#the more and more distance I have from that part of my life the more I'm like wow actually what happened WAS kinda fucked up huh

[missgenesis]

It is!

Honestly, tho I can't stay mad at people who make epic music that colors my life.

Nobody in this world owes us anything. Some people come into our lives to simply make their mark and cause a disruption. Fear not the shit disturbers. They can bring unexpected blessings.

The vacant spaces in between - the beats of silence, of pause - are just as important to the melody as the notes themselves.

In my life, I never would have learned what love truly was until I experienced what it felt like for love to be absent. I wanted and expected so much more than what I got on multiple occasions. This has been a recurring pattern in my life indicating a karmic cycle. I kept attracting this chaotic energy into my life over and over without even knowing it.

I kept finding myself in relationships that left me feeling disappointed, frustrated, and heartbroken. It took me a while to see it this way, but now I am truly grateful for those experiences, it was the struggle and the pain that ended up healing me on a deeper level.

It became clear to me that I had an ancestral wound already, a void space inside of me with regards to love, and these broken relationships, while painful, let me become aware of it and ultimately heal myself.

I believe that I subconsciously attracted them into my life for this very purpose.

Shadow work. Excavating the unconscious mind and the parts of our psyche that we prefer not to examine. It's nasty business. Uncomfortable, stressful, overwhelming, messy, painful as hell... it's like giving birth.

Worth it, I think.

In fact music was my single most important healing modality. It became my home and taught me everything I know about life.

~~~~ Music is my obsession because to me it feels like the essence of life and spirit. Infinite combinations and permutations that follow almost like a mathematical code to create a rhythm. A vibrational frequency that resonates with the soul. Patterns in music that are pleasing to the ears are a fractal of the laws and patterns in nature. Music theory n00b here but I found this kinda neat. ~~~

A step, or conjunct motion, is a linear interval between two consecutive notes of a scale.

An interval is the distance between any two pitches in a melody. Linear (melodic) intervals may be described as steps or skips.

A melody that moves in small, connected intervals is considered conjunct, while one that moves by leaps is called disjunct.

The general rule of spacing is to keep the distance between soprano and alto as well as the distance between alto to tenor within an octave of each other.

Any larger interval is called a skip (also called a leap).

Allowing a distance greater than an octave between soprano and alto (or between alto and tenor) is considered spacing error .

Childhood can be scary.

A collection of some of my hand-drawn horror looping animations!

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[bestofmultiverse]

Roses 🥀

Kathryn Hann x fem!florist!reader

A/N: Ive written it pretty drunk so idk what make sense at this point (I'm still pretty drunk)

Week 1

The market buzzed gently with life in the crisp morning air. It was early, the sun just beginning to cast its warm glow over the stalls. Y/N stood at her flower stand, dressed in her favorite comfortable jeans, her hair swept into a messy updo, with a few stray pieces rebelliously escaping the floral clip she’d used.

Vendors greeted each other as they set up their stands, the atmosphere familiar and friendly. Y/N chatted with Darren, the tall young man at the neighboring vegetable stand, who was enthusiastically recounting his latest adventure with his horse, Rhody.

Her attention, however, was soon caught by a sight that made her lose track of Darren’s words. A woman—possibly the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen—was walking through the market. Her long brown hair shimmered under the sunlight, and her radiant smile lit up the space around her. She wore oversized sunglasses, but even from a distance, her presence was magnetic.

Y/N’s breath caught when the woman paused in front of her stand, inspecting the flowers with an appreciative smile. Excusing herself from Darren with a quick word, Y/N approached her, offering one of her own dazzling smiles.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, trying to sound casual.

The woman looked up and returned the greeting with a warm, “Hey.”

“I noticed you’ve been eyeing the white roses,” Y/N said, nodding toward the blooms. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

The woman glanced at the flowers, then back at Y/N, her lips curving into a small smile. “They are,” she admitted.

“They symbolize purity, innocence, and new beginnings,” Y/N explained, her voice light but confident. “They’re one of my personal favorites.”

The woman’s smile deepened, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw the faintest blush on her cheeks. “That feels fitting,” the woman said, her tone thoughtful. “New beginnings, I mean.”

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “Good for you,” she said, her own smile bright. “May I ask what it’s about?”

The woman hesitated before slipping off her sunglasses, revealing striking blue eyes that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. She was breathtaking.

“I’m officially divorced,” the woman admitted, her voice tinged with relief. “The good part of that relationship ended a long time ago.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze softening. “I’m sorry it wasn’t what you deserved,” she said sincerely.

The woman laughed softly, the sound like music. “Well, it’s what I’m leaving behind that matters now.” Her eyes sparkled with a playful edge. “You always give life advice with your flowers?”

Y/N chuckled. “Only when I sense it’s needed,” she replied, her voice dropping into a teasing tone. “It’s a bonus that comes free with every bouquet.”

The woman smirked, tilting her head as if sizing Y/N up. “I like that.”

Y/N grinned, reaching for a bouquet of white roses and wrapping them carefully. Before handing it to the woman, she slipped a single red rose into the mix.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving. “And what does the red rose mean?”

Y/N held the bouquet out to her with a mysterious smile. “I’ll let you know when you come back next week.”

The woman took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s for the briefest moment. “Next week, huh? Confident, aren’t you?”

Y/N shrugged, her grin widening. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling.”

The woman laughed, her smile lingering

"Im y/n by the way"

"Kathryn" the woman said back before she walked away, leaving Y/N standing at her stand, feeling the warmth of the encounter linger long after she was gone.

Week Two

For the next week, Y/N found herself thinking about Kathryn more often than she cared to admit. She could still hear the soft cadence of Kathryn’s laugh, see the way her blue eyes sparkled when she teased her. It wasn’t the first time someone captivating had passed through her little flower stand, but there was something about Kathryn that lingered, an inexplicable pull she couldn’t shake.

By the time Friday rolled around, Y/N had spent an embarrassing amount of time rearranging her display. She told herself it was for the customers—it was spring, after all, and the flowers deserved to shine. But deep down, she knew she was hoping Kathryn might come back, though she had no real reason to expect her.

The morning passed quietly, filled with regulars buying their weekend blooms and Darren chatting her ear off about his horse yet again. But just as she started to convince herself she’d imagined the connection, there Kathryn was.

She walked through the market much the same as before, her stride confident and her hair catching the sunlight. This time, though, her smile seemed a little brighter when her eyes met Y/N’s.

“Hey there, stranger,” Kathryn greeted as she stopped in front of the stand. She was holding a coffee cup, which she raised in a small salute. “Miss me?”

Y/N leaned against the counter, her lips curving into a teasing grin. “Maybe a little,” she said smoothly. “Though I have to say, the roses you picked up last week looked a little lonely without you here to keep them company.”

Kathryn chuckled, setting her coffee down. “Well, I figured I’d stop by and see what you’ve got this time. Thought I might spoil myself again.”

“Good call,” Y/N replied. “Everyone deserves a little indulgence now and then.” She gestured to the display. “What’s the occasion this time? Another new beginning, or are we celebrating something else?”

Kathryn shrugged, her smile turning a little softer. “Maybe I just needed a reason to get out of the house. It’s been a weird week—quiet, but in a good way.”

Y/N nodded, sensing there was more to the story. “Well, I’m glad you came by. I was starting to think I’d scared you off with all my flower wisdom last time.”

“Oh, please,” Kathryn said, rolling her eyes with a playful smirk. “It takes more than that to scare me.” She paused, her gaze flicking over Y/N. “Besides, you’re fun to talk to. It’s nice… refreshing, even.”

Y/N felt a warmth rise in her chest but kept her tone light. “I’ll take that as a compliment. So, what are we feeling today? Bold? Romantic? A little mysterious, maybe?”

Kathryn laughed, leaning closer to the display as she examined the flowers. “You know, I think I’ll let you decide. You seem to have a knack for this.”

“Oh, dangerous move,” Y/N teased, already pulling together a bouquet. This time, she chose a mix of peonies, for healing and prosperity, and lavender, for peace and serenity. She finished it off with a single deep red rose, placing it prominently in the center.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow when she saw it. “You and these red roses,” she mused, her voice warm with amusement. “Are you going to keep me guessing forever, or do I finally get to know what it means?”

Y/N handed her the bouquet with a wink. “Patience, Kathryn. All good things in time.”

Kathryn shook her head, smiling as she tucked the flowers under her arm. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I try,” Y/N said, grinning. “But seriously, if you ever need more flower wisdom—or just someone to talk to—you know where to find me.”

Kathryn hesitated for just a moment, then reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “In case I need a private consultation or something.”

Y/N took it, her fingers brushing against Kathryn’s as she did. “Noted,” she said softly, feeling that pull again, stronger this time.

Kathryn lingered a moment longer, her gaze steady but kind. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said, her voice quieter now. “And for… well, just being you.”

“Anytime,” Y/N replied, watching as Kathryn turned and walked away, leaving her with the lingering scent of lavender and the promise of something new.

Week Three

The days that followed Kathryn’s visit felt lighter somehow, as if her presence had left an invisible warmth in its wake. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the little business card sitting on her counter, its edges slightly frayed from where her fingers had traced it absentmindedly.

By midweek, she decided to take a chance. Pulling out her phone, she stared at the number for a moment before typing a quick, casual message:

Hi, it’s Y/N, your personal florist 😊 Just wanted to check in and see how the flowers are holding up!

She stared at the screen for a beat too long, second-guessing herself, but before she could overthink it further, her phone buzzed with a reply.

Hey, Y/N. They’re beautiful, just like last time. You have quite the touch.

Y/N smiled at the response, feeling a little flutter in her chest. She quickly typed back.

Glad to hear that! Let me know when you’re ready for your next bouquet.

Kathryn’s reply came just as fast.

How about tomorrow? I could use a reason to step out again—and maybe some more of your flower wisdom.

Y/N’s heart did a little flip.

Tomorrow it is. Same time as last week?

Perfect.

The next morning, Y/N arrived at the market a little earlier than usual, taking extra care to set up her display. She arranged everything just so, the vibrant colors of tulips, daisies, and roses creating a cheerful splash against the wooden crates.

By the time Kathryn arrived, the market was already bustling. She walked up with her usual confident stride, her hair swept back in a loose braid and a light jacket slung over her shoulders. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly she carried herself, a mix of ease and grace that was undeniably magnetic.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kathryn greeted with a smile that instantly brightened the morning.

“Hey, Kathryn,” Y/N replied, her own smile matching the warmth in Kathryn’s voice. “Here for more flower therapy?”

“Something like that,” Kathryn said with a chuckle. She leaned lightly on the counter, her blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve decided I’m going to make this a weekly tradition—though I’m pretty sure I just come for the company at this point.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she kept her composure. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. What are we celebrating this week?”

Kathryn shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “Not sure it’s a celebration, exactly. I’ve been spending a lot of time rediscovering what I like—figuring out who I am outside of that old chapter.”

“Sounds like a celebration to me,” Y/N said, her tone soft but earnest. “Starting fresh is always worth celebrating.”

Kathryn tilted her head, her smile growing. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

Y/N grinned. “Occupational hazard, I guess. Now, let’s find something that suits this new chapter of yours.”

As she worked, Y/N felt Kathryn’s gaze linger, warm and steady. She chose a bouquet of daisies for simplicity, yellow tulips for cheer, and added a few soft pink carnations for gratitude and admiration. To finish, she tucked in another single red rose, letting it stand out.

Kathryn noticed immediately, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Another red rose, huh? Are you ever going to tell me what they mean?”

Y/N handed over the bouquet with a playful grin. “You know you could just Google it if you really wanted to know.”

Kathryn chuckled, shaking her head. “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides,” she added, her voice dipping slightly, “I have a feeling it’s worth the wait.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked down, busying herself with arranging the paper wrapping around the bouquet. “You’re dangerous, Kathryn,” she muttered with a laugh, unable to hide her own growing smile.

Kathryn leaned a little closer, her tone teasing but warm. “You have no idea.”

Y/N handed over the bouquet, their fingers brushing again, and looked up to find Kathryn’s eyes fixed on her, soft but searching.

“Well,” Y/N said, her voice steadier than she felt, “if you ever feel like waiting isn’t your thing, you know where to find me.”

Kathryn’s smile deepened, and she tucked the bouquet close to her chest. “I think I’ll enjoy the suspense for now,” she replied lightly, though her gaze lingered for just a moment longer.

“Thanks for this,” she added as she stepped back, the bouquet in one hand and her coffee in the other. “And for making my mornings a little brighter.”

“Anytime,” Y/N said softly, watching as Kathryn turned and walked away, her braid swaying lightly with each confident step. As the crowd shifted and swallowed her figure, Y/N found herself already looking forward to the next week—and whatever surprises Kathryn might bring.

Week Four

The next week, Y/N found herself waiting for Friday with a kind of nervous energy she hadn’t felt in years. She spent her mornings distracted, her evenings restless, and by the time the day arrived, she could barely focus on her usual tasks.

