, unable to stop himself from grinning.
Charles couldn't help but think about it for the next few hours. As he flew back to Monaco, sharing a jet with Pierre. Maybe one day you could share a jet with them, too. But you weren't in the position for a private jet yet. Once you were a proper driver, no longer driving in the place of an injured Carlos, Charles would take you everywhere in his private yet, he decided.
And then you'd be flying. As free as a bird.
"You're attached," Max said as he watched Charles.
Sitting at the piano, Charles couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. He pressed a couple of the keys, no song really coming from it. "I am," he confirmed, giving a small nod. "I really am, Max."
Max released a sigh as he walked over. He slipped onto the bench beside Charles and wrapped his arms around him. "What're we gonna do about it?" He asked.
"I don't know, Max," Charles answered through a sigh. "I really don't know."
***
Home. A small room with several locks on the door to keep people safe from you. Locked in, Charles's music playing on a loop. This was better, you knew. You locked away from the rest of the world.
Birdy.
You had been a beast for so long that Birdy felt weird. Weird, but not exactly wrong. Birdy, because you wanted to fly away and be free. Birdy was fitting, you realised.
Birdy.
You liked it. Really liked it. Far better than Beasty. A beast was what you had been turned into, not what you wanted to be. You were never supposed to be a beast and you no longer wanted to be one.
Birdy.
The music stopped and you released a whimper. Tapping at the iPod screen, you got the music playing again, the piano filling the room. Your eyes closed as you laid back on your bed, holding your pillow against your chest.
Charles was nice. He was real nice, in a way nobody but your handler had been before. Why had you tried to bite him? Why had you acted out like that? But, still, he was sweet to you. Sweet, even after you had attempted to attack him.
You wouldn't, not again. You wouldn't attack the next time he was nice to you. It was easy to picture it in your mind, your muzzle removed as you hugged Charles, nuzzling yourself against his chest. But you were looking at it through rose coloured glasses.
It wouldn't be as simple as not attacking and you knew that. The reaction was involuntary: You couldn't help it. Couldn't stop yourself from lashing out and trying to hurt him.
"Birdy," you whispered to yourself and started his music again. "Birdy. Birdy. Birdy."
You couldn't wait for the next race weekend.
You didn't have to wait long, just a week. That week you spent training, in the gym, listening to your trainer like an obedient dog. When she said run, you ran. When she said lift, you lifted.
There was just one reason why you didn't like the gym. It allowed you to let out your aggression in a way that stopped anybody from getting hurt. But the collar around your neck and the muzzle attached to your face made the gym uncomfortable, skin beneath them prickling.
On the Tuesday, you flew to Miami. You were sedated for the entirety of the flight. It didn't take away your fear, just stopped you from acting on it.
You woke up in the taxi on your way to the hotel. How disorienting it was, to suddenly regain conscious in a different part of the world, so similar to your home, yet somehow different.
You panicked. Not enough to hurt anybody in the car with you. But your nails dug into your palms, pressing deep enough to draw blood.
"Enough of that, Beasty," your handler commented and patted your knee. Maybe she was trying to give you comfort. Whatever it was, it didn't help.
She got you into the hotel, her grip on your sleeve acting as a leash. As soon as she had your key (she always kept your room key. It was almost a threat: If you left you couldn't get back in), she led you to the stairs.
No lifts, you were too feral for that. They were too much like cages, and you didn't do cages.
âRest, little Beast,â she said as you placed your bags in your room. Rest. You've done enough resting already. You didn't need anymore rest. âI'll come get you in the morning.â
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Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggleđđ«¶
And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life
Tangerine x fem!reader
WC: 3.4k
CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.
A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. Iâm also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just donât take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a âhappy endingâ but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to âeverything is perfect againâ in such few words. Maybe Iâm just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.
Everything was really, really good.
So of course you had to go and ruin it.
People say you canât control matters of the heart and you think that itâs a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldnât you have control over your heart?
And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?
It isnât part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.
Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.
Whatâs one supposed to do?
Certainly not keep going back to the captor of oneâs heart.
So of course thatâs exactly what you do.
Youâre laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and heâs already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.
âGot a meeting to head off to?â You ask casually.
Translation: Please donât run off so soon if you donât have to. Stay.
Tangerineâs eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, âsomething like that.â
âMhmm.â
You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine whoâs nearly fully dressed.
âYou got a comb?â the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.
You nod towards the bathroom, âyeah, in there.â
He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.
Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. Youâd rather him hate you then act like this. At least youâd know that he felt something, anything.
Is it too early for a drink?
The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.
âWell, Iâm heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.â
Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.
âWait!â you call out.
You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, âwhat?â
âCould- could you at least get me a towel? Please?â
He doesnât even look at you before nodding, âYeah.â
He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesnât even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.
âThanks.â
Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.
Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that thereâs no chance for you to say anything more.
Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.
*****
Youâve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.
You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.
âRight, so the jobâs done. When are we getting out of here?â Lemon asks tiredly.
âWe,â Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, âare out of here first thing in the morning, âIâve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.â
âAnd her?â Lemon responds, pointing to you.
Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, âthe jobâs done. Figured sheâs a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isnât that right, love?â
Condescension drips from Tangerineâs words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, âmhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.â
You, luckily, werenât lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.
The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that sheâs really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.
Lemon eyes you, âyou havenât even touched your second drink and now youâre ordering a third?â
You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, âIâve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?â
Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, âcheers.â
You clink glasses but Tangerine doesnât join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.
âYa really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?â the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.
âWho said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.â
While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.
âStill, ya certainly donât have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantlyâŠ.â Tangerineâs eyes narrow at you, ânot over ya emotions.â
Your heart sinks in your chest.
So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? Heâs being a right fucking prick about it too. Thereâs no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.
Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, âyou wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Letâs talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Letâs talk about how you canât keep your dick in your pants because youâd rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Letâs talk about how whatâs happened between us has made you feel so out of control that youâre willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. Youâre a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.â
You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, âoh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?â
You donât wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.
*****
Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.
âWhat the bloody fuck was that all about?â Lemon protests.
Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator youâre in.
You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.
âWhat the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!â
âYa donât get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.â
âWhy not,â you scoff, âyou ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.â
The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.
