#that’s the name until we come up with a better one

[partiallysame]

How do you think the boys would act when Price's lil wife goes fun places? Like are they gonna freak out that the lifeguard looks at her in her bikini when they're at a water park?

You know I was just thinking the same thing

The first time you realized they were gonna be possessive was when they came over for dinner one night and you were wearing a cute lil hand made bracelet with a G on it. Kyle oh so excited to boast he must’ve been your favorite. G for Garrick right? No. Price came bursting his bubble stating “s’from her boyfriend Gerald” what the fuck kind of name is Gerald “met him at the rec center where she works out”. All three men were vibrating with jealousy. Were they not enough, you needed another one. Two days later they show up to the rec center and you come out of the bathroom to see the 3 soldiers pinning Gerald (a 10 year old boy who had a crush on you) to the wall, Kyle may or may not have had a knife in his hand. After that they each had their own weapon bowl by the door. You making them take out everything and put it in their personal bowl before leaving the house. The first couple times you patted them down to make sure. Johnny sure did like this part until you found a knife strapped to his ankle and he was banished to the middle backseat of the car for 3 weeks.

The second time was when you all went to the beach. Your body ody ody bangin in your bikini. Simon stayed fully clothed in all black “what are you wearing Si? “Swimsuit” no those are tac pants. You oblivious to all the stares you were getting until all of a sudden Simon was on top of the lifeguard tower. How the hell did he get up there? The lifeguard was wondering the same question when the giant man in black showed up 10ft in the air behind him “keep your eyes on the water. Not my wife”.

The third time was when you went out for girls night. Tight dress in which you had to pry 4 sets of hands off of you to be able to leave the house. “We can drive you” no being drunk in the Uber is half the fun. The moment you left the house so did they. Full stealth mode. Following you from bar to bar to make sure you were safe and no creepy beady eyes found you. The first few guys to approach you were never there for a few seconds before accepting your decline to dance “ya you better be respectful dipshit” although each man was clenching their fist watching men ogle you (just like they did when they met you). But then one guy wasn’t taking no for an answer. You felt a tap on your shoulder (Kyle) but turned to see no one there. When you turned back the drunk man was gone oh well. Was he face down in the concrete outside after being pulled out of the bar in a chokehold? Yes. End of the night you called John to come get you (he knew you would you always did but he def didn’t tell the boys that) so while you got in the car all giddy, Price waved to the boys who were standing on the sidewalk still outside the bar scrambling to get back to the car and home to cutesy drunk you.

[hivemuthur]

could we get some pervert!Viktor who stays up late at night touching himself to the thought of you? 🙏🙏🙏

YES, because this kept me up until now! The concept is there, changed a bit :') Never wrote something so fast, I swear to the old gods and new :v

What Brings You In?

solo viktor (gn!reader mentioned) explicit! I don't know what to say, it's just smut :v

word count: 1,6K

@rennethen beta read 🖤

—

Simple images come first. You, your dishevelled self as you let him in, unannounced, and offer him a little kindness in sharing your food you were just making, unbothered, as you seat him at the table in your kitchen with a gentle press on his shoulders and go back to your dismembering of mushrooms that you haven’t thought to wash before he came in, because you were about to eat alone, but he of course, doesn’t know that. And you don’t tell him, deciding it won’t kill him, most likely, or at least you hope so. With the corner of his eye, he watches you sink your thumbs in the legs, sliding in with your fingernails to split the umbrellas in half and toss them onto the hot sprinkling oil. Pouring more on top, adding three pinches of salt uncaringly, some grains falling on the table as he watches them bounce off.

Then, he watches you, as he tries to squeeze any of the words he’s prepared to come out and you show him another kindness by not pressing, just humming and stomping around quietly on your naked feet. And he has nothing for or against feet but were your feet about to stomp his face flat into the floor, or, in a better life, into the soft foam of the mattress, he would let you and he would lick your soles with gratitude while pulling his needy hands to feel the shape of your ankles.

When suddenly a clattering sound startles his poor soul as you drop your spoon, it falls between the table legs, and you mutter a soft curse. And then, without warning, you drop on your all fours, so he can see the soles of your feet that he thinks nothing of, and your curling toes and he dares not to look further, it’s only his eyes that betray him.

They wander up in a quick glance as his putrid brain has to decide fast whether to have the most likely shape of your ass or the crease of your calves etched into it, when he’s betrayed again and what his mind chooses is the arch of your back as you reach between the legs. And now the vision of you spread on all fours entered from behind is all that fits in his head the same way he hopes that he would fit inside you—hardly.

In this feverish dream, Viktor whines loudly enough to be heard—had anyone been in the vicinity of his bedroom—yet not loudly enough to wake himself. His hand travels palm flat, as the fantasy version of you kneels with your ass up and your chest down and the fantasy version of him has two healthy legs that allow him to kneel as well, right behind you so his cock can slide between your thighs until skin touches skin. The fantasy version of his hand pushes on the small of your back to deepen the arch, pressing your torso further down until you mutter a soft curse at the sole shape he bends you into, the same soft curse you’ve muttered in your kitchen above the sprinkling oil. Ideally his name follows.

His hips jut into the foam and cock rubs against his stomach and the cloth of his pants and he moans again, for you, but no one can hear it. Again, he is in your kitchen, when you set the simple meal before him and pass him the fork, and he does his worst not to touch your fingers as he accepts it. Fingertips linger and you smile softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and tell him to eat first, with something that sounds dangerously close to care. As your lips move, he memorizes their shape and wonders if the shape of his lips would fit between them, if the shape of his cock could be pressed there and would you drool has he given it to you.

It's your lips now that plague him, with you back on your knees, your tongue stuck out and it’s so very red and pretty Viktor can’t make himself decide whether he is the one that wants to suck on it, or he wants it to partake in sucking him. Nothing that is happening between his legs at the moment is close to what he imagines your mouth would feel like, the dull press of dry skin of his belly pulling his foreskin down and the faint weep of precum at his slit incomparable to what softness you have to offer.

His unconscious mind conducts his hips to snap, making him believe that it’s your lips that he is fucking into, while it’s just the press of the mattress and the waistband of his pants teasing the sweet spot right below where his length ends. His hands fist the bedsheet which in the dream version of this encounter becomes your hair that he tugs on to make your jaw open wider and release gush of wet drool to well onto the ridges of his cock.

With his face pressed against the pillow and hips rutting forth, Viktor dreams of pushing himself past your throat making you release a sweet sound of gagging. He even dares to go thus far to pinch your nose and stare into your teary doe eyes when he leans in to whisper so good, holding your jaw open wide for him. Had you any more space left to move your lips you would curve them into a grateful smile and your eyes would squint with bliss.

Sweat pearls his forehead, it gets wiped on the pillowcase when he writhes in his bedsheets, the images of you filling his sleeping mind, unbidden. Next thing that presents itself to him are your thighs that shake as you scrape the frying pan with your back to him and he can shamelessly watch the jiggle of your ass and the muscles flexing in your legs. And he doesn’t really care if your thighs quiver as you move around or if they quiver as you sink onto him, his hips pressing sharp dents into the tender flesh. He’s granted the vision of his cock disappearing within you, the imaginary sound of skin slapping against skin as your rise and fall and your lips part to gasp for air that he pounds out of you.

As you lift your hips the strings of gooey slick cling to your legs, and slap into a puddle on his navel once you fall with a sharp snap. The tightness of his clothes is nothing compared to what he imagines the inside of you would be, but his body follows the false thread and finally his throat gives in, betrays his restless slumber, when the sound of his whimper strangled against the pillow makes his eyes fall open.

He gasps, unaware of his surroundings, embarrassed of himself and for himself as he lifts his chest to gape between his hips and the bed, where a wet stain blooms and mocks him. He rolls onto his back, cock poking out of his pants and this time it’s Viktor who mutters a curse, though it lands far from your soft ones. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, wipes the halo of sweat from his forehead with a sleeve and sighs, long and heavy.

The unbearable tightness of his own skin clinging to him drives him nearly mad, so he sheds the damp clothing and throws himself back onto his soaked sheet with a resigned exhale. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you, smiling, gentle, kind and oblivious to the words that never came to him. So to end this painful torment, ease the need that invaded him uninvited, his hand travels down below his navel to stroke his aching cock absently.

Once you are back behind his eyelids, this time it’s his conscious mind that shows him what his heart fears, and you are back there, bent over, your hands fisting the very same sheet he just drenched and he is right behind you, fucking into you with his knuckles whitening around your hips and his other hand reaching between your thighs. The better version of himself bends over your back to lick the sweat from between your shoulder blades and the better version of his hand tugs at the hair on the base of your skull drawing out hopeless moans from your pretty throat.

And even though his real, calloused hand is nowhere near as soft and wet as you would be, he strokes himself hard and dry, free palm caressing his chest, imagining it’s your fingers that trace loving circles on his skin. He whispers your name over and over again and in the moment when his balls pull up and his stomach coils unbearably, he imagines kissing your sweet lips and saying all the words he can’t bring himself to say around you. And he imagines you kissing him back and accepting the words.

He cums all over his belly and around his fingers clasped on his cock with a hot groan and a tension in his neck in a few scorching spurts. His hips jolt up, tensing up his spine, toes curl and legs stretch far beyond the mattress. Laying there spent and bathed in his seed, he spreads it on his chest, imagining it’s you’re your tongue licking him clean and brings it up to his mouth, imagining it’s your mouth that carries it into his in a loving, debauched kiss. Dirty and tired, Viktor blinks and thinks, time after time and once he’s empty it’s only the image of you in your kitchen, laughing warmly at his jokes, and pressing your hand to his in silence, when you finally ask, “So what brings you in?”

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

•~{ Heyyyy, so this is a short one because I’m still a little bit busy so here you go and hope you gremlins like it }~•

•Roommate•

Tim is worried about his roommate, Danny Nightingale.

Tim moved into a college provided dorm and that’s where he met Danny, Danny was chill and kind roommate [And definitely not Tim crush what are you talking about] Tim and Danny got along really well and with the added bonus that Danny doesn’t question where Tim goes at night.

And everything was fine until Danny started to get phone calls from someone called “Fruitloop” and every time he finishes a call with “Fruitloop” Danny looks stressed and frustrated and Tim has tried to ask Danny what was going on and if he could help but Danny always says not to worry about it.

Sure Tim was concerned as hell but with Danny not saying anything that would allow Tim to help him there was nothing that Tim could do so Tim left it alone….well he started to document what was happening like when the caller called and what he could hear when Danny would go into another room to answer but still Tim couldn’t do anything.

Until one day Danny went out around 6 at night and said that he had to go visit his godfather and to not wait up for him but Danny didn’t come back that night or the next.

Danny showed out three days later at 2 am with bruises on his arms and some kind of burns on his wrist that looks like he was being held down and the beginnings of a black eye and the clothes he was originally wearing are covered in blood and ripped. Tim found in him on the bathroom floor next to the med kit they keep in there.

Tim immediately asked what happened and is he ok but Danny doesn’t say anything back just trying to wrap bandages around his burned wrist with his shaking hands, Tim grabs his hand and puts it aside and starts to help Danny get bandaged up.

This is more serious than Tim thought.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•Danny has little to no contact with his parents, they know that he’s a halfa but it’s still really awkward to be around them especially his mom

•Danny took Jacks family name

•Jazz is in central city as it has a better psychology major

•Jack is low contact and Maddie is no contact

•Vlad is still a weird asshole that dani and Danny want nothing to do with

•Tim has a major crush on Danny

•Vlad tried to make more clones so he tricked Dani and Danny and did what we here love doing to this boy :) Traumatized the fuck out of him and in the escape Dani started to melt so Danny grab her core and put it inside of him soooo more to the misunderstandings :)

•When Tim finds out about Dani his mind is going to the absolute worst possible place

•Tim’s going to finish the job on Vlad if the Batfam doesn’t hold him back

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearance•

[I can’t really see Danny wearing a dress in this au unless it’s a very important event where Danny can say “Fuck gender norms!”]