She tried to tell herself it was just another Friday at the market, but the thought of seeing Kathryn again made her heart race in a way she couldn’t ignore.

The day unfolded much like the previous ones, with the usual flow of customers and Darren’s cheerful chatter in the background. But when Kathryn appeared, weaving her way through the busy market, the whole scene seemed to slow.

She wore a light blue blouse that perfectly complemented her eyes, her hair loose and catching the breeze. She had that same confident stride, but this time, there was something softer about her expression, something warmer.

“Hey there,” Kathryn greeted as she approached the stand, her smile as radiant as ever. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied, her own smile spreading naturally across her face. “You’re right on time, actually. I just got in some new flowers I think you’ll love.”

Kathryn set her coffee cup down on the counter, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

Y/N laughed lightly. “Just doing my job. So, what’s the occasion this time? Let me guess—another step in the new chapter?”

Kathryn tilted her head, her smile turning a little sly. “Actually, I was thinking about starting a whole new story.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what kind of story are we talking about here?”

“The kind where I stop beating around the bush and ask you if you’d like to go out with me,” Kathryn said, her voice calm but her eyes sparkling with something playful, something hopeful.

Y/N blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, are you serious?” she asked, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her surprise.

“Dead serious,” Kathryn replied, leaning lightly against the counter. “I know it’s a bit unconventional, but I figured, why not? You’re charming, you’re kind, and you seem to have this uncanny ability to make me smile every time I see you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Wow. I mean, I’m flattered. Really flattered. But I thought I was the one supposed to be smooth here.”

Kathryn laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Don’t worry—you’re still winning in that department.”

Y/N glanced down at the flowers in front of her, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Okay,” she said finally, looking back up at Kathryn. “I’d love to go out with you.”

Kathryn’s smile grew, her eyes lighting up. “Really? I was half-expecting you to turn me down just to keep me guessing.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Y/N teased, her confidence returning. “I’m sure I’ll keep you guessing plenty on the actual date.”

Kathryn laughed again, shaking her head. “I have no doubt, I’ll text you tonight to figure out when we can make this happen.”

“Looking forward to it,” Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on Kathryn’s.

As Kathryn picked up her coffee and bouquet, she paused, glancing at the flowers Y/N had been arranging. “No red rose this time?” she asked teasingly.

Y/N grinned. “Nope. I’m saving that for the date.”

Kathryn’s laughter filled the space between them, light and warm. “You’re impossible,” she said, but her smile betrayed just how much she enjoyed it.

With a final glance, Kathryn turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing behind the counter with a heart full of anticipation and a grin she couldn’t shake.

And as the market buzzed around her, Y/N found herself already counting down the hours until their next meeting.

Week 5

Y/N sat across from Kathryn in the cozy, candlelit restaurant, the evening stretching out like a perfect melody. Conversation flowed effortlessly, Kathryn’s laughter bubbling over at Y/N’s quick-witted remarks, and Y/N finding herself leaning in closer as the night wore on.

The single red rose, nestled in the center of their table, seemed to glow in the warm light, catching Kathryn’s eye once again. She tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Alright, Y/N,” Kathryn said, her voice soft but teasing. “You promised me no more guessing. Are you finally going to tell me what the red rose means, or are we keeping this a mystery forever?”

Y/N hesitated, her confidence flickering just enough to make her cheeks flush. She reached for the rose, her fingers brushing its delicate petals as she carefully avoided Kathryn’s gaze. “It, uh… it symbolizes love and passion,” she admitted quietly, her usual bravado giving way to something more vulnerable.

Kathryn’s smile widened as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Love and passion, huh?” she echoed, her tone light but her gaze steady. “That’s quite the statement for a first date.”

Y/N chuckled nervously, her cheeks growing even warmer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just… I thought it suited you.”

Kathryn’s laughter was soft and low, a sound that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “You’re sweet,” she said, her voice dipping into something a little huskier. She picked up the rose, twirling it slowly between her fingers as she watched Y/N. “But you know, passion can mean a lot of things.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the subtle shift in Kathryn’s tone. She swallowed hard, her voice coming out a touch more uncertain than she’d intended. “Yeah? Like what?”

Kathryn leaned in just enough to close the distance between them, her blue eyes locked on Y/N’s. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her smile turning sly. “It could mean staying up all night talking… or something else entirely.”

Y/N felt her stomach flip, her mind racing at Kathryn’s implication. She cleared her throat, trying to play it cool despite the blush creeping up her neck. “I guess it depends on the company,” she managed, her voice soft but steady.

Kathryn’s grin widened, and she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face, the gesture so casual yet so intimate it made Y/N’s breath hitch. “Well,” Kathryn murmured, her tone warm and teasing, “I’d say the company tonight is pretty exceptional.”

Y/N laughed, a nervous but delighted sound, as Kathryn leaned back, her expression softening. “You’re impossible,” Y/N said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile.

“And yet, you seem to like me anyway,” Kathryn replied with a wink. She placed the rose carefully back on the table, her fingers lingering on the stem for just a moment. “Thank you—for the flowers, for tonight, for… everything.”

Y/N nodded, her smile growing as she mustered her courage. “Anytime. And I mean that.”

Kathryn’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before she stood, her movements graceful and deliberate. She bent down, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s cheek, her lips warm and lingering just enough to make Y/N’s pulse quicken.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Kathryn whispered, her voice low and filled with promise. “And thank you for being… bold.”

As Kathryn walked away, the red rose still resting on the table, Y/N couldn’t help but smile to herself. Whatever the future held, one thing was certain: Kathryn was every bit as extraordinary as Y/N had imagined—and then some.

[punksyeet]

ᰔᩚ Confessions ᰔᩚ

Plot: Gianna (OC) has been split from her ex for two years now. He drops their daughter off from visits with him every weekend, but this one ends a bit differently.

Warning: Talks of smut & hefty flirting!

"Mommy!" my daughter calls out excitedly, hopping out of my ex Joshua's car as soon as he parks.

I crouch down and she runs straight into my arms, to which I respond with a tight hug.

"Hi baby!" I reply excitedly, before kissing her cheek. "How was your time with daddy?"

"It was so much fun!" she replies, looking up at me. "We baked cookies and watched all the Barbie movies."

I chuckle and look up at him, still responding to her. "Sounds like you guys had a blast. I'm sorry I missed it."

He responds with a soft smile on his face - the same gorgeous smile I fell in love with all those years ago.

For context, Josh and I were together for 6 years and have been seperated for 2.

We started dating at the ages of 19 and 23, so naturally, some stupid decisions were made - one of which, lead to our daughter Jalina.

As big of a mistake as it was at the time, becoming a mom has changed my life for the better.

And my love for her somehow grows more and more every day.

She has all of her dad's features: his curly dark hair, big chocolate brown eyes, perfectly round nose, full lips that turn into a gorgeous smile, and even the exact caramel-like shade of his Samoan skin.

As for why we split in the first place, it was mainly because of the distance.

As the years of our relationship rolled on, Josh was getting more and more involved with WWE, and the traveling and time spent away was no joke.

From live shows, to weekly matches, and even occasional PPVs outside of the country, we barely got to see each other.

Which of course, caused us to drift apart and make the mutual decision of parting ways.

Unfortunately, our daughter had already been 4 by that time, so the breakup not only confused her, but hit her hard.

Just to be clear, the attraction is still in full effect, at least over here.

Josh is still very much the most attractive man I've ever laid eyes on, and his subtle ways of flirting with me to this day have lead me to believe he feels the same.

Anyway, fast forward to now, Jalina is 6 years old and spends time with both of her parents separately.

Her home is here with me in Savannah, but when Josh is off from work, she goes and visits with him in Atlanta.

"It's okay mom," Jalina replies, setting her backpack down onto the floor in the doorway. "I brought home some cookies for you."

She pulls out and hands me a tupperware container filled to the brim with cookies, sprinkled with pink sugar crystals.

I smile and kiss her temple. "That's very sweet of you, baby. Thank you."

She smiles and zips her backpack up again, throwing one of the straps over her shoulder.

"LiLi why don't you head upstairs and unpack," Josh suggests, stroking her hair gently.

"Okay daddy," she replies, wrapping her arms around his waist.

I smile as they share a quick hug and kiss before she runs inside and upstairs. 

The jingle of the key chains on her backpack zippers gets quieter and quieter, causing me to stand up and brush off my biker shorts.

"You hungry?" I ask, breaking the comfortable silence. "I was in the middle of making dinner when you guys arrived.”

Josh gives me a soft smile. "What kind of man would I be if I turned down your cooking?"

I smile, playfully roll my eyes, and walk back into the house, inviting him to follow me.

He does, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on a stool at the island.

"So," he begins again, watching me as I transfer the cookies into a Ziplock bag. "How's everything been?"

I shrug, sliding the zipper across the top. "Quiet, thank God. How's work?"

He tilts his head, nodding. "Busy as usual. You been keeping up with the shows?"

"Haven't I always?" I tease, setting the cookies to the side and turning around to open the fridge and grab some ingredients for a side salad to go with dinner.

I hear him chuckle from behind me. "Aight fair enough. I appreciate your support though forreal."

On my way over to the sink to wash some vegetables, I can practically feel his gaze on my ass.

I grab a cutting board and knife, and head back over to the island counter.

"No worries," I finally reply, cutting off the ends of a cucumber. "Half the time Jalina is the one to turn on the channels to watch her daddy, so it's not like I have much of a choice."

"Gee thanks," he replies sarcastically, causing me to giggle.

Comfortable silence falls over the room again, as the faint sound of our daughter playing with her dolls upstairs echoes throughout the house.

"Can I help with anything?" he asks, as I turn back to the stove to stir the pasta.

I think for a minute. "You can set the table if you'd like."

"Cool," he replies, the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

His hand lightly grazes against my hip, as he reaches up to open the cabinet and grab three dishes.

And, as if nothing has changed, I automatically get goosebumps in reaction to the feeling of his soft fingertips against my body.

"You cold?" he asks, walking past me smirking.

This mother fucker.

"Boy shut up," I reply, taking the pot off the heat and over to the sink to strain the pasta water.

He chuckles and heads over to me once the table is all set.

"I know you missed me," he teases, hugging me from behind.

"Don't flatter yourself," I lie, shaking the strainer to get all of the excess water out. "And our daughter is just upstairs. Don't act like an idiot please."

"You're acting like she wouldn't love to have her parents back together," he mumbles, his hot breath against my ear. "And besides, you ain't pushed me away yet."

He got me there.

"Whatever," I mutter, heading back over to the stove and pouring the pasta into my homemade Alfredo sauce.

He comes up from behind me again, his big hands stroking my sides, and somehow leaving even more goosebumps behind.

"Good comeback," he mumbles, and starts kissing my neck.

I bite my lower lip gently and tilt my head back, laying it against his chest to give him more access. "Joshua..."

"Feels good, huh?" he coos sexily against my jawline. "Daddy could never forget your favorite spots."

Once the pasta and sauce are fully combined, I turn towards him and fold my arms. "Josh, we've been apart for well over 2 years. What makes you think I'd still call you daddy?"

I mean, of course I would.

But this explanation should be interesting.

He cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek and his dreamy eyes staring deep into mine.

"I remember all those late nights," he begins, caressing my ass with his free hand. "When this ass was all mine. I loved seeing it arched in the air while I fucked you from behind. My favorite was when I'd shove my face in it to swallow that pussy whole. All you said was 'daddy please' this and 'yes daddy' that. You miss that just as much as I do, huh baby?"

With every dirty memory that leaves his dreamy lips, I feel myself getting wetter and wetter.

God, the things this man does to me.

"More than anything," I reply, my voice just above a whisper. "But I don't miss being apart from you all the time. We'd have sex just like you said, and then I wouldn't see you for a week, sometimes two. I felt so alone. So used."

His eyes sadden, as his thumb starts to stroke my cheek again. "We were so young, baby. But we're grown now. We know better and we can make it work. I'm willing to try again, if you are."

I let out a deep sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with his curls. "I don't know."

"Say yes mama," he practically begs, his thumb now grazing my bottom lip. "I've been missing you so much. I'd give anything to have your beautiful self belong to me again. For our daughter to have her mommy and daddy back together again. To come home after a long day and fall asleep with this gorgeous body in my arms again. I love you baby. Just say the words and I'll be your Jey-Daddy again."

Jey-Daddy.

A nickname I gave him the first time we ever had sex.

So many unwanted memories, but so many good ones too.

I take a deep breath before standing on my tippy toes and pressing my lips to his.

I don't know why I'm doing this instead of responding, but it feels so good.

Better than words anyway.

He automatically responds, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, making the kiss slow and passionate.

Our lips and tongues move perfectly in sync as he lightly grips my neck.

When we finally pull away, he looks into my eyes again. "So is that a yes?"

I lick my lips and give him a soft smile. "Yeet."

He smiles back and pecks my lips then left cheek before pulling me into a hug.

I hug back, resting my head against his chest and inhaling his delicious cocoa butter scent.

