#the true meaning behind press your number

[helen-with-an-a]

Healing

Hi, so this is Part 2 of You Hate Me. There will definitely be a part 3 and probably a Part 4. But I hope you enjoy it <3<3<3<3

Shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out and giving me encouragement ahahaha - forehead smooches for uuuu 💕

Part 1 : Part 2

Lucy Bronze x sister!Reader

Description: R finally starts to move on and heal

Word Count: 3.4k

It was silent. The kind of silence that stretched across the room like a suffocating blanket, pressing against the walls until they seemed to shrink inward. You could have heard a mouse sneeze or the faintest creak of the old floorboards beneath the weight of a ghost. Lucy sat motionless on the bed, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the phone that lay discarded on the floor like a venomous thing. The glow of its screen had dimmed, but its presence radiated with an almost malevolent energy. Behind her, Ona knelt, her hand half-raised as if reaching for an answer suspended in the thick, unmoving air.

“That’s not true … is it?” Ona’s voice was a whisper, more a breath than a question, barely cutting through the silence. But Lucy heard it; she had to. The only response was the tightening of her jaw, the muscle tensing so sharply it seemed to carve shadows across her cheek.

“Lucia?” Ona ventured again, her voice fragile, cracking like thin ice. This time, she reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric of Lucy’s shirt. The moment shattered like glass as Lucy shot up, the bed creaking beneath her sudden movement. She snatched up her phone and began to pace, the rhythmic thud of her footsteps filling the silence with tension.

“Lucia.” Ona’s voice turned firmer, cutting through the charged space like a blade.

“What, Ona?” Lucy snapped, spinning on her heel. Her eyes, usually so warm, were storm-dark, and for a moment Ona flinched under the glare.

“What she just said … that’s not true, is it? It can’t be true.” The question hung in the air between them, an accusation and a plea tangled into one.

“Well, it is,” Lucy said, each word dropping like a stone into the pit between them. The room seemed to shudder with the weight of her admission. Her hand gripped the phone so tightly that her knuckles were white, a stark contrast to the flush of anger spreading across her skin.

The room shifted, the energy twisting and sharp. Ona’s eyes widened; disbelief painted across her features as she searched for anything in Lucy’s expression that would contradict what she had just heard. But there was only raw, unyielding truth.

“You can’t mean that,” Ona said, her voice thickening as emotion clawed at her throat. “Familia … familia is everything.”

“She is not my family,” Lucy spat, the venom in her voice startling in its ferocity. Each syllable dripped with resentment that had festered for years, an old wound torn open and bleeding anew.

“She’s your hermana,” Ona said, her tone wavering between a declaration and a plea. It was as though stating it aloud would shift the reality, would force Lucy to reconsider.

“And I hate her for it,” Lucy replied, her voice breaking at the end, betraying the deep chasm of hurt that lay beneath her anger. She turned away again, shoulders trembling with a mix of fury and something that looked achingly like grief.

It had been three long months since Lucy promised she’d fix things between you. She had looked straight into Ona's eyes, swearing that she would try, that she would reach out, and that she would sit down to talk with you. The weight of that promise hung heavy in the air, a lingering tension that neither of you could shake.

Lucy despised lying to Ona, but the truth was too complicated to share. She couldn’t just send you a random text out of the blue, asking to meet up after everything that had happened. It felt wrong, and even more so, she didn’t even have your number saved in her phone anymore. She thought about it often, how you might react if she did reach out. Deep down, she was fairly certain that, even if she had begged you for a chance to explain herself, you would have turned her away. So, instead, she chose silence.

She took the summer to relax, to move to London, the distance between your flats less than a twenty-minute drive. She started at her new club, immersing herself in work and the hustle of a new city, trying to find a rhythm in her life without you. To Ona, she created a narrative, a facade of resolution. Yes, you had met; yes, you had talked and cried, and yes, you had both agreed to be civil. In her mind, you both started moving on, creating lives that didn’t intersect, both pretending to let go. She didn’t tell Ona that she couldn’t reach out to you. That she didn’t really want too either. She was perfectly happy with the way things were. She had her life, and you had yours. You wouldn’t have wanted her to reach out.

Except you would have. You would have done whatever Lucy wanted, without hesitation. If she had reached out, you would have replied immediately, agreeing to meet with no hesitation, even if self-loathing washed over you in waves. No matter how much you hated yourself for it, the thought of ignoring her would have been unbearable.

You would have walked to that little coffee shop in the heart of London, the very place where countless memories lingered. You would have felt a knot of resentment twist in your stomach with every step. You would have watched the door intently, every minute stretching painfully, your mind racing with what-ifs and should-haves. Each time the bell above the door tinkled, you would have hated the way your heart leapt in response, a foolish flutter of hope that perhaps this time, it would be her. You would have cursed your own vulnerability, the way your body betrayed your resolve to move on.

Yet, despite all the anger and sadness, you would have done it anyway. You would have waited for her, yearning to hear her voice, needing to see her face again, even if it meant grappling with the truth of your tangled emotions. Each moment spent there would be a testament to your feelings, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, you were still drawn to her in a way you couldn’t fully understand.

You weren't going to deceive yourself – not anymore. That resolve had taken root in you on that brutal morning when you woke up, head pounding, heart shattered. You had vowed to allow yourself the time to grieve, to feel the sharp ache of loss without rushing the healing process. However long it took, you would give yourself that space. And, day by day, the wounds dulled. Watching Lucy's life unfold from a distance stopped stinging quite so much, and with each sunrise, another small piece of you wove itself back together.

For a week, you allowed yourself to fall apart. You mourned, sobbed, let every pang of sorrow run its course for the sister you had loved like family but had never truly had. Then, you chose to begin again. You left the cramped room in Alnwick, packing your life into boxes and setting your sights on London. There, you poured yourself into work, each task a stitch in the tapestry of a new life. You pushed yourself to meet new people, to explore parts of the city that felt unfamiliar and exciting. Gradually, your time outside the house expanded, and so did your world.

You even made it to an Arsenal-Bayern match – an opportunity to see both Leah and Georgia on the pitch together. Watching them, seeing the warmth in their smiles, and the comfort in their hugs, stirred something inside you. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it was Lucy’s arms around you, grounding you, holding you close.

"Hello, gorgeous girl," Leah greeted, laughing as she playfully ruffled your hair.

"Hi, Leah," you replied, a soft smile breaking through as you leaned in for a hug.

This wasn’t your first meet-up with Leah. Your mum had reached out to her, asking her to look out for her "littlest baby" as you adjusted to life in London. And just like that, you’d become a sort of unofficial addition to the Arsenal family. Most of the England girls were aware of the strained history with Lucy, how you’d barely registered in her life. Yet, little by little, they’d pulled you into their circle, coaxing you out of your shell and into a place where you finally felt seen.

"Y'know, that offer’s still open," Leah murmured softly, her hands moving in a comforting rhythm along your back.

"I know," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. "I got another email about it the other day."

Before you could say more, Georgia joined the hug, pulling you both in tight. "What offer?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

You took a breath, letting the excitement bubble up as you spoke. "I got an email … from the FA. They’ve seen my photos – they liked them, actually. They’re offering me a chance to work with them as a photographer. Not the action shots, but the behind-the-scenes stuff. Capturing the players just… living, being themselves, showing the everyday moments."

Georgia’s eyes sparkled as she looked between you and Leah, clearly impressed. "That’s huge!"

"It’s big," you admitted, the reality of it still sinking in. "They want a team of four photographers. To help show the players as normal people. And they’re holding a spot for me if I want it."

Leah grinned, squeezing your shoulder. "You’d be amazing at that. They’d be lucky to have you."

You felt warmth spread through you as their support wrapped around you, grounding you and lifting you at the same time. This opportunity wasn’t just a job – it was a chance to carve out something meaningful, something of your own.

"I want to take it," you murmured softly, the weight of the decision hanging in your voice. "I just…" Your voice trailed off, hesitation tangling with hope.

Leah squeezed you tighter, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll talk to Sarina. Make it clear you’ll be separate. No interactions necessary."

You didn't need to elaborate – Leah and Georgia understood enough. They might not have known every painful detail of your history with Lucy, but they’d seen the shadows that used to linger in your eyes slowly fade. They’d watched as your smiles, once fragile and forced, gradually softened and grew genuine. This job offer was a step forward, but the thought of Lucy potentially being around stirred a familiar unease.

Before the silence could settle too heavily, Georgia nudged Leah with a grin. "Not sure why they think people would want to see Leah more. Everyone knows she's anything but normal." She stuck her tongue out, her playful tone slicing through the tension.

"Says you, cheeky fucker," Leah shot back, rolling her eyes with a grin as she pulled Georgia in for a side hug.

That night, you took a deep breath and sent off the confirmation email. As soon as you hit "send," a mix of excitement and anxiety surged through you, bubbling beneath the surface. It was a huge opportunity, one you’d dreamed of, but the what-ifs nagged at you. What if you ran into Lucy?

You knew she was in London, her presence like a shadow at the back of your mind. Chelsea had welcomed her with open arms, and by all accounts, she was thriving back in the WSL. Her life seemed bright and full – photos of her smiling with her new teammates, celebrating goals, her happiness almost palpable even from afar. She looked like she was where she was meant to be, in a space that had no room for you.

The thought unsettled you. It wasn't the same hurt as before, but an echo of it – a reminder of the distance that had always stretched between you. This new role would bring you closer to the world she lived in, closer than you had been in a long time.

But you reminded yourself of Leah and Georgia’s words, their support grounding you. They would be there, making sure you had the space to grow and heal without the interference of old wounds. You could do this. You wanted this, a chance to finally create something of your own, to build a life where you weren’t haunted by past disappointments.

And so, with a mix of nerves and hope, you closed your laptop, letting the enormity of this new chapter settle over you. Whatever happened, you were moving forward.

To: y/n.tough@outlook.com From: wilson.kim@englandfootball.com Hi Y/N, Congratulations. Welcome aboard the team. We’re so delighted to have you; your photographs are truly incredible and capture exactly what we are looking for. As you know, we have four photographers on the team, so we have split the England Women’s senior squad into four. Please see the list below for your players. For those who play outside of the WSL, please organise your own flights and accommodation but reimbursement will be made if you send in the receipts. The breakdown of the assignment is in the document attached. Y/N Tough – players: Leah Williamson Lotte Wubben-Moy Georgia Stanway Keira Walsh Alessia Russo Beth Mead Attachment: Y/N Tough – assignment brief Please do not hesitate if you have any questions. I look forward to working with you, Sincerely, Kim Wilson. Managing Social Media and Outreach Director

You couldn’t hold back a laugh when the list of names came through. It was obvious Leah had pulled some serious strings for you, probably calling in every favour she had. But as you read over the names, excitement bubbled up in your chest, mixing with a sense of wonder. For the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely seen. You never imagined you’d reach this point, where your work would be valued by people who actually wanted you around, people who recognised your talent and believed in you.

The realisation hit you hard. For so long, you’d been weighed down by the sting of constant rejection, a silent ache you had buried so deep that you hadn’t even noticed its impact. You’d convinced yourself it was normal, that maybe you simply weren’t meant to fit in or be accepted. But now, sitting here with your laptop open and this email in front of you, that old pain seemed to ease, just a little. It was like a tight knot in your chest had loosened, allowing space for something softer, something brighter.

This new opportunity felt like a fresh start – a chance not only to showcase your work but to belong, to carve out a place for yourself among people who truly valued you. The familiar ache, that constant reminder of past rejections, had softened, replaced by a tentative sense of pride. Maybe… maybe you were healing, after all?

You let yourself linger on the thought, the possibility of healing, of moving on from the scars of the past. It wasn’t the kind of thing that would happen overnight, but in this moment, it felt attainable. You were no longer defined by the shadows of what you lacked or the people who’d overlooked you. Instead, you were finally stepping into your own light.

"Leah," Beth groaned, laughing as she eyed a very stubborn Leah, who was perched childishly on top of the kitchen counter. Leah's face scrunched up in exaggerated distaste as Alessia held out a spoonful of pasta sauce, trying to coax her into tasting it. Smiling to yourself, you brought your camera up, snapping a quick shot before lowering it again.

You always preferred to work that way – keeping your camera tucked away, only bringing it out for a fleeting moment to capture something genuine. Over the years, you'd learned to stay in the background, a wallflower observing life from the sidelines. Being around people who were used to the spotlight, you knew that the moment they noticed a camera, they’d instinctively turn on that public persona. So, you’d made it a habit to hide your camera, only clicking when a moment truly called for it.

"I don’t understand why I have to have the sauce," Leah whined, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because you need actual nutrition," Alessia laughed, shaking her head as she turned back to the stove. "And I’ll be damned if I let you eat plain pasta."

"I get plenty of nutrition, thank you very much," Leah huffed.

"Drinking protein smoothies doesn’t count, Le," Lotte chimed in, grinning as she joined in the teasing. She stuck her tongue out, and you captured another shot of their playful banter, the warmth and laughter filling the kitchen.

Leah slid off the counter, grumbling as she made her way over to you. "Y/NNNNNN," she whined, wrapping her arms around you. "They’re being mean."

"Sorry, Leah," you replied, leaning back into her embrace. A soft sigh escaped you, contentment washing over you as you soaked in the light-hearted moment.

"Can I take a photo?" Lotte asked, nodding towards the camera hanging around your neck.

"Uh…" You hesitated, the thought of being on the other side of the lens making you feel oddly vulnerable.

"It’s okay if you don’t want me to," Lotte quickly reassured, her tone gentle.

"No, no," you managed, giving her a smile. "How about a group one?" You nodded toward Leah and Beth, hoping that sharing the spotlight would take off some of the pressure.

"Lessi? Photo?" Beth called over, waving Alessia to join.

"Nope, the sauce is almost done, and I don’t want it to burn," Alessia replied, waving them off with a grin.

Before you knew it, Beth and Leah were squishing their faces against yours, grinning and laughing as Lotte snapped the photo. The moment was a blur of warmth and closeness, a reminder of how far you'd come. Here, in this kitchen filled with laughter and teasing, you finally felt like part of something real. And for once, being in front of the camera didn’t feel so daunting.

It continued like that – small, intimate moments, snapshots of laughter and friendship, as you found yourself surrounded by people you were slowly coming to think of as friends. Each frame you captured was filled with warmth, with faces you were beginning to trust, and with memories that made you smile. It was a strange, almost surreal feeling to be surrounded by footballers and not feel the familiar ache. In the past, every encounter with this world had been shadowed by Lucy – her dismissive comments, the way she’d turned people away from you without a second thought. Football had once been a painful reminder of rejection, but now, the hurt had started to fade.

"Are you sure you don’t mind?" you asked Leah one afternoon, your voice wavering with lingering hesitation. Her bright blue eyes met yours, steady and gentle.

"Not in the slightest," she replied with a reassuring smile.

It was the London Derby. Over the past few months, you’d become a regular at Arsenal matches, using each game as an opportunity to work on your Lionesses project, but also taking a few personal shots for yourself. You enjoyed these games now, finding inspiration and comfort in the sport, rather than pain.

Still, the idea of seeing Lucy lingered at the edges of your mind, a quiet fear you couldn’t quite shake. Even after nearly six months of silence, you knew you weren’t ready. You’d spent so much time and energy mending yourself, stitching up the wounds that had felt endless and raw. Piece by piece, you were rebuilding, learning to stand on your own without looking back. The thought of seeing her – even just catching a glimpse of her on the field – was too much. You feared it would unravel everything you’d worked so hard to mend, the fragile progress you’d made in healing yourself.