âYeah, well thatâs usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I donât think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.â
Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, âthereâs a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I shouldâve known youâd be the latter.â
âAnd I shouldâve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.â
Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that heâs taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, itâs fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.
âFuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and Iâm sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didnât. But you- youâve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.â
The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesnât follow you.
*****
After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.
One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, youâd been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.
You hope that itâs working.
Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. Youâve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.
He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.
âHey gorgeous,â you tease, looking him up and down.
The man takes a seat next to you, âHullo, love. Whatâs a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?â
You shrug nonchalantly, âlooking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.â
He cocks his eyebrow at you, âyou suppose?â
âAlways hard to tell in this type of lighting.â
The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, âI can promise you Iâm handsome.â
âWeâll see.â
âIâm Matt,â he says, extending his hand.
You respond with your name and grasp his hand. Youâre expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.
âPleasure to meet you.â
Damn this man is smooth.
âReally, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,â you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.
âCan I get you a drink?â
âYeah, sure. Surprise me though.â
Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. Heâs perfect.
But not as per-
Nope.
No, you donât have time to think about him.
Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, âwhat is it?â
âJust drink,â he nods, âpromise itâs good.â
You take a small sip and itâs sweet. Itâs yummy, and you take another, larger sip.
âOh shit, this is good.â
âTold you.â
âCan I know what it is now?â
âNo way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.â
You chuckle and look down, âokay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.â
âI can do a lot more than that,â he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.
You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, âoh really?â
Matt leans in towards you too, âyeah, like-â
Just as youâre about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.
âHey, get your hands off her!â
You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. Youâre also curious to know whoâs the one getting yelled at.
Your stomach drops when you realize that youâre the target. And the yeller?
Tangerine.
âOh my fucking God,â you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.
Tangerine comes stalking towards you.
âUh, who the fuck is that?â Matt asks warily.
âMy exâŠ.fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I donât know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- thatâs what he is.â
âWhat the fuck are you doing, mate?â Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell heâs really, really drunk.
âI could ask you the same thing,â Matt says gruffly.
âIâm not the one getting handsy with someone elseâs girl,â the brunette snarls.
You scoff loudly, âYour girl? Thatâs rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.â
Tangerineâs expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.
âLook, mate, youïżœïżœïżœre drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,â Matt threatens.
Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, âyou little fucking,â
âOkay,â you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, âthatâs enough.â
âTangerine, go. home,â you growl.
âYeah fucking right I-â
âJust let me take him,â Matt interrupts.
You scan his tense body, âLook, I appreciate it, but youâre not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I donât want anything to happen to your pretty face. Iâll take care of him.â
âBut heâs definitely stronger than you,â Matt protests.
You side eye Tangerine, âhe wonât hurt me.â
The blondeâs eyes narrow.
âPhysically, at least.â
Matt finally sighs and steps back, âIâll be waiting here for you.â
You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, âLetâs. Go.â
Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.
When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, âWhat the fuck was that, Tangerine?â
âI was trying to protect you from that git,â he slurs.
âTangerine, youâre the git. Youâre the one that hurt me. Itâs you I need protection from.â
Tangerineâs tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.
You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.
âIâm calling Lemon.â
With shaky hands you dial his number.
He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, âuh, hello?â
âLemon, come get your fucking brother.â
*****
Although Matt was everything you couldâve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and youâd exchanged numbers to meet up another day.
When youâd gotten home from the bar, youâd broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. Youâd sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and youâd ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.
Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.
The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.
You yank the door open, âwhat the fuck do you want?â
The last person you expect to see is on the other side.
Tangerine.
âFuck off,â you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.
Except the door doesnât close because Tangerineâs foot catches it.
âFuck me,â he groans in pain.
The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, âthatâs what you get for being in places you donât belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.â
âWait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.â
You donât reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.
Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.
The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.
Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.
âI forgot about this picture,â he rasps.
âWell you can fucking have it. I donât want it anymore.â
âCan I- can I sit?â
You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You donât respond, only nodding.
Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache arenât groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe itâs bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.
âYou look fucking awful,â you remark, venom heavy in your tone.
âAnd ya look like youâve been crying.â
âWell no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. â
He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, âI know. Iâve uh, thatâs why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.â
You scoff and look at him with disbelief, âokay now you want to apologize? Only when youâve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?â
âLove, no I, Iâve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-â
âDonât call me that,â you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.
âIâm not your love, Iâm not your friend, Iâm not your anything anymore. Weâre done Tangerine, this is over.â
Itâs then that the boy youâve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.
He grovels.
He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
âJust listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. Iâm sorry I called ya a slut. Iâm sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. Iâm sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. Iâm sorry for being a terrible friend and Iâm sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.â
Tears shine in Tangerineâs blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, âChrist, I love ya so fucking much. And I know Iâve gone and fucked things up now, and that itâs too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that itâs my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I donât know what I wouldâve done if I couldnât tell ya at least once.â
Tangerineâs forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.
He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. âYouâre the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isnât me.â
Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.
You reach out and cup Tangerineâs jaw so gently itâs as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.
âTangerine,â you whisper.
You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that heâs going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.
The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you donât care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.
#tangerine x reader#tangerine angst#tangerine and lemon#tangerine fic#tangerine fanfiction#lemon and tangerine#tangerine bullet train#tangerine blurb#tangerine fluff#tangerine#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine x y/n#tangerine x you#tangerine bullet train x you#tangerine bullet train x reader#tangerine bullet train x y/n#bullet train x reader#bullet train tangerine#bullet train movie#bullet train fanfic#bullet train fanfiction#bullet train tangerine fic#tangerine hurt/comfort#aaron taylor johnson#atj#bullet train#bullet train lemon#tangerine one shot#bullet train tangerine one shot
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I Heart You
Sylus x gn!Reader
I was struggling so hard against the abyss that is writer's block yesterday and then this suddenly came out of me
Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, children, parenthood, silly, kissing, references to Sylus's Mountain Journey and myth
Word Count: 1,152
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Something touches Sylus's face, undeniably the felt tip of a marker. It tickles his cheek. Stifled giggles tell him exactly who is behind it.