"My beautiful lady," he coos, resting his chin on my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," I reply, rubbing his back. "I never stopped."

He kisses my temple and rocks us back and forth.

—————————————————————————————————

The light snores coming from Jalina and Josh fill the room as the credits to "Cinderella III: A Twist in Time" roll on the living room TV.

I press the power button on the remote and look over at the two loves of my life.

Could I be any more lucky?

I pick Jalina up and off of Josh, making sure to be extra careful so that I don't wake either of them up.

She stirs in her sleep but wraps her arms around my neck, causing me to smile softly.

I carry her upstairs and lay her in her bed, lifting the blankets onto her body and making sure to tuck her in extra comfortably.

I press a gentle kiss to her forehead before quietly leaving her bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

I head back downstairs and find Josh still asleep on the couch.

I chuckle quietly at the sound of his loud snores and kneel onto the cushion next to him.

I gently cup his face and stroke his cheek, to which he responds with his eyes fluttering open and a soft smile when he sees me. "Hi baby."

"Hi sleepyhead," I tease, running my fingers through his curls. "I brought Jalina up to bed. You guys were knocked out by the time the movie ended."

He chuckles in response and rubs his eyes while stretching.

"I didn't wanna wake you," I continue. "But I know you have to be somewhere tomorrow and the couch might not be the most comfortable."

He smiles again, and strokes my cheek. "You're an angel, baby. Thank you."

We share a quick kiss before I take his hand and lead us upstairs to bed.

Once we're all cozy under the covers, we just kinda lay there, staring into each other's eyes.

"What?" I ask shyly, blushing like a maniac.

One thing about this man: he's always gonna make me blush regardless of the 6 years we spent together.

He chuckles and removes a curl from my face. "You're so pretty, baby."

"Thank you," I reply looking down, my face hot to the touch.

He gently lifts my chin and stares deep into my eyes.

"I'm so happy you're mine again." *Kiss* "You're everything." *Kiss* "I love you so much, baby. And I will for as long as you'll let me." *One final kiss*

I kiss back each time and bite my bottom lip after the last one before speaking up. "I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

We share a smile as I wrap my arms around him.

He rubs my lower back and buries his head into my neck, giving me a ton of kisses there too.

When we finally pull away, he puckers his lips and I giggle before accepting his offer, pressing mine to his once more.

Soon enough, we drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

Lord, thank you for bringing the man of my dreams back into my life.

Liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu, truekofi, and 74.6k others

giannamacri my entire 🫶🏽

View all 1.3k comments

uceyjucey I love you 🩵

trinity_fatu Power couple! 😍

jonathanfatu ❤️

Liked by giannamacri, jonathanfatu, zillafatu, trickwilliamswwe, and 292.8k others

uceyjucey Never lettin' you go again 🥶🩵

View all 39.2k comments

giannamacri 🔐🩵

jonathanfatu Atta boy uce ❤️

Tag List: @uceyliyahh @christinabae ♡

Join my tag list here! <3

Request a one-shot here! ✍🏼

Check out my wattpad and twitter! 💟

Follows, feedback, & reblogs appreciated! 🧚‍♀️

[elryuse]

To celebrate the release of part 1 of your Hierarchy series how about a fic about Yoon He-ra in where the readers family decides to help her out when her family was in debt, but the readers family made a condition in where the Reader and He-ra would be in an arranged marriage

A NEW BEGINNING

YOON HERA X MALE READER

The rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm raging within Yoon He-ra's heart. Her family, once a beacon of hope, was now drowning in a sea of debt. The weight of their financial burden pressed down on her shoulders, a heavy, suffocating force.

A flicker of hope ignited when an unexpected offer arrived. The wealthy Kim family, particularly their son, Y/n, had extended a helping hand. Their generosity was overwhelming, but it came with a steep price.

The Kims' ultimatum was clear: an arranged marriage between He-ra and Y/n. It was a cold, calculated move, a strategic alliance to secure their interests. He-ra, a mere pawn in their grand scheme, was forced to accept her fate.

As the wedding day approached, He-ra found herself increasingly isolated. Her friends, once a source of comfort and support, began to distance themselves. The harsh truth was that they were uncomfortable with her newfound status as a future heiress, a position they couldn't relate to.

In the midst of this social upheaval, only one friend remained steadfast: Jae-i. She had always been different, a true friend who saw beyond the superficial. She understood the weight of He-ra's burden, the sacrifices she was making for her family.

"You don't have to do this, He-ra," Jae-i said, her voice filled with concern. "You deserve better."

He-ra, her heart heavy, shook her head. "I-i have no choice, Jaei-ah" she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

As the wedding day approached, He-ra couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread. She was marrying a stranger, a man she barely knew. What would their life together be like? Would they be able to connect on a deeper level, or would they remain mere acquaintances bound by a contract?

On the day of the wedding, He-ra finally met Y/n. To her surprise, he was nothing like the cold, calculating figure she had imagined. Instead, he was kind, gentle, and surprisingly understanding. He seemed genuinely concerned about her well-being and made a conscious effort to make her feel comfortable.

As they spent more time together, He-ra began to question her initial assumptions. Perhaps this arranged marriage wasn't as terrible as she had feared. Maybe there was hope for a future filled with love and happiness.

As she prepared to start a new life with Y/n, He-ra couldn't help but wonder how their relationship would evolve. Would they be able to overcome the challenges of an arranged marriage and build a genuine connection? Only time would tell.

The night was still young, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the city. He-ra and Y/n sat on a secluded bench in the park, the soft rustling of leaves providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

"So, Y/n," He-ra began, her voice barely a whisper, "what do you expect from this marriage?"

Y/n turned to her, his gaze soft and tender. "I simply want to spend my life with you, He-ra," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to care for you, to protect you, and to love you unconditionally."

He-ra's heart skipped a beat. His words, simple yet profound, touched her in a way she hadn't expected. She had been so caught up in the complexities of their situation that she had forgotten the most important thing: the human connection.

"But... but what about the family expectations?" she stammered, her voice filled with uncertainty. "The pressure, the obligations..."

Y/n took her hand in his, his touch warm and comforting. "We'll face those challenges together," he assured her. "We'll create our own happiness, regardless of what others expect."

He-ra's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. Yet, there was a strange sense of peace that washed over her. Perhaps this arranged marriage wasn't so bad after all.

As they sat there, lost in each other's gaze, a spark ignited between them. It was a spark of hope, a spark of love, a spark that could ignite a beautiful future.

The limousine glided smoothly through the city streets, the soft hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding within. He-ra and Y/n sat side by side, their fingers intertwined.

As they drew closer to Jooshin High, Y/n's hand, bold and confident, slid across the seat and gently rested on He-ra's thigh. A shiver ran through her, a mix of surprise and anticipation. His touch, soft and tender, sent a wave of warmth through her body. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement.

When they arrived at the school, Y/n leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Have a good day, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

He-ra, her cheeks flushed, nodded silently. As she watched him walk away, she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a sense of security.

At school, He-ra immediately became the center of attention. Whispers and curious glances followed her every move. It was as if she had become a celebrity overnight. Some students were envious, others were simply amazed.

Jae-i, noticing the unwanted attention, approached He-ra. "Don't mind them," she said, her voice firm. "They're just jealous."

He-ra smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jae-i. You're a lifesaver."

With Jae-i by her side, He-ra was able to navigate the day with relative ease. Together, they faced the curious stares, the snide remarks, and the hushed conversations. And together, they emerged victorious.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, He-ra gathered her belongings and prepared to leave. Just as she was about to step out of the classroom, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

"He-ra," Y/n's voice, soft and gentle, broke the silence. "Would you like to grab a bite to eat with me?"

He-ra's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at him, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. His warm smile and inviting eyes made it impossible to refuse.

"Sure," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

As they walked together, the other students couldn't help but stare. They were an unexpected pair, a match made in an unlikely heaven. But as they watched the way Y/n looked at He-ra, filled with affection and adoration, they began to understand.

Perhaps love, like fate, could surprise even the most cynical of hearts.

- To Be Continued -

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - G

I'm rushing to finish so I can calm my obsession down and focus on my research...

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F |

You were brooding. Your eyes narrowed as you thought about the calming tea Agatha gave you last night. You were sure the tea had something in it—something that coaxed you into sleep far too quickly. The warmth it spread through your chest had been comforting, yes, but it had also dulled your thoughts and blurred the edges of your mind. You could still feel the faint echo of that haze, lingering like an uninvited guest.

The more you thought about it, the more unsettled you became. Why would they need to make you fall asleep? Was it simply to ease your nerves, as Agatha claimed? Or was it to silence your questions?

Your fingers tightened around the edges of your dress as a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your chest. Were you foolish to trust them? Agatha’s sharp words and Rio’s playful evasions swirled in your mind. They had given you partial answers, at least—but it felt like they were carefully dancing around the truth, revealing only what they wanted you to know.

And yet… your thoughts drifted back to how Agatha had looked at you, her sharp eyes softening for the briefest moment. And with her teasing smirks, Rio seemed genuinely intrigued by you in a way you had never experienced before. Could two women so dangerous truly be toying with you? Or was there something more to the pull you felt toward them—a pull they also seemed to feel?

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair as you leaned back against the chair. No matter how hard you tried to untangle your thoughts, they always seemed to circle back to the same question: Why did they care about you?

Your room felt stifling, the morning sunlight spilling through the windows doing little to ease the tension in your chest. You stood abruptly, pacing across the floor. If you couldn’t make sense of their actions, perhaps you could make sense of your own. Why had you sought them out last night, risking the darkness and whatever dangers lurked beyond the city’s walls? Why had you felt so drawn to them in the first place?

Your fingers brushed the edge of the window as you looked out over the courtyard, your siblings’ voices faint in the distance. The world outside seemed so simple, so ordinary, yet your thoughts were consumed by something—someone—far beyond the boundaries of this life.

The pull. That maddening, inexplicable pull. You pressed a hand to your chest as if you could quiet the racing of your heart. It was not just curiosity, was it? That would be easier to accept. Safer. But this—this was something deeper, something more dangerous.

Love.

The word flitted across your mind suddenly, and you immediately shook your head, your cheeks burning even in the privacy of your room. No. It could not be that. It was not that. You barely knew them. You refused to call it that.

The pull was not love. It was… fascination. Curiosity. Something you did not fully understand yet. Something that did not have a name.

And that thought unsettled you more than anything else.

Your reflection in the glass caught your eye, and for a moment, you barely recognised yourself. The woman staring back at you looked uncertain, conflicted. Vulnerable.

With a sharp inhale, you turned away from the window. No. You would not allow yourself to become tangled in whatever spell they had cast over you. If Agatha and Rio thought they could manipulate you, they were sorely mistaken.

But even as you tried to harden your resolve, a small voice whispered at the back of your mind, tugging at the edges of your thoughts: What if they are not manipulating you? What if THIS is real?

The thought left you both shaken and strangely exhilarated. For now, you resolved to keep your distance, to bury yourself in the familiar rhythms of your household. But deep down, you knew it would not last. They had already carved their way into your mind, and no amount of distraction could make you forget.

You stopped pacing as a voice called you from outside the door. It was your sister.

"Can I come in?" she asked, her tone hesitant but curious.

You hesitated, smoothing down your dress instinctively before replying, "Yes."

The door creaked open, and your sister stepped inside, her eyes immediately narrowing as she surveyed the room. Her gaze lingered on you, standing in the middle of the space with a distracted look, as if caught mid-motion.

"You’re acting strange," she said bluntly, tilting her head. "Were you… pacing?"

You quickly averted your eyes, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeve. "I was thinking," you said, hoping the curt reply would be enough to deter further questioning.

Your sister did not seem convinced. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, crossing her arms. Despite the contrasting nature of your personalities—her boldness clashing with your usual restraint—you had once been close. That closeness had frayed over time, especially after your parents began discussing potential marriage proposals. The expectations placed on you had created a chasm neither of you could bridge.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice softer now, a flicker of genuine concern breaking through her usual straightforward demeanour.

You hummed noncommittally, avoiding her gaze.

Her eyes narrowed further, and then, with her characteristic bluntness, she said, "This is about Lord Rio, isn’t it?"

You flinched, the reaction betraying you before you could stop it. Her words struck too close to the truth, though not in the way she intended.

"Ah! So it is about Lord Rio!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with sudden excitement. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she stepped closer. "Are you in love with him?"

"What?" you blurted, utterly dumbfounded. You stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted wings. "How… how can you even think that?"

Her grin widened, clearly pleased with your flustered reaction. "Oh, come on. You’ve been acting so strange lately—daydreaming, wandering out alone, and now this pacing. And you flinched the moment I mentioned his name! It’s obvious."

You felt heat rush to your face and turned away, desperate to compose yourself. "That is ridiculous," you said sharply, though your voice lacked conviction. "How could I…? He’s…" You faltered, realising you could not explain without revealing more than you intended. Such as 'Lord Rio' being actually a woman.