•~{ And that’s it! I couldn’t really think of a background for Danny’s side of this so it leave it in your hands my feral gremlins anyway until next time Byeeeee }~•

[eu-nicola]

attraction part 1

summary: after your mother's death you marry Ward Cameron to have economic stability and you meet his son who hangs around you

warnings: for now just age-gap

word counter: 4713

author’s note: english is not my first language, ofc i’m based on one of my favorite novels

The sky was gray, covered with thick clouds that seemed to cry with you. The rain fell softly, soaking the dark grass of the cemetery and mixing with the tears running down your cheeks. You felt empty, torn apart by grief, holding onto the last image of your mother before the coffin was lowered into the ground.  

The priest’s words faded into the dull sound of the rain, into the murmurs of the few people who had come to say their goodbyes. People who claimed to have loved your mother but weren’t there in her final moments. Hypocrites, all of them. Except you.  

You stayed there, even when the others started leaving. Your fingers were freezing, your legs trembling, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to accept that you were truly alone.  

"I’m really sorry for your loss."  

The male voice reached you gently, like he was afraid his presence alone might break you. When you looked up, you saw a middle-aged man in a dark coat. His expression was solemn, and in his light eyes, there was something more than just politeness—there was sadness, maybe even nostalgia.  

"Thanks," you murmured, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, even though you knew the tears wouldn’t stop anytime soon.  

The man nodded gravely, looking at the grave with the same sadness you did.  

"Who were you?" you asked, your voice broken but firm.  

He took a moment to answer, like he was searching for the right words.  

"A friend from your mother’s teenage years," he finally said. "We met a long time ago. She… was an incredible woman."  

A friend. Why had your mother never mentioned him? Why was he here now, offering condolences, when you’d never seen him before in your life?  

"I guess she was," you replied, not even trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.  

The man didn’t seem offended. Instead, he looked at you with a kind of sympathy that made you uncomfortable.  

"I know this must be really hard for you. Being alone…" He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I can help you."  

You shook your head immediately.  

"No," you said firmly. "I’m fine."  

It was a lie, of course. You weren’t fine. You never would be. But accepting help meant admitting you had no one else, no options. And if there was one thing your mother had taught you, it was to never rely on anyone.  

Ward Cameron watched you for a moment longer, then nodded in understanding.  

"If you ever change your mind, here’s my card."  

You didn’t want to take it, but you did anyway. You barely glanced at the name printed on it before stuffing it into your coat. You weren’t going to see him again. You wouldn’t need him.  

Or so you thought.  

Time passed, and loneliness became your only company, routine your only salvation. You had learned to survive, to stay standing even when everything around you was falling apart. But every night, when the house was silent and the weight of reality crushed you, you thought about your mother’s words.  

"True love is a luxury few women can afford. The most important thing is security."  

You had seen your mother sacrifice herself, seen how love had betrayed her over and over until she stopped believing in it. Security was the only thing that mattered. And now, you understood that better than ever.  

That’s why, when you saw Ward Cameron again, it wasn’t so surprising that fate kept pushing you in the same direction.  

You ran into him at a charity event you attended out of obligation. You wore an elegant black dress, simple yet sophisticated, and as you made small talk with people you barely knew, you felt his gaze before you even saw him.  

"I’m glad to see you again," he said, with that same calm voice you remembered.  

You didn’t know what to say. You just nodded, letting him lead the conversation, letting him talk with an ease you had long forgotten.  

"How have you been?"  

"Surviving."  

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn’t push. Instead, he changed the subject, talking about trivial things—business, the event itself. But at the end of the night, just as you were about to leave, he asked the question that would change everything.  

"Marry me."  

You froze.  

"What?"  

He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t look like he was joking.  

"I’m offering you security," he said, with a calmness that made your skin prickle. "You have no one else, and I… I can give you stability."  

He didn’t talk about love. He didn’t promise fairytales or happy endings. Just security.  

And for the first time in your life, you actually considered it.  

Your mother had been right.  

"True love is a luxury."  

Ward Cameron was offering you the only thing that really mattered.  

And so, after a long silence, you looked up and made a decision.  

"I accept."  

The sound of your own voice still hung in the air when the reality of what you had done started hitting you.  

"I accept."  

You had said those words without thinking too much, like they didn’t even belong to you, like someone else had spoken them for you. And now, as Ward Cameron looked at you with approval, with a slight, satisfied smile—almost like he knew you would accept—you started to feel it.  

Regret.  

The feeling hit you like a cold wave, leaving a frozen trail in your chest. What the hell had you done? You didn’t even really know this man. Sure, he had been friends with your mother in her youth, but what did that even mean? You didn’t know anything about him. Where he lived, what exactly he did for a living, whether or not he had kids—though, given his age, he probably did.  

"God."  

The thought struck you suddenly, and nausea twisted in your stomach. What if he had kids your age? It was possible. Ward Cameron had to be in his late forties, maybe even fifty. It wouldn’t be crazy if he had a son or daughter around your age.  

And yet, you had done it. You had accepted his proposal without thinking it through enough.  

"You don’t look very sure," Ward commented, watching you closely.  

You quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to keep your expression in check. You couldn’t back out. Not now.  

"No… it’s just that…"  

You trailed off. There was no excuse you could give that wouldn’t make you sound completely unstable. You couldn’t say, "Sorry, I just realized I agreed to marry a man I barely know" or "Maybe this was an impulsive decision because my life has been a mess lately."  

Ward tilted his head slightly, like he could see every single thought written on your face.  

"You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to," he said, but something in his tone told you he didn’t really mean it.  

It wasn’t a warning or a threat, but it also wasn’t a real way out.  

You forced yourself to take a deep breath.  

"I will," you confirmed, even though the weight of your own words felt heavier than anything else.  

Ward seemed pleased with your answer. He took a slow sip of his wine, completely in control, like this arrangement was the most natural thing in the world.  

That night, you barely slept.  

You tossed and turned in bed, feeling the weight of the commitment you had taken on without really analyzing it.  

"What the hell am I doing?"  

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly. You rationalized it in a thousand different ways.  

"It was the best option."  

"It was the only option."  

"Ward Cameron is offering you security, stability."  

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being… trapped.  

Your mother’s voice echoed in your head.  

"Love is a luxury."  

You didn’t have the luxury of waiting for something so unattainable.  

And still… you couldn’t stop thinking about how strange all of this was.

Ward wasn’t a total stranger, but he wasn’t someone close to you either. You had no idea what kind of husband he’d be. You didn’t know if he was a nice guy or if he was hiding a darker side under his perfect posture and measured smile.

You tried to imagine him. Tried to picture yourself married to him, sharing a house, a bed, a life.

The thought made you shiver.

“It’s too late for regrets.”

You repeated it to yourself until exhaustion finally took over, and you sank into an uneasy sleep.

The following days were a fog of uncertainty. Ward didn’t push or demand anything right away, which, in a way, only made everything feel more unreal.

He’d communicate with you casually, sending short messages asking how you were, if you needed anything. Nothing romantic, nothing that hinted at wanting more from you than just your acceptance.

And yet, every time you received a message from him, every time you saw him, you felt that slight tug in your stomach.

Not fear.

But not calm either.

When the time finally came to discuss the terms of the marriage, you realized Ward had everything perfectly planned. As if he had been preparing for this for years.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing your independence,” he said, sitting across from you at a fancy restaurant, with a glass of wine between his fingers. “You’ll have your own space, your own money, nothing will change too much… except that we’ll be married.”

You just watched him, looking for any sign of real emotion on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally asked, feeling like this was a question you should have asked a long time ago.

Ward set his glass down on the table and leaned slightly toward you.

“Because I can offer you something no one else can,” he replied simply. “Security.”

There it was again. 

“Security.”

It was a deal, one that would probably benefit you.

So why couldn’t you shake that feeling in your chest?

“Maybe because I still don’t know what price I’m really paying.”

After that, only a few days had passed since you accepted Ward’s proposal, and even though you still woke up each morning with the feeling that you had made an impulsive decision, you didn’t back out.

When Ward told you he wanted to introduce you to his family, you knew it was an inevitable step.

“I want you to meet my kids,” he said one afternoon while driving along the immaculate roads of Outer Banks. “It’s important that we do this before everything becomes official.”

The word “official” made you swallow hard.

“Sure,” your voice responded before your brain could fully process it.

Ward gave you a quick glance, as if measuring your reaction.

“You don’t have to worry,” he added. “I don’t expect them to become your best friends overnight, but I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

His words weren’t comforting, but you weren’t expecting them to be.

The sea breeze caressed your face when you finally got out of the car in front of the imposing Cameron house. It was bigger than you imagined, with a classic design and an almost intimidating perfection.

Ward walked ahead of you with his usual confidence, and you followed with your stomach in knots.

As soon as you entered, the sound of muffled laughter and the TV murmurs reached your ears.

“Wheezie, Sarah, Rafe,” Ward called in his firm, authoritative voice.

The first to appear was a little girl with brown hair and a curious expression.

“Dad?” she asked, stopping in her tracks when she saw you. Her eyes scanned your face with interest, no sign of hostility.

“Wheezie,” Ward said, placing a hand on your back. “This is…”

“Your fiancée?” she interrupted with excitement in her voice.

It took you by surprise. How quickly she accepted the idea, her energy, almost made you smile.

“Yeah,” Ward confirmed calmly.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, walking up to you without hesitation. “You’re super pretty.”

Her sincerity made you let out a small laugh, and for the first time since you arrived, the knot in your stomach loosened a little.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

Wheezie smiled broadly before turning on her heels and shouting toward the living room.

“Sarah, Rafe, come quick!”

Your relief didn’t last long.

Seconds later, two figures emerged from the living room. The first was Sarah, her blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her face full of surprise.

The second was a tall young man, with blue eyes and a tense jaw.

Rafe Cameron.

Sarah looked you up and down, her lips slightly parted, as if unsure what to say.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his dislike.

“Who are you?” he sneered with an incredulous smirk.

The tension in the room was instant.

“Rafe,” Ward warned, his voice firm.

“What? We can’t even ask?” his son replied sarcastically.

You took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m your dad’s fiancée,” you said calmly, not lowering your gaze.

Sarah blinked rapidly and let out a small, nervous laugh.

“Wait, wait… what?” 

You could see her brain trying to process it.

Wheezie, excited, decided to chime in.

“Dad’s marrying her. Isn’t it awesome?”

Sarah still seemed confused, but not hostile. However, Rafe kept looking at you with that mix of disdain and silent evaluation that made you uncomfortable.

“And how old are you?” Sarah finally asked, tilting her head.

You knew that question was coming eventually, but still, your heart sped up slightly.

“I’m 19,” you said. “I’m about to turn 20.”

There was a silence.

Sarah opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but it was Rafe who spoke first, letting out a dry laugh.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he scoffed, shaking his head with mocking amusement. “Dad, did you buy yourself a wife who’s younger than us?”

The comment hit hard.

Ward’s jaw tightened immediately.

“Rafe,” his voice was dangerous this time.

“What? I’m just saying the obvious,” he continued, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I mean, we could’ve gone out if things were different.”

You wanted to respond, but the atmosphere was already too tense.

