#she shoved him over. should she just kill him and be done?
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nobody leaves rafe cameron
toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader
summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.
warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back
this takes place episodes 4x1-3
tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk
he was so fucking mean.
all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.
the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.
key word: wanted.
Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.
it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.
“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.
“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.
the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.
“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.
you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.
“there you go,” he coos.
“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.
➽───────────────────❥
the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…
until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.
you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.
the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.
“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.
“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.
he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.
“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.
“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.
“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.
“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.
“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.
“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.
yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.
but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.
you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.
he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.
you just shrugged him off, storming away.
“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.
➽───────────────────❥
he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.
but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.
“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.
unfortunately, Rafe overheard.
“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.
“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.
“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.
“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.
“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.
“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.
you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.
➽───────────────────❥
yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.
but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.
you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.
“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.
it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.
“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.
“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.
a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.
“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.
“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.
that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.
because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.
you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.
you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.
“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.
“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.
“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.
Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”
“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.
he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.
“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“
“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.
“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.
“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”
“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.
“yes, we are,” you spit.
Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.
“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.
you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”
“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.
“stop, Rafe-“
“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.
“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.
chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.
“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.
“y-yes,” you whimper.
“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.
all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.
“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”
he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.
“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.
you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.
Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.
“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.
he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.
“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.
your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.
“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.
“open your mouth.”
you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.
he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”
you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.
“good girl.”
“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.
the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.
“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”
“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.
“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.
you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.
“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”
his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.
but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.
“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.
all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.
“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.
“p-please… please, Rafey…”
he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.
“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”
at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.
your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.
“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.
you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.
you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.
Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.
“drink,” he murmured.
you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.
“good girl,” he hums in approval.
you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.
he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.
#simpforboys#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron obx#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron#obx#obx4#drew starkey
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the other side
corporate!reader x bluecollar!rafe
You don’t notice him at first.
You’re too busy swearing at your flat tire and digging through your bag with growing frustration, nails clicking against your phone as the screen flashes no signal for the third time. Your blazer’s too warm, your heels are killing you, and the corner you’re stranded on smells faintly of motor oil and something vaguely fried.
The city has never felt so uninterested in your existence.
You sigh, stepping back from your car with your arms crossed and your patience unraveling thread by thread.
That’s when you hear it, boots on pavement. The low hum of a country song bleeding from someone’s parked truck. And then a voice, casual and rough-edged, like gravel under honey:
“Looks like your Beemer didn’t get the memo she’s not built for potholes.”
You glance up.
He’s leaning against a rusted pickup parked across the street, arms folded, expression unreadable. T-shirt stained with oil, work gloves shoved in the back pocket of his jeans. Blonde hair messy, sunlit at the tips. A smear of something dark across one pretty cheekbone. Tan, toned forearms. Smirking like he knows something you don’t.
You look him over. Slowly.
Then back to your tire.
“I’m fine,” you say, like it’s a full sentence.
He doesn’t move. Just raises a brow. “Sure you are. Just figured I’d offer. But hey, maybe she’ll fix herself outta sheer respect.”
You narrow your eyes. “You work at that garage over there?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I’m just loitering, intimidating rich girls for fun.”
Your mouth twitches before you can help it. “How charming.”
He shrugs. “That’s what they say.”
There’s a pause. The wind picks up, ruffling the collar of your crisp, white shirt and his dirtied t-shirt in opposite directions.
Finally, you cave. Just a little.
“You know how to change a tire?”
Rafe grins like he’s been waiting for you to ask. He doesn’t ask for permission. Just tosses his rag onto the sidewalk, drops into a crouch beside your tire, and whistles low under his breath.
“Well, well. You really did a number on her.”
“She hit a pothole.”
“She hit a crater,” he says, fingers brushing the rim. “That wheel’s crying for its mother.”
You hover beside him, unsure of where to stand. You’ve never been this close to grease before, real grease. The kind that stains fingernails and smells like summer heat and sweat and long hours. The kind that doesn’t wash off easy.
He glances up at you once, just once, and grins. “Relax, corporate. I won’t bill you for breathing the same air.”
Your mouth opens. Then shuts again.
“I don’t work for you,” he adds. “I work around you. Big difference.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Your silence makes him chuckle. He returns to the tire, tools out, movements fast and practiced. Like he’s done this a thousand times and could do it blindfolded with a cigarette in his mouth and still make it look easy.
You shift, arms crossed again, watching as his t-shirt rides up just a little when he reaches for the jack. His back muscles flex beneath sun-bleached cotton. His knuckles are scraped. There's a thin scar on his forearm, like a brushstroke of silver across the tan.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking.
You bristle. “I’m observing.”
“Same thing, sweetheart.”
“I don’t appreciate being called that.”
“Noted.”
A beat.
Then, softly, “You don’t stop me, though.”
You pretend you didn’t hear that.
He finishes fast. You blink and suddenly the car’s lowered, the spare tire’s on, and he’s wiping his hands on that tragic-looking rag again, standing upright and stretching until you hear something in his back crack.
“All good,” he says, stepping back. “Should get you home fine. Maybe don’t go joyridin' over sinkholes next time.”
You exhale. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath.
“Thank you,” you say, quieter now.
He looks at you then, really looks. And for the first time, the teasing fades. Just a flicker. Just long enough for something else to settle in its place.
“You’re welcome.”
You reach into your bag automatically, but he lifts a hand.
“Don’t.”
“It’s just—”
“No charge,” he says. “Wasn’t work. Just help.”
You pause. “Still. I’d like to do something.”
He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. Then, with a lopsided grin, “Then do somethin’. Surprise me.”
...
You don’t even know why you’re doing it.
You tell yourself it’s gratitude. Courtesy. Basic manners. The way you were raised.
You tell yourself you’re not doing anything special when you order two sandwiches from that café your coworkers love, the one with the flaky bread and too-many adjectives on the menu. You even get lemonade. The good kind, fresh-squeezed and slightly overpriced.
It’s just a thank you. That’s all.
You keep telling yourself that as you drive fifteen minutes out of the glass-and-steel part of town (the financial district where you work), past the manicured sidewalks and into something rougher. Older. Sun-beaten and rusted. Potholes and chain link fences. Cigarette smoke curling lazily from a stoop. A teenage boy tosses a basketball toward a hoop that’s missing its net.
Your heels clack against the uneven pavement as you walk. Every step sounds too loud. Your dress is all clean lines and quiet wealth, and you feel it, the contrast. You’re a silk ribbon in a world of grit.
You find the garage easy enough. You recognize the truck parked out front. His truck. And he’s there.
Half under a car, all grease-smudged arms and rolled-up sleeves, one boot planted on the ground, the other leg bent as he slides further under.
“Rafe?” you call, voice a little uncertain.
A pause. The sound of a socket wrench stopping mid-turn.
And then, from beneath the car, a familiar voice, lazy and warm, like sunlight through old blinds.
“Well, look who’s wandered down from Olympus.”
You cross your arms. “I brought you lunch.”
A metallic clatter. Then he’s sliding out on the creeper, blinking up at you like he’s not sure you’re real. And for a second, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you, your hair pulled back, your heels dusted from the walk, your fingers curled around a brown paper bag like it’s something holy. Like you’re something holy.
“You get lost on the way to brunch, sweetheart?” he drawls finally, lips twitching.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I thought you might want a sandwich.”
“You thought right.”
He sits up, wiping his hands on a rag that looks even worse than the last one. You hand him the bag, and when his fingers brush yours, warm, rough, real, you pretend your stomach doesn’t flip.
He peeks inside. “This from one of your fancy spots?”
“God forbid,” you say dryly. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your street cred.”
Rafe grins, all teeth and trouble. “You’re startin’ to sound like me, corporate. I’m a bad influence.”
“I’m aware.”
He eats sitting on the bumper of the truck, feet planted wide, watching you through his lashes between bites. You sit beside him carefully. The heat of the metal seeps through your dress. His shoulder is warm next to yours, sun-baked and solid.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” he says after a moment, voice lower now.
“I know.”
He glances sideways. “But you did.”
You don’t look at him. Instead, you trace the edge of your lemonade cup with one perfectly manicured nail. “You helped me. I was trying to be decent.”
“Mm. That what this is?” His gaze lingers, a little too long.
You finally look back. There’s something different in his eyes now...not amusement. Not laziness. Just…interest. Direct and undistracted.
“You sure ’s not curiosity?” he adds, voice barely above a hum. “Maybe you wanted to see what kinda place a guy like me crawls back to.”
You hold his gaze. “And what kind of place is that?”
He shrugs. “One where you don’t belong.”
You raise your chin, defiant. “Maybe I do.”
He laughs, low and disbelieving. “You’re wearin’ thousand-dollar shoes and talk like you’ve got an assistant named Margot.”
“She’s called Alexa, actually.”
“Of course she is.” He finishes the last bite of his sandwich. “You’re somethin’ else.”
“So are you,” you say, before you can stop yourself.
And he freezes.
Not visibly. Not dramatically.
But enough. A hitch in his breath. A flicker in his expression. Like maybe he’s been called a lot of things, but not that. You stand up, brushing nonexistent dust from your skirt. The moment breaks like glass under a heel.
“I should get back,” you say.
He nods once, slowly.
“Hey,” he calls just as you’re walking back to your car.
You pause, turn.
Rafe’s leaning against the truck again, arms crossed, head tilted. That same half-smile playing on his lips, but softer this time. Thoughtful.
“You ever get tired of boardrooms and bullshit, you know where to find me.”
You arch a brow. “And what would I find, exactly?”
He grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
A/N: they're my new obsession
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfiction
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Touch
Summary - The one where your love language is physical touch, and your boyfriend hates touch.
Tags: Lee Jihoon x (dramatic) f.reader, fluff, established relationship au
Warnings: none for now
Word Count: 2.5k
A's Note: I love this kind of themes as my love language is also touch. I am going to write more of this since I can't get enough of it.
The table gets rowdier, the drinks sloshes out of the glasses, chopsticks clanking against the steel bowls and plates. To confess you are a little disappointed. You poke the meat on your bowl of rice with the chopsticks, resting your cheek on your propped up palm.
Jihyun, your friend, realises the distress consuming you gives a nudge to your knee. “It’s okay.”
You nod, eating the meat, watching your boyfriend from the corner of your eye. Jihoon is diligently chewing on his food, eyes on his friends who are singing and dancing. Your relation with him sprouted one month ago, shy confessions exchanged at a corner table in diner. What you thought a love confession would end with a fiery kiss, at least at your flat if not for the wonky diner, but he just dropped you home with a soft smile and a good night.
Jihoon isn’t big on physical touch or sweet words—the exact opposite to you. Opposites attract, they do, you were pulled in for his calm demeanour and handling issues with chill where you would be wreaking havoc for even a minor disruption. What they don’t say is that extreme opposites also can’t gel well.
Soonyoung, one of his friends, stumbles towards your boyfriend looping his arm around his shoulder only to get shoved off. He just laughs off at his friend’s disgust, and swallows him in a hug. He skips away before Jihoon can kill him with chopsticks.
You avert your eyes to your friend who nods in compassion. You lean your cheek on her shoulder, kicking the floor under the table. He is supposed to sit beside you and not away. He is supposed to be holding your hand and you shouldn’t be seeking support from your friend. You should be kissing and not be scared of getting shoved away.
A sigh escapes your lips watching your man, he is fucking hot. The cat eyes are sharp enough to catch every single movement, his pink lips are your favourite out of all, if only you could get a minute with them. His column of neck haunts your dreams leaving you gasping for air. His broad and thick shoulders, and his chest are the root cause of your despair. So close yet so far.
His gaze flits from his friends’ mischief to yours. You feel your heart in your throat getting pink under his attention. He watches your friend patting your head as you nuzzle closer into her.
“Do you want some alcohol?” She whispers in your ear to make sure you hear her over the Dokyeom’s high pitch voice.
You muffle a no, sadness taking over you as Jihoon is back to his phone, typing away. Just in case, like with a tiny little hope you check your phone to see his messages. None. An ache starts in your chest, it’s familiar to you as you recognise it from the time you had a one sided crush on him, and watching him converse with other girls (no smile, short answers but still).
“Need to pee.” You inform your friend before retrieving yourself from her warm embrace and bee line to the washroom.
You look into the mirror hung over the sink, washing your hands, mumbling some encouraging words and affirming yourself that he still likes you or else why would you two are still dating? He wouldn’t have invited you at all to this dinner, even if it was supposed to be your first date kind of thing.
You open the door once you dry off your hands and stumble a step watching Jihoon leaning against a wall scrolling on his phone. You turn around to go back into the washroom before you catch yourself and remember he is your boyfriend.
At the click of the door Jihoon looks up from his phone, a small smile on his lips. “Done?”
You nod, confused. “You can go in,” you move aside, giving him space to use the washroom.
“Nah,” he pockets his phone, “let’s go.”
He is already walking ahead not even looking back at you to see if you are coming or not. The restaurant is getting busier, all the tables are occupied with waiters and customers walking everywhere. You follow behind him, admiring his work outfit, black trouser pants and white button up shirt, sitting perfectly on his body outlining his definite shape.
A tipsy man in his fifties is laughing and talking to himself is going on his way to what you assume to be the washroom when he suddenly barks out a laugh, crashing into—Jihoon.
Jihoon is before you even before that man can knock into you. You blink at the tipsy man mumbling an apology to Jihoon and Jihoon giving a curt nod. He looks over his shoulder, “okay?”
You hum, crushing down the need to lace your arms around his waist and hide from the world behind his broad shoulders. He leads you to the table, his hands in his pockets, the long black hair strands swaying slightly with his authoritative steps.
You squeal inside, oh god why god, he is so sexy.
He sits on his chair and you dejectedly occupy the empty chair beside your friend. The night is spent with disappointment and the need to feel his warmth.
—
If you agree to Jihoon’s invitation one more time you will just fling yourself out of the window. The karaoke’s dancing lights mess with your head, Soonyoung’s melodic voice goes beyond sometimes with his enthusiasm, your ears aching. Jihyun is again at your side, offering comfort while Jihoon sat on the opposite side bench.
“Why does he invite me to all of this and not talk?” You whisper-yell to your best friend. “Maybe I should just go home.”
She gives you an aw, my poor baby expression and pats your head. To drool more at your boyfriend’s biceps and firm chest under his office shirt, you look in his direction again. Only, he is missing at his spot. Your heart sinks to your stomach, did he leave?
“Jihoon isn’t—” you pause midway, your mind stops processing when he, the man of your thoughts, sits next to you, shoving a drunk Dokyeom aside.
Jihoon smiles at you, his eyes doing that cat thing again. Not only sending your mind into a ruckus but also messing with your heart. His subtle scent infiltrates your senses, you lick your lips dropping your head to your lap.
Jihyun, a traitor under the ruse of a friend, exits towards the washroom. You are nervous, the ac is on full blast, you were feeling cold just seconds prior and now your neck is sweaty. You wanted, no, needed, his attention, and when he is sitting next to you fulfilling your wish you are as good as a scaredy cat.
Jihoon relaxes, stretching his legs and resting his arm on the ledge of the couch and around your shoulder. His arm brushing your skin whenever you fidget in your seat. You suck in a deep breath, butterflies swarming in your stomach at the proximity, and messing with your head.
Soonyoung is belting out a sad song like he is fresh out of a break up, while his girlfriend claps to the beat with starry eyes. Jihoon and you listen to whatever crap his friend circle is sprouting, pretending to be attentive to their drunken words and laughter when, in reality, you are aware of Jihoon’s finger tapping on the soft cushion, his fingers brushing your shoulder.
It is driving you to hell and beyond as you are big on giving and receiving love in physical form. And it’s the thing that had you going crazy from being unable to hold onto your boyfriend.
Jihoon has a small smile watching Dokyeom choking on a snack. Sadistic. Your stomach flutters. God, you need to get yourself checked. Dokyeom finally gets to breathe, looking at everyone with wide eyes and a hand on his neck.
You laugh, finding the whole ordeal entertaining, momentarily distracting from your troubles. Dokyeom chokes again, now on water sputtering it everywhere and you squeal, holding your stomach laughing your ass off, curling into the man beside you.
The stiffness underneath you has you stilling. You sneak a look at Jihoon, his lips are pursed into a thin line. An acidic taste sours your mouth, you mumble a sorry before you seperate yourself from him and maintain some space between you two.