The marker clicks shut and he strikes, grabbing the culprit and hugging them close to his chest while they squeal with surprise. "What mischief have you gotten into now?" he asks, leveling a narrowed stare at his daughter.
She laughs freely now, with a smile so bright it lights up the entire N109 Zone. "None!"
"Oh, really? Then what's that in your hand?"
"Nothing!" she giggles out. She tries to throw the marker away, but his Evol catches it midair and brings it right back to him. "That's cheating!"
He chuckles. "You're sneaking around to attack a poor, defenseless man while he sleeps, but I'm cheating when I catch you red-handed?" He pokes the capped end of the marker to her cheek. "What did you draw on my face?"
She sits up, slipping down to sit in his lap. Maybe it's his fault for thinking it was safe to drift off in the living room chair, open and exposed for his devilish child to have free rein in messing with him. Tiny hands reach up to hold his face.
"You have to guess!"
"Do I? Well..." He pretends to think about it for a moment. Truth be told, he recognized the shape immediately, from a time years before his baby dragon was born. A time before she was even a concept. "Is it Mephisto?"
She giggles again and shakes her head.
"No? How about... a self-portrait?"
"What's that?"
"A drawing of you."
She shakes her head. "Uh-uh, not me."
"Is it a drawing of me, then?"
"Nope!"
He sighs, as though this game is simply far too difficult for him. "I need a hint. Can you trace it for me?"
Sylus gets almost giddy at the feeling of her little finger as it follows the drawn shape on his cheek. It's overwhelming, sometimes, the love he has for his little girl. An ache forms in his chest every time he remembers he gets to watch her grow up. He has to swallow it down even now to focus solely on their little game.
"I know what it is," he says once she's traced it twice. He smiles. "It's a heart."
Her eyes light up as she nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! Missus Staf- Stef-"
"Stefano."
"Stef-ano said that it means 'love' and that we should give the people we love a heart to show we love them!" She pokes his cheek, right in the center of the heart. "Cuz I love you!"
Sylus chuckles softly, heart overflowing. He hugs her to him again and kisses her chubby little cheek. "I love you too, sweetie. Do you want me to give you a heart?"
She looks up at him like the thought never occurred to her that she could get a heart in return. She nods. "Yeah!"
"Okay, but we shouldn't draw on people's faces. Give me your hand."
He uncaps the marker with one hand. With his other, her little hand rests in his palm, dwarfed by the sheer size of it. In two quick lines, a heart is drawn on the back of her hand. She turns her hand every which way to see it. She looks at it like it's worth a billion dollars.
The door to the room clicks open. "Sweetie, I told you to leave daddy alone while he's napping."
She doesn't process that she's being scolded at all as she climbs out of his lap and runs to the door where you stand, hand outstretched. "Look, look! Daddy gave me a heart! Cuz Missus Stef-an- Stef-"
"Stefano," you supply.
"Cuz Missus Stef-an-o said to give a heart to the people we love!"
You smile. "That's very sweet, baby! It's beautiful."
"I had to return the favor," Sylus says, showing you her own crudely drawn heart on his cheek. There's a knowing gleam in his eye. "You need one, too, beloved."
Your daughter is immediately taken with the idea. She grabs your hand and bounces on her feet as she drags you over. "Yeah, yeah! We should all have one!"
You sit on one of Sylus's legs as she crawls up into the other. He passes the marker back to her. "Not on the face," he gently reminds her.
"Right!" She grabs your hand to hold it in place (rather clumsily) so she can draw the heart. She tries to be more careful with it this time, to make it extra pretty. The lines end up wobbly and the heart is larger on one side than the other, but she beams at her masterpiece when she's finished. "Now we all have hearts!"
"Did you give uncle Luke and uncle Kieran hearts, too?" Sylus asks.
She gasps. "Oh no! They need hearts!" She scrambles off his leg, nearly falling to the floor in her haste. In no time at all, she's out the door and on a mission.
In the quiet left in her wake, Sylus picks up your hand and interlaces your fingers. He places little kisses to your knuckles. You readjust in his lap to rest your head on his shoulder, taking in the rare peaceful moment.
"Too bad she took the marker with her." You poke his bare cheek with your free hand. "I could've given you a heart from me."
He looks down at you with a smile. "It's still there, from our little roadtrip."
"I'm surprised you remember that."
"Of course I remember it," he scoffs. "We still need to go back there, after all."
You smile wistfully. "The tree..."
He nods with a hum, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "It's almost been a decade. We can bring her along, tell her the story about it."
Memories flood through you. Back then, you were both holding back, truth be told. Real affection hidden under teasing and banter. It was safer to hide under that layer of protection. You're glad you don't have to hide anymore.
You trace your fingers along his jaw to guide his mouth to yours. A kiss so sweet and simple, soft and slow. He lets out a noise of contentment against your lips. When he pulls away, he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning triumphantly when you giggle at the ticklish touch.
"You can get back to your nap now," you tell him, voice just a whisper.
He shakes his head before you can get off him. "It's almost dinnertime. I'll help you cook." His arms wrap around your back and under your knees, lifting you effortlessly as he stands and carries you out of the lounge.
You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek once more. "I heart you, Sy," you say teasingly.
He chuckles and rubs his cheek against your head until your laugh fills the air. "I heart you, too, sweetie."
---
Tag List:
@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry
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Soap, Suds and the Scouser
John Price x MacTavish! reader
Summary: Due to shitty neglectful parents, Johnny's older sister had been forced to take him in and raise him as her own. As such, she's fiercely protective of him, not that he minds, at least not until she screams at his Captain.
Word count: 4.4k
Johnny doesnât remember much of his life before you. All he remembers is feeling cold, and not understanding love until you swept into his life. From the moment you had swept into his life the dull greys had morphed into an array of colours, his unrelenting loneliness and misery chased away by the light of your affection.Â
He doesnât have a ma and pa like most other kids, and sometimes they tease him for it but he doesnât mind, because heâs got something better. His big sister is the coolest person in the whole world! You tuck him into bed and read him bedtime stories every night. If heâs been really good he even gets to visit the base where you work sometimes. (He doesnât understand until heâs older why you suddenly retire from the coolest job ever.)