“That’s enough,” Ward cut in sharply.

Rafe rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

Sarah, on the other hand, still looked surprised. She was staring at you with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

“Well… this is… unexpected,” she murmured finally, trying to find the right words.

You tried to smile, though you knew dinner was going to be awkward.

And you weren’t wrong.

The table was perfectly set, the food impeccably prepared, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

Wheezie, oblivious to the conflict, chatted enthusiastically, asking you about your likes, your life before meeting Ward.

Sarah, still surprised, tried to be polite.

But Rafe… Rafe wasn’t making any effort to hide his annoyance.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sarah asked, looking at you with some genuine curiosity.

“My mom and your dad knew each other since they were young,” you explained calmly. “We met at her funeral.”

Sarah blinked a couple of times.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Rafe scoffed.

“How romantic,” he muttered, taking a sip from his glass.

Ward shot him a deadly look.

“Rafe, if you can’t behave, you can leave.”

For a moment, he seemed tempted to do just that, but instead, he adjusted himself in his chair and smiled with fake politeness.

“No, I’m enjoying dinner.”

The conversation continued with awkward silences between forced phrases.

When the dinner finally ended, you felt like you’d just gone through a trial by fire.

Sarah was still processing it, Wheezie seemed excited to have you in her life, and Rafe… Rafe hated you, though he couldn’t deny that you were attractive.

But none of that mattered.

Everything happened faster than you could absorb.

One minute, you were having dinner with Ward’s family, enduring Sarah’s assessing looks and Rafe’s barely concealed contempt, and the next, you were moving into his house, sharing his space, his life.

There wasn’t a long engagement or endless preparations. Ward was a practical man, used to making decisions and having others follow his pace. So, before you could even stop to think about it too much, there was already a ring on your finger and a wedding date set.

Your wedding.

You didn’t know if you were excited or terrified.

The dress was the first thing.

Ward insisted on you having the best, not skimping on anything, so he took you to one of the most exclusive boutiques on the East Coast. The place was a dream, with glass walls, chandeliers, and a selection of dresses that looked like they came straight out of fairy tales.

“Pick the one you want,” he told you in his calm but firm tone. “I want you to feel beautiful that day.”

You felt almost overwhelmed as the attendants brought option after option, each more elaborate than the last.

In the end, you chose one that took your breath away as soon as you put it on.

It was a white silk dress, fitted at the waist with an elegant corset, and a skirt that fell gracefully, not too voluminous. Delicate lace appliqué extended over the neckline and shoulders, giving it a timeless feel. It wasn’t exaggerated or overdone, but it made you feel powerful. Like you really were Mrs. Cameron.

When you came out of the fitting room, Ward looked at you in silence for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect.”

His words should’ve made your heart race with excitement, but instead, you felt a strange unease in your chest.

The wedding day came before you could mentally prepare.

The ceremony was private, elegant, and perfectly planned. It was held at the Cameron estate, with flawless floral arrangements and an altar decorated with warm lights. Ward wanted discretion, no scandals or unnecessary attention, and you agreed.

The small circle of guests consisted of important businessmen, some of Ward’s partners, and, of course, his family.

As you walked down the aisle, the dress fitting perfectly with each step, you felt all eyes on you.

Sarah, in the front row, wore a neutral expression, still trying to figure you out.

Wheezie smiled with the same childish excitement she had shown from the beginning.

And Rafe…

Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed into a tense line, his dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite decipher.

He didn’t look exactly upset, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you uncomfortable.

Ward took your hand when you reached his side, his fingers enveloping yours firmly.

The ceremony was short, but each word felt heavy.

“In riches and in poverty…”

“In health and in sickness…”

“Until death do us part…”

When Ward slid the ring onto your finger, you knew there was no turning back.

You were now his wife.

Mrs. Cameron.

After the wedding, the honeymoon didn’t happen.

There were no trips to exotic places, no romantic getaways to private islands. No candlelit dinners in Paris or sunsets in Tuscany.

There was only the Cameron house.

There was only the room you now shared with Ward.

That was your honeymoon.

When Ward told you that you couldn’t travel because he had work commitments, you nodded without arguing. You didn’t expect anything different. You weren’t an innocent girl dreaming of fairy tales.

Besides, the sooner you got used to your new life, the better.

The house was big, too big. Sometimes, when Ward wasn’t around, you walked through the halls in silence, feeling like an intruder in a world you didn’t fully understand yet.

Your day-to-day life became filled with a quiet routine. You woke up in the room you now shared with Ward, feeling the coldness of the sheets when he had already gotten up before dawn for his business.

You had breakfast alone in the dining room, flipping through the newspaper even though you didn’t care about what it said.

You crossed paths with the household staff, who treated you with respect, but without the warmth of someone who really knew you.

And, occasionally, you crossed paths with Rafe.

You didn’t speak.

When you passed by him in the halls or in the living room, he barely looked at you. But you could feel his judgment, his silent contempt.

Rafe thought you were an opportunist.

You knew that for him, you were just a young, ambitious woman who had found the perfect way to secure her future. He probably thought you’d manipulated his dad, that you had taken advantage of his generosity and power.

You wondered if he would change his mind

But you didn’t bother to try. 

Sarah, on the other hand, was barely home. 

Since the wedding day, you’d hardly seen her. She spent most of her time with her boyfriend, far away from the Cameron house and all the tension that lingered there. 

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. 

Part of you thought her distance meant she had no interest in getting to know you. The other part saw it as a quiet truce. 

And then there was Wheezie. 

Your only “friend.”

The youngest Cameron had accepted you without questioning too much. Unlike her siblings, Wheezie didn’t have that deep-rooted cynicism, or the distrust that seemed to come with being Rafe and Sarah. 

She just liked you. 

You’d hang out together in the afternoons, sitting on the porch while she told you stories about her school, her friends, and the little dramas that filled her world. 

"It's weird having someone new in the house," she said one afternoon as you two sipped lemonade in the garden.

"Too weird?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she answered with a smile. "Just... different. But I like it."

It was one of the few times you felt like you belonged somewhere. 

Over the next few days, your only goal was to avoid crossing paths with Rafe, except at dinner. 

You didn’t want to see him. 

You didn’t want to run into him, or even think about him. 

But somehow, Rafe Cameron always ended up showing up. 

You didn’t know if it was fate, bad luck, or if he did it on purpose. But the truth was, your encounters started happening more often. 

Sometimes it was in the kitchen when you’d come down for coffee and find him leaning on the counter, lazily stirring his cup while giving you that same carefree, indifferent look. 

Other times it was in the living room, when you thought the house was empty, only to turn around and find him there, watching you with those eyes that always seemed to analyze, judge, question. 

Then there were the worst encounters: the ones in the hallway. 

In those, he always had something to say. 

Always. 

“Getting used to the rich life yet?” he threw out one time as you passed by him.

You held his gaze without blinking.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about my life, Rafe.”

He let out a dry laugh, like the idea amused him.

“I don’t. I just find it fascinating how some people can get everything without lifting a finger.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He shrugged, that arrogant air that seemed to be part of his DNA. “Maybe you should explain it to me. What's it like marrying someone you barely know? What's it like selling yourself for security?”

This time, you didn’t hold back.

“And what’s it like being a rich kid with a martyr complex?” you fired back. “Because if it bothers you so much that some people get money without ‘lifting a finger,’ maybe you should start with yourself.”

His eyes darkened for a moment.

For a second, you thought he’d hit back with something worse. That he wouldn’t let you win that small war of words that seemed to have started between you two.

But instead, he just stared at you intensely.

And then, without saying anything else, he walked past you and went on his way. 

You didn’t understand why his silence felt like a victory. 

But that wasn’t the end of it. 

Because Rafe didn’t know when to stop. 

And you weren’t about to give in either. 

Every encounter became a battleground disguised as conversation. Every time he opened his mouth, you were ready to respond. 

“What are you gonna do when you get tired of this?” he asked another day, when you found him on the porch, a beer in hand. “When you get bored pretending this is what you wanted?”

“What are you gonna do when you realize that your opinion doesn’t matter to me?” you shot back, taking a sip of your own drink.

He clicked his tongue and slammed the bottle down on the wooden table a bit harder than necessary.

“You still think this is a game, don’t you?”

“And you still think you know everything about me.”

His gaze swept over your face, like he was looking for a lie.

Like he wanted to see if there was a crack in your confidence, in your stance, in your tone.

But he found nothing. 

And that seemed to piss him off even more.

That same night, as dinner went on as usual, everyone was sitting around the table. 

It was one of those rare nights when Ward was home in time for dinner with you and his kids. Wheezie was chatting animatedly about her day, Sarah barely paying attention while staring at her phone, and Rafe… 

Rafe was staring at you.

Not in the usual way, with disdain or condescension.

No.

This time, his gaze lingered on one specific spot. 

Your cleavage. 

It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But when you lifted your gaze, and his eyes took a second longer than usual to meet yours, you knew. 

It didn’t make you uncomfortable. 

But it did confuse you. 

What was he looking for? 

What was he thinking? 

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You simply looked back down at your plate, took your wine glass, and kept talking to Ward like nothing had happened. 

“I was thinking about going to New York next month,” your husband said, with his calm and calculated tone. “You should come with me.”

You smiled at him.

“I’d like that.”

He seemed pleased with your answer. His fingers brushed yours on the table, a soft but possessive gesture. 

You didn’t look at Rafe.

But you could feel his gaze still on you. 

Burning.

Analyzing.

Judging.

When dinner was over, Ward came over to you. 

He took your hand gently, but firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“I missed you today,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you.

He kissed your cheek first, then your lips. A quick kiss, but public enough for everyone to see. To make sure there was no doubt about who you were now.

You felt Rafe’s eyes on you two. 

You didn’t dare turn to look at him. 

You didn’t know what expression he had on his face. 

But as Ward guided you out of the dining room and toward the bedroom, you could feel Rafe’s gaze still fixed on you. 

Watching. 

Thinking. 

And that... 

That did make you uncomfortable.

[grandline-fics]

hello can I request Luffy for true loves kiss for ur valentine's event? ur prompts are super cute btw!! I literally was stressing over which character to pick for this prompt 😭

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 1,046

A/N: This was also requested by @destynelseclipsa. I hope you both like what I came up with for this one and that it's to your liking. Thank you for the request and Happy Valentine's day guys

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

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When the Strawhats docked at the island that morning the crew became confused about being told they wouldn’t be allowed to enter properly just yet. The explanation given was that there was a festival being prepared in the city’s centre for the evening and it would be too difficult to get everything ready in time with outsiders getting in the way. Most of the crew understood and settled in for an afternoon on the ship. Luffy, however became all but impossible to control. Knowing there was a city-wide party just hours away from happening left him a ball of frantic energy just wanting to sneak into the city centre and take a peek at what was to come.

Nami had been yelling at him to behave and just be patient, with Zoro and Sanji holding him firmly in place under the navigator’s instruction but still they struggled. If Luffy wanted to break free he would. You knew it was only a matter of time before he broke, with Nami soon following suit so you decided to get ahead of things to ensure everyone had a good time at the festival. 

Getting up from your seat you approached your Captain and boyfriend. Even with your steps being casual against the Sunny’s deck and muted over the sounds of Sanji, Zoro, and Nami’s yelling, the second you drew near Luffy’s head turned immediately towards you and his dark but bright eyes fixed on you. Anything the others were saying, were completely drowned out by this point as he smiled happily at you.

“You can go peek if you want, Luffy but it’ll just be boring. There won’t be any cooked food ready at this point and maybe a couple stalls built.” You explained with a shrug. “If you want to see that you can just go to Franky and Usopp’s workshops and see what they’re working on right? Or we could stay here and see if Sanji would make something to tide us all over before the festival?”