"See?" she teased, poking your arm. "You can’t even deny it properly!"

"It's not like that," you snapped. "And besides, how could you even suggest something so—" You paused, struggling to find the words. Improper? Absurd? Dangerous? All of them seemed fitting.

Your sister raised an eyebrow, her teasing grin softening slightly. "You’re not denying it very convincingly, you know."

You exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It is not love," you said finally, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. "And I would appreciate it if you refrained from making such… assumptions."

She studied you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before sighing dramatically. "Fine, fine. But if you do fancy him, you should tell me first. I want to be the first to know when my perfect, prim sister finally falls in love."

You shot her a glare, but she only laughed, her teasing light and free. For a moment, you envied her simplicity, her ability to find humour even in situations like this.

She started toward the door but paused, glancing over her shoulder with a thoughtful look. "You know," she said, her tone more serious now, "Grandfather probably wouldn’t mind if it were Lord Rio."

Your head snapped up at her words. "What do you mean?"

"He seems to like Lord Rio. He practically rolled out the red carpet for him. I’ve never seen him treat anyone that way, not even some of the royal envoys. If you were serious about him…" She trailed off, suggesting lightly. "I think Grandfather would approve."

You stared at her, stunned into silence. The idea seemed absurd, and yet… the thought of your grandfather’s unusual hospitality toward Rio surfaced in your mind. Could it be true? Would he truly allow such a match, especially with someone so unconventional?

Your sister made to leave, her hand brushing the door handle.

"Wait," you said, your voice stopping her mid-motion. She turned, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Do you think…" You hesitated, biting your lip before continuing. "Do you think it is possible to love two people at the same time?"

Your sister blinked, clearly startled by the question. Her head tilted slightly as though she were trying to read your expression. "Love two people?" she echoed. "Well… royals do it all the time, don’t they?"

The implication hung in the air. She did not say it outright, but you knew she was referring to kings and their wives and concubines.

You frowned, her answer leaving you more unsettled than before. "But what if—" You faltered, your cheeks burning. "What if they were all… equal? Not one above the other?"

Your sister tilted her head, her expression perplexed now. "Equal? Like…" Her words trailed off as she tried to grasp the question. "I suppose it’s possible," she said finally, though her tone was uncertain. "But… why are you asking?"

You ignored her question, rushing into another before she could press further. "And… what if it was between women?"

This time, her eyes widened in surprise. "Women?" she repeated, her voice lowering as though she feared someone might overhear. She studied you for a long moment, her gaze sharp. Then, to your surprise, her expression softened. "Well, I suppose love is love, isn’t it? Who’s to say it matters who the person is? As long as it’s real."

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you saw her in a new light. She was no longer the impulsive, sharp-tongued sibling you remembered but someone who had grown in ways you had not noticed. Her words, simple as they were, carried an earnestness that felt oddly comforting, as though she were trying to reach you in her own way.

"You’ve… grown," you murmured, the realisation slipping out before you could stop it.

She blinked at you, startled, before her lips curved into a grin. "Well, someone has to, with you being so busy pacing and brooding all the time."

You huffed, though her teasing felt gentler now, less cutting. "You are still insufferable," you muttered.

"And you’re still hopeless," she shot back, her grin widening. "But seriously… if you’re troubled about something, just remember—love isn’t something you choose. It just is."

She left before you could respond, leaving you alone in the room. Her words lingered, the truth in them cutting through your carefully built walls.

Confidence bloomed in your chest, tentative but unmistakable. The conversation with your sister, though brief and filled with more questions than answers, had left you with an unexpected sense of clarity. Her words, simple as they were, carried a strange comfort that eased some of the turmoil within you.

Still, a small voice in your head nagged at you. Am I so easily swayed? you wondered, your steps slowing as you left your room. Can a few words from her change my mind so quickly? The thought made you pause, your fingers brushing the doorframe. For a moment, doubt threatened to creep back in.

But then you shook your head firmly. No, you told yourself. She was right. Love is love. And if anyone has answers about what this pull means, it’s Agatha and Rio.

Your resolve strengthened, and you headed down the hallway with purpose. The sunlight streaming through the windows felt warmer than usual, almost encouraging. You made your way toward the courtyard and slipped out unnoticed. It was late morning, and the household was busy with its usual routines—no one paid you much attention as you exited the gates.

The path toward the outskirts of the city felt familiar now, though it still carried a certain unease. This time, however, you were not cloaked in darkness or fear. The daylight lent an air of normalcy to the journey, and as you approached the well, you felt certain that you could find their house. After all, you had been there before, even if the details of the path blurred in your memory.

Your steps quickened as the shaman tree came into view, its colourful ribbons fluttering gently in the breeze. The well stood in its usual place, unassuming and silent. You slowed, glancing around, half-expecting to see Agatha or Rio waiting for you.

But the well was empty.

Frowning, you moved closer, your hand brushing the cool stone. For a moment, doubt flickered again. What if they were not here? What if they did not want to see you?

No, you thought firmly. If they do not come, I will find the house myself.

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to recall the surreal path you had taken before. The hazy memory of walking on water flashed in your mind, the shimmering lake and the lotus flowers vivid but disjointed. You remembered the feel of Agatha’s hand guiding you, the weight of Rio’s presence beside you. You had been too distracted to notice the route properly, but you were determined to try.

Opening your eyes, you took a tentative step away from the well, scanning the trees and the underbrush for any sign of a path. The air here felt different, heavier somehow, though you could not say why. A breeze rustled the leaves above, and you thought you caught the faintest trace of lavender and smoke—Agatha’s scent.

Encouraged, you followed the sensation, your steps deliberate as you moved deeper into the wooded area. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of green leaves, dappling the ground in golden patches. The further you went, the quieter the world seemed to grow, as though the forest was holding its breath.

And then you saw the gate; it was shimmering with strange air. It was unmistakable, like a ripple across the surface of still water. You paused, your heart quickening. This was it—the entrance to their world.

Without hesitation, you stepped forward.

The shimmer enveloped you, and the world turned white for a moment. When the thick white fog passed, you stood before their house again. The lake stretched out to your left, its surface still and mirror-like, reflecting the soft, diffuse glow that illuminated everything. The light was bright and steady, yet it cast no shadows, with no sun or moon to be found in the sky above. The surreal stillness of the place sent a faint shiver through you, though you steadied yourself quickly.

"Persistent as ever," a familiar voice drawled behind you.

You turned sharply to find Agatha leaning against the gate frame, her arms crossed and her lips curled into a sly smile. Her blue eyes glinted with mischief, and you swore you caught the faintest trace of purple in their depths.

"Did you miss us, doll?" she teased, straightening and stepping closer. "Or are you here to demand more answers?"

Before you could reply, Rio appeared behind you, startling you a little. Her emerald robes gleaming under the soft light as she moved with her usual effortless grace. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips curving into a grin.

"You certainly have a talent for showing up uninvited," Rio said lightly. "But I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. You seem to have a knack for finding us."

You lifted your chin, refusing to let their teasing fluster you. "I came because I need to understand," you said firmly. "About… this." You gestured vaguely between the three of you, your voice faltering slightly. "This feeling. And the shaman."

Agatha’s smile did not waver, but something in her gaze sharpened. "The shaman again," she murmured, her tone unreadable. "You are nothing if not determined, doll."

Rio chuckled, stepping forward until she was only a pace away. "Well then," she said, her voice warm and inviting, "let’s not keep you waiting. Come inside."

Agatha stepped aside with a flourish, gesturing for you to enter. You did not hesitate and followed them through the door.

The air inside the house was cool and fragrant, the faint scent of herbs and something smoky lingering. The light within their home was the same as outside—bright, steady, and source-less. The room was bathed in a warm glow, the furniture arranged with a casual elegance that felt distinctly theirs. As you stepped further in, you could not shake the feeling that you were walking into the lion’s den—not because you felt unsafe, but because you knew, deep down, that nothing about this encounter would leave you unchanged.

Rio motioned toward a seat, her smile softening. "Sit, my lady. We’ll talk."

You sat carefully, your hands folded in your lap as you watched them move around the room. Agatha flicked her wrist with a graceful flourish, and a cup of tea appeared on the table before you, the purple haze of her magic dissipating like smoke.

"Drink," Agatha said, her tone firm but not unkind. "It’ll help you think."

You hesitated, remembering the tea from the previous night. But the way they watched you—expectant, curious—left you no choice. With a quiet exhale, you lifted the cup and took a sip. The warmth spread through you, soothing your nerves but leaving your mind sharp.

They sat across from you, their eyes expectant, waiting for you to speak.

"I…" You faltered, your hands gripping the cup tightly. The words felt heavy on your tongue, almost impossible to push out. But the moment hung in the air, their gazes steady and unwavering, and you knew you couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

"I’m in love with you two," you said suddenly, the confession tumbling out in a rush.

The reaction was immediate. Agatha nearly spat out her tea, her blue eyes widening in disbelief as she hastily set her cup down. Rio, ever poised, wasn’t much better—her hand, which had been resting casually near her lips, dropped abruptly to the table as her eyes widened as far as you’d ever seen.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint ripple of the lake outside. Then Agatha leaned back in her chair, recovering first, though her expression was a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"Well," she said, her voice still tinged with a surprise edge. "That’s… direct."

Rio blinked, still processing, before a slow grin spread across her face. "My, my," she murmured, her voice soft and almost reverent. "Our little noble lady has quite the bold streak."

Your face burned, but you refused to back down. "I know it sounds ridiculous," you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly. "I barely know you, and yet… I can’t deny what I feel. It’s not just the pull. It’s something deeper."

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze sharp but unreadable. "Deeper," she echoed, her tone softer now, almost contemplative. "Do you even understand what you’re saying, doll?"

"I don’t," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I know it’s real. And I know it’s not normal to feel this way toward two people at once. Especially…"

"Especially two women," Rio finished for you, her grin softening into something gentler though her dark eyes still glinted with mischief. "You’ve been taught to think it’s impossible, haven’t you? That it’s wrong."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes. But now… I don’t know anymore."

Agatha exhaled, running a hand through her hair as she leaned forward. "You’re not wrong, doll," she said softly. "It isn’t normal in our society's standard. It isn’t easy. But…" She paused, her gaze locking with yours. "It doesn’t mean it isn’t real."

Rio chuckled softly, her grin widening. "Who would’ve thought," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "Our little lady, confessing so boldly. I’m impressed."

You frowned, her teasing making you feel exposed. "I—"

Before you could continue, Agatha held up a hand, her expression turning serious. "We’ll talk about this more later," she said firmly. "For now, let’s focus on the other matter. The shaman, wasn’t it?"

You nodded, grateful for the shift in topic but acutely aware that the conversation was far from over. Agatha and Rio exchanged a glance before settling back into their chairs, their attention returning to you.

"Very well," Agatha said smoothly. "Let’s talk."

Agatha leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. The faintest trace of a smirk tugged at her lips, but her gaze was calculating, sharp. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "Would you run away if I killed the shaman?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. Your breath caught, and the room seemed to grow colder for a fleeting moment. Despite the casual tone in which she posed the question, there was no mistaking the weight of her words. She wasn’t asking hypothetically but admitting it, challenging you with the truth.

You stared at her, stunned but refusing to flinch. Your hands gripped the edge of your seat, but you met her gaze directly, searching her eyes for answers. Agatha’s expression gave nothing away; her face was calm, her sharp features unreadable.

Despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you, you didn’t feel fear. Killing someone was not unheard of in your world. Whether it was for power, politics, or ambition, you had seen it firsthand, particularly through your grandfather's actions. Life and death were tools in the hands of those who held power. The thought was sobering but not shocking.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to remain composed. "I'd want to know why," you said finally, your voice steadier than you expected. "Before I decide whether or not to… end things between us."

Agatha’s lips twitched, her smirk growing into something sharper. Her blue eyes glinted with approval, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw a flicker of that purple glow again.

"Interesting," she murmured, leaning forward slightly. "You don’t run. You don’t scream. You want to understand first." Her voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. Respect, perhaps. Or curiosity.

Rio, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, let out a low whistle. "Well," she said, her grin wide and wolfish as she leaned back against the table. "Our pretty lady is full of surprises."

"Why did you do it?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "The shaman… was it for power or something else?"

Agatha’s smirk faded, replaced by something colder, sharper. She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving yours. "Power," she said simply, her tone devoid of apology or regret. "She was a witch. And witches… are rare in this part of the region. I take what they have, make it mine."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. There was no remorse in her voice, no hesitation in her admission. Yet, despite everything, you didn’t feel the urge to run. If anything, her honesty only deepened the strange love you felt toward her.

"But why her?" you pressed, your voice firmer now. "Why now?"

Agatha’s gaze flicked to Rio briefly before returning to you. "She was old, her power waning," she said matter-of-factly. "She wouldn’t have lasted much longer, and what she carried would have been lost. It was… practical."

You blinked, the cold logic of her words startling but not entirely unexpected. "And you thought that was reason enough to take her life?"