So, you stayed close to Leah and the others, grateful for their understanding, for the way they shielded you without asking too many questions. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe, not just from the world but from the pain of your own past. And as you lifted your camera to capture another candid moment, you realised you were finally starting to find peace – one frame at a time.

[smtown-tourist]

Taemin is the type of chaotic energy where he gets bored and just starts pressing random numbers on his phone and dialing it to see what comes up

[probablyasocialecologist]

It’s important to remember that Hezbollah is a civilian political party as well as a militant organization. Hezbollah holds seats in the Lebanese parliament, duly elected. Just because you are a member of Hezbollah does not mean you are an armed militant, and thus a legitimate military target. The reverse is also true: just because you distribute handheld bombs to “members of Hezbollah” and detonate them, that does not mean you won’t end up killing civilians. In fact, several outlets have reported that the sabotaged pagers belonged to civilians as well as actual Hezbollah fighters, and were used by a “wide network of people, including administrators, medical workers, paramedics, [and] media workers.” But that’s only part of the picture. Even if it were true that Israel distributed the hidden bombs exclusively to armed combatants, they had no way of knowing what would happen to them after that. There were hundreds of the devices, any of which could have been sold, stolen, given away, or lost and picked up by a child. And even in the best-case scenario for Israel, if the devices had been held exclusively by militants at the time of detonation, the collateral damage would still be unacceptable. As Edward Snowden points out, “They blew up countless numbers of people who were driving (meaning cars out of control), shopping (your children are in the stroller standing behind him in the checkout line), et cetera. Indistinguishable from terrorism.” In other words, when Israeli agents pressed the button on September 17, they had no way of knowing what the civilian death toll would be. The act was not “precise,” but haphazard and reckless. They did it anyway.

24 September 2024

[roosterforme]

Vintage | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."

Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."

The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."

Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception. 

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning. 

With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."

He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."

You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."

Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."

Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."

Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.

"I love you."

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

Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.

When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...

He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched. 

If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."

When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.

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

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.

"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"

"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."

"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."

"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."

"Rooster!"

"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."

"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."

"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.

"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"

He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."

"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."

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

After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights. 

He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.

As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.

Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.

My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.

She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.

Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."

"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."

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

After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.

Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.

"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged. 

"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.

"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door. 

"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."

You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."

He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.

The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.

When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.

"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."

You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.

He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."

"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."

"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."

You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"

"Yep."

"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."

"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.

"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."

He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."

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

He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

[livinginshambles]

No, you listen to me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Notes: Not proofread. Mistakes. Once again because people keep forgetting, english is my third language, be kind. Themes of bullying, discrimination, very bad sister relationships. Regulus is like a BROTHER. James tries?

Masterlist Part one. Part three

_________________________

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out hand. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of, Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius' grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Two weeks flew by in a blur. You and Regulus had set up a Christmas tree inside your small apartment and had made a competition out of finding the most impressive gift for each other, with only 10 galleons.

You had found the most gorgeous black quill and enchanted ink set for him and were rather confident until Regulus had somehow shown up with what looked like emerald, antique and gorgeously over the top earrings. You had shot him a look and he had immediately provided a receipt to prove he had played fair.

“I just have great negotiating skills,” he’d said.

You had hummed skeptically in reply but had happily tried them on.

All in all, the holidays were a very welcome break for you. Which is why you were so very reluctant to pack your bags. The door to your room opened and Regulus stood in the entrance, leaning against the door frame.

“Get out,” you groaned in dismay at the interruption. Regulus shot you an unimpressed look.

“Not until I see you pack; we leave in less than an hour.”

You huffed in annoyance and threw a pillow at his head. “I’m not asking you again, Black.” You flopped back down on your bed dramatically in dismay at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts. Regulus elegantly tilted his head and let the pillow fly past him.

“One hour,” he enunciated, before walking off.

You threw another pillow his way and yelled, “Close the door when you leave, you twat!”

With a flick of his wand, your door closed.

Regulus waited for you with a bag in his hand.

“Where’s the rest of it,” you teased as you motioned to the small amount of luggage he held.

Regulus turned red but stuck his chin up. “Left them here for the summer,” he off-handedly replied. You laughed. “Great, so you can help carry this bag then,” you grinned and pushed your smaller bag into his hands while you marched out the door with your heavy luggage, dragged behind you.

When you entered the platform, and were handed the Hogwarts newspaper, you did not expect to find a picture of you and James at the Yule ball on the front page. ‘Who are you, Willow?’

You immediately folded the paper together and looked up in panic at Regulus. He looked around and found different students excitedly chittering to each other, all while pointing at the newspaper.

“That is so romantic,”

“I thought James was with Lily?”

“No, they’re just friends now.”

“I was wondering who he was dancing with.”

“She looks so pretty.”

“If I found out that my date was James Potter, I’d take off that mask immediately.”

“Well, she could just be shy.”

“So true, probably Hufflepuff, don’t you think?

“I really hope he finds her.”

You grimaced at everyone and all you wanted to do was disappear. “Relax, Y/N,” Regulus smoothly pulled you on board the Hogwarts Express. “No one will know it’s you.”

Despite knowing that he was absolutely right, you still faced the floor as you looked for an empty compartment. You didn’t realize that you were passing James, who had just come back from a train meeting with the other prefects. He had picked up on Regulus’ words and frowned. But before he could really stop to consider Regulus’ statement, Peter happily waved at him from the marauders’ compartment. “We’re over here!” he called out. James forgot about what he heard.

Remus held the newspaper up in the air when James finally took a seat. “Really?”

“It was Pad’s idea,” James immediately said.

Peter curiously grabbed the newspaper. “Any results?”

James shrugged. “It’s only the first day,” he tries to convince himself, but he was not very sure about this approach to find you.

“It’s going to work out, trust me,” Sirius said. “When she sees that you’re going to this extent to find her, you’ll definitely woo her for sure,” he claimed.

Remus pulled a face. “I mean, if she ran off cause you two were being pricks, again,” he gave both Sirius and James a sharp look. “And hasn’t answered any of your messages, I don’t think starting a witch-hunt of sorts is the way to find her,” he voiced out his opinion. ”She clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“What are you calling my methods bad?” Sirius squinted his eyes at Remus in mock offense.

“I’m just saying they wouldn’t exactly woo me,” Remus dryly remarked.

“And yet-“

“Guys,” James interrupted. “I just want to find her and apologize. And ask her for another chance to prove that I’m more than what she saw.”

“Well,” Peter started. He turned red when all eyes were suddenly on him. “She will probably not reveal herself. But she’s still a student here. And she knows who you are. So maybe if you publicly show off kind acts, she’ll see how you can be?”

There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Peter wanted to change into a rat and crawl into a hole to hide. But suddenly he was patted on the back by James. “Peter, you absolute champ!”

James Potter was acting weird, and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You huffed to yourself as you marched right past him while he held the door open for his friends and you, who trailed in right behind them.

Previously, James would have definitely let the door fall in your face, and you had anticipated so, thus smoothly switching your books to your left arm, putting your right hand in front of you in a bracing manner. And so it happened that you stood there frozen, hand flat against James' chest, because he had turned around fully to hold the door open for you.

You embarrassedly dropped your hand that still lingered against him, and a deep frown settled on your face.

“I’d take ten points from Slytherin for touching a student without their consent, but I suppose I’ll let it slide for today,” he arrogantly said. You wanted to beat him up. But you supposed you could let it slide for today. You scowled at him and fled past him towards your designated seat.

Something tugged inside James’ chest as he watched you turn your back towards him and hurry away. He walked to join the rest of the marauders, a ghost feeling of your palm against his chest.

It hadn’t just been you that he was more civilized with. You noticed when you found him volunteering in the library, putting away books back on the shelves manually. This bothered you, because he tended to specifically linger around the particular section in the back about Egyptian rites, your favorite. You knew he was there to hopefully spot any often-returning students.

You also noticed that less and less students were coming back to the common room, hexed. Aside from snide remarks, you hadn’t encountered much animosity from him anymore either.

Instead, you found yourself on assigned patrol with him, despite the fact that Regulus had kindly offered to jinx his broom during Quidditch practice so you wouldn’t have to.

“So,” James broke the silence. “How was your holiday?”

“Why do you want to know,” you immediately shot back before you could stop yourself. James raised his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, L/N, just making conversation here.”

You sighed and forced your shoulders to lose their tension. “It was fine.”

“Fine.” James repeated.

“Fine,” you confirmed.

That was the end of your conversation, in your opinion. James however, seemed to think differently.

“So did you get any nice presents?”

You shot him an annoyed look but ended up answering anyway. “Yes actually, Regulus got me these earrings,” you said, and you tilted your head to show him. James’ eyes lingered on your earrings. They looked good on you. The exaggerated gem made you stand out despite your sober attire.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Why, did your parents not buy you anything or what?”

You halted mid-step and stared up at James. He noticed that he had said something wrong, and when your sisters came to mind, he hurriedly tried to take his words back. You didn’t let him.

“I don’t go home for the holidays,” you settled on. “I’m not particularly welcome there. My parents are as big of a fan of me, as Alyssa and Marla are.” You laughed bitterly and continued walking. James followed behind you, he didn’t say a word, instead waited for you to continue.

“Well, I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist. They wouldn’t want to associate themselves with that, of course,” you sarcastically remarked.

James felt guilt slowly seep in. Your words resonated in his mind and his hands grasped the folded parchment in the pocket of his robes tightly. Those were his exact same words of that night at the Yule ball, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your eyes. “You’re sorry?” You asked him in disbelief.

James nodded. If he couldn’t say it to his mystery girl, at least he could say it to you, he figured.

James watched your eyes light up slightly and for a moment, he was lost in a trance. He snapped out of it when you returned the question. “So how was your holiday?”

He grinned at the olive branch that you were reaching out. “Mine was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he teased. You fought the smile that threatened to tug on your lips.

Patrol ended without any incidents to report and when you wrote that down, James peered over your shoulder to catch your circled dot on the ‘i’ of “nothing to report.” A sense of déjà vu dawned on him, but the sheer unconscious refusal to even consider you a possibility kept your secret safe.

When you were in bed that night, you couldn’t help but think about how at ease you had felt for the remainder of the night with James, basking in the familiarity of the person behind the paper.

With every patrol, you two put another step forward in the direction of a friendship of some sorts.

James couldn't deny the fact that with each time, he started to look forward to the next time, almost the same giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach as each time he would unfold his parchment to find new kind words written there.

You and Willow would be friends, James thought, as he looked at you while you were casually explaining Transfiguration to him while you two strolled through the corridors, not without the occasional insult at his 'lack of competence'.

But for now, James enjoyed the privilege of calling you by your first name. A friend of some sorts, he liked to think.

Perhaps he was wrong about Slytherins. Sure, there were some rotten apples, but he supposed there were rotten apples in each house. And you weren't so bad after all.

For the first time in a long time, you enjoyed your days at Hogwarts. Truly enjoyed them. You would send Regulus to the library to get you your favourite books, and would patrol every Thursday with James unless he had Quidditch practice. Then you would patrol with Abrams. You’d come across James, who would nod with a kind smile at you as you two have come to be cautious friends and patrol-partners. You hadn’t really heard anything from your sisters either, which was absolute bliss as well.

But then one day, you were studying Transfiguration by yourself in the library, and you just so happened to need to go to the bathroom. When you returned, you noticed your book was missing and you pulled a sour face before requesting a new one from Professor McGonagall who had looked over her glasses at you.

But that hadn’t been the bad part. No, the bad part was that you had completely forgotten that you had put your enchanted parchment that connected yours to James’ inside that book.

Sirius had victoriously grinned at his funny prank idea. He would change some spells in your book so that you would mess up and become a toad in class. He tossed the book on a table in the common room and a piece of paper slid out.

Sirius had seen the piece of paper before, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. He jumped up, ran towards his room, and rummaged through James’ nightstand before finding James' parchment under his pillow and wrote something on it. He walked back down the stairs with James’ paper, and he watched in disbelief as a messy ‘hello’ appeared on the paper that your sisters now held. “Merlin,” he breathed out, but your sisters had already stormed out of the room.

You entered the Great Hall and felt everyone staring at you and whispering. Even fellow Slytherin students looked at you in contempt. You gave Regulus a confused look when you walked to the free seat next to him. He quietly slid over the Hogwarts newspaper.

Front page again. ‘Mystery girl uncovered. Not a Willow, but a Hanging Tree.”

You didn’t need to read the rest; you tore your eyes away from the paper. Tears threatened to spill, but you tried to keep a cool front. You turned around to look for James and found him and his friends sitting right behind you.

Whoever thought that putting The Gryffindor table and Slytherin table next to each other should rot in the dungeons, you bitterly thought.

It was your sister who spoke up first. “I can’t believe someone like you would make themselves out to be a victim. ‘Oh no, my sisters bully me,’” she mocked you.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and got up. She got up as well and you stood eye to eye with each other. “You’re pathetic,” She sneered. “You’re the real mistake here. So go do what you do best- run away.”

You wanted to say something. Anything. But you felt weak and small again. So you turned around and walked away. Whispers continued to fill the room as everyone seemed to have something to say about you.

“How embarrassing.”

“She should be ashamed”

“A Slytherin like her?”

“She definitely wasted James’ time.”

With every comment you heard, you bit harder on the inside of your cheek, and when that last comment dropped, you balled your fists. Why should you be the one to walk away?

You turned around furiously and marched back towards James, who had gotten up to follow you and reached out his hand. You recoiled.

“Y/N, listen-“

“No, you listen to me,” you spat at him. You looked him up and down with a pained look, holding back tears of frustration and while trying to convey as much disgust as you could.

“If you didn’t like what you found out, you could’ve kept it to yourself and thrown the damn paper away. You had no right to publicly try to humiliate me like this. All of your kindness in an attempt to be a good person only shows how wretched you really are when you stop pretending and act cruelly true to yourself.”

James' eyes flashed with hurt and he shook his head, words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to cover his ears; he didn’t want to hear you say this to him. This isn’t what he wanted at all. You were wrong. He didn’t even know it was you until he saw the newspaper this morning.

But you weren’t finished talking yet.

“Has it ever even occurred to any of you,” you looked at the people behind him. You stared your sisters dead in the eye. “That maybe your prejudice and thoughtless assumptions and insults about how awful or evil we Slytherins are, is the very thing that pushes us down that path?”

You turned your attention back to James, who had an unreadable expression on his face now. “Your cruel comments are part of the reason and you, James Potter, are especially cruel.”

Your tone was sharp, face hardened and the entire Great Hall had fallen silent. Not even the professors spoke up. James felt like you had hit him in the face, and you might as well have. He looked down in shame at your words.

You shakily let out your breath and lowered your voice again. This time, you sounded tired. Reality seemed to dawn upon you that everyone in the great hall was listening to you, and you shook your head to yourself, taking a step back. You scoffed softly.

“I suppose you are truly worthy of the Gryffindor name; overly proud and arrogant in the name of bravery with a tendency to prove yourself, disregarding others and their feelings.” Your venomous words cut through James' heart.

James watched you walk away again and everything around him seemed to fade. He was losing you again. How had he not seen this?

Your situation with your sisters. The way you ran away at the Yule ball when he made a crude remark about Slytherins. The sense of déjà vu every time you walked past him, back turned towards him. Your handwriting. The feeling of your hand pressed to his chest just as when you two danced. The way you were great at transfiguration and could have easily transfigured those glass slippers. The way Regulus was the only student to frequently visit your favourite book section in the library. The chills you had sent down his back when you had allowed him to call you by your first name, and in return had called him James.

‘I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist.’

‘No one will know it’s you.’

Everyone knows.