Sanji jerked when Luffy effortlessly pulled out from his and Zoro’s hold. He glanced at you and quickly grinned, anything to keep Luffy content enough to be patient and even better if he had a hand in it, it would earn him more favour with Nami. “Yeah. How about a pre-festival feast?”

The island they’d found themselves and now got to fully see was bursting with life and colour. Everyone was so cheerful, infectiously so. Luffy grinned broadly as he took in the sights and sounds overwhelming his senses in every direction. Now he was glad he listened to you and stayed on the Sunny until it was time to attend the festival. Keeping one hand firmly linked with yours, he hurried from one stall to the other taking in as many games, food, and possible trinkets to buy. Through it all you grinned at his enthusiasm, soaking up the radiant positivity and excitement that Luffy brought to the already joyous atmosphere. While Luffy was buying another local delicacy to try, Chopper called your name. You told Luffy you’d be right back and hurried over to the doctor to help him pick what to buy from a souvenir stall. Immediately Luffy pouted and watched you across the street. 

“Oh I know that look.” Luffy turned to see the old man in front of the stall he was at. His confusion grew when the man grinned broadly. “That’s the face of a man in love.”

“Love?” Luffy repeated, a hint of hesitation in his tone. Quickly he glanced your direction again. Yes you were both in a relationship but love was a new topic. “What makes you think that?”

“Not think. Know.” The old man clarified with a soft laugh and shake of his head. “That hopeless, lost look you got now even when they’re so close. Besides I’ve been watching you two since you got here. It’s obvious you’re in love with how you look at them. How they’re the only thing that matters above all else.” Luffy blinked at the explanation and looked over at you again, unable and unwilling to stop the smile shaping his lips when you waved him over to join you. At the smallest beckon you gave him Luffy was already moving, needing absolutely to be as close as possible. Now with the old man’s words in his head Luffy began to consider it with more seriousness than he would have without the prompting. He truly couldn’t be without you. But did you matter more than anything else? 

“Luffy! Careful!” You spoke suddenly with widened eyes. You were hurrying towards him to meet him halfway. He blinked in surprise to see you leaning down to pick up his hat from the ground. In his movements and the busy city streets, the tied rope keeping the straw hat around his neck had come undone and it had fallen. He hadn’t even noticed it was loose. He didn’t even realise or felt it had fallen. You had occupied his notice completely and even seeing it had been missing from his person for just a few seconds didn’t bring him nearly as much agitation as you leaving his side had done. 

His hat, his defining image and greatest treasure truly did matter less to him compared to you. Luffy smiled when you settled the hat firmly on his head and secured the rope to make sure it didn’t slip again. Meeting your gaze Luffy was struck with the confirmation that what the old man had pointed out to him was obvious. He knew people called him clueless sometimes but in this moment he fully agreed with him. “I love you!”

“For saving your hat?” You ask with a smile. Your boyfriend was a lovable and affectionate guy so you took his statement with a carefree smile. You only froze when you saw Luffy’s stare on your face was stronger and more serious than anything you’d seen before. His declaration wasn’t one being said thoughtlessly. He meant it with every fibre of his being and it shocked and warmed you instantly. Your lips parted and your took a breath before staring at him with just as much love as he was giving you. “Love you too, Luffy.”

——————————————-

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[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Apocalyptic winter

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, pregnancy (not very detailed), pregnancy nausea, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, grooming, mentions of Sarah & Sarah's mom, victim blaming, angst, depression

"Baby, who did this to you?"

Blood came rushing into your brain, a dull thumping at your temples as you looked up from your seat in Maria and Tommy's couch. Your body begun to shake, because you had silently prayed they wouldn't ask you that. That they'd be too disappointed to do it. But no, Tommy's worried eyes set on you as Maria couldn't do more than blankly stare at the coffee table before you.

Almost as instinct you shook your head, tears kissing your eyelids in a stinging pace.

"It's our fault," You had heard them mutter in the kitchen as you came to them that morning after pouring your soul out on your toilet; you had felt like shit for almost a month now, and Joel did little to calm you down. His priority after the "date" had shifted, and you felt as if every moment with him revolved around bending you over or getting his hands up your skirt. "We never taught her about it-for fuck's sake she's almost twenty-"

After Maria asked about your period and you had lightly commented that you hadn't got it yet, her eyes glazed over with fear as her dark lips parted.

Pregnant.

That was your diagnostic, and it doomed on you. You could barely understand it as it was, perhaps because you have never had to worry about it, or perhaps because you didn't knew better.

"Babygirl," He called again softly, and it irked you. The nickname both brothers used on you, Tommy in his fatherly concern and Joel in his wild savagery. "You are fine, it's fine, jus' need to know who."

How could you tell him that the man that had done that to you was the man whose pictures hang behind him, on top of the fireplace? The man who had just come for dinner the night before and you had called him an "Ol' grumpy man" as you giggled? the very man that had taken you home afterwards and fucked you until you apologized?

Would you have to tell him, then, all the things you had allowed him to do? How he made you come in his fingers? how he had shoved his cock up your throat? How he had fucked you on the bed Tommy himself had built for you?

"No," You panted, feeling your hands clammy from how tight you had them fisted. "Please Tommy, don't make me-"

"Sweatheart," Maria cooed. "Was it-" She stammered with her words, and you felt her breathe getting ragged, as if she was going to say something unspeakable "against your will?"

You felt something clawing at you, a desire to say yes that was strong as the desire to say no when Joel slammed you against your couch, hiking your knees up and wide. But the same way you would plead for more then, you shook your head stubbornly.

"N-no, no," You chanted, seeing their expressions shift slightly. Oh god, they were so disappointed. "I-I wanted it."

Filth pooled from your lips, filth that Joel had set onto you.

"Baby, we need a name." Tommy spoke again, voice harder now despite his softened eyes.

Any name, you thought, the possibility of lying your way out scaring you by even appearing in your head.

"I can't." You croaked, feeling the tears fall down your warm cheeks as you once again failed them.

"Tommy," Maria called, and you felt grateful the attention wasn't on you anymore, until she mumbled the next words. "I think I know."

You wanted to jump on the couch and scream she doesn't, but that level of disrespect was too much for you.

"Then tell me." He demanded, hands on his hips twitching. Maria gave you one look, as if it was your last chance to repent, before opening her lips.

"I-I didn't want to believe it," she started, and it doomed on you that she knew, every little sight she left out building anticipation on you. You barely noticed how wild your hands were shaking. "but I heard whispers about Joel going into her house at night."

A sob broke the silence, face slamming into your hands; because it was never supposed to go this far, because you thought that if they ever knew it would be because of you. Because once Joel had whispered to hush you, that perhaps were you were old enough, it could be.

You heard thundering steps and you flinched, face still cradled in your hands, but as they dissipated, you managed the courage to look up. Only Maria was in the room, and you were to scared to ask were Tommy was, perhaps you knew better.

But any trace of anger wasn't present in her face, and as she casted one look at you, she stood up from her seat and came crashing down at the couch besides you. She hugged you silently.

You realized how much you missed it when you heard raw, bickering voices nearing the house; you felt yourself shaking once again as the door opened, seeing him so fervently.

You whimpered at his glare, deep dark eyes and dark brows, and at the swelling bruise by his jaw; his lip looked busted too. You remembered what Tommy had once told you when you were fifteen, if any guy tries to be smart with ya I'll be his worst nightmare. But of course you had never imagined the guy to be his own brother.

He escorted him in, glaring holes into the back of his head. Joel stopped, as if waiting for someone to tell him to sit down. His way of acting was uncharacteristic, but you knew he wouldn't pick a fight with Tommy, and it was possibly why Tommy only sported bruised, bleeding knuckles.

He looked at you, and then at him, all in a scowl as Tommy nudged him to sit down. He did, spreading and laying his hand over the back rest on the chair, as if he wanted this over with.

You saw the man that had practically raise you hesitate with his words, anger still coursing through his flushed skin as he held one pointer finger at him.

"Tell me what did you do to her." He barked, deep beneath knowing he didn't want to know, just wanted him to recognize him. Joel stayed silent, eyes jumping from you to him to Maria as he rubbed the scruff on his beard. "Tell me!"

You jolted, catching everyone's attention, shaking so violently tears jumped from your eyes to your lap. You felt yourself becoming sweaty from how profusely you were crying.

"You know what I did-"

His voice was dark, bitter, and it brought shivers down your spine.

"Tell. Me." Tommy repeated. Joel grew irritated.

"Yeah we fucked, is that what you wanna hear?" Joel bit. "What's the big deal? not like I fucking raped her-"

"Do you even know how old she is?"

"Yeah, nineteen." Joel gruffed, but he stared at you as if you could had been lying. "Legal now and legal before."

Tommy laughed dryly, ironically. "Older than what Sarah would be."

The name seemed to perk up you and Joel; you knew who she was, and what happened to her, but never from Joel.

"Keep her out of this shit." Joel growled, thought melancholy strained his voice.

"The shit now is what you have gotten yourself into." Tommy spat, and Joel groaned, the seriousness of the situation escaping him. "You got her pregnant."

As if a bomb had burst, silence spread through in a deafening pace. You felt your chest begin to close as you wanted to claw at him, throw yourself at his feet and beg for him to stay besides you.

He remained stoic, hard as he evaded your pleading eyes.

"Ain't got stuff to take it out like the old days?" He asked Maria, so calmly it made you go cold.

"No, Joel," Maria answered shortly, a tangy bitter drawl. "the world had gone to shit, and once again you are getting the wrong girl pregnant."

The wrong girl. It rung in your ears, because you had been Joel's good girl for too long, his baby girl, his sweet little thing and his perfect little whore.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He questioned, and the way not one of his words were directed to you hurt. Tommy nibbled his lips, unsure too. "We don't precisely have child support here, don't we?"

His words came out cynically, as if searching for a escape goat.

Please look at me, please, let me show you how sorry I am, please, Joel.

"You are-You are going to get everything she needs and makes sure she doesn't have to lift one finger." Tommy decided, making his brother howl in frustration. It felt awry, uneasy, how they were discussing this in front of you, without you having one word to say.

You dueled on what you would say if you had the word, perhaps beg Joel to form a family, perhaps tell Tommy that you can take the burden yourself, but the tension in the living room and the way he looked at you, disgusted, sent you mute.

"Gonna act like she wasn't the one spreading her legs?" Joel irked, making Tommy narrow his eyes at him, dangerously. He looked at you, directly for the first time, and spoke to you in his bittersweet drawl. "Why don't you tell them, honey? how you told me you were ready for it-"

"Enough!" Maria bellowed, raising to her feet. But Joel wouldn't seize it, standing as his thick boots thundered the floorboards.

"Yeah because it's easier to come crying to mommy and daddy about it-"

"Joel!" Tommy barked, cutting him off. "I think it is better for you to leave now, you have done enough."

He spared you one look before turning in his heel, his shoulder bumping against Tommy as he left the Miller's house. No, no, NO, begun thundering in your head as you jump to your feet, ignoring Maria as you followed him out into the open door.

"Joel!" You screamed, and he ignored you, shoulder blades tensing. You ran up to him, clinging to his arm. He stopped, possibly not to trample you as he kept his gaze ahead, onto the slowly-filling streets. "I-I swear I didn't tell them- please, Joel-"

He shook you off, not with enough force to send you stumbling down, but so enough to staggered in your feet.