"Do you disagree?" Agatha countered smoothly, her sharp smile returning. "You've lived in a world where power rules, the strong survive, and the weak perish. Don't pretend you're naive to even this."

Your breath hitched, her words cutting deep into truths you had spent your life trying to ignore. She wasn’t wrong—your world was one where power ruled, where those at the top decided life and death. You had seen it in your grandfather’s dealings, in whispered court scandals, and in the quiet disappearances of those who fell out of favour.

But knowing didn’t make it easier to accept.

"I'm not naïve," you said finally, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you. "But that doesn't mean I agree. Taking a life, no matter the reason is not something I can just… accept. I'm not heartless."

Agatha tilted her head, her sharp gaze unwavering. "Not even when it’s for survival? For the greater good?"

You hesitated, the question hanging heavy in the air. "I suppose that depends on whose greater good we’re talking about," you said quietly.

Rio, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, finally stepped in. "It's always about perspective, isn't it?" she said lightly, though her tone carried an edge. "One person's villain is another's saviour. Or haven't you learned that yet, my lady?"

Her words sent a chill down your spine, though you refused to let it show. "And which are you?" you asked, gazing at her. "Villain or saviour?"

Rio's grin widened, but her eyes darkened, the playful glint fading into something far more dangerous. "Both," she said simply, her voice soft but brimming with a quiet power that tightened your chest. "Depending on who's telling the story."

Your stomach twisted, her words pulling at something deep inside you—an instinct you couldn’t place but couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, the question tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. "Were you there?" Your gaze locked onto Rio, unwavering.

"When Agatha killed the shaman?" Rio asked, her tone almost amused. Her unapologetic demeanour only heightened your unease. "Yes," she admitted, her grin sharpening, "I was there."

Your breath hitched, the confirmation sending a wave of shock through you. It wasn't the admission itself—it was the way Rio said it, as though the question entertained her more than it concerned her.

Agatha leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. "And now you're wondering if that makes us monsters," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a dangerous undertone. "That's the real question, isn't it? Not whether we're villains or saviours, but what we are to you."

You stiffened, her words striking a chord you hadn't been ready to acknowledge. Despite the danger they represented, despite the shadows that seemed to follow them, you couldn't deny the truth of your feelings.

"I still love you both," you said, your voice steady enough to hold their attention. "Even after everything, I… can't stop loving you."

Rio's eyes widened momentarily, the surprise flashing across her face before her usual grin returned, though it softened into something more thoughtful. She leaned back against the table, her fingers tapping lightly against the wood. "Well," she said, her voice quieter than before, "that's not something I hear every day."

Agatha’s sharp gaze bore into you, her expression unreadable. "Even knowing what we’ve done?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with something dangerous. "Knowing who we are?"

You met her gaze head-on, refusing to falter. "Yes," you said simply. "I know it doesn’t make sense. And maybe I should run—maybe that would be the smart thing to do. But I can’t. I love you, and I won’t pretend I don’t."

The room fell silent, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. Rio exchanged a glance with Agatha, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

"You're braver than I thought, my lady," Rio said finally, her grin softening into something almost reverent. "Most wouldn't dare admit such a thing. Especially… not to us."

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow, sharp smile, though her eyes softened slightly as they held yours. "You’re full of surprises," she murmured, her voice tinged with a quiet admiration. "And maybe… just maybe, you’re not as fragile as I thought."

You let out a shaky breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly as their reactions began to settle in. "I don’t expect you to change," you said, your voice steadier now. "But I won’t let what I feel be dictated by fear. Not anymore."

Rio’s laugh broke the tension, light and melodic as she tilted her head at you. "You’re a remarkable woman," she said, her tone filled with something almost akin to pride. "I can see why the Fates brought us to you."

Agatha's smirk widened, and there was no hint of mockery in it for the first time—only quiet approval. "You might be more dangerous than us, doll," she said softly, raising her tea in a silent toast. "And that… is very intriguing."

You allowed yourself a small, tentative smile for the first time in what felt like forever. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t alone in this. And despite everything, despite the risks and the unknowns, that knowledge was enough to keep you standing.

Not everything was solved, but you had two answers—one that settled warmly in your chest and another that sat like a cold stone in the pit of your stomach. You loved them both. That much was clear, undeniable, and inescapable. And yes, Agatha had killed the shaman, her motives rooted in power. You didn’t want to think about the latter too deeply—not now. For now, you wanted to focus on them, to learn more about the two enigmatic women who had turned your world upside down.

"Are you going home?" Agatha’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts, drawing your attention. Her sharp blue eyes tinged faintly with purple in the surreal daylight of their realm, studied you intently.

You blinked, startled. "I… I suppose I should," you replied, though the thought of leaving this place, with its bright, shadowless light and strange warmth, felt almost painful. The atmosphere, their company—it was far more inviting than your empty chambers back home.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "Or you could stay a little longer," she suggested, her tone deceptively casual.

Rio grinned as she leaned lazily against a nearby table, the golden ornaments on her bracelet catching the light as she moved. "Oh, I like that idea," she said, her voice warm and teasing. "It’s not often we have such delightful company. Besides," she added, leaning closer, "you’ve come all this way. It’d be rude not to enjoy yourself a little, wouldn’t it?"

You hesitated, caught between your own longing to stay and the ever-present voice of propriety whispering in the back of your mind. "I suppose… a little longer wouldn’t hurt," you murmured finally.

"That’s the spirit," Rio said brightly, straightening with a grin. She gestured toward a set of low cushions near an intricately carved wooden table. "Come, let’s make you comfy from that un-comfy chair."

Before you could respond, Agatha rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh, flicking her wrist in that graceful, practised manner. The now-familiar swirl of purple haze enveloped her hand and with a faint shimmer, a soft, luxurious chair materialised behind you. The cushions looked impossibly plush and inviting, far more so than the stiff-backed chair you’d been sitting on.

"There’s no such word as 'un-comfy,' Rio," Agatha said smoothly, her tone carrying just the right amount of mock chastisement. Still, the teasing curve of her lips betrayed her amusement.

Rio shrugged dramatically, flopping onto one of the cushions on the floor with an air of exaggerated nonchalance. "What can I say?" she quipped, her grin as sharp as ever. "I’m a trendsetter. Who needs proper words when you’ve got charm?" She threw a wink your way, earning an eye-roll from Agatha.

"Charm and nonsense seem to be your specialties," Agatha retorted lightly, her sharp blue eyes briefly meeting yours as she gestured toward the chair she had conjured. "Sit, doll. It’s been a long day for you."

You hesitated momentarily, the weight of their gazes making your chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. But the plush chair was too tempting to resist. You sank into it, the cushions enveloping you in an almost indulgent way.

Rio leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched you settle in. "See? Much better than a stuffy old chair, isn’t it?" she said, her voice warm and playful.

You allowed yourself a small smile, nodding slightly as you let the comfort of the chair ease some of the tension in your body. "It is," you admitted softly, glancing between the two of them. Despite their contrasting personalities, the way they both looked at you—with a mix of amusement, curiosity, and something deeper—made your heart flutter in a way you still weren’t sure how to process.

Agatha’s expression softened just a fraction, though her sharp eyes never lost their intensity. "Good," she said simply, her voice low and soothing. "Because you deserve to be comfortable here, with us."

Rio smirked, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Just don’t get too comfy, pretty lady. We wouldn’t want you falling asleep again before the fun begins."

Agatha shot her a warning look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a reluctant smile. "Rio," she said dryly, "behave."

Rio merely laughed, her gaze never leaving yours. "What? I’m just saying—our little lady deserves a proper welcome, don’t you think?"

Rio leaned back casually, crossing her arms behind her head and propping her legs on the table with a nonchalance that made your breath catch. Your eyes darted to her with barely concealed shock. It was, without a doubt, one of the most scandalous things you had ever seen. You couldn’t imagine anyone in your household—even your younger brother—behaving with such flagrant disregard for decorum. A noblewoman, no less, sitting like that! Your upbringing screamed against it, yet there was something disarmingly magnetic about Rio’s confidence.

Rio tilted her head, her grin widening as her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "Something wrong, my lady?" she asked lightly, clearly sensing your culture shock. Her grin turned mischievous. "I’d think someone bold enough to confess her love to two women at once wouldn’t get flustered over a little thing like this." She laughed, low and teasing.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. She was right—after everything you had experienced and admitted, why was this display of impropriety still throwing you off? It was absurd, really. You bit your lip, trying to suppress your own embarrassment, and forced yourself to look away from Rio’s knowing smirk.

"You’re a curious one," Rio remarked again, her tone softening into something more playful. "Still showing this kind of reaction after chasing us down and asking all these questions. I like that about you."

Agatha chuckled softly, her smile sharpening with a touch of dry humour. "She does have a habit of demanding answers," she said, her tone teetering between teasing and serious. "It’s almost endearing. Almost."

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to reconcile their relaxed behaviour with the rigid expectations you had grown up with. Scandalous or not, there was no denying their allure—or the strange love you’d been falling into. The pull you felt toward them, the way your heart raced in their presence, was undeniable.

You flushed slightly but refused to let their teasing throw you off. "I just… want to understand you both better," you admitted, your voice softer now. "I feel like there’s so much I don’t know, and I—"

"Have time," Rio interrupted, her voice unexpectedly gentle. She leaned backward, her dark eyes softening as she met your gaze. "You’ll figure it all out eventually. We’re not going anywhere."

Agatha raised a brow, her smirk softening as her gaze fixed on you. "And in the meantime, perhaps we’ll learn a thing or two about you, doll."

The warmth in their words and the easy way they surrounded you made your chest ache in the best way. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to relax, sinking into the comfort of the chair as their presence wrapped around you like a protective cloak.

The surreal light of their realm filtered through the open space, bathing everything in a gentle glow. The afternoon was filled with quiet conversation and the occasional teasing remark. It wasn’t the answers you had come for, not entirely. But it was enough. For now, it was enough.

[godimus]

May we have TF Prime Knockout or TF Prime Bulkhead with a human reader who's trying to get their driver's license?

Knockout X Reader

“I assume you know what you’re doing, doll.”

The slightly hissy, aristocratic voice crackled through the radio as I adjusted the steering wheel, weaving gently through the safety cones I’d arranged in an abandoned parking lot. The makeshift driving test area wasn’t ideal, but it worked—and it felt far better than the pressure of the official test looming over me.

I chuckled, amused by the grumpy red bot who had begrudgingly agreed to this little experiment. “Relax, Knockout. I know what I’m doing. Just sit tight and let me handle it.”

He let out a low, dramatic groan, the kind that only Knockout could muster. Letting me, a human, behind the wheel of his pristine alt-mode was already a miracle. But offering himself as my demo car instead of me renting some plain sedan? That was huge. I might’ve actually teared up when he’d first agreed, if it weren’t for his habitually cranky attitude.

“Watch the cones,” he snapped.

I was so focused on his voice that I barely noticed the steering wheel nudging gently under my hands. He’d taken back control just long enough to correct my trajectory and avoid a cone I’d nearly grazed.

I huffed, tightening my grip. “You’re too tense, you know that? It’s hard to drive when you’re this stiff.”

“You’re one to talk,” he drawled.

Without thinking, I started massaging the sleek black rim of the wheel with my thumbs. “There, better?”

The whole cabin vibrated in response as a low, unmistakable purr rumbled through his engine. “Careful, doll,” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing register. “You keep that up, and I might have to teach you a lesson far more… engaging than driving.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I pulled my hands back, suppressing a laugh. “Save it, Romeo. My life depends on passing this test, so let’s keep things professional. For now.”

His engine let out an exaggerated groan, as if mocking my restraint. But to my surprise, he didn’t retort. Instead, he settled into an uncharacteristic patience as the hours passed. We practiced everything—from smooth turns to emergency braking—and he even gave me a crash course on a car’s essential parts.

Knockout, the self-proclaimed master of style and speed, was surprisingly good at teaching.

“It’s getting late, doll. We should stop for today,” he finally said, his tone softer now.

I sighed, stretching against the warmth of the leather seat. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. “Aw, I was just starting to have fun,” I teased, letting my fingers trail idly over the steering wheel.

“Yes, well, I’m glad one of us is enjoying this.”

I could hear the faint smirk in his voice, though, and I knew he was indulging me in his own way.

“One more lap?” I asked, hopeful.

He hesitated, his engine rumbling thoughtfully. “Fine. But if you scuff my paint, you’re paying for a full detail.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

As we rounded the lot one last time, a sudden screech echoed in the distance, followed by a sharp glint of headlights. I froze, heart pounding, as an unfamiliar car sped into the parking lot, its aggressive movements suggesting it wasn’t here for a friendly visit.

“Knockout?” I whispered.

His tone darkened instantly. “Stay calm, doll. Let me handle this.”

Before I could respond, the steering wheel jerked from my grip, and the entire car transformed beneath me. In the blink of an eye, I was no longer seated in a luxury vehicle but standing behind a towering, crimson-red mech. His glowing optics locked onto the intruder, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Knockout said, cracking his knuckles. “Stay back and let me show this amateur what real power looks like.”