Jihoon hates touch, you have seen how he shoves his friends away, how he walks with his hands folded and sees that no one is in his personal bubble. For fucks sake, he didn’t even kiss you, you being his girlfriend, the one who has every right (with consent) to touch, feel and hold.
Jihyun comes back from her washroom, frowning seeing the two of you sitting away from each other. She takes a seat on the other side of the room trying to give you the space and privacy you were craving with your boyfriend.
Now you aren’t sure if you want to be with him, not after how he reacted, his subtle rejection hurts. You make a move to go to your friend, Jihoon grabs your wrist. “Sit down.”
You frown. He adds, “please.”
He pats the space next to him telling you to sit with him. The strobe lights ache your head, the loud music and your friend circle’s loudness twists your stomach. Everyone’s having fun, except you. You are circling around Jihoon, throwing yourself in what ifs, and the fear of how you might accidentally cross your line. You did in the spur of the moment, something you couldn’t control, and you have seen the line between his eyebrows, and the press of his lips. The same distaste he has shown many times, but not to you. This isn’t how you planned your future with him.
Jihoon, perceptive of your moods and their meanings, leans into your ear whispering, “why did you want to leave?”
You clamp your hands together, knuckles pressed white, a shaky breath escaping your lips. You have to do it, you have to end this, you can’t continue living this way. “Jihoon,” you suck in a shaky breath, “we don’t match.” You gesture between you two with your finger, “we are so different.”
The unimpressed press of his lips is back, and you are scared. The cat eyes are sharp, observing each twitch in your face, the unshed tears, and he stands up, holding your hand. Surprised, you gaze at the contact, his firm grip on you shakes up the resolution in your heart. This is Jihoon, how can you go on living without him?
“Let’s go somewhere calm. Super song isn’t the right bgm for our scene.” Jihoon casually leads you outside, checking left and right, choosing to go right, and passing through the other loud karaoke rooms. In search of a quiet place, Jihoon is wandering, taking his time to find a place without people, and on the other side, you are stuck at watching how his hand slips from your wrist and slowly intertwines with your fingers, as if it fits only there, surrounded by you.
Did Jihoon initiate contact before? You are talking of ending your relationship and he is whistling while opening a broom closet. Jihoon is unpredictable. He closes the door behind you, darkness engulfing you both. He doesn’t turn on the light, and your eyes adjust to the darkness. The closet is tiny, Jihoon is resting on the opposite wall, and his body brushes against you whenever he moves.
“Why can’t we work out?” Jihoon asks, moving around to get you two comfortable, filling the dark room with the rustling of his dress shirt.
You lick your dry lips, snapping out of how firm his chest feels against yours. “We just don’t. You shouldn’t meet someone like me,” you throw your hand up, accidentally hitting his chest. God, what is he hiding in there? “You should go out and meet someone who is, who is prim and proper and someone that doesn’t have their mind full of filth.” You gasp, covering your mouth, shocked at yourself and the damn slippery mouth of yours.
Jihoon kills you with his silence. You groan, clutching your hair. This is the reason you shouldn’t communicate in person instead of sending a well framed and overthought text message. You should just blame the closeness, his hands next to your waist, leaning against your side of the wall instead of his’. How can one sane woman think in this situation?
“Since the reason is out, I’ll out myself.” You nervously chuckle to yourself. “Bye, Jihoon.” You think of giving a ninety degree bow, and realize you’ll probably headbutt him. You end with an awkward wave of hand.
“Bring your ass back here.” His words sent a shiver down your body. What?
You look over your shoulder, “what?”
He holds your shirt, pulling you back into his chest. “Where are you going?” His lips on your ear makes you grab onto his arm that’s around your waist.
“To like,” you whack your brain to formulate a good answer, “throw myself onto the road, and kiss the road as I go flying,” your mind, as expected, stopped working the moment Jihoon gives a tiny kiss on your ear followed by a low chuckle.
“I don’t want you to die,” the sudden saint to sinister Jihoon has you electrocuted, “I need to see you, be with you,” he grabs your waist slamming you back to him as you try to escape his arms, “touch you, and have filthy thoughts whenever I see you.”
You gasp, nails digging into his arm, “Jihoon,” you whimper, his lips drags across your neck, baring his teeth at the spot your shoulder meets neck, sinking his canines softly, but not quite biting. “You-you don’t like touch!”
He detaches his mouth, you whine turning around to look at him. “I don't? I didn’t know that.”
“You shove people away, you are ready to murder Soonyoung even if he breathes in your direction!” You flail your arms, “even a few minutes back when I was laughing and was all over you, you, like, glared at me. I can’t take it, I hate it when someone rejects my touch.”
“Ah,” he says, “is that why you wanted to break up.”
You nod, hitting his chin with your nose in the process. “Ah, it hurts.”
Jihoon sighs, “you could have talked it out with me instead of like breaking up with me.”
You pout, “how can I?”
“I am not big on physical touch,” he agrees, “and probably hate it when someone comes near me,” you take a step back but he pulls you into him, “but that doesn't mean I hate it with you. I never hated your touch, but instead,” he falters.
“Instead?” You ask with a bated breath.
“I crave it.” Jihoon slowly leads you to the wall, caging you between his arms, “when you were laughing, and were all over me, I was shocked,” his finger traces your face, from your temple to your chin slowly, ticklish. “I may not express it explicitly but I want only you to be in my space.”
His lips brush over yours, “no one else.” He presses them over your lips, wet and warm against your cold ones. You gasp, clutching onto his shirt, crumpling the fabric, his body is on yours, feeling all the hard ridges and the muscle.
“So I worried for nothing?”
“Yes.” He crashes his lips on yours.
#woozi x reader#woozi#woozi imagines#seventeen#jihoon x reader#lee jihoon x reader#seventeen drabbles#seventeen imagines#woozi drabbles#woozi fluff#seventeen fic
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Hostile Environment||John Walker (U.S. Agent) x fem!Reader
Word count: 939
Summary—you and John hate each other but when one messes up on the mission and gets separated from the rest of the team you distract yourself from the only way you can…by hate fucking.
Content Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, raw unprotected sex, rough handling, wall sex, degradation/praise mix, name-calling, biting, possessiveness, after-mission injuries, light blood, unresolved sexual tension, post-sex denial of feelings.
The reinforced steel door slammed shut behind you, the magnetic lock hissing into place.
“Shit,” you hissed, pressing your back to the cold wall. Your shoulder burned—shrapnel, maybe—but you weren’t bleeding out. Just trapped. With him.
“Well done, sweetheart,” John muttered, pacing the length of the ruined corridor. “Next time, maybe don’t blow the goddamn exit before we’ve both cleared it.”
You scoffed. “Next time, maybe keep your head down instead of playing hero. I was busy not getting shot.”
His eyes cut toward you, jaw clenched. “I am the hero.”
You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “You’re a jackboot with a broken moral compass.”
John stopped in front of you, chest heaving, sweat streaking grime across his face. “You’ve got a real mouth on you.”
“Yeah? You’ve got a real stick up your ass.”
The silence between you snapped tight, strung up on static and heat and bruised adrenaline. You’d been at each other’s throats since the Thunderbolts first formed—barking, biting, circling like dogs with nowhere to run. Now it was just the two of you. Trapped underground. Hours until extraction. Armed to the teeth with tension.
His gaze dipped—just for a second. Over your chest. The torn fabric. The bloodstain. And then back up.
“You’re hurt,” he said roughly.
“No shit, genius.”
“I should look at it.”
“I’d rather bleed out.”
That made him grin—sharp and humorless. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Good. Because you’re a fucking headache.”
He was in front of you before you could blink, grabbing your wrist, pushing you back into the wall not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to say I’m done playing nice. You didn’t flinch. You never flinched.
“You gonna swing at me, soldier boy?” you taunted, lips curling.
His eyes dropped to your mouth. “Not unless you want me to.”
That was the last thing either of you said before it happened.
You surged forward. He met you halfway. Teeth, tongue, bruising lips and the taste of blood and dust. Your hands shoved his chestplate off, uncaring where it clattered. His hands ripped your vest open, fingers greedy over skin, tugging until fabric tore.
“God, you’re such a bitch,” he snarled against your mouth, grabbing your ass and hauling you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, nails scraping over the buzzed edge of his hair.
“And you’re a cocky, overcompensating prick,” you gasped, biting his lip so hard he groaned.
He slammed you against the wall. Concrete bit into your back. His fingers were already undoing his belt, fumbling with your pants. Too fast, too frantic to be careful.
“You want this?” he growled.
You grabbed his jaw, forcing his face close. “If you stop now, I’ll kill you.”
That was all he needed.
It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t sweet.
It was raw spit-slick, pants shoved halfway down, bodies bruised from battle and still aching for more. John thrust into you like he had something to prove, like every grunt and growl and curse was another point scored.
You clawed at his back, dug your heels into his flak jacket, rode the pain like a wave. “Harder, you asshole,” you panted, forehead pressed to his.
He laughed darkly. “Bossy little thing. Bet you get off on barking orders.”
“Bet you cry after sex.”
He fucked you harder.
Your breath hitched as he bottomed out, thick and burning, scraping your walls raw. “Fuck—”
“That’s right,” he hissed. “Take it. Just like that. Loudmouth bitch can’t shut up unless she’s full of cock, huh?”
You moaned, biting down on his shoulder so hard he cursed again. He didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. Just gripped your hips tighter and rutted up into you like he hated the way you felt too good.
You met him thrust for thrust, eyes rolling back when his pelvis ground against your clit. “Fucking—God, John—”
His name on your tongue nearly undid him.
“Say it again,” he demanded, hand wrapping around your throat—not choking, just holding. Possessive. Wild.
You hissed through your teeth, hips rolling. “John. Walker. You fuck like you fight—messy.”
That made him growl.
“I’m gonna cum in you,” he said, low and filthy. “You’ll feel it for days.”
You didn’t stop him.
Didn’t want to.
You clenched around him, thighs shaking. “Do it,” you whispered. “Fucking do it.”
He kissed you hard when he came—snarling into your mouth, hips twitching, warmth flooding you in thick, pulsing waves.
You followed seconds later, stars bursting behind your eyes, body tensed and boneless all at once. It left you breathless, panting, still clinging to him like you might fall if you let go.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Just breathing. Skin slick. Minds racing.
Then—
“Get off,” you mumbled.
He stepped back reluctantly, slipping out of you with a grunt. You winced. Your legs nearly gave out. He caught you before you hit the ground, muttering, “Don’t flatter yourself—I just don’t want to explain your corpse to Ross.”
You shoved his chest. “Still a prick.”
He grinned. “Still wet for me.”
You huffed, turning away, yanking your pants back up. “This meant nothing.”
“Good,” he said. “Because I still can’t stand you.”
But when you turned your back, he looked at you like he already missed the weight of you around him. Like he didn’t hate the way you said his name.
You both ignored it.
#marvel smut#marvel x you#marvel x reader#marvel#john walker#john walker x reader#john walker smut#john walker x y/n#john walker x you#marvel fanfic#thunderbolts
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I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?
——
After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.
“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.
He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!
Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.
“Thank Ancients!”
Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.
With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.
A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.
As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.
His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.
How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!
Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.
“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”
Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.
——
“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.
“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”
“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”
“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”
Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.
A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.
"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"
The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"
"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.
"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"
"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"
"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”
Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”
"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"
The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.
Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!
"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!
“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”
“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”
Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.
"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.
Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.
"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.
"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"
"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."
"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."
Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."
"Who is the leader now?"
Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."
"Flash."
"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"
"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."
"Flash."
"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.
"Ugh, fine. No one video this."
Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."
The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.
"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."
"What do you want in exchange for information?"
Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."
He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.
"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."
"I have cash."
Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"
"I like to be prepared."
"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.
The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."
Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."
"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.
Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."
"Identity." Batman demanded.
"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."
"...What."
"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."
The crown of ice materialized.
"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.
"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"
Batman growled. "You tricked us."
Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."
The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.
"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"
"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.
#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#dc x dp#the justice league#justice league and the ghost king#ghost king danny#superman#hawkwoman#shayera thal#beast boy's most effective attack is being adorable#red robin#red robin enjoying the weird ghost boy clowning his sad emo dad#hal being annoying but so relatable#green arrow
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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land
Chapter 10: Do You Wanna Hear About The Deal That I’m Making?

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 (Here!) / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 (Part 1) (Part 2) /
A morgue is always cold.
Morgues are cold to slow down decomposition and preserve bodies until they are needed for autopsy or other procedures. Refrigeration helps to reduce bacterial growth and enzymatic activity, which are the main causes of decay.
Jason hated the cold. And morgues.
But he was sucking it up for the sake of finding answers.
That encounter with her had left him with questions. Many questions.
Jason hadn’t expected Dick’s rambles of delirum to be true, just some exaggerated tantrum over not having attention him for more than a five minutes. But now, he was starting to understand some of the fuss running rampant amongst the family.
He knew she’d be different, that she would become angry. Resentful. Full of spite.
Just like him. Finally. Someone who knows the same pain. The same resentment. The same anger.
But it wasn’t like that with her. It wasn’t the same.
Jason had some expectations set the moment he found out about the murder attempt. That all of those involved would be killed by his hand (because it’s what he she would have wanted). That he would shove it all over Bruce’s face (what he should have done for him her). And that he would be the only person to truly understand him (because she thinks like him, feels like him, she needs him-)
He had accomplished the first two.
The third one, however, was coming on a bit more complicated than expected.
Jason expected fury, fists flying, screaming, crying, yelling, biting. He expected fingers pointed at the old man, claims of revenge, a need for blood and justice to be served.
Instead, he got a sleepwalking fugitive who looked at him with the same fear as before.
That same weary look was on the corners of the manor whenever he visited. That tremble of shoulders whenever he spoke, as if his voice spooked her. Those flinches whenever he stepped a bit closer in her direction.
The only thing that was gone was the quietness of her voice, now replaced by a firmer, louder tone that lessened the boiling frustration underneath his skin.
Where was the anger? Where was the thirst for revenge? She was supposed to be like him now. Broken and hurt. He was supposed to pick the pieces and rebuild. Be like him. Because she is like him now. They are the same, and he wants her to act out and yell and stop lookiNG AT HIM IN FEA-
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Red Hood?”
…That’s right. He’s here for answers.
And for those answers, he had to get them from the only person who was able to provide them.
Dr. Rio Vidal was an unsettling woman and more. She had been the one to do the autopsy on the bastards that bullied his sister (after dumping what was left of the bodies right in front of the station with incriminating proof tapped on their chests), and just one small talk was enough for Jason to decide that he would not spend more than it was necessary around that woman.
He didn’t like how every hair underneath his armor stood up when he crossed looks with that woman.
Something about her wasn’t… right.
But he would ignore the knot in his stomach that twisted tighter and tighter with every second that passed in her presence until he got what he wanted.
“I need a medical file on one of your patients.” His modulator hid very well the tension in his voice.
The doctor turned around, locking one of the small metal refrigerator doors in the wall with a fake smile. “And instead of taking it from my office, you came straight to me? I am very flattered, Red Hood.”
He did not like the dark glint in her eyes when she drawled out his name.
“Didn’t find the patient that I’m looking for.” His fingers gripped the holsters strapped to his belt.
“And that would beee?” She blinked repeatedly with a sharp, unsettling smile.
Jason felt cold sweat dripping down his temple, the longer he continued to keep direct eye contact with the woman. He could feel the smugness coming out of her when he diverted his gaze towards the fridges.
“The Wayne girl.” He uttered, ignoring the exaggerated gasping of Dr. Vidal as she clutched her hand to her chest.
“How silly of me! I was carrying it with me today!” She boasted, turning back around towards a table that had neat, clean files. Flipping through them until she grabbed a thick file and waved it eagerly at him. “They were requested to be taken out for comparisons of blood analysis.”
That got his attention, grabbing the file, but Dr. Vidal’s grip on it caught him off guard. “Who requested such a thing? Was it the commissioner?”
He tried to take the file from her, but she held onto it with a tight smile. “No, that would have been me.”
“What for?” Jason didn’t like the fact that this person, in particular, was going around doing tests with his sister’s samples.
“Easy, Red,” she eased, finally letting go of the documents and crossing her arms. “I was just curious about how advanced her healing was coming along. Not everyone heals from a deadly head wound that fast, and I’m sure you are well aware of that... due to your line of work, hm?”
There. That was it.