Preview if interested

Part three

Taglist:

@k0z3me @magical-spit @bouearis @sprinkled-strawberry-donut @sammy-4103 @imsirius01 @xxrougefangxx @lilianelena39 @bubybubsters @cyphah @handybrownpurse @joeytribbiani18 @letssee2468 @stunkbiggu @unstablefemme @charmingpatronus @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @sadpetalsstuff @hisparentsgallerryy @luvly-writer @starsval @thisisasecretsstuff @theweasleyskettle @thisisasecretsstuff @urmomw4ntsme @krillfromsky @ietss @itsberrydreemurstuff @alexandra-001 @prongsprincessworld @lilsunshine1092 @hawkinsavclub1983 @rinrinslovebot @fluffybunnyu @fearlessmoony @lavenderwisteria @darkenwolfie @gengen64 @grandtheoristpeach @anehkael @lunasolac @targaryenmoony @jasminesacademia @mr-underhills-things

[rafeandonlyrafe]

gold medal

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, volleyball player!reader, college au, established relationship, p in v sex, unprotected sex

“good luck out there baby.” rafe presses a kiss to your cheek before smirking. “not that you need it.”

“oh, stop.” you roll your eyes. sure, you're the favorite to win your states collegiate volleyball championship, but you're not discounting the other college.

“all aces for me, yeah?” rafe asks, hoping no one can manage to get a hand on your powerful serves.

“you know it.” you run your hands over rafes chest, admiring his jersey, knowing your name is on the back.

“im gonna be in the front row.” rafe says. he always is, your biggest supporter and number one fan, always traveling with you to your games no matter how far away they are.

“okay.” you turn to look at your team entering the locker room. “gotta go.”

“love you.” rafe presses his lips against yours, knowing that the next time he kisses you, he'll be kissing a state champion.

--

your heart beats fast, sweat dripping down your forehead. it's your last serve of the game. already a blowout, but you won't get ahead of yourself by celebrating too early.

you do your usual routine. bounce the ball three times. look up, find rafe in the crowd, back down, two more bounces, then up. your open hand makes contact with the ball, slamming it forward. it barely skirts over the net, so much power that a girl on the other team takes a step back to avoid it.

the ball hits the floor and the crowd erupts into cheers.

the front row, all of your teams closest family and friends, rushes onto the court. you ignore the clapping on the back from your teammates and their attempted hugs as you look for rafe.

“told ya.” you whip around at rafes voice, launching yourself into his arms.

“never had a doubt.” rafe holds you close, your arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders as he lifts you, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist.

“couldn't have done it without you.” you say. it sounds corny but it's true, rafe is such a constant that he's become part of your routine.

“y/n.” your back stiffens at the voice of your coach as you slide out of rafes arms, waiting for a scolding at the public display of affection, but her usual cold face is warm as she pulls you into a tight hug. “im proud of you.”

“thanks, coach.”

you look to rafe with surprise in your eyes, and he is equally shocked. “who knew all it would take to soften her was to win the state championship.” you roll your eyes before stepping back into rafes hold. it's all you want.

--

“no, no, no.” rafe says, slotting the ribbon back over your neck. “keep the medal on.”

you are completely naked except for the chunk of gold hanging from your neck, the image of a player spiking the ball over the net carved into it.

rafe moves you effortlessly, wanting to see your face as he angles you towards the mirror, kneeling behind you. his big hands run over your bum and then between your thighs, his fingers swiping through your folds.

“fuck me.” you whine out, making rafe swat at your ass, a silent warning that you know means to be patient.

rafe doesn't leave you waiting for long, it's your celebration after all. he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock in your cunt in one smooth and quick motion.

“oh god.” you moan out, eyes moving to meet rafes in the mirror, seeing the way his jaw drops as he moans.

“so warm and wet for me baby.” rafe says, hands swirling over your ass while he gives you a second to adjust, but he can't give you any longer than a moment as he begins to thrust.

your eyes roll back in your head as he pounds into you. as much as rafe likes teasing and drawing your lovemaking out, he needs to properly congratulate you and bring you to your high.

the medal is swinging as your body moves with every powerful thrust, the slick sounds of rafe entering your pussy spreading around the hotel room.

“that's my girl, let me hear you moan.” rafe doesn't care that your team is in every room on this floor of the hotel, certainly they won't judge you for celebrating.

you let your voice free, moans starting out softly before they grow with every pump of rafes hips, his cock hard and long inside of you, pushing against your walls.

his hand wraps around your midsection, dropping to your pussy to rub directly on your clit instead of his usual swiping around in circles, smiling as he watches your face in the mirror.

“feels good?” rafe asks, even though he doesn't need to. he just wants to hear you say it.

“feels so good, rafe.” you whine out, brows scrunching together as your eyes close, having to squeeze them shut from the pure pleasure pushing through your system.

“yeah? gonna cum for me baby? my good girl?” rafe bends over, pressing his front into your back. “my champion?”

rafes finger speeds up, keeping his cock buried inside of you as he feels you pulsing around him, able to tell exactly when your orgasm hits by the way your entire body shudders in pleasure, cunt clamping down so tightly on his cock that rafe cums without having to move.

your moans match each other as you both cum, rafe pressed close to you as your highs ride out.

“god, baby.” rafe groans, pulling out as you collapse forward, his hands quickly spreading your cheeks to watch as his cum slips out of your pussy.

“shit, that was good.” you drop to your side, turning to smile up at rafe as he also breaths heavily, chest rising and falling.

“yeah it was.” rafe grabs your thigh, pulling your legs apart. “ready to go again?”

“huh?” you question, blinking your eyes open to look at rafe.

“you're my champion, you think im going to stop after one orgasm?” rafe leans over you, giving a press to your lips and then a kiss for the gold medal resting against your chest. “we're going to be celebrating all night long.”

[hollyoongs]

NUMBER ONE ✦ S.JY

pairing scuderia ferrari racer!jake x scuderia ferrari race engineer!fem reader

summary The Australian Grand Prix was something Jake has been looking forward to winning since he entered the F1 races, so when he wins, he also wins a big victory celebration on your part.

genre smut

warnings thigh humping, orgasm denial, fingering, 69, squirting (two times), use of sexual toy (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, baby and princesse), spanking, sub!reader, dom!jake (he's so pussy drunk)

a/n This happens in an alternative universe where en- and bynextdoor are actually F1 racers, only the teams that actually play in F1 remains the same and I've the permission of my friend to actually use her format since it's her present, in case you didn't know.

wc +3.9k

As you walked into the bustling Australian Grand Prix track alongside the rest of the Scuderia Ferrari team, the air was charged with excitement. The fans' euphoric screams reverberated throughout the circuit, a cacophony of support for their favorite teams. It was a special Grand Prix, especially for one person in particular, Jake Shim.

For Jake, racing in Australia held significance beyond the adrenaline of competition. It was a melding of his upbringing, shaped both by the country that practically raised him and the Korean customs instilled by his parents. As he donned his racing suit, the blend of cultures felt palpable, driving him to perform at his best on the track.

Amidst the buzz of the paddock, you caught sight of Jake preparing himself. As you made your way over to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in his determination and skill. "Hey, Jake," you greeted him with a warm smile, "ready to show them what you're made of out there?"

Jake returned your smile, his eyes alight with determination. "You know it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "This one's special, not just for me but for us."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"It's actually true. I'm in my hometown with the girl of my dreams on the team that I've worked so hard to get into."

"Ah, so I'm just the girl of your dreams now?" You teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as you adjusted the lanyard around your neck, indicating your role as a Scuderia Ferrari steward.

Jake chuckled, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "Of course not; you're more than that. You're the reality of my dreams," he said, his tone sincere as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Smooth talker," you remarked with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "But seriously, Jake, I have a good feeling about today. You've been putting in the work, and it's going to pay off."

His smile widened, mirroring the confidence that radiated from him. "Thanks, babe. I'm going to give it my all out there and take that trophy home." He said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination.

"I'm actually looking forward to it because…" You went near him, your lips at the same height as his "I don't want to waste your victory present."

"What do you mean?"

"Want a clue? You know what they say about a nice outfit…" You leaned in, kissing him and making him sigh when you went back again to his ear. "It's what's underneath that counts."

"Jake! It's time to be in position for the practice race." You backed away with an angelic smile for the boss after he called out your boyfriend. He was pushing your boyfriend backwards to his car as Jake was eyeing you up and down with his characteristic flirty smile.

The engines roared to life, filling the air with a symphony of power as the cars lined up on the grid, ready to tear through the track at breakneck speeds. Jake sat in his Ferrari, his focus razor-sharp as he visualized every turn and every maneuver he would need to make to clinch victory on his home turf. Behind him was his friend, Mingi, who was also adjusting to the car and communicating with the staff.

Beside him, the Red Bull of Sunghoon sat poised, his friend exuding confidence as he eyed the competition ahead. Mercedes' Nishimura Ri-Ki, ever the formidable opponent, sat further down the grid, his steely gaze betraying his determination to reclaim the top spot.

McLaren's Kim Sunoo exchanged a grin with Yang Jungwon, his teammate, as they prepared to make their mark on the race. Aston Martin Aramco, with Lee Heeseung and Park Jongseong at the helm, were determined to prove their worth on the track.

Alpine's Han Dongmin, the youngest of all the F1 drivers, shared a nod with his teammate Kim Donghyun, their eyes reflecting the fire of competition burning within. Williams, RB, Kick Sauber, and Haas completed the grid, each team eager to showcase their talents amidst the throngs of fans cheering from the stands.

As the lights above the track blinked to life, signaling the imminent start of the race and the end of the one and only, the tension reached a fever pitch. The air crackled with anticipation, the fans holding their breaths in anticipation of the spectacle about to unfold.

And then, with a deafening roar, the race began.

The cars surged forward, a blur of colors streaking past as they jostled for position in the opening corners. Jake navigated the chaos with precision, his Ferrari darting through the pack as he chased the elusive lead.

Beside him, Sunghoon fought tooth and nail to maintain his position, his Red Bull dancing on the edge of control as he pushed it to its limits. Ri-Ki, ever the strategist, bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As the race unfolded, the crackle of the radio cut through the roar of the engines, a lifeline connecting Jake and his team to navigate the twists and turns of the track. Amidst the chaos, your voice broke through, a beacon of calm in the storm.

"Jake, you're doing great out there," you said, your tone laced with encouragement. "Just keep your focus, and remember to breathe. You've got this."

Jake's grin was audible through the radio as he replied, his voice brimming with determination. "Thanks, darling. I'm feeling good; I just need to stay sharp."

"Just remember to control the curves in Sector 3 and let me know if there's a problem."

"Yes, ma'am." You let out a small smile with the nickname and started getting nervous for him.

As the laps ticked by, the race intensified, with each corner a battle for supremacy as the drivers pushed themselves and their machines to the absolute limit. Jake only went to the box two times, which made him pass from 4th to 6th, but he was so willing to take the win home, which made him give his all. Jake, fueled by the cheers of the crowd and the support of his team, refused to relent, inching ever closer to the front of the pack.

And then, as the checkered flag loomed on the horizon, Jake made his move. With a daring maneuver, he seized the lead, his Ferrari passing all the cars in front of him, and taking the opportunity of Ri-Ki's and Heeseung's hitting the box, Jake just went for it, his mind going blank for a second.

"And what a story this is for Jake Shim. What a performance! What a comeback! A Ferrari one-two headed by Jake Shim, who wins the Australian Grand Prix"

"Wait… did I hear that correctly?"

"Fuck yeah, you did P1!" You just won!" He clapped fast a few times, and before he sreamed of joy, he just couldn't believe it. He gave the last victory lap to the fans and went straight to his team.

As he climbed from his car, he took off his helmet with a triumphant smile on his face, the staff jumping to him in excitement. He caught sight of you in the crow, your eyes shining with pride. Crossing the paddock, he swept you up in his arms, the taste of victory sweet on his lips as he held you close and tasted your lips in a fond kiss, right before he ran to the podium and received not only the champagne that the three top drivers of the GP opened in a celebratory manner, but when Jake held high and proud the trophy, hearing all the cheers.

As all the events ended and all the staff got together in a happy mood, the head of the team made his way to the center of a circle, a joyful aura shining in him.

"I want to say congratulations to Jake and Mingi; today's performance was amazing, and because of that, we're going to have a celebration!" The boss announced it, his voice booming over the cheers of the team. "And since Ferrari came out on top, we will have a celebration later! So have a good rest, and we will let everyone know where it is after we prepare it. Great job everyone!"

After the exhilarating celebrations and festivities, the adrenaline began to wane, leaving in its wake a pleasant exhaustion that seemed to seep into every muscle and bone. Jake glanced at you, a contented smile gracing his lips as he realized just how much he was looking forward to some quiet time alone with you.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close. "Are you ready to head back to my place? I could use some rest and relaxation after today's excitement."

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes as you replied, "Lead the way, champion. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way through the bustling paddock and out into the cool evening air, the adrenaline of the race slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a quiet anticipation of the intimate moments to come.

Once you arrived at Jake's house, the soft glow of the lights illuminated the room, casting a warm, inviting aura over everything.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You said, Jake saw your way, and his side smile popped out. You rolled your eyes. "No."

"Come on, you said—"

"I know what I said. Come to the bedroom in twenty." After you said that, you turned around and went to the shared bedroom, feeling his gaze on your ass as you walked out, swaying your hips slightly.

You showered quickly enough to get yourself ready, looking in the mirror every time you did something. You saw yourself, and you were proud of what you saw: the burgundy lingerie covering your body, a 4-piece lingerie set that featured a bra, a g-string pant, and a thigh garter, the floral lace soft underwire bra with garter leg straps highlighting your legs line, the light makeup in contrast to the color of your lips that matched your whole outfit, and of course, the color of your boyfriend team. You were fixing your hair when you heard the door of the bedroom open up. You looked at the time on your phone, and he actually waited twenty minutes.

“Babe? What are you doing?” You opened the door to reveal yourself to Jake, his eyes widening at the image.

Jake stood in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. The soft glow of the bedroom lights played over your figure, accentuating every curve and contour of your body clad in the enticing burgundy lingerie set. His eyes lingered on the delicate lace and the way it hugged your curves in all the right places, igniting a fire of desire within him.

"You… you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire as he stepped closer, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his intense gaze. "I'm glad you think so," you murmured, feeling a surge of confidence at his reaction.

Jake closed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out to trace the lines of the lace along your skin. His touch sent shivers racing down your spine, igniting a fire of longing deep within you.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Seeing you like this… It's almost too much to handle."

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, caressing every inch of your exposed skin, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

"You're the winner today," you whispered, your voice barely above a breathless sigh as you melted into his touch, your hands going straight to the buttons of his jeans, opening them up as you moved your hands to remove his shirt. The tattoo on his ribs is on full display, and his necklaces are shining in his neck. "I will do anything that you want. Congratulations, winner."

With a hunger that matched your own, Jake captured your lips in a searing kiss, his desire evident in every movement and every touch. In that moment, all thoughts of the race and of the celebrations faded into the background, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable passion that burned between you.

The kisses followed their level; all the passion could be seen in those kisses, as Jake would not take his hand off your neck and the other one off your figure while making his hair a mess that he could care very little about. They went a little further into bed. You sat Jake down with a gentle push, and you opened his legs with your hands as you kneeled down to him, taking off his pants once and for all.

The moment you stood up, Jake started playing with a thread from your thong, stopping almost immediately when you positioned your entry on his right thigh and stuck your lips to his sensitive neck.