"This was a fucking mistake," He growled at you, and you shook your head, pounding from how much you were crying. "and you are a fucking idiot, stupid whore-"

He cut himself off, seeing how you begged at him, and continued walking away. You heard your name being called, but you just felt onto the cobblestone, chest heaving as you cried your little heart out for him.

The rumor spread, until it was no longer a rumor; it was a fact. Joel Miller had gotten you pregnant. You hid in your house for so long your friends stopped dropping by, knowing they will only see you laying in your couch, red faced and hoarse throat.

Joel wouldn't even deliver things himself, Tommy did it. He and Maria dropped by at least once every day, to see how you were going. They saw you cracking, falling deeper and deeper into hysteria each time. You cried, you laughed, you barely ate and then you binged. All as your tummy swelled.

For some moments you felt as if you didn't know what was growing inside of you, something draining your energy that Joel had thrust upon you. You hadn't seen him in months, and it tore at you.

You had changed the scenario millions of times; sometimes mad at him, sometimes mad at yourself, and sometimes even mad at Tommy and Maria for not teaching you better; but those times were only when the pregnancy took the worst out of you, when you found yourself hurling over the toilet seat and dealing with unbearable pain in your body.

He wasn't there either when you had your baby, just Maria by your side. The overwhelming pain left once she handed you the baby, a gorgeous little girl. In Jackson's small, ran down hospital you stared once again into the eyes of Joel Miller; two dark, chocolaty puppy dog eyes that needed you. It was enough for you at the moment.

But the pleasure was short-lived, as you recovered from birth in the small living room of your house, Tommy cradling the baby in his arm as he cooed and giggled at her and Maria massaged your feet, gently.

"Now I have to go get all that pink stuff," Tommy told the baby between giggles. "and I risked my ass for that firefighter truck huh?"

You laughed, recalling the box Tommy had brought a few weeks before, a box with baby clothes and the firey red toy on the top; he hoped for a boy, but he would never tell you.

"What do you mean, risked your ass?" You laughed, picking up on the last sentences, you had taken a good load of pain medications to ease the aftermath. Probably overkill, but it was easier like that. Your giggles dissipated as you saw his expression souring, Maria ceasing her ministration on your soles. "Tommy?"

Confusion nagged at you, and Maria sighed, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "Well, Joel hasn't brought anything since um, September I think-" she then added quickly, seeing your horrified expression, "But don't worry yourself about it-"

You gasped in awe, a bit of pain shooting into your chest. Mostly for becoming such a burden to Maria and Tommy, but Joel was... unbelievable.

You had allowed him not coming to see you, you had taken his absence and disinterest, but this hurt worse than that. This was disrespect.

And the thing was, that you had grown tougher. You felt obliged to, for your sake, and your baby's sake, you had left behind your girly fantasies of love and sneaking drinks in the Tipsy Bison. Somehow, Joel Miller had made you a women in more than one way.

And he was about to see it for himself.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I almost posted an alternate for today, because I don't know if I love this one. But I'm home sick, so I don't want to think too hard. ANYWAY. Here's my day thirteen fill for BuckTommy Fluffebruary: Love Declarations, and here's how I got these crazy kids back together in the vague universe these fills are set in. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

There’s a helicopter over the building, and Buck has already heard Tommy’s voice over the radio. He knows who’s flying, who he’s going to see as soon as he’s lifted out, but he’s got a scared kid on his hip and can’t really be too tied up in what happened between them.

“Coming down,” Lucy says over the radio, and Buck acknowledges her.

“You ready?” he asks the kid, Susie, and she looks at him with wide, terrified eyes. She’d been the only one in her apartment when the fire broke out, and Buck had been cut off from the ladder and Eddie when he got her. She’d been smart, though, and stayed low and kept her face covered like she’d been taught in school. After scooping her up, Buck radioed for help, and Tommy’s voice had come in loud and clear telling him to go up to the south corner of the roof to avoid potential structure collapse on the north side. “I know the pilot in that chopper, he’s the best pilot in the whole world. I promise, he’ll get us out of here and we’ll get you back to your mom, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, barely audible over the rotors. “You promise?”

Buck lifts his gloved hand, pinky stuck out, and he holds her gaze as she locks her small finger around his. A five-year-old understands how sacred the pinky promise is, and she gives him a tiny nod.

“Wanna know something cool?” he asks as Lucy descends on the ladder. “He flew into a hurricane the night we met, and we’re still here. No one is better at this.”

Susie looks up at the helicopter with something like awe, and Buck hugs her close until Lucy can reach for her, clipping her onto a harness and yelling instructions that he can’t hear. He waits until they’re climbing up before he hooks his arms and feet into the rungs. The helicopter is steady as he climbs, and he even feels it tip a little when he’s climbing in to make it an easier angle to climb in.

“Show-off,” he mutters to absolutely no one. Lucy has Susie in her lap, Tommy is in the pilot’s seat, the seat next to him is empty. Buck unhooks his gear and secures it as best he can before he sits next to Tommy and puts a headset on. “Thanks for the lift.”

“You okay?” Tommy asks, his voice like a balm after two months apart.

“Could be worse,” Buck says, watching as the north corner of the building collapses. “That was my original exit.”

“I have a parking lot nearby cleared for landing,” Tommy says, nodding to something in the distance. Buck is too busy looking at him, drinking in the sight of his side profile.

Tommy looks alert, but there’s circles under his eyes. His hair is a little longer than he usually keeps it, so is his stubble. He looks like he had when he’d gotten food poisoning after Sal’s Labor Day barbecue. But he still flies with total confidence, checking and double-checking that no one is in their immediate airspace and that they have enough clearance for landing.

“Alright, we’re going to land now,” he says, and Buck twists around to see Lucy relaying this to Susie. The girl nods and asks something.

“Any word on her mom?” Lucy asks through the headset.

“She was in the laundry room downstairs,” Buck says. “She’s got a couple minor burns from trying to get the stairwell door open, but she’s on-site. Cap said she’ll be waiting.”

When they land, Lucy has to hold Susie tight until they’re ready to exit, and then Buck jumps up to help the girl out. He’s got her on his hip again and hears a woman scream her name as she runs toward them. Susie squirms in his grip, and Buck carefully sets her on her feet, watching as she runs toward her mom and gets swept up in a tearful hug.

He turns back to the chopper and climbs in to retrieve his gear. The rotors are winding down, because there’s people running around them and Lucy is outside talking to Bobby, and it’s quiet.

“You look like shit,” he says, and Tommy snorts from his seat. “Kind of.”

“You look good,” Tommy says, looking over his shoulder at him.

“I feel like shit,” Buck says, tucking his helmet under his arm. “Thanks for the ride.”

A hand reaches back before he can jump out, and Buck stops, looking down at the thick fingers curled around his elbow. It’s like a sad version of that day after the cruise ship rescue, when Buck had felt the need to reach out and touch Tommy and Tommy had reached back and smiled and made something flutter in his stomach. Now he feels like there’s a big stone there instead.

“Hey,” Tommy says softly, and Buck looks at him. “When are you off?”

“Now,” Buck says. “You?”

“Forty minutes ago.” His fingers rub the material of Buck’s jacket. “I gotta fly back, but can we talk after?”

Buck swallows around the lump in his throat. “Why?”

“Because I think I made the biggest mistake of my life,” Tommy says, looking at him with pleading eyes. “And I want to know if it’s too late to fix it.”

His heart seizes in his chest, feeling hope for the first time in two months.

“It’s not,” Buck says, his voice coming out in a rush, dropping his helmet so he can reach for Tommy’s cheek, ripping off his glove so he can feel the skin against his. “It’s not.”

Tommy leans into his touch and closes his eyes, the crease between his brows smoothing and the tension around his eyes easing. “I’m not brave.”

“I’m not either,” Buck says before he takes off his other glove with his teeth and reaches for Tommy’s other cheek. “I’m not a lot of things.”

“You’re perfect,” Tommy says, opening his eyes and smiling just the smallest amount. “God, Evan, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not,” Buck insists, moving to kneel next to Tommy’s seat. “I said everything all wrong. I didn’t mean for any of it to seem like I was just wanting to live with you because I admired you. I had a plan, and I-I panicked? I don’t know.”

“I think I would’ve run off anyway,” Tommy admits, his gaze dropping from Buck’s. “There’s this thing I do where I think I can see into the future, and it’s never good. And so I leave before it can get bad.”

Buck smiles, his heart breaking for Tommy all over again, and strokes his thumb over his stubble. “But what if it’s good? What if it’s good this time? Didn’t it feel like it was? Like it’d maybe always be like that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, his hand coming up to hook over Buck’s wrist, his thumb rubbing against his bare skin. “You didn’t say anything wrong, just none of it was…correct. I’m not—I’m not what you think I am.”

“I think you’re everything I’ve ever been looking for.” Buck’s smile widens when Tommy’s gaze shifts back to his and softens. “And I think you’re the only person I’ll ever find who makes me feel the way you do, who puts up with everything that isn’t perfect about me. So I also think we should give this another shot.”

“Really?” Tommy says, his voice soft and disbelieving.

“You gave me a second chance after I really fucked up. What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t give you one?”

Tommy shrugs. “A reasonable one?”

Buck huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve never been that. Never been reasonable, never been great at thinking before I talk, I’m pretty bad at self-control, and I’ve got abandonment issues like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Yeah, but I love you anyway.”

It sounds so simple when Tommy says it, but Buck feels his breath stutter in his chest. Tommy knows about Daniel, about the lying, but he doesn’t know about that day. He doesn’t know what Buck had wanted more than anything from his parents, from anybody.

Tommy’s eyes dart between his. “Sorry, was that—”

Buck cuts him off with a kiss, Tommy's face still cradled in his hands. When a hand curls around the back of his neck, he feels safe.

“I love you,” Buck whispers in the scant space between their lips when they break apart to breathe. “We still need to talk, but I can’t let you fly off without saying that.”

Tommy kisses him again, and it’s messy and a little frantic and so, so familiar. It’s the way he’d kiss Buck when he seemed desperate for him, the way he’d kiss when they hadn’t seen each other in days because of shift schedules keeping them apart, the way Buck had kissed him in a hospital when he’d finally had someone show up for him.

“Hey, everything ok—oh, shit,” Lucy says from behind them, and Buck breaks the kiss quickly. It’s really not okay that they’re doing this on a call. “I mean, don’t let me interrupt.”

“No, sorry, I should—” Buck points his thumb over his shoulder and looks back at Tommy, who’s flushed and smiling and the prettiest thing Buck’s ever seen. “Cap’s probably waiting.”

“Yeah, I’d like to get home,” Bobby says from behind Lucy. “You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck says with a shaky smile as he keeps staring into Tommy’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m great.”

He leans in and kisses Tommy again before slipping out of the chopper. When he looks back, Tommy is out of his seat and following him.

“Luce, can you fly us back?” he asks, and she nods, slipping into the seat he’s just vacated. Tommy turns his attention back to Buck and reaches for his hands. “I’ll make you dinner. Unless you want to go out or go to your place.”

Buck shakes his head. “No, that sounds nice. Also, all I have at my place is bread and two kinds of cake right now. Unless you want a bowl of ganache for dinner.”

Tommy’s brows knit together. “I—ganache?”

“Don’t ask,” Bobby says dryly.

“I’ll explain it later,” Buck says, flushing. “But, yeah, I can come over.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, smiling when Buck does. “God, I’m never letting you go again.”

“Good,” Buck says, leaning in until their foreheads are touching. “I’m not letting you go, either. I mean, other than literally, because I kinda have to go back to the station.”

Tommy laughs, and Buck pulls back so he can see the way Tommy’s nose scrunches. “God, I love you so much,” Tommy says.