Healing. His sister had sleepwalked from Wayne Manor to Chinatown in the middle of the night while barefoot and in pajamas, and there wasn’t a single scratch on her feet, nor woken up the next day sick (because last time he checked, she got sick easily. He remembered the various times she got sick for staying outside in the rain for a bit. It was ridiculous-) by what Alfred told him when he called to check up.
Most people would have put it as luck, but Jason knew better than that because of various reasons.
One of them being how the hell did she make 12 miles in less than five minutes.
He had a theory, multiple ones, actually.
One of them being that the water of the pool she fell into when she was attacked was lazarus’ pit water. It was far fetched and proved wrong when he ran some tests with the samples he had gathered from her old school bag.
There was another one that it could be related to the pool as well. That it could have some odd chemicals and had altered her or something amongst that line. But it was also discarded when all the test showed that it was just old still water that could only have given her a nasty virus.
Which lead to the next theory that none of what was going on with her was happening because of outside elements or sources.
But it could something more internal.
Bodily kind of internal.
And that was just a whole new pipeline he wasn’t sure he was ready to go down by.
“Any changes I should keep an eye on, Doc?” he pried, gloved fingers tightening on the edges of the file.
Rio hummed out loud with pursed lips, before shrugging. “Nothing special. I’m pretty sure all of her progress is tied to her bloodline. She certainly has quite the strong family. Strong genes, if you catch my drift.”
‘Definitely from Old B’s side,’ he thought bitterly, nodding at the woman and making his way out as fast as possible without bringing attention to himself from the cold freezer.
The green witch simply shook her head, grinning from side to side as things finally started to get more intense.
She needed to plant that small seed of doubt so everything could start to grow and stretch out some roots of chaos on the too comfortable Maximoff. It was very exciting for her to see how her new favorite pet would be able to manage the new obstacles coming on her way.
But nothing that the girl couldn’t handle, she even had some help on her side without noticing.
And, Rio still needed her to find her things.
All according to the plan.
──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────
“I’m honestly surprised he’s still standing.”
Conner scoffed, scraping out his food plate in the trash can. “More surprised that Damian didn’t hose him down the moment we got here.”
Barbara smiled as she sipped her coffee, sitting at the main table that was low enough for her wheelchair, letting her gaze wander off to the young man who began to clean up his dirty dishes in the sink.
Both of them had arrived early in the morning at the manor, with Barbara getting there first and then followed by the younger titans.
She had gotten asked by Dick yesterday to meet up for a relaxing outing that day in the evening along with his sister, thinking it would be a great way to bond and spend more time with the younger girl.
Since said girl seemed to prefer talking with Barbara over Dick himself, judging by their last interaction earlier that week. Barb found it hilarious how Dick was clearly trying to get her attention just to get ignored by a very talkative girl that was set on asking Barbara tons of questions.
If Barbara was being honest, she thought Dick was making the wrong move.
He couldn’t just force her to spend time with him, especially if he was using Barbara as a middle ground, which pissed her off to no end. Did he honestly believe he wasn’t being that obvious?
Was she going to follow along with his plan? No, obviously. If he wanted to fix his relationship with his sister, he would have to do it on his own and earn her trust back with his blood and sweat.
She was not helping him out in this, not this time.
Besides having sent Dick a text saying that she was going to be busy during the day, Barbara had also come to the manor with other intentions.
Something was up with Cass, and she was worried.
The girl had been acting odd on patrol, something that seemed to only be detected by Barbara and Bruce.
Looking over her shoulder every minute. Her vitals spiking on the screen whenever a noise was heard in the background. Hearing the sharp breath intakes as she heard a group of girls passing by on the street. Sudden moments of stillness on her tracker, and when Barbara pulled on the body camera, Cass’s position showed her the view of a music store where a soft piano melody played to attract customers.
Maybe she needed a break, to get some time out of the house. And Barbara was more than willing to offer that if it meant avoiding strangling Dick by the neck.
“Don’t you think the case has been taking too long?” Conner’s voice got her attention, responding with a hum. “Usually, they would have been done with it after a few days.”
The young Kryptonian had gotten here about half an hour after Barbara, with a muttering Tim in tow, going directly to the Batcave with most of the recently made coffee in his giant mug and leaving his friend without another word in the kitchen.
To which Alfred extended him the invitation for breakfast, trying to excuse his master’s rude behavior. Conner refused at first, knowing the dark knight wasn’t exactly fond of his presence, but the butler had already served him a plate and disappeared into the halls without another word.
Barbara shook her head, a wry smile on her lips as she leaned back on her chair. “They’re a bit… focused on other issues at the moment.”
Conner gave her a short look before biting inside his cheek, eyes focused on the sink. His fingers flexed on the edge of the counter. I took a few moments of silence before he decided to just be straightforward.
“Is it about their sister?” his tone was hesitant and low. Taking a glance towards the hall and looking back at Barbara with expectation.
“Did Tim mention anything?” She asked, shifting her body a bit towards Conner.
The boy shook his head, drying his hands by wiping them against the rough material of his jeans (like a heathen-) and walking towards the table. “No, but he seems to forget that I have sharp ears, and he has a habit of muttering to himself out loud.”
Barbara nodded, sighing softly as her fingers wrapped around the warm cup while Conner leaned his crossed arms on top of the back of one of the chairs.
“It’s complicated,” she offered with a shrug. “I’m not sure if I should say it, but she was recently in an accident. It has been a bit tense, as to say-”
The squeaking of sneakers running down the hall made both of them look towards the source of the noise. An understanding look between them, making it clear that their conversation would have to wait.
Then, the same person they had been talking about made her appearance, her excited manner settling down for a moment when she realized there were people in the kitchen.
Connor’s first thought, from the moment he set his eyes on her, was that she looked completely different than what he had pictured in his mind.
There were very few articles on the internet about the blood daughter of Bruce Wayne. Most of them were from tabloids that made sure to put her in a bad light for the public. He had heard many rants from both Lois and Clark about how unprofessional and cruel it was for Gotham media to hound such a young girl from an early age. And he had heard even more angry rants from Lois about Bruce’s lack of action on the situation.
Most of the pictures taken of her were either blurry, unflattering, or showing a spooked expression due to the flashes of the cameras.
Much of what Conner imagined about her was a very socially awkward girl who probably preferred to avoid the spotlight.
The girl in front of him was brighter than the spotlight.
Wild, long curls pulled in half-up style with a few strands purposely framing her face on the sides. Her roots with faded black hair dye, letting him wonder what her true hair color was like. A white short top, accompanied by an open green track jacket and wide-leg pants. White old sneakers that stood out because of the silver tape surrounding the bottom and edge of the shoes.
“Didn’t know we had visitors today.” She muttered, a smile returning to her face once she realized Barbara was there. The redhead returned her smile, motioning for her to come closer, and both of them hugged quickly.
“I like the style! Going out today?” Barb asked, holding back a tick in her eye as her mind began to put some pieces together.
“Yeah,” she answered, glancing at Conner for a moment and going towards the kitchen to serve herself a plate before Alfred appeared to do it for her. “I’m gonna hang out with my friends today.”
Connor could hear Barb’s heart rate going up, her smile tightening. He could only imagine what was angering her so much that it made her act like that.
That was when his ears picked up a sound similar to the fluttering of the wings of a hummingbird. Fast paced, almost like a buzzing sound.
“Any plans you guys have?” Barbara’s question snapped him out of concentration, his eyes landing once again on the girl as she took a seat with a serving of eggs almost as big as his daily meals.
She shrugged, taking a few quick bites from the plate as if it were her last meal. “Shopping at the mall. Bobby and Warren are picking me up in a few minutes.”
“Which was why I insisted on getting you up early, my dear,” Alfred’s voice took their attention. An amused look towards the girl’s plate as she grinned at him with a shrug, diving once again into her food. “I would prefer you go out with a full stomach, since who knows what ungodly hour you plan on coming back.”
“I promise to be here around ten, Al.” She recited as if it had been something she had heard multiple times, making Barbara and Alfred chuckle.
“As long as you give daily updates, I don’t mind the hour.” He said, bringing her something to drink as she finished up her plate. “Just be mindful and careful of your surroundings.”
“Will do,” She nodded, giving him her plate and drinking from her cup of juice.
“Didn’t take you as the shopping type…” Conner muttered, gathering the girl's attention, her eyebrow quirked in confusion.
“And you are?” Her tone wasn’t hostile, but it was sharp enough to make Conner adjust his posture, flushing as he took his arms off the seat and offered his hand.
“I’m Conner.” He uttered, smiling when she took his hand. Ignoring the sudden rush under his skin when she let go, that hand went directly to rub the back of his neck. “I’m Tim’s best friend.”
“Huh,” she nodded, getting up from her chair. “Thought you were new sibling, since you kind of fit in all the requirements…”
She gestured at him, making Barbara snort and Alfred call her in an exasperated tone to which got a laugh out of everyone. The girl took her drink and walked to the sink.
“No offense, but I think this family has enough testosterone for a lifetime.” That made Conner snicker, avoiding the pointed stare from Barbara by getting closer to the kitchen counter.
“I’m not exactly Wayne material.” He offered, noticing the short and quiet scoff under her breath. Along with the muttered lines ‘neither am I’ that got him frowning and intrigued to ask her more questions.
But that was pushed aside when the sound of beaten-up speakers blasting some Ariana Grande song from the outside was heard pulling up to the front of the manor.
“I believe that would be Mr. Drake, my dear.” Alfred pointed out after a moment of silence, handing her a small towel to dry her hands.
She quickly dried herself, giving Alfred a short hug and then giving Barb one as well. “I’ll text as soon as I get to the mall,” she promised, starting to walk towards the hall.
“Remember,” Alfred pestered, his voice rising. “Be mindful and be-”
“And be careful, I got it!” She laughed, turning around and walking backwards and blowing him a kiss. Alfred shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Then, she waved at Conner. “See you around, Conner. Don’t become a Wayne while I'm gone.”
Conner looked at Barb in disbelief, sputtering before speaking in a higher pitch. “I’m actually a-”
The sentence died in the air because she was already gone from the hall. The front door closing echoed on the walls, just as the loud music from the outside started to pull away, along with some laughs and cheers.
“...Not sure what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting that,” Conner muttered, making Barbara sigh with a smile.
“She is like a whirlwind now.” She mentioned. “It wasn’t like this before, it's a new development.”
‘Yeah, so I figured.’ Conner’s mind exclaimed.
She just came in, ate, made an impression that Conner was sure would stay in his mind for a while, joked around, and left without another word.
A tornado would be a more accurate description.
“Word of advice?” He nodded at Barbara, shoving his hands in his pockets as Alfred cleaned up the kitchen, pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation.
“Keep your eyes to yourself. Especially for now.” Barbara’s gaze became serious, making Conner tighten his jaw.
He tried not to feel offended at the implication of her words. He knew he had a reputation of being a bit of a flirt (all in fun! He had never actually gone beyond flirting with anyone. Not enough time for commitment to relationships.), but he had respect. And he respected Tim a lot. He was his best friend and trusted him completely (No matter how odd he had been behaving lately), and Conner wouldn’t dare mess around with his sister of all people.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about her. Intrigued, even.
Why had Tim never talked about her? They were around the same age, if he was judging well. They probably shared something in common.
Was she in the family business? It didn’t seem like it, she looked like a normal civilian from his point of view.
Why wasn’t she in the family business?
Now that he thinks about it, the whole family barely mentioned her in the past.
Barely, as to say never at all.
Something was up, but he was smart enough to know that it wasn’t his call to make.
“I'd rather keep my eyes in my head for now, thank you.”
For now.
──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────
Around 1:30 pm, Maximoff had decided that the mall was one of her favorite places to hang out.
Gotham Mall was like a time capsule, stuck in the glory days of the eighties, by the state of the artificial lights and that distinctive smell of cherry cola and bubble gum that got stuck on your nose and made you dizzy until you got used to it.
Stores of all kinds: clothes, shoes, high-end and low-end brands, jewelry, sports, toys, swimwear, video games, and even movie rentals. There was also a movie theater, a roller skating rink, a few music and record shops, an arcade, and a whole top floor filled with food places.
Warren had taken the role as their guide since Bobby had only gone to a few stores, and Maximoff… well, she was another case.
Wayne had also decided to stay back at the manor once again, malls were not really her thing. And, she had another ‘unfinished task’ that she had to do by herself.
Maximoff knew exactly what that meant, and she was more than okay with staying away from the manor while her companion did her own thing.
Just because she was friends with a ghost, it didn’t mean she liked being around spooky, haunting stuff.
Wayne had her hobbies, and she respected them… from afar.
“What about Aquaman? He’s kind of cool.”
Warren gave Bobby a deadpan stare, who was sipping on his milkshake with an expectant look. “Do I look like the type of guy that would be a fan of Aquaman of all people?”
Bobby shrugged, stealing fries from Warren’s plate to dip them in his sugary drink. “You’re asking the wrong person to judge by appearance.”
“Right,” Warran nodded, dragging his plate closer to him. “Should have known by your horrible taste in pants.”
That got him a pout from the freckled boy, “I have good taste in pants!”
“You only wear jeans, Bobby.”
“They’re comfortable!”
After visiting stores for almost the whole morning, the trio finally decided to eat at the food court. They settled on Bat Burger. Sadly for Bobby, Chili’s was way too full, and Maximoff was halfway through a low-sugar episode and needed food fast.
They sat in a booth, all their bags shoved on the corner of the side where Warren had taken his spot, plastered against the crystal window that gave a view to the sidewalk of the mall just by the electric stairs, while Bobby and Maximoff sat on the other side of the booth.
She had dozed off by staring at the view, her headache settling after scarfing down around ten orders of burgers and fries, two jumbo sodas, and three vanilla milkshakes.
The boys could only stare in amazement and disbelief while she basically inhaled the food as if someone was going to steal it away from her.
They started some small conversations about mindless themes. About school work, the current films in the theater, the amount of clothes that they bought (well, more like Warren bought for everyone. The moment he found out Bobby was going to use the savings from his scholarship, and that she forgot to bring her credit card [Apparently, Wayne did not have a credit card. Alfred was the one doing all of her money transactions, which was… weird. He had given her some cash for the trip, but she had forgotten the money back in her bedroom.] Warren had slammed down his black card without another word and even dragged them to the high-end stores and went nuts with paying them new sets of clothes.) and many other things.
Which led to their current subject.
Favorite superheroes.
Bobby had brought it up first. Since he was from New York, Metropolis, to be specific, he had a very obvious preference for The Man of Steel. He had even gushed about getting to see him fly by once because of a nearby fire in his neighborhood.
It would fall short to say that Bobby was a huge Superman fanboy. (As if those ten minutes of probably the longest description ever heard about the hero’s appearance weren’t clear enough.)
This put Bobby on the hunt to figure out who Warren’s favorite hero could be, since the blonde wasn’t interested in giving out such information so easily (meaning, he was making Bobby guess).
“We already discarded the local heroes,” Bobby groaned, “and Flash, Green Lantern, and Aquaman are also out. You’re giving me nothing, War!”
“Get creative, Boo,” He snickered, drinking from his soda with a smug look.
The brown haired boy sank into his spot with a grumble, crossing his arms and glaring at Warren, who winked at him with a cocky grin while biting the plastic straw of his cup.
Bobby then gave his attention to the now food-coma girl beside him, sipping on her milkshake absently with a faraway look as her head lay back against the red cushion of the booth. “Give me something to work with, babes. I need content!”
She rolled her head towards Bobby, still sipping from her drink. “What could I possibly offer?”
“What about your favorite hero?” Warren asked, his eyebrow quirking while Bobby jumped on his seat and grinned with expectation, his attitude switching once again.
He did not wait another moment to begin listing off heroes. “Any of the Bats? Maybe a Supe? Oh, how about Wonder Woman?!”
She stayed silent for a few moments, humming to herself while biting on the plastic straw with a frown.
It hadn’t crossed her mind. The whole hero thing.
Her mind was still very muddled. She knew certain things. Basic stuff. And even more, because of all the show references and quotes she says on a daily basis. But where did she learn them from? It came and went, however, it felt like it. Most of the time, it sat on the tip of her tongue. So close to saying it and acknowledging it, but never fast enough to process it. Letting slip right past her.
Which was why having Wayne as a guide was extremely helpful.
Even if she omitted certain information.
Maximoff would never push her to say anything Wayne didn’t want to share. That girl had had enough of shoving and pushing for a lifetime.