You never yelled at him and even seemed to get upset when he wouldnât let you know he was hungry. He cried when you scolded him for that, begged you not to send him back to the house with the angry people who sometimes forgot to feed him. Heâd been surprised when instead of getting mad at him youâd started to cry, squeezing him tightly against your chest until he wriggled to be let go.Â
You hugged him much more after that, pulling him close whenever he was within reach and planting raspberries on his tummy while he shrieked in laughter. You keep it up even as he gets older and tries to escape from the kisses youâd pepper his face with. Â
He was fourteen the first time he snapped at you for it and the way your face had fallen would forever be burned into his brain. You pull away a little after that and Johnny feels sick with guilt, he hugs you a lot more after that.
Later in his life when asked why heâd joined the military heâd answer without hesitation, that he wanted to be like his idol. He wanted to be like you, wanted to make you proud. In a way, he wants to live up to your legacy. As a child, he hadnât realised just how much of your life and career youâd had to give up to take care of him.Â
(Youâd been on track for a promotion to lieutenant, and likely would have made captain in record time too.)
As you started to near 40 Johnny was determined to step up and take care of you for once. He makes it through selection easily, but to his surprise, youâd blown up at him. He canât remember an instance where youâd been so furious at him, not even when heâd crashed his principal's car on a dare.Â
Itâs the first time in his life you end up not being on speaking terms and he doesnât know what to do. He canât exactly leave the army, wouldnât even if he could because finally, it feels like he has a purpose. The men in his unit instantly pick up on his sudden 180 in personality but any inquiries are instantly shut down with a glare.Â
Itâs the worst few months of his life, but he wonât apologise. Heâs not a child anymore and he needs you to see that. He almost breaks when itâs time for his first deployment and you still arenât on speaking terms, heâs been sleeping like shit and he misses you like a phantom limb.Â
He ends up not needing to when you show up on base, with red-rimmed eyes and hollowed cheeks. Johnny crosses the distance and lets you pull him into a crushing hug, not paying any mind towards the odd stares they receive.Â
âIâm sorry. Please be safe,â you whisper into the fabric of his uniform and Johnny doesnât need you to elaborate. He doesnât respond verbally, because thereâs nothing else to be said, and simply squeezes you tighter against him for what will be the last time for a while.Â
Itâs hard to be away from you for so long, heâs never done it before and heâs teased relentlessly for how often he calls you. Johnny just laughs in their faces when they pout and complain when he gets your care packages, he has many emotions about your bond but shame is not one of them.Â
When the plane lands on his home turf and the dust settles Johnny canât wait to collapse into one of your hugs and he can practically taste your cooking and he wants to cry when he remembers heâll have to wait another day. Only, when his boots hit the tarmac he only has to take a few steps before he sees you waiting for him, beaming grin as you open your arms. Dropping his bag, he closes the distance in a flash and heâs not ashamed when he pulls away and notices the wet spot heâs left on your shoulder. The next thing he notices is the uniform, his eyes widening and you laugh.Â
âNow that I donât have to look after a brat anymore I figured it was high time I became active duty again.â He canât seem to reign in his shock, gawping like a fish and you frown in faux anger, âWhat? Think Iâm too old to do the job? I could still put you in the ground Johnny.â The look in your eyes promises retribution if he doesnât agree so he simply nods rapidly.Â
Heâs twenty-two when he gains the moniker Soap, you laugh when he tells you and his smile drops when you wonât explain whatâs so amusing. (No matter how much he asks around the base all he gets is amused laughter.)
Itâs not until heâs twenty-three, riding the high of being selected for an elite task force and returning home after the shit show that was Verdansk that Soap starts to learn more about the imposing history of his sister.Â
He doesnât even make it to the debriefing room, still covered in grime when he spots you stalking towards him with concerning vigour, thunder on your face that usually indicated an impending ass-whooping.Â
Preemptively Johnny backs up, mouth opening to apologise for whatever heâs done, only to freeze as you march straight past him and round on his captain. âYou John Price?â Soap recognises the tone and decides itâs in his best interests to stay still and silent, Gaz is openly gawking though the mask makes it impossible to gauge Ghostâs reaction.Â
His captain, in a terrifying show of no self-preservation skills, nods in a âwho wants to knowâ sort of manner, brow raised and arms crossed.Â
âI dinnae ken who the fuck ye think ye are - â Oh dear. Instantly Soapâs mind blue-screened, white noise ringing in his ears. Your accent only ever got that heavy when you were truly angry, when he zoned back in you were still yelling, arms flailing to enunciate your point that had very likely become very lost in translation to his starstruck teammates. â - Irresponsible!âÂ
Your chest was heaving by the time youâd finished, perfect hair even a little dishevelled. âLaswellâ you nodded your head in respect towards the woman, before smiling softly when you turned to Soap.Â
âJohnny, bring your teammates over for dinner when youâre free.â Itâs said kindly enough but Soap knows itâs not a suggestion. You pat him lovingly on the cheek before disappearing back down the hallway.Â
When the shock fades and movement becomes a possible thing again, it takes some extra cajoling to get their captainâs attention and Soap is mortified that whatever his sister said, it had so profoundly shaken the unflappable man.Â
Unable to hold anyoneâs gaze, Soap marches forward, resolutely staring blankly at the floor. If heâd taken more than a few seconds to gauge his Captainâs reaction, it would have been abundantly clear his frozen state wasnât one of perceived terror but arousal.Â
From the moment John Price bore witness to the fuming Scotswoman stalking towards him with the grace of an apex predator he knew he was fucked. You were an absolute vision, truth be told he barely registered the venomous words you were screaming at him, in front of his men no less.Â
His dazed eyes flickering from your perfect pretty lips down to your tits, hips, thighs and back up. His brain was empty of all thoughts except for the stunning goddess and how youâd look sitting astride his lap, squeezing his cock as he mouthed at your -
He clears his suddenly dry throat, dilated pupils darting back up to flicker over your face once more as he desperately attempts to reel his focus back towards what youâre saying, to anything thatâs not the aching erection begging to be freed from the confines of his tactical pants.Â
Shifting his weight uncomfortably he watches as you pat Soap on the cheek lovingly, forlornly wishing that was him instead. Watching your ass sway with your departure, holding back the groan building in his throat.Â
Vaguely Price was aware of the wide-eyed looks exchanged behind his back as he stomped towards his quarters, little mind was paid towards them however. His focus solely on reaching the privacy he needed, slamming the door shut with far more force than necessary as his other hand fumbled for his belt. He doesnât bother with his pants beyond freeing his flushed cock, leaning back against the door with eyes closed to help better produce an image of your likeness in his mind to match the voice that still rang in his ears.Â