His breath hitched as your lips trailed along his neck, sending shivers down his spine. His fingers tightened around the delicate lace of your lingerie, pulling you closer to him as he let out a low groan of pleasure. Every touch and every whisper of your lips against his skin fueled the fire burning between you, igniting a passion that threatened to consume you both.

As you continued to explore each other's bodies with feverish intensity, time seemed to slow to a standstill, the world outside disappearing as you lost yourselves in each other. With every kiss and every caress, the connection between you deepened, transcending the physical realm and delving into something far more profound.

In that moment, there were no barriers, no inhibitions, just the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. And as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating rhythm of desire, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with endless pleasure and exploration.

You could feel how your pants started getting wet with Jake's caresses, especially on occasional taps on your breasts and buttocks. You started with a gentle movement that let out a sigh from your side. You looked for some sign of dissatisfaction in your partner, meeting Jake biting your lower lip while watching your action. Jake dropped the palms of his hands at every slap of your ass, making you pant in combination with a little surprise.

"You're too much for me, baby." Jake threw his head back and raised his hands to your hips, the top of his thigh being soaked by your natural lubricant. You hid your face in the hole connecting his neck and shoulder, his ear receiving your ecstatic jades, making known the wave of pleasure you were feeling. He stopped your movements for a second and handled your hips so that you jumped on his thigh. The vibration they caused went straight to your clitoris, making you moan a little higher than usual.

Jake took his hands out of his place and removed your bra. Delighted with the movements of your breasts with the leaps he made, he took his hands behind him and smiled with a little malice. Jake knew when you were at the edge, repeating his name amidst loud moans and whining so he could fuck you like they both knew they liked.

"You're close, princess?" You gave a loud moan in response, and he took your jaw and made you look at him. "Tell me, baby. Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna cum so bad." You started speeding up, feeling the knot of pleasure about to explode until they were stopped by Jake, who held you as he took out his legs, causing you to shake by the sudden stop.

He once again attracted your lips, holding you as close as he could to calm yourself down and shut the whines from your mouth. His hands snaked to your back thighs and made you jump, your legs wrapping his hips and getting your dripping entrance in touch with his clothed erect member, making him moan in your lips.

Jake left you in bed for a moment, opening the closet in pairs until he found his favorite object. You couldn't hold your breath knowing what was in his hand. He stood in front of the bed with it in his hand, still with that smile you loved, but right now, it made you tremble.

"You told me I could do what I wanted, right?" You nodded without taking your eyes off him as he scanned your body again with desire; you could feel it for miles. "You know how I like to see you."

Without waiting any longer, you sat in bed, making a space for him. Jake took off his annoying boxers, and he was next to you in no time. With a little sign, you put your covered entrance on his face, his lips kissing your inner thighs, which made you sigh with pleasure, still delighted with what you did earlier. You licked your lips when you saw his dick, completely erect and red, desperate to be cared for. Jake's hands completely lowered your last complicated garment, opening your vagina with his two fingers and blowing a little to get a moan out of you that reached his dick, getting him to move a little.

You spat on his dick, feeling his legs shake because of the sudden action. Your right hand caught him, creating a delicious swing that made Jake moan. You could feel your fluids falling into Jake's face because of Jake's stimulation of your clitoris; something he loved too much was seeing your entrance palpitating in anticipation.

"Baby, do you want my fingers first or my tongue?" You liked that thought of it, which makes you close around nothing, and now it was Jake turning to lick his lips. He slapped your ass one more time, making your entrance touch his mouth, the sensation making you stay there. "My good girl wants to be eat out? Making you more wet than you are so my dick can enter your pretty and tight cunt?"

"Fuck yeah, Jake, please eat me out." Your voice sounded so pretty to him that he just forced you down to stay there with his arms in your legs.

"Good fucking girl," for a second, you forgot to continue your movements, the pleasure being too much with his tongue creating circles in your clitoral area and traveling all across your entrance. You starred at your movements on his dick at a faster pace, getting in response to him squeezeing your ass in delight.

Now, your mouth was on his tip, kitten licks being delivered and causing him to twitch. You kept that for more minutes until you felt his two fingers ipening your entrance, your back arching up.

"No matter how many times I fuck you numb, you're still fucking thight. My girl is so thight for me as usual. Fuck, baby." He stopped his words and movements when you entered his dick into your mouth. His deep grunts and moans motivated you, loosing your throat so all of his length went inside. You hollowed your cheeks and controlled your gag reflexes.

"Baby, don't stop; you're such a good girl for me." The pace of his fingers continued faster, distracting you a few times, his cock blocking your loud moans and only the sounds of your wet entrace and his dick having the blowjobs of his life surrounding the room. You felt his dick getting swollen in your mouth, and his grunts just got louder.

You sucked everything out of him until you felt his fingers disappearing from your entrance and the vibration of the vibrator he pulled out on your clitoris. Your mouth was opened for that, and Jake's first drop of sperm stopped right at the back of your throat. Jake's hand took his dick, moving it fast, and let all its essence fall on your face and part of your clavicles, some of it landing inside your mouth. His other hand had stuck the vibrator on you, your body shaking endlessly and your moaning finally being free.

Jake settled in where his head was before; now there was his dick, his fingers going back in, and you felt like any minute you were going to collapse.

"I know you're going to cum, but you have to wait one minute. Can my good girl do that?"

"Yes, Jake. I can do that." Jake turned up the speed of it, and you just shoved your head into the pillow, hearing him count so slowly that you were staring to get a tear in your eye. One minute passed, and he smiled proudly.

"Cum all over my dick, baby," as you did it. His fingers made more obvious the amount of squirt coming down to his dick and legs, wetting your lower bodies for another minute, and he did not stop his fingers until you had nothing. You got on all fours after a few seconds of watching him move his dick up and down again., him puching you like you were before. Your ass up and your face planted on the mattress. "Stay like that."

"For fuck sakes, Jake. Let me—oh shit." His dick opened up your entrance suddenly after he put the condom in, your moans matching as you felt your mind going cloudy. Jake threw his head back as he slowly pushed himself to touch your sweet spot. You screamed in pleasure when he did it, being silenced by the pillow you were biting.

He couldn't wait, and his movements were fast, your ass moving like waves every time he thrust himself into you. Jake got as much noise as you, your thightness making him touch the sky, and your moans getting messier and louder once again.

"Jake, I'm cumming again."

"You're not. Not until I come first so that you can cum in my mouth." He felt how you clenched, and he slapped your ass. He took your hair in a messy ponytail and arched your back. "You want to cum? Then wait." The sound of your bodies colliding got faster, and he captured your lips when he felt like cumming completely. Once he left you, he grabbed the vibrator, reaching it to the tenth level. You held his arms, finally letting out the screams you were holding while that toy was inside you and your fingers in your clitoral area.

He laid down to face your cunt again. "Good job, baby. Make a mess all over me." His tongue got out of his mouth, and the view was enough to make you squirt bigger than the last one. Jake was so pussy drunk that he just went up a few seconds to have it all.

The heavy breathing of both of you was loud. Jake gently massaged your legs as you fell on the bed again, right next to him as he kissed you gently. The tiredness was invading both of you, but even with how tired you were, you smiled at him.

"How was your celebration?"

"Better than the trophy, for sure. You were perfect; you're perfect. I don't deserve you."

"Congratulations, my number one."

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

-

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[mypoisonedvine]

"I think we're on a first name basis by now." with tommy shelby

kinda went crazy with this one idk what happened lmao

warnings: dubcon smut (18+ only), dark!tommy, innocent/virgin reader, very rough sex, implied age gap, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, touch of misogyny kink, degradation, a little spanking

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

You only waited tables a few nights a week, just to make ends meet. You spent more time in the kitchen, actually, than you did in the part of the pub where the rowdy men would gather and drink and start trouble.

So, it was probably just your luck that whenever you were out there among them, Thomas Shelby was, too.

His eyes were always on you-- or it felt like that, sometimes. You looked at him, too: you couldn't help it, after all you'd heard. You couldn't really believe those things were true, that he was really that dangerous... he had kind eyes, you thought, and a nice smile. He looked strong, you couldn't deny that, nor could you deny the strange feelings you felt when his eyes drifted over your body while you wiped down tables and chairs. Your thighs seemed to press together each time he did that...

You almost hoped he wouldn't come tonight. As much as you had a growing interest in him, you always had this guilty feeling inside you after you got home on the nights you saw him. Maybe because, on some level, you knew what it was you felt when he looked at you.

No, he wasn't there when you arrived to the pub-- and you sighed with relief-- but your boss appeared rather suddenly when you stepped inside.

"Need you to go to the back room tonight," he told you firmly.

"Huh? Why?" you wondered.

"Just wait back there," he said simply, giving you no explanation, before walking away to deal with something else. Unsure what he could mean but not wanting to question it further, you went back through the kitchen to the back room of the pub.

It was small, and dark-- you flipped on the lamp, but it wasn't much to look at. A small couch, and a chair and desk, with various papers and letters strewn about. This was where the owner kept track of his records, managed shipments and costs-- probably where he kept track of your hours and compensation as well. You rocked back on your heels for a second before deciding to sit in the chair as you waited.

You couldn't say how long it was, probably only a few minutes, before the door opened and you stood up instinctively; you eyes widened when you saw who was stepping in with you.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby," you greeted nervously, "er-- what are you doing here?"

"I called ahead," he explained simply, shutting the door behind himself, "I told the owner that I wanted to see you."

You chewed your lip nervously. "Oh?"

"Yes," he nodded, approaching you but staying a healthy distance-- for now.

"Well... you can see me almost any night," you noticed.

"But I wanted to see you alone," he clarified.

"Does the boss mind? He must be working all the tables by himself," you wondered aloud.

"He'll be just fine," Tommy assured, "he's being compensated for his time."

Your stomach turned a bit when you realized Tommy had paid your boss to keep you back here for him. You knew then what he wanted, but you were still in denial about what was going to happen here.

He stepped up to you, almost too close, but you didn't have the bravery to take a step back.

He kissed you. It was far too sudden, far too forward-- but his hand slipped around the back of your neck and you felt entirely trapped. You did your best to kiss him back, but you weren't entirely sure how to do it well; you got the sense that things wouldn't turn out well for you if you disappointed him somehow. As he kissed you harder, his tongue slipping into your mouth, you whimpered and pushed him back by his shoulders.

It was an automatic response, but your heart pounded with nervousness as you looked up at him for his reaction: but he seemed oddly calm, not offended by your hesitance. "I-I'm sorry," you mumbled, "you just surprised me..."

"Didn't you want me to kiss you?" he asked.

And, well, that was sort of a complicated question. You had to admit, you'd imagined it before. But something about this felt wrong, even if you found yourself craving more. You'd never felt a heat between your legs quite like this one...

"You thought about more than that, didn't you?" he presumed with a raised brow, and you bit your lip and looked away.

"E-erm, well, I--" you stammered, but that was apparently answer enough for him.

He laughed a little, moving in even closer to you. "You're such a sweet girl," he cooed gently, running his hand along your waist as you shivered. "And pretty, too-- I know all the boys are lookin' at you. But you don't look at the boys, do you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but failed completely when his fingers nimbly began to untie your apron.

"You just look at me," he continued, his voice getting a bit deeper as he finished.

"M-Mr. Shelby, I--" you started to weakly protest.

"I think we're on a first name basis by now," he said through a smirk.

"Tommy..." you mumbled shakily. "I've... I've never, erm, known a man before..."

He smiled even wider, the sharpness of his teeth seeming predatory. "Would you like to?" he asked, making your throat a little dry.

"W-well, I always thought I'd... I'd wait until I was married."

"Not all of us have that sort of patience," he explained, suddenly pulling your body flush against his and latching his lips onto your neck. You shuddered and whined, wrapping your arms around his neck since you weren't sure what else to do with them; whenever his tongue danced along your pulse, it sent a shock through your whole body and you whimpered with need.

You barely noticed he was guiding you back, not until he broke away and tossed you down onto the sofa suddenly, making you gasp.

You thought he would lay down on top of you, set himself between your legs-- but instead he roughly turned you around, shoving your face down into the old sofa at the same time that his other hand forced your hips up towards his.

You hadn't even had a chance to think-- he was already shoving your skirts up, yanking your undergarments out of the way, leaving you bare to the drafty air of the room. "T-Tommy, wait," you mumbled weakly, but he either didn't hear you or didn't care. He only growled lowly as he examined you; you both knew, then, how wet you'd become.

"Fuckin' dripping," he observed, seemingly to himself, though you heard him loud and clear as you shut your eyes tight.

He let go of your hips a second later and you heard him taking off his suspenders, but you couldn't look back at him with that other hand still tangled in your hair.

You heard him pushing his trousers down; you heard him spit into his hand and rub it over himself. You still couldn't quite process that this was all happening to you. What happened to that kind-looking man in the pub who would make your heart flutter by brushing his hand over yours? He didn't seem to have that sense of discretion now...

You gasped just from him pressing the tip up to your opening-- you couldn't even describe how you reacted when he actually shoved it in. (Yes, it took a real shove, because you were anything but prepared to take something inside you, let alone something like that.)

"O-oh, no-- oh, it hurts," you whimpered, wincing at the burning sting, holding on tighter to the cushion under you. "Tommy! Y-you're hurting me!"

"Shh, shh," he soothed sharply, groaning as he went deeper inside you, holding on tight to your waist again-- conveniently keeping your back from arching up the wrong way.

You let out a shuddering sigh and tried to relax when he slowed down. "I-is it done?" you asked nervously.

He laughed darkly. "No, sweetie, it's not even halfway in you."

He went a bit deeper again and you choked on a sob. "P-please, don't put in anymore," you begged.

"It only hurts at first," he assured, "then it feels good. It's what it's made for, love. What'd you think was supposed to go up there?"

He was joking, but it still made you feel dumb and shy, and your face heated up even more.

"I'll put the rest in now-- no cryin' this time, be good," he warned. Sliding deeper with one long stroke, until the tip of him reached so deep your stomach started to hurt, he let out a long sigh of satisfaction. "Fuck, nice and warm."

You were thankful he didn't start to move right away, because you were breathing heavy and fast like it was the greatest physical challenge of your life... it probably was, honestly. How could anything like that fit inside you? It felt like he was creating something entirely new inside you-- he certainly made you feel things you'd never felt before.

He started to move, slow and methodical at first, sighing as he savored the feeling of you. You shivered, toes curling in your shoes, trying to stay still and not tense up inside. It was hard to relax, though, in a situation like this... with a man like him.

Each thrust was a little faster than the last; he never quite set a reliable pace, just getting used to the feeling of you.

"So fuckin' tight," he praised deeply, digging his fingers harder into your skin. "The way this cunt grips me... she never wants me to leave, I bet."

He guided you to stay partially upright again, and you put your arms out under yourself to try to stay on your hands and knees. His fingers traced up your back through the dress, before holding onto your shoulder for leverage as he began to really fuck you. Hard. Still slow, but it seemed like he was only going that slow so he could put all his energy into each deep thrust.

You yelped with every slam forward, legs shaking constantly, the sound of his skin hitting yours making you feel a bit... filthy. All of this felt filthy. You felt cheap and disgusting and used. So why in God's name was it beginning to feel good?

He noticed the change right away; he couldn't have felt the difference that you did, the way the sharp pain melted into a pleasant, numbing stretch-- but he could hear it, your moans getting deeper and more confident and needier.

"See? Fuck, knew you were just a little whore," he growled in your ear as he leaned down over you, making you shut your eyes and moan lowly. "Knew you were a cockhungry little cunt like the rest of 'em. You can act innocent all you want, sweetie, but you wanted me to ruin you so badly..."