Part of that missing information was about heroes.
Wayne was…avoidant about them when the subject was eventually brought up by Maximoff. It was expected, since she had considered that Batman could be of help in some way. He was a hero (vigilante, but it’s basically the same, right?), and heroes were good guys and helped out people. It was logical.
The hellish screeching and crashing of Alfred’s old Chinese teapot was a clear indication that going for Batman’s help was a big no-no.
Maximoff still tried to research them (she wasn’t going to go around Gotham without knowing about its protectors), and she found their whole dynamic unique and that they somehow still made it work to keep the city protected from bad guys and criminals.
Kudos to them and their work, but she wouldn’t place any of them as her favorite hero.
Don’t get her wrong. They were doing good work, and their suits looked sick and cool, judging by the pictures going around the internet, taken by bystanders throughout the years whenever any of the vigilantes let themselves be viewed by the public.
But, they didn’t strike a chord with her. None of them stood out to her enough to catch her attention.
“I don’t know,” She mumbled, finally taking out the disfigured straw from her mouth. Her gaze moved towards the view of the mall, fingers tapping around her empty cup. “No one calls my attention.”
“C’mon,” Bobby insisted, “There has to be at least one that is your favorite.”
Warren hummed, giving her a furrowed look, “Are vigilantes not your style?”
“Are they yours?” Bobby quipped back, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Yeah, nice try. Still not telling you my favorite.”
“Ughh, you’re so boring! Just give me a hint! A tiny one! Anything, ple-”
“Flash.”
The boys turned their heads, both looking at her, confused at why the sudden mention of the speedster hero. She wasn’t even looking at them. Her stare was fixed on the outside view, her eyebrows twisting in a frown as she adjusted her slumping posture to an upright one.
Bobby was the one who talked first, taking advantage of Warren’s diverted attention to steal more fries. “The Flash? Guess it fits you! Fastest man alive, you like to run, and you’re rather fast while doing it too-”
“Not The Flash,” She interrupted him, getting up from her spot and sticking her face to the glass. “I meant a flash.”
Warren got up from his seat, going around the booth to see right behind her point of view, while Bobby scarfed down the leftover fries and looked over her shoulder.
From the first floor of the mall, a series of camera flashes pointed at the food court floor stood out from their view. It was almost impossible to see the people behind the cameras due to the numerous flashes popping up quickly.
The moment a few of those flashes started to move towards the electric stairs, Warren cursed and quickly began to pick up their bags, shoving a few in Bobby’s hands and pulling him out of her way. She instantly moved and picked up the last bags, leaving their discarded trash on the table.
There was no time to clean up, sorry!
“Dude, what is going on?” Bobby questioned as Warren ran out of the fast food place with the others following him closely behind.
“Of all the things that could have slipped my mind,” The blonde muttered angrily as he guided them in the opposite direction of the electric stairs. Some yells and calls of the people with the cameras made Maximoff look over her shoulder, glaring at the annoying flashes as those people continued to take pictures of them while taking the stairs.
The words began to register in their ears.
“It is them!” “It’s Worthington!” “Quickly, they’re getting away!” “Just a few pictures, sir!” “It’s that Wayne?!” “Miss Wayne, look this way!” “Please, let us ask as few questions!” “Wayne, what are you doing with Worthington? Are you friends? Is it a setup by your fathers?” “Who is the other boy? A friend of yours?” “Miss Wayne! Mr. Worthington!”
“Oh god,” Bobby gasped, suddenly accelerating his step as a mob began to form. “Are those paparazzi?!”
Warren took a right, their shoes squeaking against the polished floors and yelling over his shoulder. “Bloodhounds without souls would be more accurate, but yeah!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” She repeated over and over again, easily taking the front of the group, with Warren just behind her and Bobby at the end as they skipped the passersby with excuses and apologies.
Now it made sense why Wayne didn’t like malls.
“Go for the normal stairs! Left side of the hall!” Warren yelled, looking over his shoulder to make sure Bobby was still with them.
Bobby was struggling with switching the bags to his left hand while running, glancing back at the paparazzi, and cursing when he noticed how close they were. He finished moving the bags, his right hand now free as he searched in his jeans pocket and pulled out his car keys.
“War, catch!”
Warren caught the keys, pulling the girl back by her jacket before she took the wrong corner, hearing Bobby’s yell and making her look back at the chaos.
Everything suddenly moved in slow motion.
The mob was almost catching up to them, the cameras flashing slowly, and the people moved as if it were zero gravity, and slowly. So slowly, to the point they almost looked like those stop-motion figures for films that were still getting put together for a scene.
Bobby had stumbled with a rack of fabrics that was on display outside a store, the cloths floating around the air and blocking a few cameras from their view.
Bobby, who was with one knee on the floor and a hand about to touch it, looked panicked and pale.
It made her sick to the stomach.
Without thinking too much, she ran.
And it was like never before.
Warren’s grip on her jacket slipped off with ease the moment she took off. It almost felt like floating when her feet made contact with the ground, a sharp ringing in her ears getting pitchier and pitchier, but she put no mind into it. Her free arm shot out to the front, reaching towards Bobby’s arm that was near the ground and lifting him with ease. His weight was almost paperweight in her hands.
Still cold, even colder than before, but still very light.
Once she got him upright, she almost dragged him towards Warren, linking their elbows together without looking back at the paparazzi.
Reaching the stairs was like walking on the moon.
Going down them felt like jumping on a trampoline.
The parking lot was right in front of them, the moment everything came back to normal.
It took a few seconds for Bobby and Warren to fall to the floor and heave out so they wouldn’t throw up their food. Panting and groaning with their eyes closed, faces pale, and fingers trembling.
Maximoff was on some kind of euphoria, skin tingling, and ears blocked by the ringing that grew quieter little by little.
She felt so fucking good.
“Oh. My. God.” She uttered, a cackle of disbelief slipping out of her grinning lips.
The adrenaline. The motion. The ringing. The blood pumping. It all felt so good. It felt so right.
“Did you guys see that?! Did you see it?!” She turned towards them, eyes glinting in excitement and glee.
“I think I went blind,” Warren babbled, on his hands and knees with his bags scattered around him.
Bobby wasn’t any better, all sprawled out on the asphalt, tummy up and taking deep breaths. “Where am I? Am I dead? Is this hell?”
“That was fucking insane! Everyone was moving so slowly! Everything was frozen, and when I moved, it felt like floating! It was so freaking cool! I don’t know how, but- Ow!” She began to explain, hands moving around in exaggerated and fast movements and gestures, until she winced out loud due to a sharp pain in her right hand.
Her palm felt like burning. A cold type of burn. It was cold to the touch, the skin was numb and a bit red. Some flakes of frost began to melt down her hand, making her shiver from the freezing sensation.
Warren had gotten up from the floor, stumbling a bit with his long legs before reaching her, taking her hand carefully and looking at the skin with a frown. Bobby had sat up, looking at her with wide eyes, concern, fear, and confusion on his face as he held his right arm close to his chest.
His arm was blue.
Ice cold blue.
It looked like it was made of glass. Of Ice. Transparent around the edge and deep, cold blue in the center.
That had been the arm that she had grabbed.
“It’s an ice burn,” Warren muttered, disbelief written all over his face, looking between Bobby and her. “But it’s speedrunning through the healing-”
“Are you okay, Bobby?” She asked, taking her hand back from Warren and stepping towards Bobby, who looked spooked and on the verge of tears.
He gasped shakily, not being able to choose between shaking his head or nodding. His shoulders were trembling as he got up from the floor, stumbling a bit and flinching when she grabbed him by the shoulders to help him settle.
“...you’re not afraid?” He stuttered, eyes not moving from her hands, still remaining on his shoulders.
Maximoff frowned, shaking her head while Warren came closer to them, looking around to make sure nobody was watching them.
“Why should I?”
“I hurt you.” Bobby took a shaky breath.
“You didn’t mean it. It was an accident.” She said, reassuring him softly, fingers gently grasping his cold arm. It had changed back to his normal pink skin, still cold but not like before.
Bobby just looked at her before nodding slowly, gulping down some saliva. They stayed like that for a while, until Warren rattled their scattered bags while picking them up, gathering their attention. “We gotta move. The paparazzi are still around, and they’ll love getting their hands on this news material.” He gestured to the three of them.
Somewhere back on the mall, a complaining mob of paparazzi was questioning how they could have lost view of the kids for just a few seconds, get tangled on a bunch of fabrics, and slipped on a random patch of ice.
──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────
Patrol night did not go so well Dick Grayson.
He had gone to Bludhaven earlier in the week, having to commit to his day job despite the current family crisis happening back at the manor. If it were for him, he would have stayed in Gotham and spent more time around his little sister, had some heart-to-heart talk with her, made sure those boys bothering her remained far away, and everything would go back to normal.
But reality had to strike him and make him go do his work back at home.
Hours upon hours, paperwork after paperwork. Days dragged on and on, boring him and making him lose his nerve more than once around his coworkers back at the police station.
Why should he be around these idiots when he had a bigger issue going on?
He was very tempted to turn in a small leave. Just for a few days. He was confident that in just a few days would be enough to solve the issue.
Nothing beats a good quality time with his precious sister, so she would let down her guard and confess that all she needed was her favorite brother to give her some care and attention. Beg him to take her away from those mean boys and that dreadful school with even more dreadful teachers.
And he had gotten that leave! Two beautiful, long weeks back in Gotham sounded heavenly to him.
If it weren’t for Bruce dragging him back on patrol because ‘crime never takes a break’.
And God, was last night’s patrol just awful.
The comms were failing, pure static was heard, along with the channels getting switched around every five minutes. He tripped so many times on bare air or sudden wet patches on the rails and edges of buildings. Not to mention the absence of the two younger vigilantes of the clan, who apparently were off that night by their own volition and command, if Bruce’s scowl was enough of an answer. And lastly, Jason finally decided to make an appearance the moment Dick fell flat on his back from a firescape.
He still felt sore, no matter how much ointment Alfred passed over his back before he fell dead asleep in his bed.
The deep tiredness in his bones didn’t let him get up from his bed until the afternoon of the next day came around. Sleeping right through Barb’s calls and texts without a care in the world.
His sight was blurry, still heavy with sleep, slipping closed, and unaware of his surroundings. The silk sheets cool against his skin and limbs. The soft cushion of his pillow made it harder to lift his head and finally get up from the bed. The cold drops of water, hitting his forehead every once in a while-
‘…Drops of water?’ His mind supplied quietly.
A quiet moment passed by until he felt another drop hit his skin, sliding down his temple and sinking into his dark hair.
Then another.
And another.
And three more followed, one after another.
Dick tried to move his head away from it, but for some reason, his head remained on the same position.
More drops fell over him.
Starting to get annoyed, Dick tried to lift his hand to wipe away the water just to find out he also couldn’t move it. With a knot in his stomach, he tried to move his other hand, but the result was the same as before. It felt like they were pinned to the bed by weights.
The next drops dragged out grunts and whimpers out of his throat, a pressure on his jaw similar to the grip of long fingers keeping him shut.
His body felt so heavy, it was suffocating. As if boulders kept his lungs trapped under their weight. His legs and arms were constricted by cold hands with sharp nails that scraped against his skin and gave him a very unpleasant sensation, breaking shivers and goosebumps all over his body.
‘Get off Get off Get off Get off Get oFF GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF-’
As if his thoughts were heard, an ear-piercing shriek that seemed to resemble a butchered laugh got him snapping open his eyes.
Hanging upside down from his headboard, a shadowed figure hovered over him. It’s pale, wet hand gripped his jaw closed, nails digging into his cheeks. Long, drenched, black hair covered its face, the tresses making him yelp as they made contact with his skin and soaked his sheets.
It tilted its head to the side, showing a gaping head wound dripping with deep red blood and a grey eye that stared deeply into his own eyes. The blood continued to drop down it’s face, falling off and staining Dick.
Falling right into his forehead.
It crept closer, the air cold and dead around it while Dick felt tears going down his cheeks. His chest was about to burst in fear, his body drenched in his own cold sweat.
“I thought you liked physical contact, Dick.” It whispered with a horrifying skin-splitting grin right in his face.
Then, the door of his room slammed open.
In the blink of an eye, it was gone.
“Grayson, we need you downstairs right now,” Damian ordered, his frown deepening as he watched the pale man lying on the bed.
Dick sat up quickly, feeling nauseous and head pounding along with his heart beat. He began to pat around the bed, his other hand going over his face as he looked around for it.
All that he found was dry sheets and sweat on his skin.
No blood.
No water.
No it.
“Get dressed, Drake and I require your thoughts on an important subject.” With that, the boy closed the door and went down the hall.
Dick put a hand against his chest, panting as he stood up in shaky legs and stumbled towards his bathroom to throw up all the contents in his stomach down the toilet.
Dark hair disappeared behind the door of his closet.
──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────
“Down the hall, take a left. Room 374. There’s supposed to be a guard outside the door.” A bored nurse said while handing the girl a lanyard that said ‘Visitor’ in bold, dark letters.
Bobby and Warren sat in the waiting area, both dozing off from tiredness after their earlier escapade, and still unsure of how to address the whole success that had happened at the parking lot.
She nodded and began walking down the long white halls of the Psych Ward of Gotham’s General Hospital. It smelled of disinfectant, sterile and cleaning chemicals, making her try not to take big breaths through her nose so her eyes wouldn’t water from the strong smell.
Bobby had been quiet the whole drive, no matter how much she tried to reassure him that she was fine. Her hand had healed in record time, too! She had shown it to the two of them, but Warren stressed that it wasn’t about that at all.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
“I don’t get it! I am fine!”
“It’s more than that! You have a mutation! And it awakened in public! Do you know how much trouble that could bring to you?!”
Bobby took a deep breath, driving his truck and muttering to himself while focusing on the road. Maximoff turned to look at Warren, with visible confusion in her expression.
“What mutation? What is that?”
The truck screeched to a stop, rattling everyone inside and making them scream and hold onto something.
Bobby whipped his head towards her, a dry gulp echoing from her throat at the serious expression on his face. He took a deep breath, fingers gripping the wheel before letting go of it, leaving traces of frost where his hands used to be.
“I am your friend,” he began to say. “And we haven’t known each other for long, so I don’t expect you to tell me everything about you the same way I haven’t told you everything about me.”
He waited until she nodded slowly back at him to continue.
“And I know you’re hiding something. Something big, and I won’t push you to say it until you’re ready to do so.”
Warren bit his tongue, switching looks between the other two as she sank into her seat with an uncomfortable expression. Bobby then gave a heavy sigh, his hand going through his hair.
“But not knowing what a mutation is? I’m sorry, but I know for a fact that we have discussed it in class months ago. So I will ask you for only this time to explain to me what is going on.”
The silence reigned over the three of them. The boys patiently waited for her to respond, noticing her shaking leg and wide stare, fingers rubbing harshly on the cuffs of her jacket as she took a shaky breath and closed her eyes.
“...I’m not even sure you guys will believe me.”
Warren came up closer, right behind Bobby’s seat, so he could stare at her directly. “Try us.”
She looked at them, lip trembling and shoulders tense.
“I’m still looking for answers. I’m not even sure if I’ll get them. That’s why I’m going to visit Bianca.”
Bobby furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean your mom?”
She shook her head, wrangling her fingers as they began to sweat. “Not my mom. She is someone else’s. She can help me out.”
“So, if we get you to Bianca, you’ll explain what is happening?” Warren asked, voice softer than expected.
“If she gives me the answers that I need, then yes.”
Bobby started up the car once again and drove without another word.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
She was so excited to explain the brain-numbing story of what she had been dragged into.
(She wasn’t)
Maximoff was filled with so many thoughts. It was meant to be a relaxing day! A normal hangout! Disconnect from the reality of her situation and enjoy life a little before heading right into finding answers and get the hell out of Gotham and find Billy, for fuck’s sake-
“Room 374, Miss?” A deep, gruff voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Looks like she reached the room without noticing. That was fast.
Maximoff nodded at the guard, showing her visitor tag and taking a step back as he indicated to do so. He began to put in a digital code on a lock by the door, the thing beeping loudly twice before a hissing mechanical sound echoed down the hall and opened the door.
“Knock three times to get out. You got twenty minutes.”
That was a weird warning, but she still walked inside the room.