The hostile car transformed as well, revealing a blocky, brutish Decepticon who sneered in Knockout’s direction. “Knockout,” the intruder growled. “Slumming it with humans now? Pathetic.”

Knockout’s engine roared to life, his frame bristling with irritation. “You’ll regret that tone, scrapheap.”

As the two bots clashed, I ducked behind a stack of old tires, heart racing but unable to tear my eyes away. Knockout moved with a grace and precision that felt almost choreographed, every strike a testament to his speed and finesse.

It wasn’t long before the intruder, battered and sparking, scrambled to retreat. Knockout watched him go, his smirk triumphant.

Once the parking lot fell silent again, he turned to me, brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder. “And that, doll, is why you don’t settle for second-rate.”

I stepped out from my hiding spot, trying to steady my breathing. “I—I guess you really are good for more than just driving lessons.”

“Naturally,” he replied, his tone smug but fond.

We drove home in comfortable silence, the tension of the encounter slowly fading. As I leaned back in the seat, exhaustion creeping in, I realized something: for all his snark and dramatics, Knockout cared in his own way. And maybe, just maybe, I’d be ready to ace that driving test after all—especially with him in my corner.

Or under me, technically.

[eu-nicola]

the ferrari couple

summary: when Charles signs with Ferrari, his life takes an unexpected turn when he falls in love with you "Princess Ferrari". Together both become the perfect couple, but behind public perfection, the pressure of your careers leads both in other ways

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4559

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @pperlaaiy

The sound of engines rumbled across the Monza circuit. It was the 2018 Italian Grand Prix, and Charles Leclerc, still a Sauber driver, walked around the paddock with a mix of pride and nervousness. That year had been crucial for him; rumours of his possible promotion to Ferrari felt increasingly real. However, the pressure of being at home, surrounded by tifosi who idolised the Scuderia, kept him on his toes. 

As he made his way to the Ferrari hospitality area, Charles paused for a moment, awed by the spectacle before him. Surrounded by photographers, journalists and Ferrari employees, there was you. You seemed to shine with a light of your own, dressed in an impeccable white two-piece suit that bore discreet touches of Ferrari red, the colour that so represented your lineage. Perfectly coiffed hair, dark sunglasses and a confident smile that showed no trace of nervousness. In that moment, you were everything Ferrari stood for: tradition, elegance and power. 

“Who is she?” Charles asked his engineer, unable to look away.

“Don’t you know? She’s related to Enzo Ferrari. Her mother, Sofia Ferrari, is practically the queen of the car group. She’s like the princess of the house.”

Charles nodded slowly, impressed, but also intimidated. He had heard about you before, how you were an iconic figure in and out of the world of motorsport. You were known not only for your surname, but for your involvement in Ferrari’s most exclusive events, your innate elegance, and the way you upheld your family’s legacy. The fact that you were unreachable only added to your aura.

However, what happened next took Charles completely by surprise. While he tried to hide his interest and continue on his way, you turned around and your eyes met his. Taking off your sunglasses, you smiled with that mix of kindness and confidence that baffled everyone.

“Charles Leclerc, right?” You asked, stepping closer gracefully.

He blinked, surprised that you knew who he was. "Uh, yeah, I'm Charles," he replied, trying to sound relaxed, though he felt the heat rising to his face.

“I have to say, you’ve impressed many at Ferrari this year,” you said, shaking his hand. Your tone was gentle, but your words carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. “My uncle won’t stop talking about you. I think you’re destined for great things.”

Charles scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture contrasting with your poise. “I hope so. Being part of Ferrari would be… a dream.”

“A dream, but also a responsibility,” you replied, your gaze becoming more intense. “Ferrari isn’t just a team, Charles. It’s a family, a history. The tifosi don’t see you as just a driver; they see you as a symbol. And that’s not something just anyone can carry.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of your words. He’d heard similar speeches before, but coming from you, they held a different meaning. “I know. And I’m willing to give my all to live up to it.”

You stared at him for a moment, assessing him. Finally, you smiled again, this time with a hint of genuine warmth. “I hope so, Charles. I’d love to see you succeed at Ferrari. But for now, enjoy Monza. It’s a magical place, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he replied, relaxing a little. “Even more so now.”

Your laugh was soft, but enough for the few people around to notice the chemistry that seemed to be brewing between the two of you. Before you could respond, a team member called out to you from a distance. With a slight nod to Charles, you walked away, leaving behind a sweet scent and an impression he wouldn’t soon forget.

Charles stood still for a few seconds, taking in what had just happened. He had met the “princess of Ferrari,” but beyond your name and lineage, what had struck him most was your presence. There was something about you that challenged him, that made him want to prove he was worthy of being in your world.

That night, during the official Ferrari dinner, they met again. You were surrounded by important figures in motorsport, but when Charles entered the room, your eyes instinctively sought him out. This time, you didn't need to approach him; he took the initiative.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to yours.

You smiled, amused. "Of course. I hope you're ready, Charles."

"If I can survive Monza, I think I can handle this," he replied, feeling more confident.

And so, over glasses of wine and conversations filled with jokes and witty observations, something began that neither of you could have foreseen. You weren't just Ferrari's princess; you were a challenge, a mystery. And for Charles, the young driver who dreamed of conquering the world, you became the most fascinating target of all.

After that first meeting at Monza, Charles couldn't get you out of his mind. Despite being immersed in the demands of his season with Sauber, he found moments between races and training to remember the conversations he'd had with you. For your part, there was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was his humility, his ambition, or the way he seemed to shine even under the pressure of the spotlight.

The next few times you met were at Ferrari-related events, always in formal settings where professional distance was the norm. However, that barrier slowly began to break down.

It was a cool evening in Maranello. Ferrari had organised a private dinner to celebrate the season's achievements and start looking ahead. Although the evening was for the official drivers, Charles was invited as a gesture of goodwill, as the announcement of his joining Ferrari for the 2019 season was imminent.

You met him in the event's illuminated gardens, while escaping a boring conversation with a group of executives. Charles was alone, a glass of wine in his hand, admiring the statue of Enzo Ferrari that presided over the place. You approached him with a light smile.

"Thinking about how to fill those shoes?" you asked, stopping beside him.

Charles turned his head, surprised but genuinely happy to see you. "More like wondering if I'll ever make it."

“It’s a start,” you said, shrugging. “He always said that the true spirit of Ferrari isn’t in perfection, but in passion. If you have that, you’re already halfway there.”

He looked at you, with a mix of admiration and curiosity. “Do you feel that passion too? For Ferrari, I mean.”

You nodded, crossing your arms to protect yourself from the cold. “Of course. I grew up surrounded by this world, but it’s not just the family name. It’s everything it represents: the history, the tifosi, the constant struggle to be the best. It’s not easy to live with it, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Charles was silent for a moment, processing your words. Then he smiled, a soft but sincere gesture. “It’s funny. All that you describe is what scares me and excites me at the same time. Being at Ferrari means so much more than being a fast driver. It’s… something bigger.”

You turned to him, studying him carefully. There was something about his honesty that disarmed you, a rarity in a world full of appearances. “And you think you’re ready for it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I want to try. And I’ll do my best to prove that I’m worthy of it.”

The determination in his voice made you smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to admit your doubts, but you’re not afraid to face them either.”

He stared at you, as if he was trying to figure something out in you. “And you? Have you always been this sure of yourself?”

The question took you by surprise. You looked down for a moment before answering. “Not always. But when you grow up in this family, you learn to hide your insecurities.”

Before the conversation could go any deeper, one of the attendants called out to you from a distance. “Y/N, you’re needed inside.”

You sighed, but not before giving Charles one last smile. "Don't let them intimidate you in there. And remember: Ferrari is more than a car, it's a family."

The real change in your relationship came weeks later, when Ferrari made the official announcement that Charles would be a driver for the 2019 season. The news flooded the headlines and thrilled the tifosi, who saw him as the future of the team. That evening, you hosted a private dinner at your family villa in Maranello, inviting only a few people close to the team, including Charles.

"Thank you for inviting me," Charles said when he arrived, wearing a simple but elegant suit. There was something different in his gaze that night: a mix of confidence and gratitude.

"Of course," you replied as you greeted him. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate our new star."

The evening passed quietly, with laughter, anecdotes and toasts to the future. However, you both noticed that your eyes met more often than usual. When dinner ended and the other guests began to leave, Charles was one of the last to stay.

"Would you like to see something special?" You asked, taking a glass of wine and leading him towards the villa's garage.

Inside, covered by tarps, were some of Ferrari's most iconic models, from the first cars created by Enzo to the most modern ones. Charles walked among them in wonder, like a child in a candy store.

"It's amazing," he murmured. "It's like being in a private museum."

"It is," you said, leaning against one of the cars. "Every car here has a story. And now you will be a part of that story."

He stopped in front of you, his expression serious but warm. "I hope I can live up to it. Not just for Ferrari, but for you as well."

The intensity of his words took you by surprise, but you didn't back down. There was something about his sincerity that drew you hopelessly.

"Charles..." you began, but he interrupted you.

“I’m not saying this because you’re from the Errari family or because you’re in a position of power. I’m saying this because you, as a person, inspire me. And I want you to know that I will do everything I can to not let you down.”

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. And as the silence stretched between you both, Charles took a step towards you. There was no need to say anything else; the moment said it all.

That night marked the start of something special. What had started as a casual connection became a relationship that you both knew would be intense, complicated, but also unique.

After that, the end of 2018 was a whirlwind of emotions for Charles. He had closed his season with Sauber in an exceptional way, earning the respect of the tifosi and securing his place at Ferrari for the following year. But the most unexpected thing for him had been the relationship that had formed with you. During those months, you went from being two occasional acquaintances at events to becoming confidants and something more.

Your meetings, although few due to his constant travels, were full of complicity. He had invited you to accompany him to a couple of races outside Italy, and although you kept everything under a strict low profile, the members of the paddock were beginning to notice that there was something between you. The candlelit dinners, the walks through Maranello and the deep conversations.

For Charles, you were much more than a "Ferrari". You were someone who understood him, someone who saw beyond the image of a promising driver. For you, Charles was a breath of fresh air in a world full of appearances. In him, you found someone honest, humble and passionate.

However, you both knew that things would change in 2019. With Charles officially becoming a Ferrari driver, the attention on both of you would increase, and you would have to decide how you would face what was to come together.

When the 2019 season began, everything changed. Not only was Charles Ferrari's new rising star, he also unwittingly became the centre of media attention. The relationship between the two, which until then had remained in the shadows, inevitably began to come to light.

The first time photographers caught you together was at the Monaco Grand Prix. You were in the paddock, leaning against a railing as you talked animatedly to Charles. You were wearing a red outfit that paid homage to the Scuderia, and your laughter echoed above the roar of the engines. The media was quick to dub you the “prince and princess of Ferrari.”

“Does all this attention bother you?” Charles asked you that afternoon, as you walked together through the Monte Carlo harbor.

“A little,” you admitted, adjusting your sunglasses. “But I also know it’s inevitable. I guess we’ll just have to learn to handle it together.”

Charles nodded, taking your hand gently. “We will.”

It was an intense year, full of challenges for both of you. Charles had to deal with the pressure of being a Ferrari driver, while you were constantly surrounded by the critical eyes of the press and tifosi, who analyzed your every move. Far from separating them, however, those challenges brought them closer together.

The moments they shared off the track became their refuge. There were days when Charles would arrive exhausted after a difficult race, and you would call him to give him words of encouragement. There were also nights when you, exhausted, would find comfort in his embrace.

By 2020, you were no longer just a couple at Ferrari; you were the couple. Cameras followed you everywhere, and social media couldn't stop talking about you. Photos of you at Formula 1 galas, at private Scuderia events, and even on vacation in Italy went viral instantly.

The tifosi loved how they represented the essence of Ferrari: Charles was the young driver full of talent and promise, and you, the sophisticated and passionate woman who seemed to be the embodiment of the Ferrari legacy. No matter where they were, together they projected an image of perfection that fascinated the world.

However, behind the flashes, things were not always easy. The 2020 season was a complicated year for Ferrari, with performance issues testing Charles as a driver. For him, it was frustrating to go from being a constant contender to fighting to stay in the top 10. There were times when tensions were palpable, but you always found a way to remind him of his worth.

“Charles,” you told him one night after a disappointing race at Spa, as you both sat on the balcony of his hotel room. “You are not just a Ferrari driver. You are the future of Ferrari. Enzo always said that difficult races are the ones that make true champions. And you are one of them.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Luckily, you won’t have to find out,” you replied with a smile.

That mutual strength was what made you two so special. While Charles faced the challenges of the track, you struggled to keep outside pressures at bay, defending your relationship from rumors and criticism.

By the end of 2020, you were more than a couple; you were a symbol. The prince and princess of Ferrari, two figures who represented everything the brand stood for: history, passion, and the promise of a bright future.

What no one imagined was that beneath that image of perfection, the first cracks were beginning to form. Because, although the love you felt for each other was real, the demands of your worlds were not always compatible.