He was fucking you faster, a little more eagerly, trying to see how hard he could push you. You dropped your head limply but he put a hand on your forehead and pulled it back up, keeping you against his shoulder as he fucked you senseless.

"It's so fuckin' deep in you now, love," he growled. "Can't believe you made it this long without somebody breakin' in this cunt. And now it's mine, huh? Property of Tommy fuckin' Shelby."

You whined, losing the last bit of strength in your arms as your face fell down into the sofa's cushions again. He didn't seem to mind this time, taking a hold of your hips and staying upright as he set a brutal place of slamming thrusts into you. You cried some, but you weren't sure if it was from the pain or pleasure or shame or joy of it all.

"Nobody else s'gonna ever touch you," he promised roughly, delivering a harsh smack to your ass for no good reason except to make you jump. "Nobody else will ever get inside this pretty cunt but me."

You whined, but the way you clenched around him gave away how you really felt about the idea.

"You want me to own you, huh?" he noticed with a dark laugh. "You want to belong to me. Be my little whore, my dumb fucktoy--"

"Oh, Tommy," you whimpered, not sure if you loved or hated him talking like that. It made you feel a little awful, but you were so wet that it was running down your thighs now...

"You'll let me come and fuck you whenever I like," he decided-- or maybe he was explaining it all to you, the new rules of your life as his belonging. "You'll give me whatever I want. And you'll fuckin' thank me when I'm done."

You whined loudly.

"Yes?"

You tried to nod, but he grabbed your hair.

"Say it, whore," he demanded.

"Yes! Yes," you sobbed, "I'll be yours, Tommy."

"Good," he purred. "Hold on tighter to the cushion now, love-- I'm not gonna be gentle with ya anymore."

You hadn't realized that everything up until now was what he considered gentle... and your heart twisted with a sickly pleasurable fear of what was in store for you from now on.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - PART FIVE*

Summary: “Y/N hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, but it seems like she is not the only one overthinking this time…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3k

Warnings: smutty scenes, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, teeny tiny bit of angst ig

A/N: I AM BACK! I finished my exams today and I hurried home to write the rest of this chapter bc I have been itching to do so for the past weeks. I will try not to put as much time in between the next chapters, sorry about that! Love you all and enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It had been three days. Three entire days since the kissing-in-the-car debacle that Y/N had participated in, and she still wasn't over it. How was she supposed to act normal at their class tomorrow? It had plagued her mind ever since she walked into her apartment that Saturday night.

All weekend, she had been contemplating different things. Saturday and Sunday, she was sure she wanted to never see his face again because she couldn't stand the embarrassment. But when Monday rolled around and re-thought everything after coming back from work, she realized that she should probably be mature and talk to him.

However, that resulted into her pacing around her room like a maniac with the phone in her hand, his number ready to dial. For the past twenty minutes she had been trying to convince herself to just press that call button and get it over with.

"C'mon..." Y/N growled to herself. She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and finally called him. Her hands were sweating as the dial tone sounded over and over again, and the nerves she felt were sure to explode her stomach, but she kept breathing and waited for Harry to pick up.

The distant sound of a phone ringing took Y/N’s attention away from her own attempted call. Her heart began beating even faster as she walked towards her front door, and sure enough, when looking through her peephole, she saw Harry standing in front of her door.

As she took the lock off, Y/N broke up the call and putting her phone in her pocket. Harry's eyes were wide at the door opening all of a sudden, but he still managed to muster an awkward smile amidst his shock before he greeted her.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi." She greeted back, unsure of what to do or say or feel. "uhm, what are you doing here?"

The question came out so soft, as if she was scared to ask it, not ready for the consequences his answer may bear. Maybe it was true; she had always had the feeling that her body was better at communicating her true feelings than her brain was.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said, his tone serious enough for Y/N's chest to start pressing on her, but a soft edge to it nonetheless. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, opening the door wider and letting Harry inside her apartment. He walked in and silently observed the place. Y/N felt oddly tense as she waited for him to take it all in, but he was quite quick to turn around. In the seconds that he stood there, entirely quiet, Y/N deduced the obvious: he was awaiting some instructions from her.

"Go sit on the couch, do you want something to drink?" She asked, already heading for the kitchen. Harry sat down like she told him to, but shook his head.

"No thank you, just wanna talk. Can you... sit down?" His difficulty to meet her eye and the apprehension behind his words had Y/N immediately head for the couch and sit down next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked innocently, like she wasn’t the reason this awkwardness existed in the first place.

"About last Saturday." He answered. You began to shake your head, cheeks already reddening from the shame that washed over you.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Just— hold on," He interrupted her. "I said something, that night, I can't help but think that you didn't take it how I meant it. And it has been eating at me all weekend because I'd hate to be the fool who accidentally rejected you."

Harry's eyes bored into Y/N's until she couldn't take the intensity of it anymore and looked down. He leaned forward, putting his hand on her leg. She studied his fingers as they slowly caressed her skin.

"Harry, it's okay. I misinterpreted it, you don't have to make excuses to make me feel better." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to prematurely dodge any bullets that might have ended up with her crying otherwise.

"I'm not!" He protested. "I— Y/N, look at me."

When she didn't instantly comply, Harry's fingers traced up to her chin and redirected her face towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly stroked her chin as he took in every inch of her face.

"I wanted it." He said slowly, making sure she heard every word he says. Slowly leaning in, he added: "Really bad."

His lips hovered near hers, so close it was nearly sending her into a frenzy, but far away enough for him to assess her reaction on his movements. But Y/N was an open book, a reactive person when it came to these desires. She couldn't feign disinterest as she had never felt this strongly about someone in such a perverted manner before. Harry mouth slowly curled up into a smirk.

"Can I show you how badly I wanted it?" He asked, the heat of his breath reaching her face and making her core pulsate. The only thing Y/N could do was nod, and before she knew it, Harry's lips closed in on hers.

A soft whine escaped her throat as he kissed her, the desperation of her body unshielded under his roughly delicate touch. Nothing seemed to make sense as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth and pushed her back on the couch, nothing but him.

Harry leaned forward, not taking his mouth off Y/N as she sat against the armrest. He hovered over her, his body between her spread legs. One of his hands was holding onto her waist, while the other one kept him up by holding onto the armrest.

As their tongues danced around each other, Harry's hand slipped down from her waist towards her inner thighs, and Y/N felt her panties getting wet at the suggestive caresses of her skin. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, their lips now apart. Still caught up in the heat of the moment, Harry mindlessly trailed his kisses down her jaw and then onto her neck.

"Harry." Y/N tried to get his attention, but his name sounded more like an erotic plea, and caused a growl to sound from his lips, followed by a rougher treatment on her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as his lips sucked at that sensitive skin of her, and a small whine fell from her as he bruised her neck.

"Ha— hmm... Harry!" She exclaimed. "S— stop."

Within a millisecond, or at least it felt like that, Harry's hands and mouth were removed from her. His face was filled with worry as he took in hers.

"Are you okay? Did I go too far?" He began asking, but she was quick to shake her head.

"No! It's just— I haven't really, done much of this before. I don't have a lot of experience and uhm, I just wanted you to know that before we... proceeded." Y/N explained, voice near trembling as she spoke. Harry's eyes softened, and his face pulled into a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me." He said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss before pulling back, sitting up straight. "I just have one question, though."

Y/N nodded, big doe eyes staring right at him as that innocent smile transformed into a smug grin.

"Can I show you what I actually wanted to do last Saturday?" He asked, stroking her already spread legs. Before she knew it, the answer fell from Y/N's lips.

"Yes."

He let out a satisfied hum before his hands grabbed at her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her bare cunt to be exposed to him. Y/N blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how exposed she was, but the fascination that twinkled in Harry's eyes washed most of her insecurities away. She watched carefully as he leaned down and his fingers began stroking her folds.

Y/N held her breath in anticipation, curiously waiting for Harry to continue, and when he finally put his hands on her clit, she couldn't help but shift in her seat a bit at the tingling sensation.

"O— oh!" She shrieked when she felt Harry's tongue attached itself to her clit, his middle finger now paying more attention to slowly beginning to slide in and out of her. Y/N tried to control her breathing to the best of her abilities as Harry explored her sopping and pulsating core.

Y/N's mind had gone all fuzzy from the sweet feeling of his touch on her sensitive parts. It was impossible to focus on anything else than Harry, and even if it was, she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of him anyway. It was addictive, the way he was ravishing her like she was a culinary meal, and it felt glorying.

Harry temporarily removed his mouth from her heat, and looked up at Y/N before saying: "C'mon, angel. Tell me how it feels."

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname she'd grown to love ever since the first time he said it, and she tried to control her whines as she responded.

"So— ah! So good..." She managed to reply, her knuckles turning white from balling up her fists in an attempt to not come too early. Harry's tongue swept over her clit in such an intoxicating way, and his now two fingers pumping in and out of her was only getting her closer to her inevitable climax.

Harry moaned at her verbal approval, and picked up the pace of both his mouth and his fingers, leaving her nothing but a whimpering mess under him. This was surely going to be the death of her, wasn’t it?

"Harry— I think I'm going to..." She ran out of breath before she could finish your sentence, and she began convulsing around him, legs trembling as her orgasm began to reach her like a wave building up. And then just like that, it crashed.

With a cry of his name and a few profanities that followed, the sensual waves of her release hit Y/N. The release was slow and long, and one of the most satisfying ones she'd ever had. Harry's touch stayed on her skin, helping her ride out her high.

When he finally backed away, Y/N was still breathing heavily from what she had just experienced. Wide eyed, she observed how he licked his lips before he looked up at her. She could've come again from the sight of that alone.

"D'you want some water?" Harry suddenly asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to your kitchen. She followed him with her eyes, mouth agape as he went through her kitchen cabinets until he stumbled upon two glasses and filled them with water. As he returned to the couch, he raised a brow, indicating that he was still waiting on an answer.

"Uhm, yes, thank you." Y/N stumbled as he handed her the glass. She took a few sips, scanning him while she drank. He was so casual all of a sudden, leaning back against the couch with his legs spread like that... there was something cocky about it and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to roll her eyes at it or jump his bones.

Possibly both, at the same time.

Y/N put her glass down and slowly crawled over to Harry, who sniffed a laugh at her wobbly movements on the way too squishy couch. She hoped it would at least come off as cute, now that her attempt at being sexy had been trampled by her own furniture.

As the laughter from both parties died down, Y/N took it upon herself to slowly start kissing Harry's neck. Her heartbeat rose when she felt him shifting in his seat, a pained sigh escaping his throat. Meticulously, she dragged her hand down his chest until it reached his pants, and she began unbuckling his belt.

She was surprised when she felt his hand pull hers away, and stopped her actions to see what was going on. When she saw his clenched jaw, she frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"You don't have to do that angel." He said, tilting his head a bit. She slowly shook her head.

"Oh, alright." She said, and felt a pang in her chest at the idea that she could've done something wrong. Harry took both of her hands, cupping his over them.

"I’d like to save it for next time." He suggested, the slight raise of his brow adding a certain playfulness to his reply. The hint of a smile on his face filled her with a warm feeling, and she quickly found herself nodding at what Harry had said.

“Plus, I have to get my beauty rest… I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I teach this private self-defense class, client’s got me working till late.” He joked, eyes beaming when a giggle fell from her lips. Y/N took her bottom lip between her teeth, stomach fluttering as she took in the painfully beautiful, funny, charismatic man in front—or well, under her.

“Really? Is she any good?” She teased back, brows raising in surprise when Harry nodded.

“Difficult to teach tho.” He responded.

“Why’s that?” Y/N questioned, genuine curiosity dripping from her tone. Harry took his eyes off her and shamelessly lowered his gaze to her body as his hands, that had dug into her waist, slowly began to trail down to her ass.

“‘S just so hard to concentrate…” He said lowly, and she felt her core heating up again at the sole sound of Harry’s voice. Her cheeks flushed alike at what he was implying, and she felt like an animal with the way her body reacted to him.

Y/N remained as quiet as she could, savoring Harry’s touch on her bare skin. She would have closed her eyes, had she not been too mesmerized by her face to do so.

Nerves swirled in her stomach as she watched Harry’s stare trail upwards again, only to stop at her lips. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing the gap between the two’s mouths. Y/N couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when Harry put his lips on her again, and much like the touch of his hands on her, she relished in the way his tongue circled around hers, and she was surprised at how well their bodies captured the connection that she had been unable to explain in words.

It was safe to say that Y/N was disappointed when at last Harry pulled away, but she couldn’t be mad at him, not with that face of his.

Her eyes widened when he got up all of a sudden, hands still holding up her thighs in the few moments before she wrapped them tightly around him in response to the sudden movement. He sniffed a laugh, which Y/N was only able to hear because her arms were locked around Harry’s neck and her face was only a few centimeters away from his. The urge to smile almost prevailed over her shock.

Harry’s hands let go of Y/N’s thighs, and she lowered her legs in response, putting her feet on the ground again and removing herself from his touch completely.

As they walked towards the front door, Y/N found herself to be a bit gloomy. She didn’t want him to leave, he was so fun to be around. He made her not worry, which was a miracle because Y/N always worried. And she knew she’d go back to worrying and overthinking the second she’d be alone again, so the prospect of Harry going away was not the most fun. She had to remind herself that she’d see him tomorrow, though.

Y/N opened the door, waiting as Harry put on his coat. When he finally had, he turned to her one last time.

“Sleep tight, angel.” He said, and with that, walked right out the door. Y/N croaked out a weak ‘bye’, but she was pretty sure she’d heard the elevator ding by then.

It took her a minute to recover physically before turning off her lights in the living room and floating towards her bathroom, where she smiled like an idiot all the way through brushing her teeth.

It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that what she dreaded came along again: that tiresome worry. Thoughts and scenarios filled her head as she lied in bed, watching the ceiling as if it would grant her answers, or peace.

It was as if, with Harry, nothing else truly mattered. Not necessarily in the corny, dramatic way, but rather in the sense that it felt like the outside world wasn’t that much of a factor in Y/N’s decisions, nor did she have the feeling that it should be whenever she was around him. But when he was gone, it would all start to matter again and suddenly she found herself doubting whether dating Harry would even be a good idea.

What would her parents think? What would Sophie think? Would she be viewed as less professional by her co-workers for dating her trainer? Would it impact Harry’s reputation—

She stopped herself. Probably not, considering Harry was a man.

It was with a frown that Y/N eventually dozed off into a deep slumber. Not even in her dreams she was safe from the anxiety that plagued her, a nightmare about being fired stirring her awake at around four in the morning. She was more exhausted when she woke up than when she went to bed.

But despite all of it, her body still buzzed in anticipation of tonight’s class…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @bitchidontpost @lomlolivia

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 34 || The Degrading Era (part 2)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, smut, & a tinge of fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THREE TIMES. THREE TIMES IN A row did Sukuna manage to make you squirt. Again, this wasn't completely unusual because Choso had that ability too but it was alarming how quickly Sukuna was able to do so.

Sukuna's so mean with it too. He'd force your back into this arch that allowed him to fuck so deep into you, leaving you gasping and moaning beneath him. Then, he'd move to pull your hips back to meet his every thrust which made the loudest and filthiest clapping and squelching sounds.

Not to mention the way he began to shift every now and then. At one point, he had one leg up and thrust into you at an angle, making you see stars as his hand would come down on your ass over and over and over again.

Other times, he was drilling his cock into your soaked pussy, his hands pressed down into the arch of your back, thumbs pressed into your spine hard enough to leave a mark while he simply beat you down into the bed.

There was a point where he had your arms behind your back, one of his hands holding onto them tightly as his other snaked around your body and he dipped two of his fingers into your mouth just because.