There was a small window that barely let any natural light in, the sun starting to set to give start to the evening and extending the shadows of the trees outside into the floor of the room. A small light bulb on the wall, just above a small and messy bed, made her eyes hurt from the artificial lighting. Her gaze wandered around, taking notice of books scattered around the floor, with pages ripped off and lying all over the place. Odd markings, some scratched on the walls and others made with a black marker, surrounded the whole room.
Kneeling on the floor with her back turned, as she mumbled to herself, a woman in grey scrubs.
‘Yeah, I’m out,’ She thought, about to take a step back and walk out.
But the door closed right behind her, the metallic hiss making her almost tear up on the spot.
“I expected you to drop by sooner.”
A melodic voice said, the woman getting up from the ground and patting her clothes down with a sigh. Long loose curls going down her back, turning around to face the frozen girl by the door.
Before Maximoff, a thin and beautiful woman stood before her. Tall, bronzed skin, a mole on the corner of her left eye, and deep brown eyes that held dark eye bags beneath them.
Wayne’s Mother. Bianca.
She could see all the resemblances between them, with the exception of the height. Since Bianca easily towered over her by two heads. Hell, she was probably around the same height as Bruce.
“Come closer,” Bianca demanded, eyes stuck on the young girl as she took a few steps forward.
Maximoff tried not to step on the symbols on the floor, not wanting to piss off the woman that did not seem in right space of mind.
When she stood a few feet in front of her, Bianca began to walk around her in circles, Gaze calculating and unshakeable, as if Maximoff was some type of fascinating artifact that appeared in front of her.
Long fingers touched her hair, Bianca humming with a frown. She suddenly leaned forward, getting right in the girl’s face and making her flinch out of reflex. The woman stared at her face, taking in her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, and her lips.
“...Fascinating. You have the same face, but it’s so much different now.” She muttered, eyes softening suddenly around the edges.
Bianca’s hands cradled her cheeks, cold fingers tracing the features with gentleness and delicacy. A sharp breath intake and her eyes watering, the more she continued to look at her.
“Was it painful for her? For you?”
Maximoff made the decision to lie to the woman.
She shook her head, a tear slipping down both of their cheeks.
Bianca took a moment to hold her for a bit longer, letting her hands slip down slowly. Maximoff wiped away her tears quickly, clearing her throat as she scratched the back of her neck with a rough sigh.
“We need your help,” she said. “ We are looking for-”
“You’re looking for Rio’s vessels.”
The woman sat down on her bed, fingers going through her hair and making the curls bounce around with a weird smile on her lips. “She is making you get them to fulfill the deal I made with her, right?”
Maximoff was caught off guard, nodding slowly with a shrug. “Kind of. More like she wants to make the Waynes miserable and gets her precious retribution… or whatever a mafia boss wants, I guess?”
“Rio as a mafia boss? Mother, you’re cute,” Bianca chuckled. “You've got no idea of who is pulling all the strings, are you?”
“I don’t care as long as I can go to my real family.” Maximoff declared, lips thinning.
“It doesn’t work like that, Maximoff.” The woman drawled, crossing her legs as the girl bit her tongue.
How did she know her last name?
“You need the bigger picture to understand what you are getting into, so sit down and listen.”
Since she did not have any other choice, Maximoff sat down on the floor with a grumble and crisscrossed her legs with a frown. Bianca ignored her attitude, moving her feet in circles as she leaned back a bit.
“What exactly do you know about witches?”
“Like Harry Potter?”
Bianca sighed and shook her head, “No, but we don’t have the time to explain all of that. So, let’s summarize a-”
“I was joking! Your daughter gave me the gist of it already!” She quickly butted in, getting a glare from Bianca in return.
“Fine, then,” Bianca rolled her eyes. “Anyway, sixteen years ago, I made a deal with death.”
Before Maximoff could interrupt once again, Bianca gave her a pointed stare that made her shut her mouth closed. With that done, she continued.
“I was expecting.” A nostalgic glint in her eyes. “Twins, actually. A boy and a girl.”
This time, Maximof stayed silent.
“My family had been through a rough path at that time. My parents were no longer with me, and my twin brother had also gone into a life of crime.” She let out a sarcastic, short laugh. “He used to be a lawyer, and I would always say that this city would drag him down with it… and I was right.”
“I was alone, well established in my career as a singer in the opera. And money wasn’t a problem either, my folks left me a good sum, and my brother took care of me from afar. What I lacked was security.”
Bianca uncrossed her legs and leaned forward with a tired expression. “I didn’t want Bruce to know about the pregnancy; he had his problems, and I didn’t want anything to do with his name. The Wayne name is a cursed name.”
Maximoff took note of that last part. Something to look up later.
“So, I summoned Death with a deal. The safety of my children, and she would get her own apprentices.”
Bianca rubbed her eyes with a groan. “That didn’t work out, since one of the twins didn’t make it. He was stillborn. I cremated him.”
“But she survived, that’s like half the deal, right?” Maximoff stuttered, mind reeling with the fact that Rio was apparently Death? How does that even make sense?
Then again, she was not exactly normal either, and she also had a ghost companion, so she should really stop questioning stuff when her day-to-day life was straight out of Casper, the friendly ghost, if it were a teen drama.
“Almost,” Bianca muttered. “In exchange, she gave some vessels to guard while I taught my daughter the basis of witchcraft so she could become Death’s apprentice. And that also did not work out.”
“Why?”
“Because I tried to break the deal.”
“Oh.”
Bianca got up with a chuckle, a weird look in her eyes as she walked around the room. “And Death did not like it one bit. She cursed me, drove me insane, insane enough to make them lock me away in here!”
She began to yell, a maniacal grin on her lips. Maximoff got up from the floor, stepping far away from the woman until her back met the wall.
“You got what you wanted, Rio! You got it!” She screamed out, banging on the walls with cries and yells and claims.
It continued for a bit, scaring Maximoff shitless as she moved towards a corner, dragging herself to the side of the wall as Bianca dropped down to her knees with sobs and laughs. Hugging herself as her nails scratched at the material of her clothes.
“My baby, my baby,” she sobbed. “She was never meant to be for the Wayne name. She was mine, all mine.”
Bianca snapped her neck toward the pale girl, still gripping the wall with shaky legs and trembling fingers. The woman let out a cracking sob, face stained with tears.
“I was never going to be able to see her grow. Not like she was meant to be. Not with my last name. Not with me.”
“But,” she shuddered, “If it was not going to be me, it would be with family. My family.”
In the back of her head, despite the scary situation at hand, Maximoff connected a big, important dot in this whole conversation.
Wayne was never supposed to go with Bruce Wayne.
She was supposed to go with her uncle.
“I signed it. I know I did.” Bianca muttered. “It took a while for me to sign it, but I gave it to Harvey, I know I did! He knew I didn’t want my baby with him, but she was still there and she wasn’t meant to be there-”
What happened next was straight out of a horror movie.
Bianca’s eyes rolled back into her skull, showing only the white part of it. She threw her body back in an abnormal arch as the light bulb began to flicker as if it were a throbbing light. Groaning and moaning words that were either in another tongue or completely gibberish.
She suddenly stood up on her feet, standing on the tip of her toes as she pointed a finger at the screaming girl, following her as she scattered to the door and tried to force it open with her body weight.
Bianca’s head snapped forward, looking directly at her despite the lack of pupils.
“Wheel of fortune,” her voice sounded distorted. “Find the ashes of The Moon beneath the Four of Wands, get The Sun its Hierophant, and reunite with the Reversed Tower.”
‘Oh, fuck this and everything else. Get her out of here!”
With the three bangs against the door, Bianca dropped to the floor as if a puppet whose strings had been cut, groaning and whimpering while the light stopped flickering. Maximoff could hear people yelling outside, recognizing Bobby and Warren’s voices, which made her cling to the door with desperation.
The sudden hand on her shoulder made her scream and jump to look at a completely normal-looking Bianca, despite the scowl on her face.
“Stop yelling,” she growled. Maximoff, feeling a bit dizzy from the whole ordeal, shut up.
Bianca took out a piece of paper from her back (how the fuc-), and shoved it in the girl’s hand, closing it in a tight fist. “I had it written down before you came in. Follow it to the letter and don’t skip any steps.”
Maximoff nodded with a weird sound, feeling lightheaded as the door behind her hissed open.
Before she got dragged out by the guards, Bianca whispered to her an important name with a request.
“Harvey Dent. Find him. Find him and he will make sure the Waynes never interfere with you ever again.”
Find Harvey Dent, huh?
That should be easy, right?
Right?!
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
Author's note: I lied, this became over 9,900 words lol. Hope you all enjoy this bc chapter's will not be this long again, I just got really inspired for this chapter and couldn't stop writting. Started summer class last week so hopefully I'll survive. Many things happened and I can't wait to see what are everyone's comments and thoughts! Remember to follow the asks rules and to be respectful!! Lots of love and hugs, GG✨
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Bonus Memes:








#yandere batboys#yandere batfamily#neglected reader#yandere batfam#platonic yandere#platonic batfam#yan batfam#ancient dreams in a modern land#mutant reader#yandere#xmen#xmen x reader#yandere batfamily x neglected reader#yandere batfam x neglected reader#platonic yandere batfam#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere jason todd#rio vidal#barbara gordon#conner kent#warren worthington iii#bobby drake#yandere dick grayson#original character#Spotify
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“i can’t seem to understand you” with bucket bucky - hello i love you!!!
um hello i love you mORE
am i going back to my roots?? yes. i never left. here's an avengers 2012 style fic with my new forced family morons.
word count: 1.6k
warnings: mild thunderbolts spoilers, swearing, breaking and entering, mr avoidant over here
my masterlist over here and my silly little inbox for more requests, should you please
"First he leads us into the ass-kicking of our lives, now he's got us breaking into a random flat," Ava snipes, trailing behind the group. "What's the plan now, Bucky?"
"It is not his fault we got our asses kicked," Yelena squints as she looks up the brick wall.
"I don't need you defending me," he grumbles, jumping to catch hold of the fire escape.
"I'm not defending you," she says. "I'm calling all of us useless."
"We will break into tiny, New York apartment, and recover before we fight again," Alexei says. "Take nap, small lunch, then crush our enemies."
Bucky drags the fire escape ladder down to the ground, before wiping off his hands.
"No lunch," Bucky replies. "We're not staying that long. We just need a place to come up with a plan."
"Oh, we're taking the ladder? I figured you had another U-Haul around here to crash," John looks at the rackety old thing. "Can this thing even hold all of us?"
Bucky rolls his eyes, beginning the ascent. "Climb. Or don't. I don't care."
"Move." Ava shoves past him, following behind Bucky.
They crept up the side of the building, quiet enough for trained fugitives, loud enough to be annoying.
By the time they reached the third floor, Bucky was already prying open a window with enough force to snap the lock.
The window behind them hasn’t even clicked shut when a voice cuts through the room like a blade.
"You've got to be joking," your voice snapped from the doorway, sharp enough to stop all movement.
They all freeze.
You’re standing in the hallway, barefoot, holding a bat high up.
Yelena raises a tentative hand. “Uh-- hello?”
“Don’t.”
She puts her hand back down.
"What the hell Bucky?" you grit. "What the fuck are you doing here? And who are these people?"
"You guys know each other?"
"Hi," Bucky grunts, ignoring Walker and also the redness creeping up his neck. "These are--"
"The Thunderbolts."
"No." He glares. "They're helping me take down Val."
"Val? Congress Val? We're against her now?" you ask exasperatedly. "Last time we talked, you just got elected. Are you still in Congress?"
"You're in Congress?" Ava pipes up. "Didn't you kill JFK?"
"Not the point," Bucky groans.
"And they still elected you?"
"I'm not in Congress anymore."
"Oh goodie. Since when?" you ask.
"This morning." He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't get time to call."
"Sure. You had time to break into my apartment, though."
"About that--" He glances back at the group who were standing around, clearly enjoying the beat-down he was facing. "We just need a place while we regrouped."
"To be clear, he did not tell us that he knew you. We thought we were going somewhere random," Walker juts in again.
"Oh, he's here too. Hello Craptain America. Which sewer did you crawl out of to be here?"
"I didn't even do anything," he mumbles stepping back.
"You've done enough."
"We'll leave if you just say the word," Bucky cuts in. "Swear. But we just need a few hours, and we'll be out of your life."
You stare at him for a few seconds. "Is someone gonna come break down my door looking for you?"
"No," he says.
“A door would not stop him anyway,” Alexei added, sounding entirely too cheerful. “But we will protect you. Not well. But we will try.”
You glance between all of them for a few seconds.
"Fine," you say at last. "If anyone comes looking for you guys, you're replacing anything they break."
Bucky lets out an exhale, as they all walk past him to sink down into various seats.
You turned without saying anything and walked down the hallway to the bedroom.
A minute passes.
Then footsteps.
He sees you leaning against the dresser, arms folded, phone still in hand.
Bucky stands in the doorway for a second, hesitant.
You look at him. “You gonna say something, or are you just here to breathe loud and feel sorry for yourself?”
He blinks. “Hi?”
“Try again.”
He sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
"No way, really?" you drawl. "But this is everything I've ever dreamed of."
"I don't get it. I can't seem to understand you." You shake your head. "You bring me flowers, disappear for three months, we kiss, you raincheck every dinner I cook for you and now you show up here with four assassins."
"You're mad," he says, observant as ever.
You stare at him. Bucky dutifully matches your gaze, forcing himself not to fidget.
"Bucky, why are you here?" you ask, voice deflated.
"I told you."
"You wanted a place to lay low. Is that all?"
He doesn't say anything. You search his face for anything, any sign.
He shifts on his feet. “I just needed somewhere safe.”
“And I’m what? A checkpoint?”
“No,” he says, too quickly, before adding in something more quieter, “You’re the first place I thought of.”
You sigh, folding your arms. “Are you in or are you out, Barnes?
His mouth is pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his chest.
"Because if you are, and this is how it's going to be, I'm not interested. You're cute. I like you. But this isn't enough for me."
"'M sorry," He looks at you, softer now. "Things haven't been good. Didn't want to get you caught up in it."
"Yet here I am."
"I'm sorry about that too," he adds. "
You look at him for a long moment. At the cut above his brow. The dust on his jacket. The way his hands are clenched..
"You kept the bat." The corner of his lips quirk up into a smile.
“You should be grateful I didn’t swing it.”
“It’s got good balance,” he admitted.
He looks different up close. Same face, same eyes but worn thinner. Like he hadn’t slept properly in days. Maybe weeks.
You sigh. "Should I order pizza?"
"Yes," they all chorus from the living room. It catches you by surprise.
"Stop listening in," he barks.
"The walls are like, paper thin, man," Yelena says. "You should have thought of that before you brought us to your situationship's house."
“What the hell is a situationship?” he muttered, directing it toward you now. “Actually scratch that. I don’t care. Whatever it is, that’s not what we are.”
You raised an eyebrow, arms still folded. “No?”
"But there is a 'we', yes?" Alexei calls.
You look at Bucky. He looks back sheepishly, somewhat even helpless.
"Nope," you reply, moving past him to go to the band of morons out there. "There is no 'we'."
"I mean--" he mumbles.
"Classic lover's quarrel," he hears Alexei continues, like he's explaining this to someone. "Melina and I had them many times."
You roll your eyes. "How long do you have? Pizza's gonna take a while."
“You don’t have to feed us.”
"If you're gonna fight against this guy--"
"Bob," someone calls.
"Bob. If you're going to fight against Bob, you're gonna need more than a granola bar. When’s the last time any of you had a vegetable?"
You're met with a series of shrugs.
"Grown adults," you exhale, shaking your head before walking back into the bedroom to find your phone.
You thumb through the menu.
Something soft brushes against your hand. You swallow the thickness in your throat, refusing to tear your gaze away from the phone.
“Hey,” he says, and it’s almost too soft. “I’m sorry.”
You don’t move.
“I mean it. I’ll make it up to you.”
You glance at him.
"Look, I'm not trying to guilt you into--"
"It's not that. I've been meaning to." He swallows.
"Bucky--"
“I missed you,” he said, not quite looking at you. “I wish I could say I’ll get everything right from now on. I just… I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”
You swallow. Slowly.
“And it didn’t feel good. Not talking to you. Everything was happening, and the nightmares were back, and I kept thinking 'I should tell you this.' But then I didn’t. And it got worse.”
“You don’t get to drop that on me if you're gonna fuck off again.”
“I won’t.”
You stared at him for a long moment.