Although you werenât in any capacity attached to the 141, couldn't be due to your conflict of interest, you still shared a base. It was large enough that logistically you should have been able to work without ever seeing any of the 141. Key words being should have, because all of a sudden John Price seemed to be everywhere you turned.Â
At first youâd simply assumed he was just another man in power, irritated that youâd so thoroughly dressed him down in front of his men but John Price quickly proves you wrong. He brings you tea, hustles to hold doors open and more than once youâd walked into your office to find flowers. You want to think heâs just trying to get into your good graces, trying to smooth things over with one of his teammates siblings, the denial doesnât last long.Â
You try not to be so taken by his blatant courting attempts even if you are a little confused. Nobody has ever given you this much blatant effort and it makes you feel like a little girl with her first crush instead of the grown woman you are.Â
Itâs embarrassing, but itâs the most romantic, the most tender that youâve been treated pretty much since you first took in Johnny. Youâd given up on several potential relationships before they could even start over the years, not willing to let him suffer from any potential breakups.Â
Still, when you arrive to your office at 4am to find a bouquet of sunflowers you canât help the way your heart hammers relentlessly against your ribcage as if trying to escape, to jump out straight into the arms of John Price.Â
To Soapâs surprise, itâs his Captain who clears their schedule, getting on his sergeantâs case about the promised dinner heâd nearly forgotten about himself. When Johnny walks apprehensively through the front door of your home the anger is apparently gone and you greet them all eagerly, planting a kiss on his cheek as you ushered them all inside and towards the table.Â
âSmells heavenly, thanks for having us lassâ Price smiles charmingly, moving into the kitchen and swatting your hands away as he finishes setting the table and commanding the boys to help him, insisting that you sit and rest.Â
Soap, who is still somehow unaware of his captainâs affections, feels like heâs entered a new dimension for a few seconds. The perceived tension heâd expected nowhere to be found, though he quickly decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, simply happy that everyone was getting along.Â
(Heâll look back on this moment down the line and wonder how he was so blind.)
The food is great and youâve even bought Soapâs favourite beer, something you donât drink and Johnny lets himself relax as he witnesses you joke around with the team and even start to mother Gaz and Ghost.
âHow is it you know Laswell?â Price asked, seemingly hanging on your every word as he sat down next to you on the couch. Soap paused his conversation with Gaz to listen in as all ears and eyes were suddenly on you, youâd always been notoriously quiet about anything to do with your career.Â
âClassifiedâ you smirked, laughing as Johnny groaned dramatically and slumped back down in his seat. âI will say we were both very young,â you look into the bottom of your glass with a nostalgic gaze, but thereâs something on your face that looks far too close to the time heâd walked in on you-Â
âOh my god! You fucked Laswell!â He shrieked and Soap thought he could be forgiven for the girlish raise in pitch. Price choked on his bear, froth spilling from his nose as you reached for a washcloth to pat his shirt dry, the man having to bite back the groan at the feel of your hands against his chest.Â
You donât give a verbal response but you do turn back to Johnny with a mischievous grin whilst wiggling your eyebrows. When the situation calms a little you surprise him by volunteering even more information, âshe was the one that started calling me Suds.â
There were a few seconds of silence as the information was processed before Kyle started to laugh, and Johnny frowned a little, âwaitâŠâ he trailed off, shooting you a somewhat betrayed look as you started to laugh too.Â
âWhat was it you told me? They call you Soap cause you clean house? Na little brother, youâre named after me.â Johnnyâs face was hysterical as he pouted, his teammates teasing him as laughter filled the house.Â
At some point, youâd meandered outside as the boys had started to roughhouse after a game of cards had devolved into a lighthearted screaming match. You sat on the porch with closed eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the feel of the cool night air on your skin.Â
A creak behind you alerts you to the presence of another, the wind carries the scent of scotch and cigars and you open one eye to watch as Price sits next to you. âNeeded a break from the peanut gallery?â your brows raise in amusement as he huffs at your words, reaching for a smoke and placing the end in his mouth, hands patting down his pockets for a light when you gave silent confirmation that his actions were ok.Â
You giggled a little as his frustration grew, reaching over with your own lighter, holding the flame out for him. âCheers love,â his gravelly voice sent a shiver down your spine. His breath hitting the back of your hand and you watched slightly mesmerised as he inhaled the smoke. The conversation dwindled and you sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the company as your arm lightly brushed his jacket-clad one.Â
Silently Price handed you the cigarette, and though you didnât usually smoke you found yourself accepting, acutely aware of his deep blue eyes boring into the side of your face as your lips clasped around the filter.    Â
âSorry for going off at ye earlierâ you apologised, suddenly realising that youâd failed to do so. Continuing to stare straight ahead as you passed the smoke back his way, knuckles brushing against his slowly.Â
âSâalright lass, youâre just looking out for whatâs yours, itâs admirable really. Sexy tooâ he growled, voice a whisper on the wind. Youâre not sure if the shiver that runs through your body is from his words or the cool night air. Regardless, you lean just a little bit closer into the captainâs warmth, a contented hum escaping your lips when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side.Â
Youâre not ashamed to admit that over the past few weeks youâd been oogling the Captain, it was hard not to when the man flaunted his body so shamelessly in front of you. Looking, it quickly became apparent, was hardly comparable to touching and its impossible to ignore the way your body sings in delight at the feel of him against you.Â
Up close you can better detect the hints of his cologne, spicy wooden undertones accentuated by the faint whiskey you can smell on his breath as it caresses your forehead. From any other man the scent of cigars and alcohol paired with the scratch of a beard aginst your ear as he leaned his head against yours would have been a turn off, but it was so quintessentially him, so John Price that you couldnât help but love it.Â
Itâs the rusty squeak of the screen door, alerting you to the presence of another, that forces the two of you to part. Ghost, no, Simon, stands silently at the threshold, watching the scene before him with appraising eyes.Â
âJohnnyâs looking for you.â His words cause you to sigh, throwing an apologetic glance Priceâs way before you all head back inside, brown and blue eyes boring into the back of your head.Â
Your little brother ends up simply wanting to whine to you about how Kyle has to be cheating, itâs the only possible way the man could have won so consecutively. You want to throttle him for that, for so thoroughly cockblocking you, instead you settle for scuffing him over the back of the head and forcing him to help you with the dishes.Â
You work together in practiced tandem, cooperating with silent ease the result of years attending to each others needs. Itâs the first instance during the night that the two of you have a moment alone together and you allow yourself to enjoy the peace and monotony of the task, silence accompanied by the soft spray of water.Â