You were a mess. He meant it when he said he'd ruin you because that's exactly how you felt.

Sukuna even pressed your face down into the mattress while his dick slammed into your sweet spot over and over and over and over again. Your moaning was so loud and whiny, drool was leaking out of your mouth, and your sounds could be heard even with the muffling of the bed.

You cried out his name so many times and he'd throb and twitch inside you in reaction.

Then, there was that damn mouth of his. Sukuna was so mean but you thrived off of it. Even when he praised you for making an absolute mess of him, he still managed to throw in the use of the word whore or slut, sometimes even brat when you didn't cum fast enough for him.

He'd have his large hands on your ass, squeezing the fat hard enough to leave marks as he watched his thick cock stretch you open. Sukuna loved the mess of it all, seeing his cock smothered in white because of the number of times you came on him.

The sight was so sexy-, you were unbelievably sexy.

Evidence of how rough he was with you was plastered all over your body; scratch marks covered parts of your back and your arms, both your ass cheeks had large and noticeable hand marks on them, and there were a few bite marks and dark hickeys left around your shoulder area.

"H-Hhnngh... aah, 'k-kuna-," You couldn't even say his name properly but he liked that too, it was cute.

His body was glistening in sweat and at this moment, he had a hand pressed onto your head, keeping you pinned down to the bed, "C'mon, one more... Cum on my cock one more time f'me," Sukuna encouraged.

His words reminded you of Choso so much, that fact alone being the true reason you obeyed him so quickly.

Sukuna smiled at the feeling. Nothing could compare to the way your pussy gripped around him as you came, fluttering and sputtering around his girth due to his words. He thinks he was growing addicted to that feeling.

You had no idea how he went so long without cumming inside you, or at all for that matter. You were too fucked out to realize that the man would occasionally pull out and prolong his orgasm on purpose just because he liked making you cum.

It was dangerous for him to grow so addicted to such a thing but, did he care? No. Especially not when he was currently making you cum for the nth time of the night.

His sheets were soiled at this point but he liked that too. He enjoyed the whole thing, the entire process of completely ruining you.

"So... fuckin'... pretty," Sukuna moaned at the sight of your liquids glistening around his cock, "What a pretty slut you are..."

He'd never admit it but, he was pussydrunk-- hazed with lust and drenched in you from the waist down.

His thrusting grew calculated all of a sudden, pinpointing that specific spot inside you that made your entire body clamp up.

"Ohmygod-," You breathed out, "R-Right th-there.... Fuuuck p-please-, aaghn..." You begged and pleaded for him to continue, completely lost and fucked dumb.

Sukuna grunts, "Yeah? Right here?" He mocked you, only drilling into that very spot harder and harder.

You nodded dumbly into the sheets before his hand pushed your head further down and his pounding grew slow and impossibly harder. Oxygen was being fucked out of your lungs and you were choking on what little air made it into your throat.

"Could' fuck you like this all night," Sukuna grunted as your walls pulsed around him, "You want me to?" He chuckled, "Hm?"

Your eyes rolled back like they had plenty of times beforehand and your mouth was just open with breathy moans leaving your throat. "Ha-ah... Mhm... Y-Yeah..." You whined quietly.

The man tilted his head, "Louder, slut, I can't hear ya'."

You moaned and your voice came out louder as requested, "Y-Yes."

Does that satisfy him? For some reason, no. "Yes what?" Sukuna's voice was husk and rough with you by this point.

"Yes, S-Sukun-na..." You stammered out amid his thrusts.

"What do you want me to do, say it." He ordered.

You both hated and enjoyed how he wanted you to be so vocal, "F-Fuck me... ah, a-all ngh... night..." You babbled, your words not entirely true since you were growing lightheaded and you were sure to pass out any second now.

"Mmmh..." He hums deeply, his throat vibrating. "I would but," There's a faint thump in the bed as he moves and then his hand eases off your head, "You're about to tap out on me." Sukuna points out.

He's not wrong. Your eyes were barely open and your body was twitching as your legs trembled violently. With a heavy sigh, Sukuna's thrusts finally slow down and he eases out of you.

You felt the weight of his cock on your ass, followed by the sound of a groan from him as he came all over your ass and your back. You took that as your queue to go limp, your legs falling and your eyes finally shutting.

Your breathing was ragged and you were even sniffling from the way you sobbed out his name in pleasure for what felt like forever. Sukuna felt like he'd accomplished what he wanted to and once he was done, you felt the bed move as he got out of it.

Your own cum was felt against your inner thighs, along with the dampness of the bed, and Sukuna's seed was decorating your back. You just laid in the mess, too out of it to realize, too fucked out to think, too tired to speak or even move.

You don't know where Sukuna went or what he was doing as the room went quiet but you didn't care, you were fading from consciousness, and all your sexual activities caught up with you all at once-- leaving you knocked out cold within seconds after Sukuna parted from you.

The male had gone to the bathroom and got himself roughly cleaned up, returning to you after about five minutes to find you slumped. He chuckled at the sight and reached for his earlier discarded phone that lay on the bed near you.

Raising it to his face, he let out a yawn, realizing you took more energy out of him than expected, as he unlocked the device. Sukuna glanced up from his cell and to you, debated something for a long moment, and then shrugged the thought away-- it wasn't necessary, he thought to himself. He already got what he needed.

After sending a text to someone, the man shuts his phone off and then places it back down.

It was on to the next task for him...

Cleaning you up. Rumors depict Sukuna as a coldhearted asshole who liked to create disasters for fun but, he's not heartless enough to leave you a complete mess. He has morals and fucking you also gave him respect for you.

The man was surprised you even lasted as long as you did, laughing to himself the more he thought about it.

As he goes to clean you up, he strokes the side of your face with the back of his hand, "You poor thing," Sukuna hums, tilting his head to the side, "There's so much fun I'd want to have with you... But..." His eyes narrow and he holds his tongue, not saying what he truly wanted to just in case you were awake, "You couldn't possibly handle all of me."

You halfway heard what he said, most of which was contorted in your sense of acknowledgment and remembered in pieces. Either way, his touch goes away and he begins to clean you and the area up, ridding all evidence of what's been done.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you come to, you're wrapped up in a blanket, your head resting on a pillow comfortably. You're no longer in the room you'd been in before and it's... it's the next day.

There's a thin slip of sunlight hitting the back of your head and you have to blink a few times to adjust your eyesight to where you are. You don't remember anything after you passed out and you're surprised you were out the entire night.

You shift to get up and notice that the bed you're in is absolutely massive. The room is so clearly freshly cleaned, large, and decorated in white, black, and red furniture. Not a picture is in sight as you glance around so you really weren't sure what room you were in.

On your body was this large t-shirt and... your underwear? Except, it was freshly cleaned? Holy shit, how long were you out for?

Rubbing your eyes, you look over to one of the many shut doors in the room, spotting a light on. Just as you wonder if Sukuna's in there, the man emerges from behind that door shirtless with a towel hanging around his waist.

Water drips off his bright pink hair and onto the floor as his eyes meet yours. The slip of sunlight hits his body just right, causing the water rolling down his chest to glisten.

His voice is shockingly lower than it was the night prior, "Plan on gawkin' at me all morning?"

You take your eyes off his body and your face flushes at the sound of his morning voice, "N-No..."

Sukuna chuckles and makes his way over to the bed, the fresh shower scent exuding off his skin as he nears you. You back away slightly while Sukuna bends toward you, placing his hands on either side of your body and bringing his face close to yours.

You struggle to keep eye contact as he nears you, "Why're you so-"

"How do you feel?" Sukuna cuts off, uninterested in your questions as to why he's so close to you.

With a huff, "I feel fine, I think." You tell him.

"Can you feel your legs?" He questions further.

Your brows further and you open your mouth to respond but as you shift a leg beneath the covers, you feel a sharp pulse and a terrible ache in your muscles. "Mhm," You hum, frowning at the soreness that begins to thrum all throughout your body.

Your back hurts, your ass hurts, your legs are shaking a bit, and even your throat is hurting. God damn this man fucked you up, literally.

Sukuna arches a brow, "They hurt?"

"Everything hurts," You whisper.

He chuckles and leans back away from you, standing up straight, "You asked me to go slower, then faster, never softer."

A pout pulls at your lips, "Would you have listened if I did?"

Sukuna thinks for a second, "Probably not."

You roll your eyes and he laughs.

"Here," Sukuna tosses you a bottle of pills and then nods his head to the nearby nightstand.

You notice a cup of tea sitting next to a full plate of hot food, your eyes widening at the sight. Your mouth opens to say something, probably asking a stupid question but, Sukuna answers before you can even get it out.

"Yes, it's for you." He grumbles, turning away and heading toward, what seems to be. his closet, "Eat up so I can take you home."

He then disappears into his closet before you can get any type of argument out. With a shrug, you move to take what he's given you and also chow down on the plate of food.

As you did so, you realized you were in his bedroom and that it wasn't messy like he'd previously described it was. Your nerves about it and your skeptical emotions died down the more you glanced around, realizing that his bedroom had recently been cleaned.

By the time you were done eating, Sukuna was moving around his room, still readying himself for the day as you went to grab your phone that'd been plugged up for you. When you opened the device and went through it, you noticed your notification from your bank, a lovely deposit of six thousand USD having been sent to you within the last hour.

You're not surprised that Gojo paid you so quickly, he knew you were meeting with Sukuna so it's not shocking to you to see him pay you. Even so, the sight of more money never fails to make you smile.

"Someone's happy," Sukuna comments, his voice closer than you expected it to be and making you flinch.

He was right next to you all of a sudden, reaching for a bottle of water on the nightstand. You click your phone off and look up at the man. How long had he been standing there?

"I just got paid," You beam simply. He wouldn't think anything of it, it's not like he knows you're jobless.

Sukuna swishes down a gulp of water, swallowing it down and sighing afterward, "Yeah?"

You nod, "Mhm."

"Hmph," The man hums, almost as if he mentally noted the words you've just told him, "Paychecks make you that happy?"

Your brows furrow, "Uh, yeah? Pretty sure everyone gets happy because of paychecks."

He shrugs, "Depends on number."

"Fair point."

"Yours seemed to be pretty hefty," Sukuna comments simply before placing the water bottle down and then turning away.

You chuckle wearily, "Did you see it or something...?"

The man strolls toward his bathroom, "Saw more zeros than I was expecting to," Sukuna states.

You can see him straightening up his bathroom counter. "Oh..."

"Must be some job," He comments, glancing toward you, "What do you do?"

Your heart skins into your toes. How the hell are you supposed to respond to that? If he said he saw a bunch of zeros, you'd have to have an expensive job-

"I'm a therapist," You voice out calmly.

Lying has become something you're all too good at. But, technically you were just stretching the truth. After all, that is the job you've been looking to get after school so, you're completely lying... in a sense.

Sukuna pauses. Then, he chuckles lowly, "A therapist?"

You swallow, not liking the way he laughed or the sound of his voice. He doesn't believe you. "Yeah."

"Mmh." He hums, snickering to himself within the bathroom, "How humorous."

"Humorous? How so?" You ask, shifting the covers off of your body and moving your legs off the bed.

"Just uh," Sukuna clicks his tongue, trying to hold in another laugh, "Didn't take you for a therapist is all."

You try to lift yourself from the bed, your legs shuddering as soon as you move. You then flop right back down and shake your head. "What'd you assume my job was?"

He scoffs and then turns the bathroom light off, exiting and heading toward you, "A whore," He comments, clearly joking but his words make you uneasy.

That's oddly specific. You didn't think much of when he called you a whore last night, since, y'know, you like being degraded. But, something about that being his assumption for your occupation is a crazy coincidence.

Especially considering how hellbent Gojo was on telling you not to call yourself that. The more you think about it...

Gojo got upset at something from Sukuna's party, he didn't want you to call yourself a whore all of a sudden, Sukuna seems to have believed that was your actual job, and you remember how pissed Gojo seemed as he thought about you sleeping with Sukuna-

Holy fuck. Are the two connected somehow? Is something going on? What does Gojo owe Sukuna? Does Sukuna know you only slept with him as payment to clear Gojo's debt? Is-

A finger pokes into your forehead and you blink out of your thoughts.

Sukuna's chuckling, "I was joking, woman. Calm down." He utters, "I actually thought you worked at one of those beauty stores."

You raise a brow, still feeling uneasy with the man. "Beauty stores?"

"Sephora, Ulta," He shrugs, "Wherever the fuck, I pictured you being one of those cute little cashiers."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment...?" You murmur.

"Or working at McDonald's, I don't know, I didn't think too hard on it-- jus' wanted to fuck you," Sukuna admits honestly.

Your expression drops, "Oh..."

His hand goes to your chin and tips your face up, "Do you want me to want something more from you?"

His gaze is intense like always, causing chills to slip down your back. You shake your head, "I mean, no... I only wanted you to fuck me."

"We could keep doing this," Sukuna suggests with a shrug, "Make' it a weekly thing."

You blink, "You're joking, right?"

"What reason would I have to do so?" He asks plainly, "You've got the kinda' pussy men pay for. Hell, I..." He shuts his mouth for a second, almost getting carried away in complimenting you, "Ahem, I almost didn't give you a break, you're lucky I pitied you."

Truth be told, he was about to say he almost spilled his cum into you within the first few minutes and that in order to last so long he had to edge himself. But, Sukuna is too prideful to ever admit that out loud.

Your eyes narrow, "You're not good with complimenting people..."

"Excuse me?" He scoffs, finding your comment humorous, "I've complimented you enough already."

"They're shitty compliments..." You murmur with a slight pout as you look away.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, "If you think pouting like that is gonna' earn a better compliment from me, you'll be very disappointed."

"Whatever." You sigh, moving to sit back in the bed.

He moves to fold his arms, "What're you doing?"

"Uh, I can't walk so... I'm lying here." You say casually.

With a little annoyed groan, Sukuna suddenly moves toward you. Your eyes go wide as he hooks an arm under your legs and another behind your back, soon lifting you bridal style.

You're quick to wrap your arms around his neck as you're lifted into the air and Sukuna carries you to his bathroom.

"Do not get used to this." He says sternly.

You've got a big smile on your face as he assists you with readying yourself for the day.

The man helps you to brush your teeth, cleanse your face, get dressed in your clothes from the night prior that have been washed, and then he basically carries you everywhere around his house.

After which, Sukuna says he's driving you home and you end up spending a lovely morning receiving princess treatment from the man.

It was oddly nice seeing the way he'd help you put on your shoes, getting down on one knee in front of you and lacing your footwear for you. You silently enjoyed how he helped you get your coat on, zipping it up and making sure you were nice and warm before he picked you up and carried you outside.

Then, you also noted how he got you into his car-- which was just as expensive and fancy as his home, making sure to buckle you in even though you could've done that yourself.

And thus, the time you spend with Sukuna steadily comes to an end.

This leads you to start planning for your next, and final goal; Nanami Kento.

After all you've been through, this should be a breeze.

Right?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[livelaughloveluffy]

hiiii first of all i love your fics/hc, they’re just simply too cute 😭 if it’s okay with you, can i request a fluffy one about cooking with sanji pls 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 (either fic or headcannon is fine, up to you!)

cooking together - black leg sanji

a/n: i literally love you so much, it means a lot that you enjoy my fics 😭😭😭 i love this request so much!! honestly, it can't stick with just a fic or headcannons so this is a little bit of both!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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

-he's soooooo excited to share his passion and love of cooking with you, his ocean-blue eyes sparkle as he explains to you the basics of preparing food, the eagerness in his body language as he prepares the kitchen to be optimized for your learning. not only does he get to do the thing he loves the most, he also gets to teach you and share the experience of preparing food with you.