“I love you, too,” Buck says, feeling every bone in his body melt away. He’s addicted to saying it now, he can feel it. His heart feels like it's made of air and sparks and butterflies, everything feels brighter. “I’ll see you soon.”

Tommy leans in and gives him a quick, too-fast kiss, because now they’re in public and really shouldn’t be kissing on a call. When they separate, Buck turns to see that Bobby, Eddie, Hen, and Chimney are watching with giant grins on their faces.

“Shut up,” he says, his face growing hot as he walks toward them, glancing back as Tommy climbs into the chopper. He waves, and Buck smiles and waves back.

“We didn’t say anything,” Chimney protests.

“Yeah, we’re just happy for you,” Hen says, throwing an arm across his back as they walk toward where the engine’s parked.

“Yeah, and I’m also happy because I just won like fifty bucks from Josh,” Eddie adds. “I said you’d get back together before Valentine’s Day, he had money on the day.”

“And we just cleaned out half of Harbor,” Chimney says, fist-bumping with Hen behind Buck’s back. “Because half of them said before New Year’s, half of them had Valentine’s Day or my wedding anniversary. We doubled down on January. I even got a bonus for it being under eight weeks.”

“I didn’t bet on your relationship,” Bobby says, patting Buck’s shoulder as he passes them.

“Thanks, Cap,” he says dryly.

“Because I knew you’d figure it out in your own time, and also Athena called it a ‘sucker’s bet,” he adds, grinning over his shoulder.

“I hate all of you,” Buck mutters.

“You love us,” Hen says, squeezing him tight.

“Not as much as Tommy, but we’re high on the list,” Chimney agrees.

“And we love you,” Eddie says. “Even though you were busy making up with your boyfriend while we finished putting out that fire.”

Buck throws up his hands in exasperation. “I had to get airlifted from the site!”

“By your bo-oyfriend,” Eddie teases.

“Guys,” Bobby says, opening the engine. “C’mon—”

Buck sighs. “Thank you.”

“—let’s not pressure them into any labels yet.”

Buck hauls himself inside. “Traitor.”

“My A1C is up half a point from last year, I don’t want to hear it. Let’s go, kids, some of us have dinners to get to and paperwork to fill out.”

They pile into the engine, and Buck slouches in his seat with a smile on his face. He texts Tommy that he’s bringing dessert, and he watches intently as a bubble appears until the text comes through.

Tommy

Sounds good :)

You can head over whenever you want. I’m leaving as soon as we land.

Got a hot date tonight. I hope. Lucy said she’s going to drop us out of the sky because she’s out $100??

I’ll see you soon, I’m getting reamed for not being a romantic and waiting until Valentine’s Day?

[razildor]

WIP Wednesday (It's Thursday)

Was tagged by the lovely @aldisobey Thanks!

I won't tag anyone for this since I think almost everyone I would tag has already done it, but if not go for it!

I've not gotten overly far with this one since it was just a silly little idea ( it's smut what a surprise) on Taash's comment of almost calling Emmrich a skullfucker, so no idea if I'll ever finish this one.

Skull-liker

"And I'm sorry for calling you a Skullfu- liker.... Skull-liker." Taash quickly corrected themselves before leaving with a wave at Rook.

Rook couldn't help but laugh a little at the name, turning to Emmrich with a smirk. "Skull-liker? I didn't know the Watchers had that title."

"Darling, please. You know the Watchers have no such title." A deep sigh leaves Emmrich as he turns to lean against his desk, looking over at Rook who slowly comes a little closer, a smirk on her face that he knows all too well..

"Nooo?" A teasing tone that has Emmrich narrowing his eyes.

"Rook if you say-"

"You're saying there's a title called Skullfucker instead?"

"Rook!"

A warm laugh leaves Rook the smirk still there. "Alright, alright. So there's no high ranking title for such a thing... I really thought you would have such a title."

"I-You thought- Rook! What would give you such a vulgar thought! You know we-"

"You could do it to me."

"Rook! The mouth on you!" A tut leaves Emmrich as he pushes himself from the desk, making his way towards one of his many bookcases, letting his eyes scan the spines picking one out as he tries to bury the thoughts of doing such things to Rook.

Yet the idea did... Appeal, he couldn't deny it, to have the younger kneeling at his feet, cock buried deep into the throat until Rook's eyes are watering from the intrusion, right to the base watching them struggling for a moment until used to the weight of his cock- No! No... He couldn't do such a thing but yet... 

Rook took the opportunity to slowly circle the mage once he stepped away from the bookcase, stopping to peek over his arm at the book, a moment of silence came over the pair, a silence Emmrich was thankfully for in the moment to let his mind and other parts of him calm down, as his shoulders slowly relax truly at peace that Rook has dropped the matter, yet they quickly stiffened at the words Rook spills out from her mouth..

"So you're saying you don't like the idea of your cock down my throat?" Emmrich felt the woman's breath near his ear. The grip on the book tightening to the point of his hands shaking, in some vague attempt to keep himself together.

"Or do you really want to put me in my place, Professor?"

Something snapped within Emmrich; his only warning to Rook was the book falling to the floor as he turned, a hand gripping the other's jaw tightly. A gasp leaves Rook

----

Rook moans as she tugs on the bindings of the sash, finding her was firmly bound in place by it, another moan couldn't help but escape her throat, tongue wetting dry lips, eyes peeking up at Emmrich.

"Hm, much better. That should keep your wandering hands to places they shouldn't."

"Emmrich, please-"

"Ah! Another word and I will leave you like this while I return to my work... A tempting idea comes to think of it." A devilish smile crosses the Necromancer's face in thought. Leaving the women tied, kneeling as he worked on some papers he couldn’t care about, hearing the small whimpers and hitched breaths as she begs Emmrich to touch her aching core, oh what a delightful thought indeed. 

Perhaps he'll have Rook to warm his cock from under the desk, or have her sit on one of the many toys Emmrich has hidden within his room, watching Rook squirm and moan trying to find some relief.

The thought made his cock twitch within his trousers... Perhaps next time.

[come-as-you-are-111]

“Left On Read”

Warnings: nothin just angst

You don’t know when it started. The silence. The slow fade of what used to be effortless. One minute, Matt was your best friend—the person who knew you better than anyone. Late-night drives, deep talks, and inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

At first, you tried not to overthink it. You told yourself he was busy. That life got in the way sometimes, but he’d come back when he could. It wasn’t until the ignored texts started piling up, until the invites were met with, Sorry, can’t tonight, that you felt the first real crack in your chest.

Then came the moment that shattered everything.

It was late—past midnight, when the weight of missing him became unbearable. You sat in bed, staring at your phone, scrolling through months of old messages. Conversations that used to be filled with excitement, warmth, and care. Messages that now felt like echoes of something long dead.

You tried to ignore the lump in your throat as you typed.

Matt, if you don’t want me in your life anymore, just say it.

I don’t know what I did, but if I hurt you, I’m sorry.

Please just tell me what’s going on.

Your thumb hovered over the send button. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe you were making a big deal out of nothing. But deep down, you already knew the truth.

You sent it. The message turned blue. The seconds ticked by.

And then—

Read 1:14 AM.

Nothing.

Your stomach twisted painfully. Maybe he fell asleep before he could answer. Maybe he needed time to think. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

You turned off your phone, rolled onto your side, and let the weight of it settle over you like a heavy, suffocating fog.

The next morning, you woke up with dry eyes and a hollow chest. You checked your phone once, heart racing despite everything. But the screen was empty. No message. No explanation. No closure.

He wasn’t going to answer.

—

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. The pain didn’t leave, but it changed. It became quieter, duller, slipping into the background of your life. You stopped checking your phone so much. Stopped replaying old conversations in your head, wondering what you could have done differently.

But the reminders were everywhere. Songs that used to be your songs. Places that used to be your spots. People still asking, Hey, what happened between you and Matt?

You never had an answer.

And then, one evening, it happened.

You were halfway up the steps to your front door when something caught your eye. A single envelope, tucked into your mailbox, your name written in familiar, messy handwriting.

Your stomach dropped.

No return address. No indication of who it was from. But you didn’t need one. You knew.

Your hands trembled as you ripped it open.

I know you hate me. You have every right to.

I never meant to leave you like that. I thought I was doing the right thing.

I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left before I could. But I see now that I just hurt you worse.

I miss you. More than I can explain. But I know it’s too late.

Your breath hitched. The words blurred as your eyes stung.

I hope you’re happy. Even if it’s without me.

That was it.

No explanation. No apology that actually mattered. Just a half-hearted attempt at closure that came far too late.

You stood there on your porch for a long time, gripping the letter like it might disappear.

And then, finally, you pulled out your phone. The last message you had ever sent him still sat there, unread since that night. A message that never got a response, because he had decided you didn’t deserve one.

Your fingers hovered over the screen.

You could text him now. You could say something. Anything.

But instead, you folded the letter, walked inside, and tossed it into a drawer without another glance.

This time, you were the one leaving him on read.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters!! How we likey? Just felt like writing some angst today so hope yall liked it!

Love ya, Twilight

Sturniolo taglist:

@sturns-mermaid

[thefemmefatalexo]

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 11 - The Things We Can’t Say

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: Yeah… this isn’t getting better. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 10} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

You had been haunting Nanami’s thoughts since that night.

He could still feel the lingering warmth of the moment—the soft glow of the garden lights, the way the stars framed your face, the look in your eyes right before you leaned in. He had stopped you. Walked away without a word. And yet, your presence refused to leave him.

It wasn’t just the near-kiss that plagued him; it was everything leading up to it. The laughter, the shared glances, the way conversation flowed so easily between you. He had let his guard slip, let himself enjoy your company more than he should have. It was a miscalculation, one he had spent the past few days trying to correct.

Avoidance was the best solution.

He didn’t text you. Didn’t acknowledge you in class. If he saw you across campus, he turned the other way. It wasn’t cruel—at least, that’s what he told himself. It was necessary.

His life had been planned out since the day he was old enough to understand it. He would become an exceptional lawyer, take over his parents’ firm, and uphold the family name. That was his purpose. There was no room for distractions—especially not one as unpredictable as you.

His parents would never approve. They tolerated your family, but only in the way one tolerated an inevitable inconvenience. Too much money, too little discipline, his father had once said. More interested in social events than serious legal work. His mother had been more subtle but no less dismissive. She’s charming, I suppose, but charm only gets you so far.

He knew exactly what they would think if they found out he had entertained anything more than polite acquaintanceship with you. They would be disappointed.

And Nanami Kento did not disappoint.

That was why, when he accompanied his parents to the Asakura Legal Summit, he forced himself to stand straight, speak eloquently, and engage in the dull but necessary small talk that came with these events. His parents’ friends had a daughter—a well-mannered, intelligent law student, poised and composed in the way that made her an ideal match, at least in their eyes.

He made conversation with her, answering her polite questions and offering equally polite responses. She was pleasant, intelligent, and respectable.

And yet, the moment you walked in, he forgot whatever it was they had been discussing.

You were breathtaking.

The gown you wore was elegant but effortless, the soft fabric flowing around you as if you belonged in a dream. Your confidence, the way you carried yourself, only made it worse.

You saw him. Your eyes met.

For a second, he thought—hoped—you might come over. But you didn’t. You simply glanced away, turning your attention to someone else, leaving a hollow ache in his chest he hadn’t anticipated.

This is for the best, he reminded himself.

But as the night dragged on, it became unbearable. Every time he saw you laughing with someone, every time you charmed another guest with your easy grace, every time you didn’t look at him—it chipped away at the careful walls he had built.