âBeen meaning to ask, whatâs it that got you so barmy with the captain.â His words are lighthearted, teasing, though you canât help the way your hands still suddenly as you were reminded of that day. You pull yourself together as quickly as possible but Johnny has already undoubtedly picked up on your sudden change in behaviour, the clinking of the ceramic plates in the sink alerting him to the fact your hands were shaking. Although Johnnyâs not sure exactly whatâs upset you, heâs aware that he has and quickly tries to backtrack but you cut him off,Â
âHe put my baby brother in what was very avoidable dangerâ you whispered, eyes never leaving the now sparkling clean plate youâd been scrubbing for the past fourty seconds. Johnny doesnât answer the shaky confession, but he does bump his shoulder against yours, lightly pushing you out of the way and completely taking over the task.Â
Ever since the dinner at your house, something had shifted between you and Price. It was un unspoken tension, crackling through the air every time you so much as laid eyes upon one another, but one you both felt.Â
Lingering gazes turned to light touches, fingers brushing against yours, large hands cupping your hips as he passed behind you and the like. It was driving you insane, every night youâd return to the sanctuary of your bed, fingers exploring the expanse of your body as you imagined it was Price touching you instead.Â
The two of you were a powder keg waiting to explode, waiting for the single spark that would light the whole thing. It was an inevitable reality, and one you both knew was coming. Youâre not sure who snaps first, what exactly lights the powder, though you find you care very little in the face of his lips against yours.Â
You push him against the door of your bedroom, hands tugging at the roots of his hair as he lets out a sinful groan, only for you to swallow it with another open mouthed kiss. With one of your thighs between his legs and pushing against his thick erection, you grind frantically against his own muscled thigh.Â
The drag of youâre already soaked cunt slowly drenches his pants as well, youâre so focused on planting kisses and bites down the skin of his neck and chest as you rip his top off that you barely notice the way his dilated gaze watches your every move.Â
âFuckin hell darlin, thatâs it, take what you need baby.â He sounded wrecked, his words of encouragement causing your rhythm to falter as your hands continued to paw at his chest needily. As much as Price wanted to continue watching you use him to chase youâre own pleasure it would have to wait another time, at this moment he needed you now.Â
A squeal leaves your lips as your back is suddenly on the mattress and Price tugs your pants and underwear down to your ankles in one aggressive move, his hands keeping your thighs spread as he stared intently at his prize.Â
The groan that leaves his throat at the sight is guttural, the praise he mutters is nearly indistinguishable over the blood pounding in your ears as his tongue swipes over your swollen clit. John Price eats like a man starved, lavishing your thighs in bitemarks when his fingers replace his tongue. He makes you cum like that twice, your juices coating his beard and neck while you tug harshly on his hair.Â
âPrice please, sâtoo much, need you nowâ you sobbed, pulling him up into another bruising kiss and wrapping your shaky thighs around his waist to try and coax him to where you wanted him most. Any other day heâd probably tease you for being so needy but Price was just as aching with need as you, cock flushed and dripping as he lined himself up with your fluttering hole.Â
âI know darlinââ he cooed, dipping his mouth down to place reassuring kisses over your chest as you finally stripped your top half bare. His left hand cups one of your tits, forhead resting against yours as he slid into you with one smooth thrust. The pace he sets is relentless, youâve both been waiting for this moment for weeks. Thereâd be a time for tenderness later, but right now it was sheer animalistic need fuelling your movements. Your nails rake down his spine as he grunts, whines reaching a crescendo that lets him know youâre quickly approaching your climax once more.Â
His own rhythm starts to falter, the sensation of your warm walls squeezing him so tightly nearly too much for him to bare. He refuses to cum first however, thumb swiping over your clit as he grumbles against your collarbone, âcome on love, nearly there, be a good girl and cum for me yeah?âÂ
You are so worked up, so desperate to please the man bringing you such pleasure that you obey with a high pitched keen, thighs clamping his waist in a vice as your walls milk his cock. Price swears at the sensation, unable to pull out from how harshly youââve locked your ankles over his back and is filling your womb with thick ropes of cum before he can stop himself.Â
Shaky arms unable to hold his weight up anymore collapse, though you donât seem to mind, snuggling up to him and wrapping your arms around his houlders to keep him in place. He falls asleep tangled in your arms, face nuzzled into your neck as your fingers play gently with his hair.Â
When Price wakes the next morning to an empty bed and cooling mattress he frowns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and lumbering out of your bedroom, still naked from the night before. He quickly finds you in the kitchen, standing at the counter wearing only panties with his shirt.Â
Immediately the sight stirs something primal in him, chest rumbling with pleasure as he plasters himself to your back. You hum happily, turning your face so he can plant a gentle kiss on your lips. âMorning darlin.â His voice is still hoarse with sleep and you feel the way it rumbles through his bear chest against your back.Â
âMorningâ you let out a moan as he pressed his hard cock against you. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as one of his hands dips below the hem of your underwear, both of you sighing happily as his calloused fingers make contact with your still tender pussy.Â
Any reprimands are banished from your brain at his touch, your worries evaporating into nothingness as the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit. Just as youâre about to cum thereâs a screech from behind of âMy eyes!â And you whirl around just in time to witness your little brother run face first into the wall behind him in his haste to escape.Â
Johnny hits the floor with a heavy thud, hands still covering his face as he continues to scream about the atrocity heâs just witnessed. You think he might even be crying, whether from the pain or the visage of his captainâs bare arse you arenât sure.Â
You should be beyond mortified, and a large part of you is. Still, you canât help the belly laugh that escapes you as your brain finally catches onto whatâs just happened. Your legs collapse from under you as your own tears of laughter stream down your cheeks. Johnnyâs also crying and writhing on the floor whilst Price looks to be contemplating murdering the both of you.Â
Still giggling you manage to stand once more, pulling the captain down into another sweet kiss before spinning him around and ordering him to get dressed. You do give him a smack on the ass before he leaves though and the sound sets Soap off into a new cursing fit, one hand shaking an aggressive fist towards where he thinks his captain is while he keeps his eyes covered.Â
While youâd have liked to have kept whatever it was you had with the Captain a secret for a little longer, liked to have kept him selfishly to yourself, you had to admit that scarring your little brother so badly was worth it. Though given the stink eye he relentlessly stared at Price with youâd probably have to give him a little more time to adjust. Even if unbeknownst to you, the wedding had already been planned out in the Englishmanâs mind.