-as a chef, taste-testing along the way is a must. however, when cooking with sanji, he takes this habitual necessary step of cooking and turns it into a romantic moment "how's this, mon amour?" he'll ask as he feds you a small scoop of whatever the two of you are preparing. "to your liking?" he'll always ask, before moving on with the next step.

-he refuses to let you help clean up 😭😭😭 you can beg and plead all you want, he absolutely insists to clean up alone. one day you get frustrated because he wont let you help, slipping your arms around his waist, appearing as if you're going for a hug, but instead your hand slowly and carefully reaches to the sprayer on the kitchen faucet. he will absolutely humor a small water fight in his kitchen if it's with you (and he'll clean up the water too😭) and he always lets you win.

-it's an absolute must for him to get to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around yours, to help you get the proper technique when kneading doughs or whipping meringue with you. his cheek pressed against yours as he looks over your shoulder, helping guide your hands as you two cook together.

-literally the best when it comes to your period cravings, day or night, if you so much as hint or ask for something, sanji makes it happen no question asked.

•♡•

getting to date black leg sanji was amazing for a number of reasons.. but one of the hidden benefits of being with this love-sick cook was that he was... well, he's a cook. and a damn fantastic one at that.

midnight snacks are truly on a different level when with black leg sanji. the two of you were cuddled up in his bed in the shared boys dorm, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around your body, and the sounds of his soft murmurs of affection. "sanji... are you awake?" you whisper, trying to not make too much noise, lest you want to wake a certain captain with a bottomless pit of a stomach.

he quietly hums in response, letting you know he's up. whispering as softly as you possibly can, "i'm kind of craving some of your special caramel toffee ice cream... can we go make some?"

before you can even process what is happening, you are already in sanji's arms as he gently picks you up and carries you to the kitchen.

•♡•

not wanting to jolt you out of your relaxation, sanji instead lit some candles around the kitchen, gently placing you down on the bar stool as he went to grab everything he needed to make your dream come true.

with sleep heavy eyes, you watched him quietly and quickly work to prepare your ice cream from across the table, but once he was over the stove gently melting and stirring together the ingredients, so close to being ready to chill the ice cream, did you wander over to him.

now that you knew for sure that would wouldn't be in his way, you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself flush against his back "thank you for doing this" you quietly murmur into him.

"of course, anything for you mon amour. it will have to chill for a little bit, can i make you a cup of tea to hold you over?"

•♡•

the two of you sat cuddled up at the table as the ice cream chilled, occasionally placing soft kisses on each other's cheeks, just enjoying each other's company. the ice cream was done surprisingly fast (you'd have to thank franky for his extreme blast chiller later).

the two of you decided to share the bowl, it was a bit too rich to eat a whole bowl by yourself, sanji had insisted on feeding you, always giving you the bigger spoonful, the first and last bites, and most importantly allowing your hands to stay warm and clean.

"was it everything you hoped for, mon amour?" he asked as you finished the final bit. the soft gasp and small moan of joy left your mouth, as you whispered "it's even better than i remembered it."

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

a/n: two sanji fics in the same day?! yeah, im actually not surprised 😭😭😭 @chibinasuu thank you so much for your support and request!!! hopefully, i did it some justice!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[mrs-hatake]

How JJK Men Hold Your Chin

Warnings: MDI!!! yandere behavior, obsessiveness, manipulation, dacryphilia, over protectiveness, human sacrifice, mentioned assassination, foul language, female reader, HUMAN!sukuna

A/N: i kinda went overboard with sukuna lmao. credits are in the pics! also, shoutout to my soulmate who encouraged me to write and publish this luv u 🥹

Toji:

Toji’s eyes shoot open when the soft rattle of the window opening fills the bedroom. Whoever decided to ambush Toji, in own home no less, is doing a piss poor job at it. The number rule of breaking and entering is that you need to be as quiet as the dead…Or make sure you aren’t breaking into a room where the occupants of the house are in. 

He doesn’t move, makes sure to keep his breathing deep and even as his ears focus on the soft thud across from his bed. The gentle rustle of feet on carpet is thundering. It makes Toji wonder which sorry idiot decided to attack him. He lies still. Waiting.

Toji senses a presence behind his back. The stare of the invader doesn’t feel oppressive but more hesitant. Big mistake. Waiting a heartbeat before striking, Toji quickly has the criminal pinned under him on the bed. A terrified screech stabs sharply in his ears, ringing like an alarm clock.

Leaning over, Toji harshly tugs on the string of the desk lamp on the nightstand. Dim yellow light floods the corner of the room where Toji’s bed is placed. 

With the darkness gone, Toji’s eyebrow quirks at the sight below him. A pair of eyes stare at him in a vacuous stupor, their lips formed into a silent ‘o’ shape. 

Toji blinks down at the frightened woman. 

She blinks back. 

Whoever sent her his way is a freaking dumbass. Aside from the fear drowning in her eyes, incompetence screamed at him. How did his enemies expect to dispose of him with someone as weak as her?

Lost in his thought, the woman raises her leg and tries to kick Toji off of her. Luckily, Toji’s reflexes are as sharp as a cat's and dodges the attack. He yanks her leg down before pressing all of his weight on it, trapping her.

“Don’t kill me.” The woman pleads and it forces Toji’s head to tilt to the side in confusion.

“You’re here to kill me.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing, “It’s only fair I defend myself.”

His words strike a nerve. The woman begins to frantically shake her head, jostling Toji with her movement. “Please.” She whispers repeatedly like a broken record. 

Having had enough, and with the exhaustion from today’s mission catching up to him, Toji’s large and calloused hand grabs the woman’s chin, successfully suspending her thrashes. 

The tip of his thumb is brushing the edge of the woman’s chapped lip. The two, caught in a daze, are silent. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?” Toji’s voice drops to a murmur, his already deep voice growing deeper.

The woman continues to stare at him but there’s something calculative in her eyes, as if she’s determined the best course of action. Whatever she finds, melts the tension from her. Her form relaxes under Toji but he still maintains his weight on her. It could be a trap after all. Waiting for him to drop his guard down before she strikes. Toji has been in the business for so long that such a childish trick is insulting.

“I’ll tell you who hired me.” The woman's breath comes out shaken, broken.

Toji contemplates her answer before shaking his head, “Not enough.” 

His response doesn’t deter the woman. In fact, it strengthened her resolve.  “Not just the organization I work with but several of them. It’s like a betting ring.” She explains, her eyes hard, unafraid to meet him. 

Toji thinks. People wanting him dead isn’t something new but that doesn’t mean he has the free time to hunt down every single one of them. However, what the woman says next sends a chill down his spine.

“They’re coming after your son.”

Her statement is a bullet shot straight to his heart. If what this woman is saying is true, then he needs to take her word for it.

“If you’re lying,” Toji’s grip on the woman’s chin is unforgivable, “I will kill you and your pathetic family.” he spits before letting go. 

Satoru:

The woman is panting harshly as she leans against the metal pillar at the underground train station. The ruckus of the coming and goings of the people blend into the background until it’s nothing but a gentle hum. She swallows her dried throat, thick and heavy, gathering whatever moisture to nourish the muscle. The woman’s back presses against the pillar as her eyes close shut. Greedily, she sucks air into her lungs. 

Weakly, her eye opens and it darts frantically across the station until it lands on the departure board. The orange LED lights glaring harshly at her. Still, the woman squints as she reads the list and the corresponding time. Her train leaves in less than half an hour. She’s exhausted. Her legs are screaming at her from her earlier run and throat is begging for water. But the woman pushes through.

With one final deep inhale, the woman pushes herself and makes her way to the platform where her train will arrive in ten minutes. 

The woman hasn’t taken a single step forward when a voice wells up a wave of acid deep from within her belly. 

“Found you.”  A voice she once associated with reverence has her recoiling in horror.

Inchmeal, the woman turned.

Gojo Satoru is standing in front of her. Despite the gentle smile on his lips, Satoru’s blue eyes are as wild as a stormy sea, raging and fervent.

A blink and Satoru’s hand is cupping the woman’s cheek in a tight embrace. She winces at the pain, reaches her hand to wrap around Satoru’s wrist and tugs it away to no avail. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Satoru sighs as if she is some naughty child, “It’s cute that you think you can run away from me.” 

The woman’s eyes pleads Satoru, begs him to let her go, set her free, but Satoru is blind. 

With a powerful pull, Satoru yanks the woman into an embrace. His muscled arms trapped her in an unbreakable cage. 

“Let’s go home.” Instead of Satoru’s whisper resembling a kitten’s soothing licks, it feels like a spider crawling up her throat.

Nanami:

Warm hues of orange and pink spreading across the sky is the last thing the woman sees before her eyes shut close. She doesn’t scream as she falls to her death. Her descent is calm, freeing in a morbid sense. Though the curse is still rampaging the abandoned hospital, terrorizing the second year students, the woman accepts her demise with a serene smile. 

The impact she has been embracing for doesn’t come to her. Well, not in the way she had imagined numerous times whenever the woman is sent off on a mission. Instead, a firm but pliable object breaks her fall. 

Cinnamon and black coffee invades her senses. A roaring heartbeat echoes in her ears but before the woman can open her eyes, she is gently put on her feet.

“How can you be so careless?” A voice growling in her direction forces the woman’s eyes to open.

Blinking the black spots from her vision, the woman lifts her gaze from the ground to where Nanami Kento is standing just a few feet away from her. His muscles are stiff and his lips are pressed together in anger.

Oh shit.

“What were you thinking?” Kento continues, uncaring of how his voice is increasing in volume but the woman is shell shocked. Not from the fall but from the fact that, in the years she has known Nanami Kento, is losing his cool.

“I’m fine.” The woman sighs in exhaustion as her hands dusts her outfit free of dirt. She notices in her peripheral vision the second year students delivering the final blow to the curse spirit, their cheer turning into horrified groans when the curse exploded into tiny little pieces and it covered them with neon green goo. “I had it under control.”

Kento rolls his eyes, “Like hell you were.”

Worn out and oddly hungry, the woman turns away from her livid colleague. “I don’t have time for this.” she mutters.

“We’re not done talking.” Kento calls after her but the woman doesn’t meet his dark eyes, raging with an uncontrollable fire.

Just as the woman is turning to leave, Kento’s massive hand cups her chin and forcefully pulls her to face him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Kento seethes through clenched teeth. His thumb on the apple of her left cheek presses deeply into the supple skin, almost bruising.

The woman’s jaw clenches, the muscles flexing underneath Kento’s fingers on her right cheek. Her piercing gaze is unyielding but Nanami Kento doesn’t back down.

“Don’t you dare do that again.” Though Kento’s tone is cold and disapproving, the woman hears the concern loud and clear. 

“Answer me.” He barks with the authority of a man who should not be challenged. 

“I won’t.” The woman responds in a strained voice. 

Geto:

The woman’s eyes are large and rimmed with tears as she meets irises colored in vibrant amethyst.

The man returns her gaze with feigned kindness and condescending pity. His hands cupping her cheeks are warm and they light a fire in her belly. His thumbs are slightly rough with callouses but they are gentle as they wipe away stray tears. Soft lips kiss the woman’s forehead, their velvety touch is soothing, imbued with a delicate tenderness that has the woman melting like putty in his arms. 

“Now, be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” Geto Suguru’s voice is rich with sweetness and has a velvety timbre, resembling a bitter drink with traces of sugar. It has a propitiating quality to it that embraces the woman in a sense of tranquility.

“Suguru.” The woman hiccups, vision blurred with unshed tears. 

Suguru coos, the sound echoing that of a mother worrying over her child after waking up from a nightmare. He leans in, slowly and tenderly as if to not frighten her off, and licks each tear trail from each cheek.

“Suguru?” The woman sputters, her eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment as she tries to process what just happened. 

Though the soft smile Suguru gives her radiates warmth, there’s a subtle glimmer in his eyes that hints at something the woman can’t recognize but it fills her with dread. 

“There, there.” Suguru whispers gently, his hands still cupping her cheeks. His fingers are wet with tears but the fact doesn’t bother him.

“This will all be over soon.”

Sukuna:

Sukuna’s hibernation is interrupted by cacophonous ceremonial chants reverberating from the forest below.

Year after year, Sukuna has reprimanded the villagers for their never ending harassment. They mistake his cursed lineage as an entity to protect his village when, in reality, the Ryomen clan was cursed by the Gojo clan three hundred years ago for violating the peace treaty because one member from the branch family decided to be a cocky little shit and terrorize humans and now Sukuna has to suffer the consequences. 

Every first day of spring, the villagers leave animal caracases at the mouth of his cave to satiate his hunger. When that didn’t work, the villagers sent wooden crates filled to the brim with glimmering gold coins and a crown decorated in sparkling diamonds to persuade Sukuna in blessing their harvest. Stupid villagers and their stupid myths. If they had bothered to open a history book, they would have discovered that Ryomen Sukuna is just as human as any of them. The only difference is that part of the Gojo clan’s punishment was to inject every member of the Ryomen clan with poison into their bloodstream that altered their genetic composition. Instead of having two arms and two eyes like everyone else, the Ryomens now have four arms and four eyes. Oh, and an additional mouth on their belly.

A satisfied moan falls from his mouths when his muscles pop as he stretches his four arms high into heaven. Scratching his side with one of his hands, Sukuna trudges to the mouth of the caves and watches with complete boredom as those fools travel the winding path leading to his habitat. Glancing at the sun, Sukuna figures it’ll take them another hour before they arrive. 

When the villagers do arrive, they wordlessly leave their sacrifice at the cave entrance and leave, just as silent and unnerving. 

With nothing better to do, Sukuna humors the villagers and steps out of his stifling home.

Despite it being early spring, the weather is still warm but the air has a certain bite to it. Not enough to warrant thicker garment but enough to appreciate the cool breeze caressing Sukuna’s skin.

Stepping outside, Sukuna comes to a sudden halt. His four eyes blink before they glance around the forest, searching for a glimpse of the villagers who will explain what this year’s present is. 

Below him, just a few meters away from his feet, is a woman lying on her side. She is dressed in all white and her hair is fixed in a complicated updo. Gems dangle with each blow from the wind and Sukuna’s nose picks up the hints of honey and vanilla.

Sukuna’s thick fingers massage the spot between his eyes while his two arms cross in front of his stomach, pressing against his mouth.

Great, just great. Those idiots brought him a human sacrifice this year for whatever fucked up reason. Sighing, long and heavily, he picks up the unconscious woman and carries her into his cave.

It’s around nightfall when Sukuna hears soft groans coming from his bed. His upper right arm is stroking the fire to life while his lower right arm throws wood into the fire pit. His stomach has been growling for the past hour and his tongue keeps licking the curve of his belly button. If Sukuna will ever have the chance to fight the infamous Gojo Satoru, he wants to inject him with the same poison just so he can understand the hell Sukuna’s been through. 

“You’re awake.” Sukuna’s voice cuts into the night air, deep and smooth. 

The woman freezes on the bed and takes a moment to gather her thoughts before pushing herself into a sitting position. 

When the woman turns to face him, Sukuna’s two pairs of red eyes roam over the woman’s face that’s painted with soft makeup to enhance her beauty. 

“Greetings, Sukuna-sama.” The woman greets him in a luscious voice, no doubt a skill taught to her by the elderly women of the village. Sukuna resists rolling his eyes at their stupidity. Instead, he tosses the iron rod aside and saunters to his bed. 

Though the woman bows her head in submission, her form lowered in a beautiful arch, Sukuna can see her trembling in her place. After all, Sukuna cuts an intimidating figure. Not just with his additional limbs and eyes but also with his height; totaling at two hundred centimeters. It's a small wonder she is frightened. 