And then he saw you with him.

A young man, handsome, confident, clearly taken with you. You smiled at him, said something that made him laugh. Nanami clenched his jaw.

Before he could think better of it, he was moving.

“Excuse me,” he muttered to the group he had been standing with, barely registering their response as he strode across the room.

You looked up as he approached, brows raising in surprise. The man beside you hesitated.

“May I steal you for a moment?” Nanami asked, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

You blinked but nodded, excusing yourself from the conversation. He led you to a quieter corner, away from prying eyes.

“Nanami,” you said carefully. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted.

You stared at him, caught off guard. “For what?”

He hesitated. He couldn’t tell you the truth—that he had been avoiding you because he was afraid of how much he liked you, because you made him question everything he thought he wanted, because you were dangerous in the way that made him want to throw away years of discipline just to see you smile at him like you used to.

So instead, he simply said, “For how I acted.”

A brief silence stretched between you before you let out a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Right. You’re apologizing for avoiding me.”

He nodded.

You sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I get it,” you said, softer this time. “You’re not interested. I shouldn’t have—” You shook your head. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. That was my mistake.”

Nanami opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You think I don’t want you. That I don’t care.

Maybe that was for the best.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you continued, forcing a small smile. “We can just… move on, okay?”

He wanted to say something—anything—but his silence spoke for him.

You exhaled, shaking your head slightly. “Alright then.”

The moment felt too heavy, too final, and maybe that’s why he found himself saying, “You looked like you were enjoying yourself tonight.”

Your lips quirked. “Is that your way of changing the subject?”

“Yes.”

You huffed a small laugh, your tension easing just slightly. “Fine. It was… tolerable.”

“Just tolerable?”

“Okay, maybe a little fun.”

Nanami exhaled, some of the weight in his chest lifting. “Good.”

A beat of silence passed between you. It wasn’t the same as before—there was a distance now, one he had created. And yet, you were still here, still speaking to him as if he hadn’t spent the past few days pretending you didn’t exist.

“You really had no reason to apologize, you know,” you said after a moment. “You were just being honest. I can take rejection, Nanami.”

He flinched at that word—rejection. That wasn’t what this was.

But what was it, then?

Before he could answer, you continued, voice quieter now. “I just… I thought maybe you felt something too.” A small, self-conscious laugh left your lips. “But I guess that was just me misreading things.”

Nanami clenched his fists at his sides. Tell her she’s wrong, some part of him whispered. Tell her you feel everything she thinks you don’t.

Instead, he said, “You didn’t misread anything.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Then why—”

“It’s complicated.”

You let out a slow breath. “Right. Of course, it is.”

The air between you felt heavier now, like something unsaid was pushing against it.

Finally, you smiled again—smaller this time, but still undeniably you. “I should get back.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

You turned to leave, but before you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t avoid me again, Nanami.”

He swallowed. “I won’t.”

You didn’t smile, but there was something softer in your gaze before you disappeared back into the crowd.

Nanami exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

He had gotten what he wanted.

So why did it feel like he had lost something?

[zooophagous]

Hi Tobi! I have a low-stakes cat-care question if you're interested.

I got a new roommate recently, and roommate comes with a cat! I've been doing my usual new-cat thing - giving him space, not forcing interactions, being chill when he ventures out. It's only been a month and a half, but he still hisses if I so much as look at him.

Thing is, he's not a new cat to me! I fostered this little fucker from when his eyes were closed to when he was big enough to be nutered.

My not-yet-roommate adopted him immediately before the pandemic started, so I never saw him in person after that until the past year when we arranged the roommate thing.

I know he was just a baby, but I did hope he'd still associate my house/me with safety. My space hasn't changed, and I still have my cat who was an adult back then and taught him cat manners.

What do you think is up? Does my space smell so different even though it hasn't changed at all? Maybe he didn't meet enough humans during the panini and my humanness overrides any lingering familiarity? Do you think there's a chance he'll mellow out and tenderness eventually? I'm sad this grub i bottle fed swats at me like I'm a threat :(

(But I'll continue to respect his signals, of course)

Unfortunately I don't have an answer for you on this one. The only cat I've known who knew me from kittenhood only to hate me as an adult was a cat named Sophie who I grew up with, she lived with my dad. Sophie however didn't just hate me, she hated everyone so it was sort of normal for her.

You're already doing pretty good I think, I wish I had better advice but Sophie hated me until the day she died. With Sophie I suspect it was pain related as she was all four paws declawed. Did the kitten have some sort of adverse event happen that you could have been the redirected target of?

[gothamite-rambler]

A door swung open in the midst of the Mad Hatter's cackle. A short woman with blonde hair stood in the doorway.

Woman (with a British accent): Hey.

Mad Hatter: Uh, yo… what’s up, sis?

Lorina (his sister): Louis is over. We’re… trying to watch TV. You’re being incredibly loud.

Mad Hatter: Uh… you just— like my volume or… uh- I didn’t—

Lorina (hands on her hips): Yeah, volume! That’s what loud means, doesn’t it?

Mad Hatter: Yeah, uh, I have the door closed. I mean—

Lorina: We’re on the couch on the other side of this paper-thin wall! We’re trying to enjoy a nice romantic movie, and all we’re hearing is you shouting at Batman and… the brown Robin today.

Batman: You guys have to stop calling him that.

Robin: I just go by Robin.

Mad Hatter: Yeah, be nice, Alice.

Lorina: My name is bloody Lori! Lorina is the closest you can call me! I keep telling you I'm not named Alice!

Mad Hatter: You’re lucky I’m not calling you the Queen of Hearts.

Lorina: Gee, thanks. You know when I said you could stay here and not make all this (cough) bull my problem? You couldn’t keep that promise!

Mad Hatter: This is what I do, yeah… I mean…

Lorina: Yeah, that’s what you do—you waste time. You do stupid shite all the time.

Mad Hatter: You know, this—this is what I care about, Lori. Come on.

Lorina: This is what you care about?! Care about something better! Care about yourself, maybe. Care about me, the people who are keeping you alive!

Batman attempted to interject, but Robin shook his head, opting to watch the argument unfold.

Mad Hatter: I—I care about you, this—like my… This is my job, basically, it’s…

Lorina: Oh, you care about me? That’s so good! You’re only doing your job? Okay, get an actual job!

Mad Hatter (singing): I—

Lorina (raising her voice): Get one that pays you!

Mad Hatter: You know I looked; it’s a hard economy out there right now.

Lorina: It’s a hard economy? How about the economy of my patience?! It’s running thin, buddy—paper-thin like these walls!

Mad Hatter: Sis, you have your problems too, like—

Batman sighed, shaking his head. The Mad Hatter shrugged in confusion until he noticed his sister’s red, enraged face.

Lorina: I GOT MY PROB— OKAY, OKAY, GET THE FUCK OUT!

Mad Hatter: Wait, wait—

Lorina (jumping up and down, shouting): GET THE FUCK OUT! GO!

Lorina slammed the door shut, leaving a stunned Mad Hatter with Batman and a chuckling Robin. A moment later, the woman reentered the room to deliver one last comment.

Lorina: Oh, Batman and Robin, it was a pleasure meeting you. Have a wonderful day after you arrest him.

Batman (waving faintly): We will, thank you ma’am.

Lorina nodded with a smile before slamming the door again.

[rarepairdumpster]

Silco Jailed AU Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Canon Divergence, Jailbreak, Previous Zaundads Mention, Sky is Alive! (actually Arch just forgot she died and we rolled with it)

Viktor's plan for getting them to the undercity is entirely reliant on some students with pro-Zaun sentiment. 

"I ran almost the whole city," Silco says, "what do you think?"

"I think that power creates a vacuum and the one you left is sizable," Viktor reminds him, pulling the keys back out of his pocket. "Is there anyone you know will help?"

"Sevika," Silco replies immediately. "I left the bar to her. She'll have kept things tidy enough."

Viktor pauses at that name. Remembers it well enough from his parents' hushed conversations when he was young, when they thought he was asleep. Knows she once worked with Vander

Finally, Viktor opens the cell door, stepping aside so that Silco can step out.

Silco steps forward but hesitates. This wasn't the plan. He had put his affairs in order. He had left everything to Sevika and Jinx. He was ready to die for what he believed in.

"You're willing to die for the cause, but you won't fight for one?"

Silco's own words suddenly echoed in his mind and he looked up at Viktor. Even on death's door, he was fighting. He couldn't let the boy show him up now.

Silco stepped out of the cell and held out his arm for Viktor. "We'll need to move quickly. Come, lean on me for support."

Viktor moves as fast as his leg and pelvis allow, and he knows its not fast enough. He's almost tempted to just give Silco the location of the car waiting for them. 

Silco sees the pain in his every step. 

Remembers his own agony. 

And the arms that half-carried him to the Doctor.

And Silco acts on impulse, slipping his arm around Viktor fully, clamping his hand tight around his side. Half-carries him along

Viktor says direction and instruction as they go, which Silco follows until they are in sight of the car. Waiting there is a girl with fluffy hair and glasses, urging them on. When they get there, Silco opens the door to the backseat and slides in with Viktor close behind. 

Viktor grabs the hand of the girl and smiles. "Thank you, Miss Young."

She nods and then closes the door behind them before the car speeds off.

The only reason Sky is alive to be driving is because Viktor succeeded in dragging himself from the hexcore, twisted in the process, and knocked her down to the floor before she could try to grab onto him.

"I'm impressed," Silco finally says after catching his breath. "That was fairly well organized."

Part of Viktor was afraid that an enforcer would interrupt their escape, but it seems the other students he'd approached had fulfilled their distraction duties.

"I'm just glad," Viktor pants. "Everything went. According to plan. I..." He starts to feel a bit dizzy, the adrenaline starting to catch up with him.

And then coughs start wracking through.

Feels it like a vice inside him, squeezing, squeezing.

Silco is alarmed when Viktor heaves up blood, into his shaking hands, his lap.

"I can fix that."

"No one can fix me. I've tried. I've done nothing but try" Viktor says, resigned. "For months."

"I know what you're dying from," Silco says, causing Viktor to look at him with wide eyes. "I've seen it more times than I can count. Lost more people than I can count."

"Then how can you say you can fix it?"

"Because I know how to treat it." Silco looks out the window. "Shimmer....our miracle cure. A high dose, as close to lethal as you can get. Its a violent process. One you'll never forget."

"I--" Viktor's first thought is to viememently decline, but he's reminded of how it felt when he injected it into his leg. He could attribute his leg to the hex core, but not to his back and how much better he could breathe. Running felt like the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it was something so simple. 

"I will have to consider it," Viktor eventually says. 

"Don't take long," Silco sighs. "It doesn't seem like you have the luxury of time."

Viktor snorts. Pushes a tired hand through his hair, his palms and fingers mostly clean now.  Tips his head against the backrest.

Janna, he'd just like to sleep now.

Sleep, and sleep, and sleep.

Silco instructs the driver where to go so he can get a message to Sevika. He knows he can't just stroll into The Last Drop after all of this, as much as he could use the drink.

Once the message is sent, Silco directs them to the opening to an old mine shaft, long forgotten. "Sevika will meet us in there," Silco explains.

Sky and Viktor both hesitate.

They've heard things about the mines. Heard they're haunted. 

But Silco doesn't seem bothered

Silco eyes them a moment. "You realize they just tell those ridiculous ghost stories so children don't come playing around here, right?"

Viktor and Sky both blush.

Silco rolls his eyes. "Come on then."