Tags: @innercollectivecomputer @cooliofango @pertinentpostmortem @ghostslillady @domaniquessidehoe2 @ilovehyperfixating @pauphs @Skotchi @juvenillia
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Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade
Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho
A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.
Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.
You werenât going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldnât hold back.
Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you âaccidentlyâ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest.Â
âPerhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain⊠interventions mightâve not had to happen. Donât you think?â When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldnât help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that heâd ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.
A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.
Ever since that day, youâd been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as heâd have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, youâd come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe.Â
Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you.Â
You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphneâs rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, âMy apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.â Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldnât done to make you so icy towards him.
âI do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?â
âPerhaps she just doesnât like you brother have you ever thought of that?â Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment.Â
âThat is not possible, Iâve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.âÂ
âAnthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?âÂ
âI resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.â
âYou want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how youâll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.â
âThat is horrible advice, Ben.â
âWhen then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?âÂ
âI hate it when youâre right.â
âI know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.â Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room
Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didnât know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space youâre in.
He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that.Â
Itâs during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You donât stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasnât always aimed at him.
âLady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?â He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.
âActually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannieâs debut next season.â
This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His siblingâs entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife.Â
âThat was very kind of you to help her with.â
âWell, she doesnât have anyone else to help her.â Your words cut him down, not for the first time.Â
âLady L/N may I be frank?â
âIt is your home, you may do as you please.â You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference.Â
âWhat have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?âÂ
âI had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.â
âAbout what?âÂ
âOur first meeting My Lord.âÂ
âI remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylorâs vest.â He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.
âThat was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.â She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulderâs belayed her desire to flee.
Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He wouldâve remembered her, wouldâve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise.Â
âI- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I wouldâve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.â
Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, âIt was my first season out, Lady Danburyâs ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasnât asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.â
âYou must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.â If Anthony was a weaker man he wouldâve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his familyâs home.
âI appreciate your words Anthony, but thatâs all they are⊠words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.â You donât wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.
Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.
Part 2
#anthony bridgerton x plus size reader#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#x reader#fanfic#bridgerton fanfiction#plus size reader#plus size!reader#drabble#requests open#requests wanted#bridgerton
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THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK
SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.
WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.
AUTHORS NOTE ; there is now a taglist! to be added simply let me know down in the comments. enjoy part two!
part one.
as much as youâd grown fond of sarah in the couple of hours since your arrival, her friends made your skin crawl. topper, her boyfriend, with his dumb face and holier-than-thou attitude. you didnât see what sarah could possibly find appealing, but it wasnât your place to meddle.
for the duration of getting ready, all sarah did was talk about jj. more specifically, you and jj. she even offered to set you two up, but with sarahs standing with the pouges, it didnât take a genius to figure out it's better to go solo.
sarahs cropped, off the shoulder sweater does little to shield you from the cool breeze sweeping across the beach. even stuffing your hands into the pockets of your shorts did very little.
youâd seen on tiktok, the most reliable source of information, that alcohol warmed people up which is why you were already on the fourth drink of the night.
nothing to do with finding the courage to talk to john b, that would be ridiculous.
you and sarah were sat on the opposite side of the beach to the pouges, the wooden log hurting your butt as it was used as a makeshift seat. through the flames of the bonfire you watch the pouges, laughing and drinking.
youâre looking at john b and canât help spotting the similarities between you two, even down to small mannerisms you shared. you wondered if he had any idea about you, if your father had ever told him about you.
taking another swig, your gaze falls onto another pouge of interest. youâre surprised to see heâs already looking at you, nodding his head to gesture you over.
you smile, a genuine, excited smile. itâs too early for schoolgirl crushes, yet you canât help it. the alcohol in your system doesnât help it either.
you mumble a quick 'be right back' to sarah, sitting beside you engrossed in deep conversation with an unknown girl about selling sunsets' newest season. she glances at you over her shoulder, giving you a quick nod of acknowledgment and reminding you to be safe.
you head over to the pouges, a light jog across the beach brings you there faster but not fast enough. the reckless, and tipsy, part of your brain wants to get your intentions out in the open. you want to pull john b to the side and pour your drunken little heart out, and if it ended badly you could blame the alcohol.
but then you imagined yourself in his position, how you would feel if john b randomly showed up and dropped a bomb into your life unprovoked.
he looked so happy, like he was having the time of his life, and you couldn't bring yourself to ruin that. the least you could do was spare him the honour of hearing it from you when you were sober, without an audience.
"there she is," jj grins, not exactly slurring his words but you could tell he was buzzed at the very least "turn around, wanna get a good look at you."
with a playful eye roll, you give in to his request, twirling in a circle and laughing at the wolf whistle he lets out in response.
you're more than compliant when he reaches a hand towards you and pulls you closer, the same hand gripping your waist as he held you against his side.
admittedly, you're surprised when he doesn't make a move the second you're close enough. instead he holds on to you as he continues his conversation with pope, almost protectively, possessively.