Then you tilt your head. “You know you owe me, like, three dinners.”
He gives you a small smile. "I'll buy you dinner for the rest of your life."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Congressman."
His eyes drifted toward the bat, still propped against the wall.
“You really were ready to clock me, huh?”
“I was aiming for Walker, but yeah. You were next.”
He smiles, and it's probably the most beautiful thing in the world.
"Are these your friends now?" you ask finally.
"They're not even my co-workers."
"Didn’t think you had co-workers anymore. As of, you know. This morning."
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “new job. No salary. No benefits at all, really.”
"You're gonna buy me dinner like this?"
"I'll figure it out."
You snort despite yourself. “You're gonna get someone killed.”
He shrugs again. “Probably me.”
He reaches out. Just lightly. Two fingers brushing against your pinky where your hand hangs.
Without thinking, he shifts just slightly closer. Not enough to close the space, but... there. He's back up in your space, and he fills it like he never left at all.
“I think about you,” he says, voice quiet like it's the one thing he wants to keep only for you both, "All the time."
"Sap," you say, but it feels airy. "Your 100 year old charm won't work on me. This doesn't fix anything."
"I know."
His fingers twitch like he’s about to pull away.
You catch them before he does.
“You disappear again like that,” you say, “I swing the bat next time.”
He smiles, head tilted. “Sure thing.”
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!
#ari answers#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#friends#wlwloverwrites#thunderbolts#thunderbolts spoilers#thunderbolts*#thunderbolts* spoilers
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sev's essay - harry potter
summary: maybe you shouldn't have left your summer homework for the last minute. at least you're not the only one though... wc: 0.6k+ this is also platonic!golden trio, established relationship with harry and reader. part of my wolfstar!daughter au :)
With a loud groan, you sunk into the chair you were sitting on in the middle of your living room, dragging the sheets of parchment underneath the table with you. You should have done the homework sooner. You should have done it sooner and should have probably listened in class when Snape told you where you could find the notes for this chapter. He was going to kill you if you came empty handed. Worse, he would humiliate you if you turned in a rubbish essay.
“You alright, love?” You perked up at the sound of your dad’s voice, briefly forgetting that your parents were sat just a couple of meters away from you, cuddled up on a couch while having a cup of tea. Kicking at the floor underneath you, you pushed yourself back up on the chair, nodding. Remus had sensed your irritation a long time ago, but he didn’t want to comment, didn’t want to make you feel worse.
Sirius shrugged into Remus’s arms, muttering “Probably Snape’s essay.” “It is Snape’s essay! It makes no sense! I- I’m going to ask help from Harry.” As you shoved your feet into your slippers, carrying your essay in one hand and quill and ink in the other, you made your way to the back door, missing Remus’s comment of “He probably didn’t know there was homework!” But Sirius slapped his arm lightly. “Let her. He’ll make her feel better about herself.”
You walked down the couple of meters down the open field to the Potters’ back door, knocking softly on the glass window to alert anyone inside before letting yourself in. James and Lily were in a similar position to your parents, sat on their couch whilst playing a game of chess. “Knight to E5.” Lily muttered, watching triumphantly as her knight knocked James’s horse.
“Hiya sweetheart!” She greeted, turning her attention to you. “Hi! Is Harry here?” And as though you summoned him, Harry came skipping down the stairs, a pencil and parchment in his hand. “I was just coming to find you.” He admitted, raising his parchment up to grab your attention.
“Did you do Sev’s essay?” You asked as a greeting, and Harry threw his head back in defeat. “I’ll give you one chance to guess what I was coming to ask you about.” James laughed from his place on the couch, extending an arm towards you at the hopeless sigh you let out. “Let me take a look, I might be able to help.” You and Harry shot each other a look, but trudged over to his dad either way, holding out the paper with the essay question on it.
Lily peeked over the piece of parchment, furrowing her eyebrows as she read the question. The couple was silent, confused looks over taking their features. You stifled a laugh, watching as James ran a hand through his wild hair, lips moving silently as he read over the question again. “This is N.E.W.T level, right?” Asked Lily for clarification. You and Harry nodded in unison.
“If aunt Lily doesn’t understand, who will?” You pondered in exasperation, but a silent answer floated in the air. You and Harry turned to look at each other in synchrony, and you grimaced at the boy.
“She’s gonna kill us if we come asking her.”
“Not if Ron got to her first.”
Snatching the parchment back from James’s hands, you ran towards the fireplace with Harry, yelling out a “Thanks!” as he tugged you into the fireplace along with him. He released a handful of floo underneath your squeezed bodies, announcing Hermione’s address so that a cage of green smoke surrounded you.
When your feet reconnecting to ground underneath you, you dusted yourself off before stepping into the living room of the Granger household. A laugh immediately escaped you as you spotted Hermione and Ron sitting at her dinner table, stationary scattered on the wooden surface in front of them. Well, at least you and Harry weren’t the only ones who waited until the end of summer to complete your assignments. Hermione barely glanced up before she sighed.
“You too?”
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#rainydayathogwarts#harry potter#hogwarts#marauders era#gryffindor#the marauders#harry potter rp#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanart#harry potter fandom#harry potter x reader#harry potter smut#harry potter oneshot#harry potter marauders#harry potter angst#golden trio era#james x lily#remus x sirius#wolfstar#wolfstar!daughter#yasministration fics
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Dabi simply adores you, his precious daughter. But he didn’t always love you.
Part 2
Warnings: attempted murder (failed), canon typical violence, robberies, alcohol+drugs, references to child neglect, implied pedophilia (nothing graphic, and not towards reader), teenage parenthood, minor swearing.
reader has blue eyes like Dabi's.
let me know if you spot anymore.
note: I swear, it's not that bad, just fluff with kinda angsty undertones, cuz' it's Dabi! what do you want
I mean, he was only a teenager when he had you, fresh to the villain business at the wonderful age of 16 and a half. He decided it’d be a wonderful time to drink his sorrows away one night, one horrid, awful night. He ended up fucking a woman he did not know, who was surely much older than he, in the back alley of a bar in the worse parts of town. Amidst the filth of the nearby dumpster, it was here that he would make the single worst decision of his life, either that, or the best. He really doesn’t know.
but alas, he ended up with a little swaddled baby 9 months later when the same woman angrily shoved you into his arms, declaring something unintelligible before storming out of the bar again. Dabi, who at the time was drunk and higher than a kite. didn't react. when you started crying, he didn't react. when you cried louder, thrashing around in his hold he still didn't react. he was in his own world at that moment, shutting out everything except the burn of the cheep beer going down his throat. it wasn't until he was kicked out of the bar along with you for being too disruptive and he fell asleep in one of the abandoned buildings nearby only to wake up hung over and disoriented did he realize what he had done; when he saw a quite malnourished baby laying down on his jacket that he chucked on the floor last night. your swaddle all dirty by now.
he did nothing but stare at you for a while, the pounding in his head as well as the harsh rays of the mid day sun didn't help much. He was still just a kid, a villain too, and homeless. he wasn't ready to have a child. for a split second he thought of leaving you there, God, you looked just like Fuyumi when she was a baby. but you looked worse, like you were barely living. had you... had you died during the night? he stumbled to your side of the room, trying his best to avoid the rumble of the deteriorating building. it would truly have been a miracle if you happened to survive in such conditions.
carefully, he flipped you onto your back, putting a warm hand on your chest. god. you were barely breathing. barely responding too. Dabi's breath hitched, had he nearly killed his own child? he stayed like there for a few moments. looking right at you. he really had no idea what to do. you're already on the verge of death, if you died right now, would it really matter? you've been on this earth for only a few days it seems, your mother left you with a villainous teenage father who could let you wither away in an abandoned building.
if you were to die right now. he could spare you the pain of having to live with him, you'd never have to know the horrors of life.
he could just light one flame,
let it fill the room with smoke,
and watch as your lungs give up
and you simply stop breathing.
...
you'd just be another person who never got to see their future.
Gently, he stroked your tiny chubby cheek with a warm finger.
he nearly laughed at the thought, killing his first child, just like his own father had done with him. he pulled you into his arms, preparing to hold a small flame right up to your face until your fragile little body couldn't take it anymore. then he'd leave your body here as he burns down the rest of the building. a fitting memorial. but before he could do anything,
he paused - you - you squirmed in his hold. cracking open your eyes to stare at him with soulless blue eyes that mirrored his own, tried and scared. an expression that surely should never be on the face of a child.
Dabi truly can't quite recall what happened in that moment when he held you in his arms. all he remembers is a clenching in his heart. maybe it was the alcohol and the drugs. but he felt the emptiness and the pain. the gut wrenching, soul crushing pain, the type that he felt whenever his father would ignore him, again and again. he pain he felt when he saw his childhood home again after so many years, only to find that nothing had changed; he was forever gone and no body gave a fuck.
but- you. just you. you were just like him. you wanted nothing more than a little bit of love. would it truly be so bad if he gave it to you? he'd keep you around, for a while at least.
that's what he told himself as he found himself stealing diapers and baby powder and formula and what not from a convenience store, only to fuck up making formula and changing a baby. he did a little victory dance with you in his arms when he finally figured it out.
but that's only after he managed to get some midwife or other doctor to do a lil' check up on you. (only to knock them out for the police to find their body hours later.) anxiously analyzing everything the doctor was doing, making mental notes to himself to have you try and eat better.
he tended to do more robberies and muggings these days, only to spend it all on a shabby little one bedroom condo in one of the cheaper (and by proxy, crime ridden) parts of the city. it was better than being a single parent living on the streets I guess.
he ended up turning the bedroom into your nursery, if you would call a room that could barely hold a twin sized bed, full of nothing but a crib, a small closet full of dirty clothes, and a big stack of baby products in one corner; a nursery. he instead slept on the couch most nights. but he would forever find himself running back into your room whenever you would cry, he almost always ended up letting you sleep on his chest on the couch. both arms slung over your tiny body so there would never be a chance you'd fall out of his grip.
but life got better with time it seems. he started taking bigger jobs, bank robberies, sometimes murders every now and then. he built a good reputation for himself. and you. you grew on him. who was once a fragile little thing, right to death's doorstep. now, when you smiled, he felt ever so full of life.
he liked how you would always wait by the door after he went out to run an "errand", always being right where he left you and babbling happily when he came back. making a little gesture to be picked up and carried.
he liked how you tended to boss him around most of the time. you could point to where you wanted to go and he would happily carry you there. he isn't even aware of what he's doing, you could yell at him (as best as a baby can anyways) and he'd meet your demands near instantly without much complaint. someone else would have to point it out for him to notice.
he especially liked how you would stare at him with wide eyes as he would smoke on the balcony with the glass door shut. every night, it was a routine, just after dinner, Dabi would snag a pack of cigarettes, and sit outside on the balcony to smoke, occasionally looking back inside through the glass door to see what you were doing. he would put on a little cartoon or set out some toys for you. and while that'd keep you entertained for a while, you'd still drift towards him, looking back at him through the glass to try and get his attention. his smoke breaks kept getting shorter and shorter because of that.
he liked how every time he woke up, you would always be with him. looking up at him with those big blue eyes that he gave you. especially the way you'd always look at him with nothing but love and joy.
the same eyes that he used to look at his own father with disdain and fury.
he'll joke around that you're too clingy, always following him, attached to the hip, quite literally with how often he holds you on his hip. But deep down he knows he'd be torn apart if you were gone from him for even one hour. he can't live without your little hugs and giggles and stupid playtime's and everything. please, your love means the world to him.
but he was still only ever a boy, a boy who never quite got to grow up the way he was meant to. but you will forever be the reason he'd try and be a man. for his little girl. he remembers how he'd make more frequent trips to the grocery store, how he'd stock up on medicine for kids, how he'd buy cleaning supplies to somehow make the rinky dinky condo you both live in a tad bit more suitable for a child.
you're the reason he even joined the league. this world has already killed him, and while he was given a second chance as Dabi will it really ever be the same?
but you. you are so full of life, so perfect, awaiting a future unknown. he'll sculpt this world with the second chance he's been given. for your father, Touya, may be dead, but Dabi is not, and he is very much ready to give you what he never had, even if he dies again in the process.
but with the league comes responsibility, a time consuming responsibility. gone are the days when he'd lounge around at home all day and only leave to take you to the playground or grocery shopping, and the occasional robbery when he was low on cash. now he was busy! can you believe it? now Dabi may have skipped nearly all of high school but he wasn't that stupid enough to leave a child home alone for hours on end. hence, he came to the conclusion of daycare. the horrid, horrid daycare.
he nearly cried when he realized his little girl was growing up so fast, it seemed like just last week he was holding you on his hip as he heated up a bottle of formula in his hand to finally get you to shut up and sleep. that only a couple days ago you walked your first ever steps after he came home early with your favorite snacks. he wasn't even able to record it he was too busy sobbing as you held onto his legs to steady yourself waiting for him to pick you up. it literally felt like yesterday you said your first words, "baba" after he jokingly started calling you cry baby.
this actually led to quite a lot of problematic nicknames, cry baby became Babs and Babs became bun and bun became bunny and bunny---- (i'm losing it as I write this.)
but nonetheless, it hurts. so every morning he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to haul you out of bed and get you all pretty and dolled up for the day. he lets you choose your shirt and pants and bows and what not. tying up your little baby sized shoes to take you to the next district over. now, he would've enrolled you into a daycare much closer to home but he really wants you to be safe, and unfortunately anything and everything in your neighborhood without his supervision is not and never will be, considered safe. so he'd much rather escort you via public transport to the richer neighborhoods every single morning than have you be in danger of any kind. sure, you're a little out of place, with thrifted clothes and frizzled up hair from only ever using your dad's 4-in-1 shampoo. and he's definitely out place. hence why he never quite shows his face to the teachers. always ushering you into the daycare building before leaving as fast as he came. The teachers think that he's your older goth brother who's being forced to take you to school by his parents. is it exhausting? yes, very much so. will he do it on repeat for the rest of his life if that means ensuring your happiness and safety? most certainly yes.
---
PART 2 IS HERE
that'll be all. I might do a part 2. tried something different with my writing this time and hope it's better than the rest of my works.
my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box
send me an ask, I fucking love hearing from you guys.
edit, 4 hours after posting: I'm very disappointed that I still have no new asks. very disappointed in you all.
#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#mha#child reader#bnha x child reader#bnha headcannons#platonic yandere#dabi x daughter reader#dabi x reader#dabi x y/n#dabi x you#mha touya#todoroki touya#touya todoroki#dabi touya#touya x reader#bnha touya#boku no hero academia#bnha angst#mha x reader#mha angst
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NO WAY I HAVE A THOUGHT HOLD ONN
I just saw this TikTok of this girl that has a bf w a lot of tattoos and she gets this colourful eyeshadow pallet from her makeup bag to COLOUR IN THE TATTOO if u get what I mean like the tattoo could be like a butterfly or a dragon AND SHE COLOURS IT IN WITH HER COLOURFUL EYESHADOW PALETTE and omg I IMMEDIATELY thought of SUKUNA it’s be such a cute interaction 🥹🥹
-Anon🥢
GOD THIS IS SO CUTE-
——
Sukuna naps. More than he should.
He can fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, for long stretches of time that you should be concerned with, had he not been doing it since the beginning of your relationship.
Your first date was not worth paying for a movie, candy and popcorn, when he merely slept the whole time. You could’ve done it for free at home.
Regardless, here you were, repeating history as he snores loudly next to you, his arms crossed as he sleeps soundly, lips parted to let out small little huffs. You sigh and grab your phone to scroll, no longer interested in the movie without having someone to talk to about it.
The first thing to pop up, has you smirking, with a girl shading in her boyfriends tattoos with eyeshadow. Granted, sukuna doesn’t have shapes of tattoos, but he has plenty of tan skin to cover.
You squeal and run to grab your palette and a brush, suddenly more excited than you realized to color in your boyfriend.
You start with a gentle touch on the circle of his shoulder, dipping into a peach that looks enough like his skin tone if he were to wake up.
When he doesn’t, that’s you’re cue to keep going. It doesn’t take long before he’s absolutely covered in pigment.
The small bit of skin between the tattoos on his chest are quick to be colored in, your brush gently dusting over his skin to apply the color. His face twitches but ultimately, he stays asleep. You deem him out of it enough to straddle his lap, allowing you more access to his tattoos and tanned skin, nearly laughing as he stays asleep, arms laid limp at his sides.