Silco travels though the tunnels easily, armed with the light Sky provided. Every step reminded him of the hundreds of times he'd been down here before, and the deeper they went, the harder it was to push back the memories. Behind him, Viktor was starting to breathe more heavily and, honestly, Silco was glad for the reprieve. 

"We can rest a moment. It's not much further."

Silco doesn't think about all the times Vander shoved him up against dusty, rough walls. 

Doesn't think about the angry, hushed meetings by lantern-light.

Silco brings his hand to his eye, even though he knows the burning he feels isn't real. He didn't expect returning to have such an effect on him, but why else did he avoid it so long? 

Silco glances over at Viktor to see how he is doing and smirks a little at him shooing away Sky's worrisome attention.

The boy was stubborn, he would give him that. It really was a shame that they hadn't met earlier. He thinks about all they could have accomplished, if he'd snared the boy before Heimerdinger could.

Arch + Woods

[bluepandastarfish]

CaitVi x reader angst 4

ooo maybe some fluff, i mean not really fluff but like- its better the the depression we had before ig

warnings: brothel mention, headstrong caitlyn, depression maybe, spelling mistakes

part 1, part 2, part 3

It was loud outside, louder than the bedroom had been. Caitlyn had brought you to the garden today and, despite your lack of enthusiasm, you didn't protest when she washed and dressed you herself. Maybe it was because you'd never seen caitlyn look after another person in this way, not in all the years you knew her. The only comparable moment would be when she followed jayce like a puppy when you were all younger, doing all the tasks he needed without question in an attempt to get his attention. You’d been jealous then, still were when you thought about it a little too long. 

It had been a lot simpler back then even if Caitlyn never noticed you, you had your group of friends who stood together against the tiny obstacles in your way. And then Jayce and Caitlyn had to stop talking for a while and everything went to shit. You wanted to support Jayce but with Caitlyn trying to get over him she wanted more attention then normal, it was when you crossed the bridge to find some peace that you’d met-

“Vi” Caitlyn paused, sipping from her tea cup and avoiding your gaze in favour of looking at the petals in the wind. “How was she- was she ok?” 

It wasnt that you couldnt find the energy to respond anymore, caitlyn had smashed that barrier somehow with only three words, but the petty part inside you thought she didn't deserve an answer. And of course, she noticed. 

“Ok” she whispered, taking the initiative to divy two teaspoons of sugar into your own tea since you made no effort to move since she had guided you to sit down. “Can I ask about how you met? She mentioned she’d seen you before, in the undercity?” 

Vi had mentioned that, tried to start a conversation between the three of you one evening while Caitlyn was tense with drawing up plans to use the ventilation as a weapon. She hadn’t bothered to engage as she ignored the both of you. 

But instead of giving into your demons again, you told her. 

“I was stupid at the time, running away was stupid” using the word stupid twice to describe your actions made you feel… well, stupid. But at least you were feeling something. “I ran off once I got home from our little tea party when you tried to kiss me.” 

It was a strange story to tell, Caitlyn had only done it because she missed jayce, that's what you firmly believed until years later when she confessed her attraction to you. After you'd come back home the next day neither of you spoke about it again. You didn't look up to see caitlyn reaction to your words, but if you had you've noticed the way she flinched slightly at the memory. 

“I went across the bridge, into the undercity- not that far mind you. But i got scared at some point. Maybe i’d passed a brothel or-or a fight? Fuck i cant remember now.” you blinked sluggishly and looked over to the side, recalling the events in your mind. “Then she was there, and she looked just as freaked out as I was, but I'm pretty sure that's just ‘cuz she didn’t know what to do with me. 

“I was panicking, I couldn't find my way back and all the streets were the same. There was shouting and it was so loud.” without realising it your face became tense, your posture shrinking in on itself. “People were shouting but i didn’t know from where and and i couldn't-” 

You paused, eyes wide and your breathing caught. Caitlyn had reached her hand across the small table and grabbed your hand softly, offering a silent comfort. You took a breath before continuing. 

“She told me her name, said she could tell I was from topside, and asked what I was doing down there. ‘You run away from your palace princess?’” that pulled a smile from you just as  it had then. She walked you back to the bridge, rushing a bit like she had somewhere to be but it didn't make her any less aware of your state. Then when you got to the crossing she asked if you'd be ok and sent you on your way with a flat smile. 

The two of you were silent again now, but it didn't feel horrible or cold or lost silence like before, it was comfortable and safe. With her thumb stroking across your knuckles Caitlyn spoke again. 

“I'm gonna find her, I'm going to bring her back to us. I just need a little time-” she cut herself off when you suddenly made eye contact with her, the first time in nearly a month she’d seen your eyes, and it was harrowing. The way your cheeks had sunken from neglecting yourself and your eyes were plagued by bags that looked like bruising. And somehow the glare on your face was still shining through, something in it reminded her of her mother. Even if it was wrong to admit that the woman she loved reminded her of her mum, she felt tears tease the corners of her eyes when she imagined how her mother would react to the situation she’d created. Glaring harsher than you were, her mouth twitching into a sneer as she reprimanded caitlyn and instruct she solve the mess she’d caused while she was gone. 

But her mother wouldn't come back to do that, she would never glare at her or reprimand her again. So caitlyn couldn't find the ability to regret what she was insinuating when you glared, it was something that needed to be done. “Once I have jinx, once she’s in stillwater and I know she can't hurt anyone else, I'm going to go to Violet and beg for her on my knees.”

She let go of your hand, ignoring the small involuntary noise of protest that left you, and sank into her knees to the left of you. She looked ashamed, she looked helpless, and somehow she looked like a worshiper. She gripped both your hands into your lap and stared up at you with wide eyes and a frown. 

“I'll bring her back here no matter what it takes, and when she is back don't you think she’ll want you to have taken care of yourself?” 

You couldn’t tell if she was being genuine anymore or if this was some kind of manipulation tactic to make you look after yourself, in your mind now it didn’t matter because she is promising to bring your flower home to you. 

But now you left guilt inside instead of rage, because you didn’t have the heart to tell Caitlyn that Vi had screamed that she wanted nothing to do with either of you. But you could let the fantasy play out for the both of you for a while, you had little hope that caitlyn would change eno anyway, long gone was the girl who’d tried to kiss you at her tea party. 

You smiled down at her, not in a way that fixed any of the past weeks, but a promise that you too had hope for the future. 

Your dream tonight would be a tad more believable than the others had been , you thought. 

[whimsypjm]

Piss Baby ── J.JK

summary ── trying out watersports with jungkook.

content warnings ── sub Jungkook, mean dom reader, Watersports, dom/sub play, overstimulation, cock stepping, sadistic reader, masochist Jungkook, Kink Shaming, jk lowkey kink shames reader, Jungkook is a Brat, Crying Jungkook, Dacryphilia, making jk piss himself, Belly Bulge from water, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, gender neutral reader

word count ── 1.1k

note ── would love to hear any thoughts and comments <33 mwa

One more drink.

That’s what you told him about five drinks before, he was looking at you with wet eyes and a bloated belly that he had encased by his arms. You could give him mercy, let him release it all but the sadistic side of you wanted to push more. So, you did. You held the full glass of water to his lips, watching his lips form into a pout as they didn’t open, a protest because he swore he just couldn’t take anymore.

“Come on, one more drink. I know you can handle it, baby.” You told him but he didn’t believe it, shaking his head.

“Can’t.” He whined.

“Oh, but you can. Need you to be healthy, remember? Let’s drink some more water.” You told him, the cup pressed against his reddened lips from where he bit them to keep in all the frustration bottling up. Jeongguk whined against the cup but open his mouth, allowing himself to drink more but it didn’t flow easily, some dripping down his chin as he tried his best to take the glass full.

“There you go.” You cooed and once he was finished, he desperately kept a hand on his cock, putting as much pressure as he could, attempting to control his bladder but it was spiraling with the added liquid. He was trying to blink away the tears.

“Please, please, I have to- I really have to go, please.” He begged, your name falling from his lips soon after but you simply sighed and moved farther from his reaching hands and motioned for him to follow. “I-I can’t,” His voice going hush, “I’ll piss myself.”

“I know.” You said, a grin on your face that he couldn’t help but want to slap off right now, the pressure against his bladder was only getting worse, pain well on it’s way as he attempted to get up, hands immediately flying to you to stabilize himself. He could stand on his own but if you were going to make him this way, then you had to deal with it. He glared up at you from his slouched position, a sudden gasp of pain had him weak, knees bucking from their hold and you almost scolded him. “Come on, I know you can be better than this. You act like this is the first time you’ve been full, it’s pathetic.”

“And you’re an ass.” He barked back and you narrowed your eyes.

“What was that?” Your tone was enough of a warning but he didn’t take it, instead he continued on.

“The only reason I’m like this is because of you. Fucking asshole, you’re getting off to my pain, sick bastard- angh!” He struggled to stand when you put pressure on his stomach, feeling it really kick in and he couldn’t help the little leak of piss that dribbled from his cock, gasping and fighting desperately to keep it in because you hadn’t said he could release it just yet. Instead, you watched with bored eyes, even if the evil glint shined bright in them. “Oh, no, no, no, please! ‘m sorry, please. I have to- I got to piss so bad, please.” he cried out and you helped him up onto shaking legs.

“Well, we’re not doing it here, are we?” And he had to think for a few minutes about your question until it clicked and he shook his head.

“No, sorry.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “It’s okay baby. I know you get all dumb and mean when you’re like this. Just a pathetic dumb baby, huh?” He nodded along to your words and clung onto you, tears now falling as his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. He desperately attempted to move with you and when you finally got him where you wanted, you let him fall to his knees, head resting against your thigh as he tried to focus on his breathing, hand still stuffed between his thighs and against his aching cock. He hated this but apparently he also loved it, if his erection was anything to go by, this was only going to make it harder to piss as he so desperately craved.

Your hand went to his hair, combing through it gently in an attempt to sooth until he relaxed and you gripped his curls in your hand, pulled his head back until he arched to look at you. Wide watery eyes were enough for you to want more of them. You used your foot to press against his stomach, his body trying to move from your touch but the grip you had on him kept him in place.

“Oh, no- Please, I’m going-”

“Go ahead, I know just how badly you want to.”

His hands gripped your leg, nails digging into your pudgy skin but it wasn’t enough, he pushed up against your foot, mouth open and resting against your thigh with weak gasps until you heard it before you saw anything, he was completely done for as he started going limp, pissing all over himself, a small hushed sound of him echoed throughout. “Look at you, my filthy baby, making a mess of yourself. Just had to go so bad that you couldn’t wait, huh? So pathetic, here you are, on your knees and pissing yourself.” You laughed but he whined, shaking his head against your thigh. “Oh now, don’t lie.” You scolded.

“’m sorry.” He breathed out, hips tracking up to meet your foot for the pressure to move where he now needed it. He hated the feeling of the wet jeans on his skin, he wanted nothing more to get out of them right now and get what he wanted but he had to take what he was given, he knew that. You didn’t move your foot away and allowed him to continue his ministrations, pathetic attempts of humping against the sole of your shoe.

You laughed at him again and he tried not to focus on the mocking sound, continuing with the chase of his high that built within him, pooling heat deep within his stomach, moments ready to snap. His hands tightened again until he couldn’t take it anymore and he finally orgasmed, feeling the hot-white pleasure flood his veins and his body shook from over-stimulation as he cried out your name.

But, even as he stopped, you didn’t. You moved your foot against him, adding a painful pressure until he sobbed out your name, different from his orgasm cry. “Oh, did you think we’re done, baby? Aw, I’m just getting started. After all, I’m just a sick bastard, I need to get these craving out, right? And it just so happens you’re right here.” You smiled, adding pressure.