An index finger that is as long and slender as the iron rod hooks under the woman’s chin and tilts it upward to face him. 

A soft hum emits from Sukuna, “The villagers have outdone themselves with this year’s sacrifice," his finger glides down her neck, "heh, they must be desperate to please me.”

The woman says nothing. Her eyes are lidded and they are clouded in something that Sukuna cannot discern but they add to her charm. Flames flicker to life in Sukuna, sparking intense desire that burns through him like wildfire.

“I’ll take good care of you.” Sukuna vows, his voice lowering into a hummed whisper, each word heavy with yearning and licentiousness.

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Psychotic! Lee Felix/Love Straved Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"We're done, Felix. I can't do this anymore," you scoffed, tugging your wrist back from his grip. Felix felt his blood boil, "What do you mean, we're done. I can't stay having another break from you just because you don't understand that I hate it when they stare at you, baby. You're mine, my little darling," he growled, glaring at you.

"Not a break, it's over. I'm sick of you being possessive of me. I'm sick of you watching over me. Just leave me alone, we're breaking up," you sniffled as angry tears dripped down your cheeks. Felix's eyes widened, "Baby, you can't do this to me. I'll give you more space. I just hate when people gawk at you like some toy. Darling, you're worth more than that. You're my everything. Please don't leave me," he pleaded, feeling his knees get weak.

You looked away, dragging your suitcase, "I'm sorry," you whispered, closing the front door behind you. Felix held his head in his palm, laughing controllably at the events that just happened, "It's a nightmare. It's all just a nightmare. They'll come back for me. They have to," he babbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as he wailed.

You curled up in a hotel bed, clutching the plush Felix won you at an arcade. You sighed, "It was for the best, right?" You sniffled, feeling the usual familiarity of loneliness. "It's not like he wouldn't find another. He's handsome, charming. He can easily get another partner that's just like me," you sniffled, your voice cracking as you spoke.

You looked at the plush, staring into its eyes, "This is where I belong," you whispered, crying yourself to sleep. Felix clenched his jaw and stared at the screen, his gaze icy and blank. Tear stains etched into his pale skin, "You can't escape me, darling. I understand where you're coming from though, those stupid ex partners of yours surely implanted those thoughts in your mind, but I'll come after you. I'll show you true affection, I'll teach you. Mark my words," he growled, staring at your sleeping face through the plush he gave.

Weeks went by and the loneliness grew heavier and heavier. It felt like Felix's constant affection was filling up the empty gaps throughout the day. It felt like he was distracting you from the heavy thoughts in your mind. You stared at the plush, "Is he right?" You whispered, stroking the plush. You questioned your decision, pondering if it were the right choice to make or were you just too caught up to escape.

You couldn't tell the difference, "Maybe I should go on a blind date and see how that goes," you murmured, calling a friend to step you up. Felix pressed his tongue against his cheek, "Not on my watch," he grits, eavesdropping on the call and forming his plan. You dressed up nice, it's been a while since your first date with Felix and you know that first impressions matter. You kissed your plush goodbye and left for the venue.

When you walked in, someone was seated at your table. You went up to them, but they were on a call. They gave you a guilty look and apologized. You nodded and waited for their call to end. It was a quick date, one with not many defences, just a smooth sailing date. You exchanged numbers and went to the bathroom. It wasn't like your first date with Felix. His eyes weren't glued to you and his smile was half-hearted.

When you first met Felix he gave you the brightest smile you've ever seen. He made you feel seen. You sighed, filling the bathroom with an odd sense of longing. Felix waited by your car, waiting and lurking for your arrival. He had a cloth drenched in chloroform, ready to kidnap you in your own car. You walked through the parking lot, mind still dazed from the odd longing in your chest, you missed him.

You missed the way he would cheer you up when you're down. You missed the way he would tighten his grip around your waist and bite the back of your nape to claim you. "I miss him," you whispered, holding the hood of your car. Felix shifted his jaw, 'You just met him, and you miss him?' he thought, waiting for the right moment. You sighed, unlocking your door when you felt a cloth over your nose and mouth.

You panicked, thrashing away when you heard a familiar deep voice, "You're mine," he purred, holding the cloth closer. You felt yourself subconsciously relax, knowing that it was Felix that's holding you. He furrowed his eyebrows, subtly questioning why you gave in so quickly, but he paid it no mind. You were in his arms, and that's where you'll stay. Felix placed you in the back seat, bound your ankles and wrist, and taped your mouth.

You stirred awake hours later, your arms bound to the back of the chair and your ankles tied apart. Felix sat in front of you, watching your sleeping body like a drug, "Wakey, wakey," he chuckled, seeing you stir. "Slept well?" he asked, twirling a pair of scissors in his hand. You blinked at him, "Where have you taken me?" You asked, your speech slurring.

Felix chuckled, "Curious, aren't you? We're in my relatives' cabin house, in the middle of nowhere, darling. Even if you run, I know these acres better than you," he warned, holding the knife to your throat. "Tell me, was all our love for nothing? I just want you to love me like I love you," he pleaded, tears dripping down his cheeks. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him with wavering eyes.

Felix threw the scissor aside, "Answer me, Godamnit!" He lashed, gripping the chair behind you. "I don't know! I don't know what love is, Lix," you sobbed, hunching over. Felix felt his breath hitch at the nickname, "I know you don't, darling. That's why I've been showing you. I didn't mean to overwhelm you," he said, wiping your tears.

You leaned into his palm, "Teach me? I can learn to be as lovesick as you. Please, I want to love like you," you sniffled, looking at him. Felix took in a deep inhale, "Okay, precious. You'll see the way I'm obsessed with you," he whispered, patting your cheek.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Fuck, you're so tight," Felix groaned, his hands tied behind your back and his ankles tied apart. You held a knife to his throat and rode his hot girthy cock, "Can't, can't," you moaned, trying to ease down to the hilt. Felix groaned, digging his nails into his fist, "Yes you can, darling. You can ride my cock without my help," he hissed, feeling your slicked tight walls clench around his cockhead.

You sniffled, bouncing your hips up and down his cock, barely taking half of his length up your puffy cunt. Felix chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "See precious. This is how you depend on me. This is how you let me take care of you," he said, removing his hands from behind, easily undoing the rope as he took the knife away from you. "Now let me help, yeah?" He said, thrusting his hips upwards with your bounces.

He held your waist tight as he buried his cock deep within your cunt. You cried into his shoulder, the stretch dulling your mind from the sheer pleasure and pain coating your senses. Felix kissed your shoulders, "There we go mmh down to the fucking hilt," he chuckled, kissing up your neck. You clawed his back, "Please make love to me?" You pleaded, looking into his eyes with a pitiful gaze. Felix smiled, kissing your cheek, "Of course, my darling. We have all night for this," he said, thrusting his hips at a languid and lazy pace. Taking his sweet time to engrain this moment into your heart.

AMAB

"Fuck, you're so tight," Felix groaned, his hands tied behind your back and his ankles tied apart. You held a knife to his throat and rode his hot girthy cock, "Can't, can't," you moaned, trying to ease down to the hilt. Felix groaned, digging his nails into his fist, "Yes you can, darling. You can ride my cock without my help," he hissed, feeling your slicked tight walls clench around his cockhead.

You sniffled, bouncing your hips up and down his cock, barely taking half of his length up your puffy hole. Felix chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "See precious. This is how you depend on me. This is how you let me take care of you," he said, removing his hands from behind, easily undoing the rope as he took the knife away from you. "Now let me help, yeah?" He said, thrusting his hips upwards with your bounces.

He held your waist tight as he buried his cock deep within your hole. You cried into his shoulder, the stretch dulling your mind from the sheer pleasure and pain coating your senses. Felix kissed your shoulders, "There we go mmh down to the fucking hilt," he chuckled, kissing up your neck. You clawed his back, "Please make love to me?" You pleaded, looking into his eyes with a pitiful gaze. Felix smiled, kissing your cheek, "Of course, my darling. We have all night for this," he said, thrusting his hips at a languid and lazy pace. Taking his sweet time to engrain this moment into your heart.

[livinginshambles]

Preview: No, you listen to me | James Potter x Fem!Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Note: Not proofread, grammar mistakes, probably. I feel bad for making you guys wait so long, but uh, full fic will take me a moment.

Masterlist Part one. Part three

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

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud, the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out had. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of. Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Full fic.

[sexsylexi]

Can I request a Jason Todd x reader where the reader has a health scare

Of course, I'm not exactly sure if this is what you wanted but i did my best! 💗

Through the darkest hours.

Jason Todd x Reader

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had just gone in for a regular check-up, a routine visit to make sure everything was fine. It had been a while since you had seen a doctor, and you figured it was time to make sure everything was still in order. After all, you didn’t feel bad, not exactly. Just a little more tired lately, a bit more sluggish than usual, but nothing that couldn’t be blamed on stress or a long week.

But then the doctor’s face grew serious. The casual conversation you had been having shifted into something else, something tense. He asked you to wait a moment, left the room to consult with a colleague, and that’s when the fear set in. Something was wrong.

You sat on the cold examination table, the paper crinkling beneath you as your mind began to spin. What if it was something serious? What if…what if this was something that couldn’t be fixed?

By the time the doctor returned, your hands were clammy and your heart raced. He explained that they needed to run some additional tests, and while he tried to assure you it could be nothing, the words lingered in your head: could be nothing. Which meant it could be something.

You managed to keep it together long enough to leave the doctor’s office, to walk to your car and sit behind the wheel and drive home, your hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. The fear had grown inside of you, threatening to spill over, and you didn’t know who to call..

Jason. Of course, Jason.

Your hand shook as you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, pressing it to your ear as it rang. Each second that passed without him picking up felt like an eternity. Finally, on the third ring, his familiar voice came through the speaker, gruff but warm.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Jason… I’m scared.”

The line was silent for a beat, and then his voice was filled with concern. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I—I’ve been to the doctor’s. They found something, and they need to do more tests, but I don’t know what it means. Jason, I don’t know what’s happening.Im outside our apartment. ”

You heard him shift on the other end of the line, like he was already getting ready to move. “Okay, okay. Stay right there. I’m coming to you. Just breathe, alright? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Relief flooded through you at the sound of his calm, commanding voice. Jason always had a way of making you feel safe, like no matter what happened, he’d be able to handle it. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

After you hung up, you sat there in the car, staring out the window but not really seeing anything. Your mind kept racing with possibilities, with worst-case scenarios that you couldn’t quite shake. But you held onto Jason’s words, repeating them in your head like a mantra: Breathe. I’ll be there soon.

True to his word, it didn’t take long for Jason to arrive. You saw him through the windshield as he parked his bike next to your car, his leather jacket catching in the sunlight. He was already looking around, scanning the area for you, and when his eyes landed on you, you saw the tension in his face relax just a little.

He opened your car door and crouched down beside you, his hand immediately reaching for yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady. “I’m here.”

The moment you saw him, the tears you had been holding back broke free. You reached out, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you sobbed. “Jason, I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close as you cried into his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you cry, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek, and somehow, that grounded you. Jason was here. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

After a while, when your sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles, Jason pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. It could be nothing, okay? I need you to trust that whatever happens, we’re going to deal with it. Together.”

You nodded, your chest still tight but feeling a little more steady with him here. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you pause. “Not until we know what’s going on. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m with you. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, settled something inside of you. You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch as you nodded again. “Okay.”

Jason smiled, a small but reassuring grin that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. “Come on,” he said, standing up and offering his hand to help you out of the car. “Let’s go home.”

---

The days that followed were filled with a strange kind of limbo. You were waiting for the results of the tests, waiting for some kind of answer, but all you had was silence and uncertainty. And in that silence, the fear grew.

Jason could see it. He wasn’t the type to hover, but every time you saw him out of the corner of your eye, he was watching you, concern etched into his face. He didn’t push you to talk about it, but he made sure you knew he was there.

He did little things, too. Things that might have gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention. He cooked dinner more often, even though you both knew his culinary skills were limited. He’d pick up your favorite snacks on his way home, or slip an extra blanket over you when you fell asleep on the couch. He even spent more time at home than usual, even though you knew he was itching to be out on patrol. But Jason didn’t say anything about it, and you didn’t either.

One night, as you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while Jason scrolled through his phone next to you, the weight of it all started to feel unbearable. The tests were supposed to come back soon, and the anxiety was eating away at you. You couldn’t pretend everything was normal anymore.

“Jason,” you whispered, not sure if you wanted to bring it up but knowing you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

He immediately set his phone down, turning toward you with full attention. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice so small you barely recognized it as your own.

Jason sighed softly, reaching over to take your hand in his. “I know,” he said. “I know you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if… if something’s really wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he said eventually. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. But worrying about it before we even know… that’s only going to drive you crazy.”

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that were already forming. “I can’t help it. It’s like this… this thing in my chest that won’t go away.”

Jason shifted closer, pulling you against his chest. “Then let me take some of that weight,” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. You’ve got me, remember?”

His words, so simple but so full of love, made you feel like you weren’t drowning anymore. You buried your face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, the leather and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to him. It was comforting in its own way, a reminder that he was real, that he was here with you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jason said softly, his fingers running through your hair. “And even if—even if—it was something serious, we’d fight it. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in his warmth, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside of you. It was easy to forget, sometimes, just how much Jason understood about fear, about fighting battles you didn’t know if you could win. But he always fought anyway. And with him by your side, maybe you could too.

---

A few days later, the phone call came. You were sitting on the couch, your leg bouncing anxiously as Jason flipped through the channels on the TV. You weren’t even watching, your mind too preoccupied with waiting for the phone to ring.

When it finally did, you almost jumped out of your skin. Jason’s eyes were on you immediately, watching as you picked up the phone with trembling hands.

“Hello?”

You held your breath as the voice on the other end spoke, and with every word, the tension in your body began to ease. It wasn’t serious. The tests had come back clear. It had been nothing more than a scare.

You hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment as the relief washed over you like a tidal wave.

Jason was still watching you, his brow furrowed. “Well?”

A smile broke across your face, your chest feeling lighter than it had inweeks. "It’s okay," you whispered at first, almost as if you couldn’t believe it. "I’m okay, Jason. It was just a scare."

For a moment, Jason stared at you, his face unreadable. Then, all at once, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissolve. He let out a deep breath, one that he must have been holding ever since this whole nightmare began. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as you both sat there, feeling the weight of the relief that had finally come.

"Thank god," Jason murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled you into his arms again, holding you as tightly as he had that day in the car when everything had first spiraled out of control. But this time, his grip wasn’t one of fear—it was one of gratitude, relief, and an overwhelming sense of love.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You sat in Jason’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was over. The worry, the uncertainty—it was all over, and you hadn’t even realized how much it had been weighing you down until now.

After a long while, Jason finally spoke, his voice a little lighter than it had been in days. “I told you it’d be okay,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His tone was teasing, but there was a tenderness to it that made your heart swell.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “You did,” you admitted. “But I didn’t believe it.”

Jason let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course you didn’t. You’re stubborn as hell.”

You laughed too, the sound light and freeing in a way it hadn’t been in what felt like forever. “I guess I am.”

He tilted your chin up slightly, his eyes searching yours. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly, his thumb grazing your jaw. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to go through stuff like this alone.”

Your throat tightened at his words, and you felt a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes—this time, not out of fear, but out of gratitude. Jason had been your rock throughout all of this, even when you hadn’t known how to ask for help. He had just been there, steady and unwavering.

“I know,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jason.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re never gonna have to find out,” he said, his voice low and full of certainty.

And in that moment, you believed him.