Bright pink blends into bright purple in the gaps of his tattoos, and in the gap of skin below the ink, mint green turns to light blue. You smile and clean your brush with another swirl on a paper towel, dipping into a lilac color and swirling it on the slender bit of skin on his bicep above the skin not needled with ink.
Your brush trails a tad too close to under his arm, and he scrunches his face and shakes you off. You pause, holding your breath, but you’re out of luck as he screws his eyes tight and grunts in exhaustion.
“Whyre you tickling me?” He grumbles, stretching awake and smacking his lips together. “I’ll kill you. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m not,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek and brushing a lock of hair off of his forehead. “How was your nap?”
“S’good.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, and when he blinks his eyes open to look at you, his brows furrow at the colorful eyeshadow palette on your lap, “you doing some makeup shit?”
You sink your teeth into your lip, “uhm… kind of?”
“The fuck you mean kind of? It’s a yes or no-“ red eyes fall to his arm, face flat as he eyes the colors splashed over his body, some blended in together, others just solid colors filled onto his skin. You laugh nervously as he continues to look down at his torso. “So, you want me to beat the shit out of you?”
“No,” you giggle. “I wanted to make you prettier.”
“I’m already pretty enough, don’t use my body like a damn coloring book, you freak.” He stretches his arms out, brows furrowing as he sees the full extent of your coloring, “fucking- how mUCH EYESHADOW DID YOU USE?”
“Not a lot!” You defend. “It’s a pigmented palette.”
He glares at you, “and you’ve got the nerve to ask me to buy your fuckin’ makeup when this is the shit you pull!”
“You’re the one who fell asleep in the middle of the movie!” You whine, shoving his chest gently. “I needed to entertain myself somehow!”
He catches your shoving hand into his big one, and you gulp nervously, “I’m old. I sleep a lot. This ain’t news.”
The fact he hasn’t yelled at you tells you everything you need to know, and you grab your brush again to continue. “Hey! I’m scolding you, dickhead!”
“Im listening,” you assure, popping the brush into the yellow and moving to the other tattooed circle on his shoulder. “Youre old, I know, you like sleeping, I know-“
“That was not an invitation for you to keep coloring!” He hissed.
You look back up at him though your lashes, pouting subtly, “aw, jeez- fuck you, you know that?” He snarls, and when you blink at him, he rolls his eyes and sits up to be nose-to-nose with you. “Stay out of my armpits. Do not color my face. And so help me, if you take any pictures-“ when your pout deepens, his lip curled into a snarl, “fuck you. ONE. picture.”
“You’re the best!” You mewl, peppering his face with tiny kisses. “The best boyfriend anyone could ask for-“
“Shut up and keep coloring before I change my fucking mind.”
#SAUR CUUUUUUUUUUUTE#sukuna#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader#sukuna x gn!reader#sukuna x reader fluff#sukuna imagine#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryomen fluff#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader fluff#sukuna ryomen x gn!reader#sukuna ryomen imagine#sukuna ryomen jjk#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x gn!reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x yn
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LITTLE FANFIC INSPIRED BY @radlovesfics 's SCENARIO/AU IDEA!!!!!
Alternate Invincible | Mark Grayson/reader
----
Mark Grayson is the kind of guy who’ll throw himself into the fire to save someone—whether they need it or not.
That’s what pissed you off the most.
Because you didn’t need saving.
But Mark never saw it that way. No matter how many times you held your own, no matter how many enemies you put in the ground, he always acted like you were seconds away from falling apart. Like you were her—the weak, delicate version of you that existed in every other reality.
You knew about her.
You’d seen how he looked at you sometimes, like he was waiting for you to break. Like you were an echo of someone he’d already lost.
And Mark never let go of things he lost.
That’s why, in the end, you had to make him let go of you.
----
Your last fight wasn’t with some world-ending villain. It was with him.
You’d told him a hundred times to stay out of your way. That you could handle yourself. That you weren’t his responsibility.
But he never listened.
So you made him listen.
You didn’t hold back. Not this time.
You hit him harder than anyone had before. Harder than his enemies, harder than his father, because they were trying to kill him. You just wanted him to understand.
By the time he was on the ground, coughing up blood, he finally did.
"Don’t ever get in my way again."
You never spoke to him after that.
And he never tried to save you again.
------
------
Mark is missing.
The world is falling apart, and for once, it’s not his fault. Variants—dozens of him—are tearing through dimensions, laying waste to everything in their path. The Guardians are scrambling to fight them off.
You? You’re the last line of defense.
They send you in to deal with them because there’s no one else left who can.
You drop into the battlefield, body tense, mind sharpened like a blade. And that’s when they see you.
And stop.
The carnage, the destruction—all of it pauses as those too-familiar eyes land on you.
They don’t look at you like an enemy.
They look at you like a miracle.
One of them steps forward, slow, predatory. “You fight?”
Another one, broader, blood dripping from his split lip, tilts his head. His gaze runs over you, calculating, hungry. “No,” he breathes, lips curling into a grin. “She won.”
A ripple moves through them. Not fear. Not caution.
Want.
Your stomach turns.
One of them takes a slow, measured step toward you. His voice is low, reverent. “You’re not like the others.”
The others. Her.
Your jaw clenches. “What, you gonna cry about it?”
They don’t cry. They don’t rage.
They smile.
“Oh my god,” one of them exhales. “That’s so hot.”
You stare.
"What the fuck."
And then they lunge.
-----
It’s chaos. It’s brutal. It’s perfect.
They’re stronger than anything you’ve ever fought. But so are you.
One of them tries to get behind you—you grab him mid-air and slam him into the pavement so hard the asphalt craters. Another swings at you, wild and desperate—you twist at the last second, his fist barely grazing your cheek before you break his wrist in your grip.
They’re laughing.
You land a punch so hard it caves in a Variant’s ribs. He stumbles back, wheezing, then wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re amazing,” he rasps, breathless.
Another, barely conscious, spits out a tooth and grins. “Marry me.”
Your stomach curdles.
You shove one of them off you, but he grabs your wrist mid-fall, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re so much better than her.”
That’s the last straw.
You drive your fist into his face, send him skidding across the ground, then storm toward the next one standing.
By the time you’re done, the battlefield is quiet.
They’re on the ground, breathing raggedly, some unconscious, some still grinning.
You step over their broken bodies, scowling. “Next time, send something that actually puts up a fight.”
From the shadows, unseen, Mark watches.
He should feel relief. The threat is gone. You’re alive.
But all he feels is an aching, twisting thing in his chest.
Because they got to see a side of you he never would again.
And he hates them for it.
#invincible x reader#invincible#invincible alternate#invincible alternate x reader#mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#angst
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𐙚 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙹𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝙶𝚒𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
𐙚 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙹𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚋𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜
𐙚 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝
𝙰 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛
“I’m going to need you here.” Stefan points to the map as he looks at you, “Damon and I will go in, retrieve the book for Bonnie, and then we’ll be out.”
“It’s an in and out job, easy.” Damon shrugs, “What does Bonnie need this book for anyway?”
You stare at Damon, “Do you ever listen?”
“What? I’m sorry.” He smirks as he rolls his eyes, “Yes, I listen, I must have just missed-“
“It’s basically a how to kill a hybrid spell book.” Jeremy cuts Damon off. A smile grows on your face, “What are you doing here?” He shrugs as he walks over, “Bonnie called, said you guys might need some help.”
“I’m glad she did. Having two guards is better than one.” Stefan glances at you, “No offense.”
You shrug, “None taken.” You look back over at Jermey and he walks up, “So the plan is y/n and I stand guard while you guys go in? Do you think anyone will show up?”
“Hoping not. Bonnie will do the spell to allow us to pull it from its box and we’ll be out..” Stefan hums, “ten minutes tops.”
You nod, “Alright.” You take a deep breath, “Let’s do this.”
You arrive at the destination, it was almost dark out, so you were hoping this wouldn’t take long. You got out of the car, listening in for anything around and you tap the car, “All clear.”
Everyone else files out and Jermey walks up to you, “How’d you get roped into helping?”
“One of Klaus’ minions got their hands on me. Almost killed me.” You look at him and his face falls, “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, “I’m fine. I ended up getting away, but I’m sure he’s still out there.”
He nods and Damon vamps to you, “If you guys are done with the chit chat, we gotta move.”
You follow everyone into the woods, coming to a giant rock that’s sticking up out of the ground. You go to it, helping Stefan slide it off of the entrance to the tomb.
“Is that it?” Jeremy asks and you nod, “They have to climb down this ladder.” You bend down and open the hatch, “Should be down and to the left.”
Stefan looks around, “alright. Damon. Come on. Bonnie should have already done the spell by now.” You watch as they climb down into the tomb, turning to look at Jeremy, “So.”
“If you’re going to rag on me about not saying goodbye, can you do it when this is over?” He laughs and you shrug, “Who’s to say you won’t just vanish again?”
He laughs some more, a noise in the woods shutting you both up instantly.
“What was that?” You ask quietly, “No one else knows this is here.”
“Well look who we have here.”
Jeremy pulls his bow up, but the guy vamps to you, holding you in front of him, “Let her go.”
“No can do. See, you’re not the only ones who knows about this book. You think a hybrid would walk around knowing there’s a way to take him out once and for all?”
“Jeremy? What’s going on up there!?” Damon yells out and Jeremy ignores him, “I said, let her go.”
You attempt to get free, but you fail, whining as the guys hand enters through your side, “N-no. No.”
Jermey steps forward, whipping around to take out another vamp as he comes at him from behind. He spins back around and steps forward, “I said, let her go. Now.”
“I missed my chance last time. I’m not missing it again this time.” He shoves his hand deeper into your side and Jeremy yells out, “You’re going to kill her!”
“That’s the point.”
Right as he’s about to go wrist deep, you bend forward, flipping him over and you shove your hand into his chest. You drop his heart as his skin dedicates, looking over at Jeremy.
“Jer!” You vamp in front of him, gasping as you take a stake to the back. He shoots the vampire, dropping his bow to help you sit down, “hold on, hold on.” He moves behind you, “One, two-“ he yanks the stake free and you let out a scream, “Fuck!”
“What? What?” He holds your shoulder, “Y/n, what is it?”
“There’s… splinters.. “ you gasp, “I can’t- ones by my heart.”
“Fuck, Damon! Stefan!” Jeremy yells, “Help me, now!”
Stefan comes out as fast as he can, “What’s going on, what-“ his eyes move to the bloodied stake beside Jeremy, “We gotta go. We gotta go now.” He looks over at the hole, “Damon!”
Damon comes up, book in his grasp, “What- shit.” He looks around, “Come on.”
Stefan picks you up, getting you to the car. The whole way home, as Damon is driving, Stefan is digging to pull all the splinters he can from your back.
Your pained screamed fill the car, your fingers sinking hard into Jeremy’s arm, you’re sure he’ll have bruises later on.
“It’s okay.” He assures, “It’s okay.” He looks up, “Stefan, are you almost done?”
“There’s a few- goddamn it.” Stefan groans, “Almost down, just-“ he digs his hand deeper into you and you rest your head on Jeremy’s chest, “Just kill me.”
“No, we aren’t doing that.” He holds you tighter, “You’re almost done.”
Stefan digs the last splinter out of your back and he sits back, “We gotta get this book, and her, somewhere safe.”
𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢
It’s been a few days and you’re still at Jeremy and Elena’s lake house. Stefan, Damon, and Bonnie have been trying to figure out why they’re targeting you, but as of right now, no luck.
Jeremy hasn’t left, but he’s been acting weird, which was odd because you and Jeremy were best friends. You’ve click day one and nothing has changed since that day.
It was late, two thirty six when you looked at the clock on the wall. You heard noise coming from outside, which prompted you to get up. You walked over to Jeremy’s room, but he wasn’t there.
You walked out to the living room, no sign of him.
“Jer?” You called out, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Hello?”
You walked over to the door, peaking out of the window, but no sign of him. You closed your eyes, listening in, and you heard the familiar sound of a crossbow firing.
You walk to the back, pushing the door open and walking out onto the deck. You turn to the left, slowly making your way over when you see Jeremy bring his bow up.
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” You question, catching his attention. He shakes his head, mumbling, “No.”
You furrow your brows, walking down to him, “Okay. I’ll bite.” You watch as he puts another arrow on his bow, “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. I just-“ he brings his bow up, firing at a target, “Want to stay on my aim, you know?”
“That’s not what’s going on.” You tilt your head, “You’ve been weird ever since we got here, and you’re not one to be weird towards me.”
“I’m fine, y/n. Just, go back to bed.”
“No.”
“Y/n.”
“Not until you tell me why you’re out here, at two thirty in the morning practicing your aim.” You cross your arms and watch as he turns towards you. He stares at you for a few seconds before letting out a sigh.
“I feel like I almost lost you, y/n, and I’m pissed at myself because I’m the reason for it.” He shake his head, “When I was holding you in the car, listening to you scream while Stefan had his hand in your back, I felt helpless and at fault.” He huffs, “No, It was my fault, if I could have just gotten the shot off right away, you wouldn’t have had to go through any of that.”
“Jer-“
“I’m out here practicing because I don’t ever want to have to hear the person I care about most beg me to just kill them, I don’t ever want to hear you cry like that ever again. I can’t lose you, y/n. I can’t lose anyone else.”
“You’re not going to lose me.” You walk towards him and he shakes his head, “I don’t want to. So that’s why I’m out here, so I can-” He pauses, his eyes moving down to yours.
You furrow your brows, “so you can what?”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching your face, “I can protect the love of my life.” He leans in, closing the space by pressing his lips to yours. He pulls away slightly, “I may or may not be secretly in love with you, y/n.”
You slide your hands up to his neck, “Look at that..” you smile, “I feel the same way about you, Jeremy Gilbert.” You pull him back in and he wraps his arm around your waist, his other hand moving to grip your thigh.
He carries you inside, making his way back to his room with you kissing down his neck. He spins around, closing the door before pressing your back to it, “I’ve waited what feels like forever to hear that.”
His lips connect to yours and you tilt your head back as he makes his way down your neck. He pulls away from the door, moving to lay you down on the bed.
He sits up, pulling his sweatshirt off of his body before tossing it. You sit up to pull yours off yours, leaning in to kiss up his abdomen before lying back.
He falls forward, holding himself up with a smirk before he presses his lips to yours. You gasp as he grinds against you, tilting your head back as you breathe out, “Please, Jer. I need you.”
He moves his hand down, kissing down your neck as he slips his fingers into the band of your sweats. You moan out quietly as his fingers press to yours clothed clit, bucking your hips as he draws circles on it.
He smirks, pressing a kiss to yours cheek as his fingers slip into your panties, “Look at that.” He whispers, “You’re already so wet.”
You turn your head, crashing your lips onto his, “You just look so good confessing your love for me.”
“Oh, so it wasn’t the crossbow?” He chuckles, brows raising as he watches your face twist with pleasure as he slips two of his fingers into you. You gasp out, “That, too.” You reach up, holding his face with your hands as you pull him back in for another kiss.
He slips his hand out, moving to sit up to push his sweats down, and you follow his action. You kick yours off your legs and bite your lip as your eyes trail down his body, landing on what you need most. You sit up, vamping him over to lay down and you straddle him.
He chuckles, shaking his head as he admires your body on his, “I forget how fast you are sometimes.”
His hands grip your hips and you sink down onto his cock, gasps leaving both of your lips.
“Oh, fuck.” He breathes out, “You feel so good.”
You tilt your head, brows furrowed in pleasure as you rise up and sink back down, “Fuck, Jer.” You fall forward, hands by his head as you roll your hips back and forth.
His face twists and turns with pleasure, sliding his hand up your side to cup your cheek, “C’mere.” He pulls you down, planting his lips on yours. Your moans swap as you quicken your pace. You let out a whine as your walls clench around him, your hand sliding up to tangle your fingers into his hair.
“That’s it.” He whispers, “Fuck, baby.”
You nod, pressing kisses back his jaw line, “I love when you get all protective of me.” You nip his ear, causing him to gasp, “it’s so hot.”
His hands grip your hips tighter and he rolls over, “What can I say?” He kisses down your neck and back up, “Hate seeing other people touch my girl.”
You bite your lip, back lifting off the bed as you feel that euphoric feeling working its way in. You moan loudly, legs tightening around his waist, “Almost.. there. Fuck, yes.”
You tighten your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. His thrusts pick up and your moans grow louder.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He whispers, “Come for me, you got it.”