The end of 2020 marked a turbulent time both on and off the track. Ferrari was facing one of its worst seasons in years, and while Charles continued to show his talent, the car simply wasn’t up to par. You, for your part, had been dealing with the mounting pressures of your family name: new projects, the constant expectation that you represent Ferrari at key events, and increasing scrutiny over your relationship with Charles.

Through it all, you never let the internal tensions leak outward. To the world, you were still the couple. You were seen smiling at events, with Charles looking at you as if you were his anchor, and you showing yourself unwavering, like the pillar holding him up. But what no one saw was the distance that was beginning to form between you.

The breaking point began subtly, with small misunderstandings and differences that you had previously managed with grace.

During the final races of the season, you noticed that Charles was more distant. Although he remained affectionate with you in public, in private his attention seemed to be elsewhere. His days were consumed by endless team meetings, interviews, and hours of work trying to squeeze the maximum potential out of an unresponsive car. When he came home, he was exhausted, and conversations between the two of you were reduced to an exchange of short sentences.

“How was it today?” you asked, waiting for an answer that never came with any depth.

“Good, the usual,” he would reply, often without looking at you, lost in thought.

It wasn’t Charles’ fault, you knew. The weight he carried on his shoulders was immense, and you wanted to be understanding. But you couldn’t help but feel displaced, as if your place in his life had taken a backseat.

For your part, you were dealing with your own problems as well. Your family expected you to take a more active role in the company, and every step you took was scrutinized. The endless meetings, strategic decisions, and social expectations were draining you. There were nights when you sat alone in your Maranello apartment, wondering if this was the life you really wanted.

The night of the final race of the season, in Abu Dhabi, you decided you needed to talk. You had prepared dinner in the hotel suite, hoping to reconnect before heading back to Italy. Charles arrived late, tired but trying not to show it.

“This looks amazing,” he commented, cracking a smile as he sat across from you.

“I wanted us to close the year with something special,” you replied, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice.

For a while, the conversation flowed as before. You talked about the race, the tifosi, and even joked about how the media had called you “Ferrari royalty” in a recent article. But then, the tone changed.

“Charles, I’ve been thinking,” you began, hands shaking slightly. “Do you think… we’re okay?”

He looked up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve grown apart,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “We don’t talk like we used to anymore, we don’t spend time together. I feel like all of this—” you gestured vaguely at the world around them, “—is consuming us.”

Charles sighed, setting his fork down on the table. “I know. I’ve felt the same way. But I thought… that it was temporary. That after this season, things would get better.”

“What if they don’t?” you asked, facing the fear you’d been suppressing for months.

For a moment, Charles didn’t say anything. His silence was like a confirmation of what you both feared: that the weight of your individual lives was overshadowing what you had together.

“I love you,” he finally said, with a sincerity that almost brought tears to your eyes. "But I don't know if I'm being fair to you. I don't know if I can be the person you need right now."

The decision wasn't made in one night, but that conversation marked the beginning of the end. Over the following weeks, both tried to hold on to what they had, but silences were more frequent than words, and the emotional distance became increasingly evident.

The news of their separation came in January 2021, shortly after the Christmas holidays. There were no official statements or public explanations; they simply stopped appearing together, and rumours began to circulate.

The paddock was in shock. Neither of them had given any indication of trouble, and for the tifosi, they represented perfection. But those who knew them closely knew the truth: there was no big fight, no betrayal, just the inevitable wear and tear of two people trapped in worlds that demanded too much of them.

The last time you saw him was at a Ferrari event in early 2021. He was beaming, smiling at photographers as he spoke to management. When your eyes met, he gave you a small, almost melancholic smile, which you returned with a similar gesture.

There were no words, but they didn't need to be. You both knew that what you had was unique, special, and that it would always be a part of you. But you also knew that you had made the right decision, even if it hurt.

The prince and princess of Ferrari had split up, leaving the world baffled and the tifosi heartbroken.

The months following the breakup were like a whirlwind, even though neither of you openly acknowledged it. You and Charles had decided to keep the reasons for the end of your relationship private, but that only fueled the speculation. The media kept wondering what had happened between the prince and princess of Ferrari, and the tifosi couldn't accept that something so perfect had fallen apart for no apparent reason.

Despite the noise, you both tried to move on, each in your own way. But as they tried to build new routines, the world kept watching, waiting for some sign, some word that would explain the inexplicable.

The first image of Charles with another woman appeared one day in March. It was a casual photograph, taken by a fan in Monte Carlo. Charles was in a café, smiling as he chatted with a blonde, light-eyed girl. It didn't seem like a romantic encounter, but the closeness between the two and the carefree smile on Charles' face unleashed a wave of comments.

“Who is she?”

“Has she replaced her already?”

“She’s probably her cousin or something, Charles wouldn’t do this.”

For your part, you tried to ignore it. You knew Charles had the right to move on, as did you, but you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach as fans began to theorize about his love life.

It wasn’t long before you were making headlines too. A few weeks later, during a gala event in Milan, you arrived accompanied by an Italian businessman known for his charisma and fortune. He offered you his arm as you walked down the red carpet, and although you maintained a professional smile, the camera flashes captured something that the media interpreted as complicity.

The reaction was not long in coming.

“She already has a boyfriend? This can’t be real.”

“Charles and her were perfect, this doesn’t make sense.”

“The princes of Ferrari are dating commoners now, apparently.”

Social media became a battleground between fans. There were those who supported the idea of ​​the two moving on with their lives, but there were also those who clung to the hope of a reconciliation. Every photo of Charles with his supposed new partner was analyzed in detail, and the same was true for you.

On your Instagram profile, the comments were a reflection of the tifosi's pain:

"Please tell me this isn't true."

"Why did you break up? I never understood it."

"Get back together, there's still time."

Charles faced the same thing. Even in the simplest photos — an afternoon training or a day on the simulator — the responses were full of mentions of you.

"Everything is more boring without Princess Ferrari."

"I hope you're happy, but I'll never forget what you had."

Neither you nor Charles made any comments on the matter. You both knew that any statement would only fuel further speculation, and the last thing you wanted was to turn your past relationship into a public spectacle.

At Ferrari events, it was inevitable that your paths would cross, although you always kept your distance. During a presentation of the Scuderia for the 2021 season, you sat in the front row next to the management, while Charles took his place on the stage, talking about his expectations for the year.

Your eyes met for a brief second. It was enough for the photographers to capture the moment, but not enough for either of you to show any obvious emotion. You held his gaze calmly, while he quickly turned his gaze towards the audience.

After the event, you avoided the cocktail party that followed. You knew the media would be waiting for any interaction between you, and you weren't about to fuel any more rumors. However, as you were leaving, you received a text on your phone.

"I saw you left early. I hope you're okay."

It was from Charles.

You read it a few times before pocketing your phone without responding. Although the message seemed innocent, it only made the emptiness in your chest feel heavier.

Despite appearances, moving on wasn't easy for either of you. Charles could put on a smile next to his new companion, but in moments of solitude, he found his mind drifting back to the days he shared with you. The walks through Maranello, the conversations in the early morning, even the small arguments over insignificant things: it was all still there, like an echo that refused to go away.

You weren't immune either. Although you were dating someone new, you hadn't felt that connection you once had with Charles. Every time you saw their name in the headlines, your heart beat a little faster, and images of what was and what could have been filled your mind.

Still, you both kept going, at least in the eyes of the world. The smiles at events, the carefully curated posts on social media, everything seemed to indicate that you had put the past behind you. But the others seemed unwilling to let it go.

The tifosi kept waiting. In every Ferrari post, in every interview, in every public appearance, someone always asked about you.

"Will you come back one day?"

"You were the heart of Ferrari."

"Without you, this is not the same anymore."

And although neither you nor Charles answered, that question kept hanging in the air, like a wound that time did not quite heal. Because although you had gone your separate ways, the world was not ready to forget you.

And, perhaps, deep down, neither were you.

[gothcsz]

part nine of the neighbors series. i just had to write this... it was too good of a thought to keep just in my head! javier going back to helena after you rightfully tell him to get lost for standing you up. he's not into it but decides to fuck her anyways?! this man and his unhealthy coping mechanism: sex. smh. this takes place after part seven 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~1.5k word count. spanish heavy (translated), s m u t, honestly javi just comes with his own warning at this point, angst (as always)

Javier winces as the door to your apartment shuts in his face, the sound echoing louder than it should in the quiet hallway. He stands there for a long moment, his heart lodged firmly in his throat as guilt churns in his stomach.

He’d known, from the moment you opened the door in that beautiful dress, that he’d made a colossal mistake. He’s not sure how the fuck he’s going to make things right between you.

He sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. The way you masked the hurt he caused with dismissiveness and a sharp, cutting comment before turning him away somehow stung worse than if you’d just yelled at him.

His feet feel heavy as he trudges back to his apartment, the guilt following him like a shadow. 

When he opens the door, Helena is there, sprawled comfortably on his couch with her legs crossed and a glass of whiskey in hand. She looks up, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she watches him close the door behind him with a slow, almost reluctant motion.

“Eso fue rápido,” (That was fast) she comments, “¿Todo bien?” (Everything okay?) she tilts her head slightly, her gaze curious but not overly concerned.

Javier stands at the threshold of his sunken living room, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his thoughts. He doesn’t answer immediately, too busy replaying the image of you in his mind.

She sets the glass down and stands, closing the distance between them.“Puedo ver el conflicto en tus ojos, Javi. ¿Tu vecina te gritó o que?” (I can see the conflict in your eyes, Javi. Did your neighbor bitch at you or something?) she teases, resting her hands on his shoulders before letting her fingers curl into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Her touch pulls him out of his thoughts momentarily. “No,” he replies, his tone low, “Pero me porte como un culero y me siento mal por como la trate.” (But I acted like an asshole and I feel bad about how I treated her)

She raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an amused smile. “You’re an asshole to everyone,” she says lightly, brushing a kiss along his jaw.

He scoffs, his frown deepening. “¿Qué? No hagas ese ruido—sabes que tengo razón.” (What? Don’t make that noise—you know I’m right) she chimes in as she continues with her affectionate touches. 

Normally, he’d lean into it, let her distract him the way she always does. But tonight, it feels hollow, like a cheap salve for a wound cut too deep.

She notices his hesitance, pausing as she cups his face in her hands. “Nunca he visto a nadie tan interesado en lo que hace su vecina. Should I be worried about her?” (I’ve never seen anyone so into what his neighbor is doing) she’s half-teasing as her gaze searches his face for an answer, but Javier avoids it, the hesitation clear in his brown eyes even as he tries to shrug it off.

“No,” he attempts to be nonchalant with his reply, “Solamente tengo ojos para ti, hermosa.” (I only have eyes for you, beautiful) His hand slips down to grip her ass, trying to redirect the moment, trying to bury the ache of guilt beneath something physical.

She narrows her eyes slightly, skeptical but willing to let it slide. “No mientas, Javier,” (Don’t lie) she murmurs. “Tengo suficiente de eso con todos los hombres en mi vida.” (I get enough of that from all the other men in my life)

Instead of responding, he leans in and kisses her, rough and insistent. She doesn’t push for more answers, letting him take what he needs, but she doesn’t miss the edge of hindrance in his touch.

“Si necesitas hablar de algo, sabes que aquí estoy,” (If you need to talk about something, you know I’m here) she says softly, more serious now as their lips brush together.

“Me ayudas más cuando no hablas,” (You help me more when you don't talk) he mutters before pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip, and it’s enough to spark the familiar lust between them.

Urgent touches, clothes discarded in a trail to the couch, and soon they’re a tangled mess with a throw blanket lazily thrown over their bodies.

She sinks down onto him, her lips on his neck as she whispers dirty encouragements against his skin.

It feels good—sex with Helena always does—but it’s different tonight.

No matter how tightly he shuts his eyes, no matter how hard he digs his fingers into her hips to ground himself, his mind keeps drifting back to you. To the way your lips trembled just slightly before you masked it, to the look in your eyes when you told him to ‘have fun vetting his lead.’

“Javi…” Helena’s airy moan pulls him back briefly, the clench of her around him sending a spark up his spine. He leans in to kiss her, messy and urgent, but it’s not to deepen their connection—it’s to keep her quiet.

The last thing he wants is for you to hear this, for you to know just how badly he’s handled things tonight.

Large hands move around to knead at her ass, guiding her movements, but his touch lacks its usual fervor.

The thought of you fills every corner of his mind even as he tries to lose himself in her. Your excitement that day by the fountain, the shy smile as you invited him out, and the way that smile disappeared the moment you saw him walk in with Helena.

And when her orgasm begins to crest and she’s shuddering around him, he barely notices, too consumed by the ache in his chest that no amount of physical release can fix.

She notices. She always does. Her rhythm falters slightly as she leans closer, her lips skimming his ear. “Pareces distraído.” (You seem distracted)

“Estoy bien,” (I’m fine) he growls, “Sigue moviéndote así.” (Just keep moving like that)

For the sake of not ruining this moment, she says nothing else, though he can feel the slight hesitation in her movements before she settles back into the pace he’s been guiding her toward.