"kie, back me up here," jj pleads, free hand being thrown up in the air in protest. the same girl from earlier, which you now know to be kie, throws her hands up in surrender.
"not my beef, i'm the neutral party in this war"
you can't help but laugh at the swiftness of her shutdown, your head resting comfortably against jj's shoulder as his thumb grazed back and forth against the skin beneath your sweater.
now, pope and kie are bickering back and forth, john b is flirting with what was commonly referred to as a 'touron' which leaves you and jj in your own little bubble, content and comfortable.
"so, what do you think of paradise so far?" jj asks, voice soft and a sarcastic emphasis on paradise "not too bad, huh?"
"it's growing on me," you grin, putting the sudden butterflies in your stomach down to having too much to drink "i've lived in worse places."
an eyebrow quirks, curiosity evident on jjs face, you can tell he wants to ask more, but for someone so forward he seems to be reluctant.
"don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to sticking in one place," you admit, as truthful as you can be without saying too much "kinda just bounce around."
"sounds expensive, you sure you ain't a kook?" jj teases, head tilted downward to bring you two face to face "'cause, i'm down with the whole being a sugar baby thing."
you laugh, loudly, head flung back, hair being blown in the wind as jj retains his grip on you, awestruck as he took you in for as long as he could. he wished he could freeze this moment and live in it forever, which made him want to squirm because he had just met you that day.
your bubble of euphoria is quickly burst, the beach erupting in roars as people grouped around the shore. a fight.
you roll your eyes, annoyed beyond explanation. you scan the crowd, trying to pick out any faces you could even somewhat recognise in an attempt to work out who was at the root of the fight.
much like this morning, you see that recognisable flash of blonde pushing through the crowds. your posture straightens, a weird feeling of protectiveness taking hold as her screams of toppers name rise above the chants of 'fight'.
you really did not like topper, so you weren't pushing through people for him, but for sarah.
"top! you're gonna kill him!"
and she wasn't wrong, as you drew closer to the scene you had a plain view of the scene that had the partygoers enthralled. topper holding someone under the water, obviously wanting whoever was under to not come back up.
it's only when you catch sight of who topper is trying to kill does your feet speed up, carrying you faster and faster towards the water. your brain struggling to come up with a plan as fast as you're moving.
you don't know how it happens, but you're on toppers back, your arm wrapped so tightly around his neck that you're starting to lose feeling. in some sort of femme fetal action movie, you would've taken him down.
but it wasn't a movie.
as if it was nothing, topper reaches behind himself and pulls you off him, ripping you straight into the ice-cold water.
"fuckin' pouge" he spits, hands wrapping around your throat as he forces you underwater this time. you claw and kick and squirm, but he's stronger. what feels like hours is only seconds, when you break the surface your hands are bloody and there's a gash across toppers face.
your reprieve is short-lived, only having come up in the first place because topper had recoiled in pain. you were far from a quitter, but this was a fight you knew you weren't coming out of. so when the water covered your face once more, you let it.
it was scarily peaceful, people's screams and shouts practically inaudible. falling asleep would be easy right about now, you could just drift off.
you would probably be better off.
your delusional tranquillity comes to an abrupt end when you, yet again, resurface. this time the party is well and truly over, people running in every direction.
you worried it was the cops, you really would have been better off if topper had finished the job if that was the case.
"hey, hey you good?" john b is holding your face as you cough up the water you inhaled. his voice is soft, gentle as he checks on you.
he was the big brother you grew up praying for, only he was none the wiser.
when you burst into tears it's put down to shock, and when you throw your arms around john b he doesn't question it, instead he helps you to your feet.
"come on kid, we got you."
when you wake you have no idea where you are, sun filters through flimsy curtains and you're dressed in clothes you definitely weren't wearing the night before.
before you have time to work yourself into a breakdown, a soft knock raps against the door. it opens before you can say a word.
john b gently closes the door behind him, sitting at the foot of the bed to give you as much space as possible "how are you feeling?"
"whose clothes are these?" you blurt out, desperately wanting to figure out how she got into this outfit and, more importantly, who put you into it.
as if he could read your mind, he explains "kie, kiara, had the supplies. got you changed out of your wet clothes, alone, scouts honour."
a sigh of relief bellows through your entire body, at least that was something.
"i gotta ask you something," john b starts, his tone shifting ever so slightly to one more serious "i went through everything in my head a dozen times but i can't work out why you did that?"
"did what?"
"saved my life." john b deadpans, looking you in the eye with an intensity that tells you you can't lie your way out of this one "you could have died."
without a word, you stand. you find your damp clothes tossed in a corner and pick them up. john b watches as you stuff your hands into your pockets, dread bubbling up as he tried to come up with what your reasoning could possibly be.
when you return, you sit beside him with your hands clasped around the cold metal you'd pulled from the pocket of your shorts.
"you have to hear me out." you being, hyperaware of how insane what you were about to tell him was "believe me, i know this is insane."
watching his reaction, you show him the compass your father had given you. up until recently, your mother had it tucked away safely in her room. you never met your father, you were told he died when you were a baby. but then you got a sweet sixteen card in the mail, and then there was no record of a deceased john routledge, and then, a week ago, his face is all over your television screen alongside a brother you never knew you had.
you pop the back off of the compass, revealing the hidden compartment not many people knew existed and taking a small, folded note from inside.
"hey, ducky. been a while since i wrote, you know what mom is like. listen, duck, we haven't been entirely honest with you, your mom and i. if you're okay with it, there's someone i'd like you to meet." you read out the note, voice shaky and hands trembling "he left an address at the bottom."
john b carefully takes the note from your hands, wiping away a stray tear thinking you hadn't seen it. he reads it, over and over "this is this address, my dads writing if he signed it dad that means.."
you nod, knowing whats racing through his head all too well "yeah" you sniffle, not exactly sure why you were crying.
"john b, you're my brother."
taglist!
@rainingcecilias
#jj maybank#maybanksmusings#jj maybank x reader#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank smut#jj obx#obx#outer banks#obx season 4#obx4#outer banks season 4#outerbanks#obx cast#rafe obx#criminal minds#john b routledge#john b obx#john b outer banks
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