You tilt your head back, brows pulled together as become a whining mess underneath him. He kisses over your face, groaning at the feeling of you letting go around him, “Fuck, you sound so pretty.”
You lay your hand on his cheek, pressing your lips to his before you roll over, “My turn to make you cum.” You sit up, hands pressed to his abdomen as you start to bounce. His eyes trail up and down your body, stopping to stare at your face.
His lips part, moans slipping out as his fingertips dig into your thighs, “Keep- fuck, yes. Keep going, baby.”
He groans loudly as he interlocks his fingers with yours, giving them a squeeze as you roll forward and back. You tilt your head back, moaning out as you quicken your pace.
“Fuck.” Jeremy grunts, “Don’t stop.”
You lean down, pressing your lips to his and his hands slide around to your ass, gripping right as he guides you to keep going. He gasps against your lips, moaning lowly over and over again as he pushes your hips down onto him fully.
You feel his cock twitch as he coats your insides white.
“Fuck.” You breathe out, rolling over to lay next to him, “That.. that was good.” Jeremy chuckles as he pulls the blankets up, “Yeah, it kinda was, wasn’t it?” He presses a kiss to your head, “I really am going to work to protect you. I don’t want to see you get hurt ever again.”
“Getting hurt is almost inevitable, Jer.” You lay your head on his chest and he sighs, “Not if I can help it.”
𐙚 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𐙚
#mystic klausᥫ᭡#Jeremy Gilbert#Jeremy Gilbert x fem!reader#Jeremy Gilbert x reader#Jeremy Gilbert x you#Jeremy Gilbert fanfiction#tvd Jeremy Gilbert#Jeremy Gilbert tvd#the vampire diaries#tvd fanfiction#tvd fandom#tvd fluff#tvd fic#Jeremy Gilbert smut#Jeremy Gilbert fanfic#Jeremy Gilbert x fem!reader smut#Jeremy Gilbert oneshots#Jeremy Gilbert one shot#fem!reader#tvd#the vampire diares imagine
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Lee does not immediately suspect something when he hears screaming.
That's his bad.
He will make it abundantly clear in his defense that the core value of this camp is violence. That is It. Not safety, not training, not worship or hard work or discipline or anything. It's violence. Didn't get the last croissant at breakfast? Violence. Someone used up all the hot water? Violence. Someone got in close to your face and insulted your dead mother? Violence. Can't decide whose nail polish colour is more well suited to their outfit?
You guessed it.
Violence.
His cabin is not immune. In fact, the Apollo cabin may be technically from some perspectives worse than every other. It is a little known fact that the solid gold walls of hubris are, in fact, sound proofed, and yet the midnight trombone continues to echo gently and unkindly over the midnight breeze. So when he hears, one beautiful and sunny July afternoon, intense, bloodcurdling screaming echoing from his very place of residence, he thinks: ah. Someone has once again used Leanna's sheet music for target practice and she is responding with brute force. Good for her.
But then, of course, the screaming pitches up high enough that four windows shatter and his hearing starts to go, and he thinks, again, ah. And then immediately begins to sprint.
"Whatever you're doing, cut it the fuck out," he barks, sprinting up the porch, and then very quickly turns to the side to wheeze silently. "Leave him -- oh, for the love of the gods."
Fortunately, his youngest brother is not being teased or tortured or in any other such way bothered. Technically. Unfortunately, the brother who he should have been more concerned about is pinning said baby brother to the floor, needles shining in hand, shrieking, "Sit still! Sit still! I swear to the muses, asswipe, sit still or I am going to end up impaling your brain!"
"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts --"
"I have not fucking done it yet!"
"Michael," Lee says, dragging a hand down his face, "watch your fucking language."
Michael bares his teeth. "He pestered me for twelve fucking days, Lee. He is getting his ears pierced or I am going to pierce him between the eyes from a hundred fucking feet."
"He's torturing me!" Will hollers, straining away. "He's -- sticking me like a pin cushion --"
"That is how piercing works you little shit --"
"I'm reporting you to child services!"
"Good! Call 'em now! It'll take them half a fuckin' hour to get here, I'll have lots of time to kick your ass!"
On one hand, Lee is Practically an Adult. He is seventeen whole years old. He can vote, if he chooses to break the law. Hell, in some countries he's legally allowed to kill people with no consequences.
"None of that is true," says Diana from her bunk, flipping a page in her magazine.
On the other hand, it is a truly beautiful day. He could just...leave. He could take a walk along the beautiful shoreline and reflect upon the days when he was an only child of a neglectful mother, blissfully lonely and unbothered. Oh, those were the days.
"Hold still!"
On the mysterious third hand, it is really kind of funny to watch Michael wrestle with a nine-year-old and lose.
"Move over," Lee says, walking over to his sister's bunk. She does, giving him approximately one square millimeter of space. Wow. She's feeling generous today. "Wager?"
"Twenty-six minutes at minimum," Diana says. She pats around until her hand hits maybe the massivest bag of sour gummi worms Lee has ever seen, shoving at least nine in her mouth at once. "And its uneven."
Lee reaches for a gummi worm. She kicks him in the spleen. He pulls his hand away.
"I'll take that. He's getting some leverage, I think he'll get them pierced in twenty-four."
"You're on."
They shake, then settle into observe. Diana passes him a set of rubber ear plugs, which he gratefully accepts just before Will screeches so loudly Michael's ear drums genuinely begin to bleed. At least he got closer, this time.
(It takes Michael twenty-two minutes and he somehow manages to pierce one ear twice. Lee accepts his gummi-worm winnings with grace and integrity and anything Diana claims otherwise is because she is a bitter sore loser who likes to start rumours and discredit his good name.)
(Obviously.)
-- -- --
based on this and this drawing by @cometjuice
more cabin 7
#theyre all so stupid i love them#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#lee fletcher#michael yew#diana mckinney#will solace#baby will solace#kid will solace#baby will#lee fletcher & michael yew & will solace & diana mckinney#cabin 7#cabin 7 antics#my writing#fic#longpost#barely its like 700 words#lol#lee fletcher i love you
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[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.
.

“Fuck.”
Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.
“You good?”
“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”
“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”
Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”
The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”
Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”
“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?”
“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”
Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”
Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”
“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile.
“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”
“Mhm.”
“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”
“I’m good.”
“Jack—”
“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”
Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.
Not yet, at least.
Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.
...



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yourusername ready to rock north america❤️🖤
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user i am going to the nashville show!!!
user she is THE moment
user omg i can't believe the tour has already started
user BKEWBFJBWEKFBKWEJBF
jackhughes congrats on the tour!! ur gonna kill it!!❤️🔥
user JACK HUGHES????
user who the fuck is jack hughes?
...
“What are you giggling at?”
“I’m not giggling at anything.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background.
It was starting to grate on his last nerve.
“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter.
“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said.
But Luke heard loud and clear.
He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?”
“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.”
A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.
Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?”
“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?”
“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks.
“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?”
“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended.
“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!”
“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin.
“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?”
“That’s not important.”
Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.”
Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.”
“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him.
Jack’s grin widened. “I know!”
“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.”
But he did.
He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did.
...



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yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤
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user MOTHER!!!
user hot AND talented. your fav could never
user new music when!!!
user THE SHIRT-
jackhughes ur so pretty😍😍😍
user not this guy again
user not a man
notzegrasipromise JACK???
...



...
“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.”
That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt.
Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off.
“Uh, what?”
“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.
“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”
“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.
“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.
“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”
“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”
Jack’s cheeks burned.
Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”
“She likes them!” Jack defended.
Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.
“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.
“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.
“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”
Once again, the locker room fell silent.
“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?”
Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”
“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted.
“So are you!”
“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”
“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”
The boys all gave each other various looks.
“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”
For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate.
...



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yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤
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user i cannot believe the tour is almost over
user NEW MUSIC WHEN
user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!
user oh my god she is so hot
jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤
user omg he is copying the hearts too
user he is delusional
user it is the devils colours
user you sound just as delusional as him
...
“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.”
“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.
“And I went on Twitter.”
“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.
“Jack.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”
“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?”
“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”
“Uh huh.”
“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?”
“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”
His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response.
“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”
Jack rolled his eyes.
“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”
“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”
Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke.
quinnifer: ur right
quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause
...



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yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤
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jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤
user WHAT
user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick
user i can't believe we lost her to a man
user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE
user omg he actually stood a chance
trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK
trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock
user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS
lhughes_06 holy shit
_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming
trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY
user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend
jackhughes he will be fine
trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE
trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY
jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend
yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included
trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff
user what the fuck did i just wake up to
.
#jack hughes#nhl#new jersey devils#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes fic#jack hughes one shot#nhl x reader#nhl x you#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#nhl one shot
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focal point ☆ chapter 8 | ln4

summary: if i had choose her or the sun, i'd be one nocturnal son of a gun.
warnings: fluff!!!!, meeting the parents awkwardness, walking along this thin line between a relationship or not (i'm really not sure how to describe it), language, some suggestive stuff in the beginning, things are heating up for them... kind of...
message from jordan: okay 1. unfortunately i am a stupid american, so pls excuse the lack of knowledge i have of england 😞 i am simply just a girl trying, and 2. the more i write for this series the more i hate it, i feel like everything's all over the place. idk, i hope you guys are enjoying it, though! also this is kinda short... pls don't kill me
series masterlist | listen to the playlist
the early morning sun was shining brightly through the light colored curtains, shadows bouncing off the walls. you had gone back and forth between scrolling through your phone and looking around lando’s childhood bedroom. catching glimpses of trophies, photos of him and his friends, and posters of different cars.
you two had gotten to his parent’s house late last night, cisca and adam staying up to greet you two as soon as you pulled in the driveway. cisca was quick to pull you into a hug, making it very clear that lando was right. she was excited to meet you. adam introduced himself kindly, helping lando bring your things inside before you all made small talk and headed to bed.
deciding you should probably get up and get started on your day, you gently moved the covers more to lando’s side before getting up and walking over to your suitcase. you rummaged around for your toiletry bag before quietly making your way into the connected bathroom.
you managed to take a quick shower, stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel before you looked around in the bag for your toothbrush. however, the door suddenly opening caught you off guard as you let out a gasp while pulling up the towel more to make sure you were covered.
“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” lando’s voice was still raspy and filled with sleep, him covering his eyes as he pulled the door towards him, blocking his view but it not shutting all the way.
“no, no, it’s okay,” you said softly, rushing to get ready now, "just hold on one second-"
"no, i don't want to rush you, i'll run downstairs-"
"-i'm done, i swear."
he sighed in defeat when you pulled the door closed again, his eyes falling to the hoodie he had lent you the night he brought you home from the party. he smiled softly to himself as you stepped out of the room, gesturing it was all his.
he sent you a soft smile in appreciation, closing the door and taking a deep breath. the room smelt faintly of the smell of your perfume and it was still a little steamy from your shower, he laughed softly at the little smiley face you had drawn on the corner of the mirror.
once he was finished, he opened the door again, "thanks,"
you nodded, shoving your phone in the pocket of his your hoodie, "i mean, it is your bathroom."
he laughed, shaking his head, "for now, what's mine is also yours."
you joined him in the room now, settling on the fact that sharing the space would be easier than waiting for the other to be done. you reached for your toothbrush in your bag, finally being able to brush your teeth uninterrupted as he did the same.
you were finishing up when you heard him let out a soft sigh, looking over and seeing him running a hand through his hair, "i look like a mess!"
you chuckled, shaking your head as you took a step closer, "it's not that bad,"
it really wasn't. his curls were a little flat and a little frizzy, but no where near a hot mess. they were a hot kind of messy, one particular curl wanting to fall against his forehead no matter how many times he pushed it back up.
"here, let me," you said softly, moving to step between him and the counter. he let you reach up towards his hair, taking some water from the sink before raking your fingers through the curly mullet. he watched your face intently as you fixed the unruly curls.
you looked down, meeting his eyes as you softly laughed, "what?"
"nothing," he shook his head, "you're just... absolutely beautiful."
you couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks, "don't start,"
"no, i'm serious!" he protested with a smile before turning you around so your back was against his chest, the both of you looking at your reflections in the mirror, "i mean, c'mon. look at you,"
you smiled at your reflections before turning your head, "is this your way of smooth-talking?"
he chuckled, smirking as he leaned down to your level, "is it working?"
two can play this game, "wouldn't you like to know?"
"kids! i made breakfast whenever you're hungry!"
the two of you pulled apart at the sound of cisca's voice. he cleared his throat as you nodded your head, "you should uhm.. probably get dressed. i'm gonna... go talk to your mom."
"yeah, i'm gonna.. do that..." he said, "i'll see you downstairs."
you nodded, walking out of the bathroom and making your way down the stairs. cisca wore a smile on her face as you entered the kitchen, "morning, honey! how'd you sleep?"
you nodded, "pretty good,"
"good!" she smiled, "coffee?"
"please," you smiled as she poured some into a mug for you before you moved to fix the cup to your liking, "thank you."
"of course!" she smiled, "i made some eggs and french toast, so help yourself! they're still on the stove," you nodded and fixed yourself a plate, "what do you guys have planned for today?"
you shrugged, looking over towards her as you sat at the table, "not sure. i think lando has a few ideas, but i'm just here for the ride, really."
"he was telling me you don't visit home much," her voice was sweet and sympathetic, "you're always welcome here, dear. anytime. holiday or not, and with lando or not also. he's a bit much at times."
you laughed with her as you heard lando's footsteps approaching the kitchen, "i have ears!"
"just making sure they work, love."
"uh-huh," he joked back with her, lightheartedness hanging in the air, "looks good, mum."
she hummed, looking towards lando who was making himself a cup of coffee at the kitchen island, "don't forget, we're having family dinner tonight. everyone's coming over."
"everyone?" lando asked.
she laughed softly as she rose from the table, "yes, child. everyone," she made her way back into the kitchen as she started cleaning some things up, "i'm heading into town to get some things for dinner, do you guys need anything?"
you both shook your heads, "we're good, thank you."
she bid her goodbyes, giving lando a motherly kiss on the side of his head before she left. you cleaned up after yourself, lando helping you put the breakfast foods away before he looked down at his phone.
"well, what did you wanna do today?" he asked, leaning against the counter as he sipped on his coffee.
you shrugged, "anything interesting around here?"
"not unless we head into town."
you hummed, watching as it looked like an idea sprung into his head as he pulled his phone out from his pocket. a few seconds later, he looked up at you with a smile.
"you ready?"
you hummed, swallowing your own sip of coffee as you gave him a confused look, "i need my shoes, but where're we going?"
"c'mon," he grabbed your hand as you put your mug into the sink.
"i'm coming, i'm coming!" you laughed softly, grabbing your shoes and slipping them on before following him out the door, "are you gonna tell me where we're going, though?"
"no, but i have a feeling you'll like it," he smiled, unlocking the car door and opening the passenger side door, "at least, i hope you do."
you chuckled softly, shaking your head as you got inside.
there was one thing lando was good at and it was keeping you on your toes.
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The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16
Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k
To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.
“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.
“Nothing happened, dad.”
“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”
It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.
“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”
You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room.
“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”
You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”
“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”
“Isä! No!”
Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”
The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later.
“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
“Kimi.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?”
“The police station.”
“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”
Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”
“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”
“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.
“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”
“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”
“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”
His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”
The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.”
“That wasn’t a denial.”
You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”
“But we’re on the top floor.”
You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.
“You’re still not denying it.”
“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.
“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”
You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”
“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried.
“You hate him, why would you follow him?”
“It doesn’t matter why.”
“It does to me.”
Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level.
“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”
The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.
“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street.
“He was just drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.
“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”
“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.
“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”
He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”
“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?”
“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.
His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”
It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits.
By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall.
Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.
The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down.
“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”
He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”
He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.
“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”
They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed.
“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”
Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.
“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”
“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”
“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”
“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”
“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod.
“And you, what did you do, dad?”
“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”
You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car.
“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”
It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”
“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.
“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”
“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”
You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”
“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. Love you.”
“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”
“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.
“I support it now.”
“What changed your mind?”
You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”
—
“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.
Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”
“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.
“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”
The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.
You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.
“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.
“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”
Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”
“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”
“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”
“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I will.”
“Answer the question or go out with me?”
“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.
Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.
“But not anymore.”
Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”
“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”
“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”
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