Her breath hitches, her fingers tangling in his hair as she rides him, and he leans his head back against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut again.

It still doesn’t help.

Helena’s nails rake lightly down his chest, and he shivers, but it’s not desire that ripples through him—it’s frustration. With himself. With this situation. With the way he’s here, with a beautiful woman in his lap, and all he can think about is how badly he’s screwed things up with you.

Even as he drives her to her peak, there’s no satisfaction in it for him. His body is moving on autopilot, chasing a release that feels more like an obligation than a need.

When he finally comes, her name is the last thing on his mind. Yours, however, lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to lash out.

He bites it back, swallowing hard as she digs her nails into the skin of his shoulders, a guttural groan muffled against her neck, his hands clutching her ass like she’s the only thing tethering him to this moment of fleeting pleasure. 

The instant it’s over, he feels heavier than before, the guilt settling back over him like a dense fog that refuses to lift.

Helena collapses against his chest, her breath warm and uneven against his neck. She’s still for a few seconds, and then she lifts her head, her dark eyes searching his face.

“¿Seguro que estás bien?” (Are you sure you’re okay?) she asks softly, concern threading through her voice.

Javier exhales sharply, avoiding her gaze as he gently shifts her off of him. “Estoy bien,” (I’m fine) he repeats for what feels like the millionth time, his words clipped. He stands, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor and pulling them on hastily.

She watches him in silence, wrapping the blanket around her naked form, unspoken questions hanging in the air. He can feel her studying him, trying to piece together the puzzle of his distraction, but he doesn’t have the energy to reassure her. Not tonight.

He grabs the carton of cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table, his movements practiced, almost automatic. The flick of the lighter illuminates his face briefly before the glow fades, the cigarette catching with a faint crackle. He takes a deep drag, smoke filling his lungs before he exhales, watching it swirl toward the ceiling.

“¿Te vas a quedar?” (Are you staying?)

She doesn’t answer right away, licking her lips. “No. Tengo otros planes.” (No. I have other plans)

Relief floods through him, and for the first time since they started hooking up, he’s okay with her walking out the door. He nods, tapping ash into the tray on the table.

“Bueno entonces, cuidate. Here,” (Well then, take care) holding the cigarette between his lips, he fishes his leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a wad of cash, walking over and holding it out to her.

Her eyes drop to the money, her expression tightening. “Javi, ya te he dicho como me siento con esto.” (Javi, I’ve already told you how I feel about this)

“¿Qué?” He shrugs, speaking around the cigarette between his teeth. “Te estoy pagando como lo hacen todos los demás.” (What? I’m paying you like everyone else does)

“No eres como los demás.” (You’re not like the others)

They lock eyes, the tension between them heavy and tangible. His exasperation simmers, then bubbles over. He tosses the money onto the coffee table with a thud.

“Entonces no lo tomes. Me vale madre.” (Then don’t take it. I don’t give a damn)

Helena stands, redressing and stepping into her heels. Javier finishes his cigarette with slow drags as she collects her things. She swipes the cash on her way out, crumpling it in her fist.

“¿Ves lo que te dije? Eres un culero con todos.” (See what I told you? You’re an asshole to everyone)

He doesn’t flinch but his jaw flexes, a muscle ticking as he watches her brush past him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

She stops at the door, one hand resting on the knob as she glances back at him. “No sé qué está pasando entre tú y tu vecina, pero necesitas arreglarlo porque odio cuando actúas así.”  (I don’t know what's going on between you and your neighbor, but you need to straighten it out because I hate it when you act like this)

With that, she unlocks the door and leaves, leaving him standing there in his living room, now feeling worse than he did before and he has no one to blame but himself.

He stares at the spot where she stood, the remnants of her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He doesn’t move for a long moment, caught in the crossroads of her parting words.

Finally, he curses under his breath and heads to the bathroom. The cool tile beneath his feet as he flips on the light, the hum of the fluorescent bulb filling the room. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edges so tightly—his knuckles go white.

The faucet sputters to life with a twist of his wrist, and he splashes cold water onto his face, droplets streaking down his cheeks and dripping onto his bare chest. It does nothing to clear the haze in his head.

When he looks up into the mirror, the man staring back at him looks just as wrecked as he feels.

This isn’t sustainable and he knows it. He can’t keep making a mess of every little thing in his life, can’t keep masking his despair with sex, whiskey, and cigarettes.

But knowing is one thing. Doing is another.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @almostfoxglove . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @phry-k . @larascorneroftheworld . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack . @picketniffler . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @94namkooksworld . @prose-before-hoes . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[yama-does-art]

Magic on the Lost Light - Part 3

Lost Light x (gn)reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | [Here] | Part 4 | Part 5 | End

Content: mtmte human oc insert, discontinued

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4k

Rung II

The psychiatrist did not dare move. He never imagined his day would end with a human sitting in his servo. Were they not aware of how much damage he could do to them? Just a simple reflex could end their lives.

“My life is in your hands.” They said with a smile.

No. They knew. They always knew. Behind that cheerful demeanor, they were meticulously watching him, gauging his responses. He looked down to see their glassy optics staring back with the same predatory gaze as when they first met. He realized that it was not of suspicion, but of a challenge. As if their optics were telling him, ‘I made my move, now I dare you to make yours.’

He ex-vented, feeling his fans still cycling through his discomfort. With trepidation, he raised the lifeform so they sat at optic level. “You are a fascinating individual,” he said.

They laughed. At this distance, he could see the creases forming under their eyes. Somehow this laugh was different, more genuine. They tilted their head, their gaze softened considerably, “You too, my friend. You too.”

Did they just call him their friend? Before he could respond, the medical drone lit up with a holographic image of Ratchet. “Rodimus and Ultra Magnus are outside the office. Is the human ready to speak to them?”

“One moment,” Rung responded in Neocybex. He lowered Buddy back to the desk. They were quite dextrous as they hopped off his servo with minimal effort. He was met with a raised brow. “The captain and his second would like to speak to you now, are you ready?” he translated.

They shrugged, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Go ahead Ratchet,” he relayed.

“Affirmative. Return to me and I will repair your arm as well.” said the medic.

The psychiatrist made sure to step away from the table as the Captain and his second filtered through. Rodimus was practically flaring in excitement, his EM field would have been suffocating if not for Ultra Magnus’s undercurrent of authority.

The captain immediately took the seat across from the human and lowered his helm to their eye level, “Wow, it’s great to meet you. My name is Rodimus. I am Captain of this ship, the Lost Light.”

When not at the receiving end of the human’s scrutiny, Rung could not help but look at them in awe. Amongst the movement of giants, Buddy barely moved, ever vigilant and ever watching. Then they surprised him once more:

“Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong,” they intoned with a bow causing the officers to gawk at the organic. They continued, “Pleasure to meet you Captain Rodimus. You may call me Buddy.”

Ultra Magnus moved past the now rebooting Rodimus. Even as he towered over the human, they did not break their gaze. “How do you know the Universal Cybertronian Greeting?” the officer boomed.

“You must be Ultra Magnus, second in command and Duly Appointed Officer of the Tyrest Accord. It is an honor. As for your question, I had asked Rung to teach it to me, in hopes that I would better appeal to you and the Captain. I apologize if I inadvertently insulted you in the process.”

“No, you have not Buddy. I was merely surprised,” Magnus said gruffly. The officer turned back to Rung, his frown deeper than before. “You are Rung, I presume?” he asked in Neocybex.

“Yes.”

“What is your assessment of this individual?”

“I do not know what is considered normal for human behavior, however this one seems quite adaptable as they have adjusted to existing on a ship full of Cybertronians rather well. I find that they are rather seeker-like. Acutely aware of their surroundings, highly personable and intuitive, yet value their freedom and autonomy. Given the situation, it is the loss of their agency that frightens them the most.”

“Would you consider them dangerous?”

Would he? On one hand, they were physically diminutive to even the smallest Cybertronians. Yet, even now, they stare at the bots with the same intense gaze as before, no doubt trying to absorb as much information as they could regardless if they understood the conversation or not. “It is hard to say. They are clever but not unreasonable. As long as their agency is not in question, I would not consider them a threat.”

Magnus nodded, “I see. Thank you for your thoughts. I too found that humans are seeker-like in nature. You may take your leave, I understand you still need your arm repaired.”

“Yes, of course.” Rung turned back to Buddy, “I must go now, will you be alright?”

They smiled, “I will be and thank you, my friend.”

— BREAK —

Sure enough, Ratchet was waiting outside. “Congratulations, you survived your first human.” the medic said dryly.

"Is that a notable accomplishment?"

"No, but it did not end in running, screaming, fainting, or accidental squishing from either party, so that's something. Now come here so I can get you fixed."

"You mentioned that you have a human holoform. Does that mean you have extensive experience with the species?"

"Eh, I wouldn't call it 'extensive', though I was on Earth during the last few years of the war. I have worked with them enough that I can provide medical care for this one."

"I can see why you said that we are similar as a species, we do have many parallels in terms of behavior and mannerisms.  Yet the more I interact with this human, the less I am inclined to understand. How can something so small be so paradoxical in nature?"

The medic laughed harshly, "Ha, you just summed up the entirety of  human existence. Oh don't give me that look."

Rung stared at his free servo, replaying the memory of Buddy hopping on as if he wasn’t a giant entity three times their size. “Are humans naturally reckless?”

“More or less. It depends on if they have a reason to be.”

“The human, Buddy, jumped into my servo unprompted. I believe it was to demonstrate their trust in me, but I cannot fathom why they would do so after only one conversation, especially when they had admitted that they had no power in the situation that they were in.”

“The thing about humans is that they are extremely social creatures. They can and will bond with anything they feel a positive connection to."

“I am honored but the risk seems so unnecessary.”

‘My life is in you hands’

Ratchet continued, “Despite being small, humans can also be aggressive in the extremes, whether it be through their violence or through their affection. Like it or not, you've just made yourself a friend."

With that, Rung was sent on his way. Soon enough he found his office. He had much to do, before he had to resume his duties as psychiatrist. First, his module ships. It was a comfort really, a way for him to collect his thoughts. And all his thoughts seem to lead back to the human.

Next ->

[fallingsatellive]

So I think I was wrong about being an ant therian.

I am an ant. But I might have been wrong about it being a theriotype.

If you'll forgive for a moment humoring the unnecessary late-2010s "difference between therians and otherkin" definitions, I have theriotypes and somehow this feels like a different flavor of identity because it doesn't feel like animalistic. The way that I am an osprey, for example, is very animal, and I know I have the ability to describe internal self-perception that way because I have parts of my alterhumanity that don't feel animal, like Novakid or AI. I don't feel like I am an ant in the way an ant is an animal.

Instead it feels, and bear with me, A) sapient? Intelligent?, B) weirdly cute—like, cartoonish almost, and this is so obvious to me when I look at my own drawings and what types of art (not photos) gives me kintype vibes and C), bizarrely...

technological?

Like I'm a virtual ant lmao? Or a robot ant? I've always distanced myself more than necessary from the techkin community despite my kintype being an actual real-life type of computer because I've never felt kinship with androids and Robot Classic™ aesthetic which is a lot of what's going on in there but maybe I am a bit of a robot, just insect-shaped instead of humanoid.

An antdroid if you will

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slowburn

Word count: +3,5

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14.

Iris sat in the stark, fluorescent-lit interrogation room, her fingers nervously fidgeting in her lap. She never imagined she would find herself in a police station, let alone facing such horrifying circumstances. The recent attempts on her life and her friends' had thrust her into a nightmare she couldn't have anticipated. Life had a way of surprising her in the most fucked up ways and now she would've to deal with it.

Beside her, Sam and Tara sat in tense silence, the gravity of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

In front of them on the cold, metal table lay a series of photographs depicting the gruesome aftermath of the recent crimes. Among the images were shots of Greg and Jason, their faces frozen in time, reminders of their horrible deaths. The sight was chilling, and Iris couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in her stomach.

"It would be nice if someone could explain why they think showing us pictures of dead people is a good idea," Iris muttered under her breath. Just then, she felt a sharp kick to her shin from the youngest Carpenter sister, a subtle but clear warning to keep her comments to herself.

The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly as the door creaked open, revealing Quinn's father, Wayne Bailey. He stepped inside, a brief smile flickering across his face as he took a seat opposite them. In his hands, he held a bag that unmistakably contained a Ghostface mask.

"This was found next to the body at the apartment crime scene," Wayne informed them in a calm, steady voice. He placed the evidence on the table, allowing the three of them to examine it closely. The item—a worn Ghostface mask—seemed to absorb the room's light, casting a shadow of unease over them. "DNA analysis indicates it belonged to someone named Richie Kirsch."

He glanced at each of them, searching for something in their faces. "Does that ring a bell?"

"Unfortunately," Iris replied, her voice tinged with dread as memories of past encounters flooded back.

"We're all familiar with him," Sam added quietly, her gaze fixed on the mask.

"But the one who attacked us had a different mask on," Tara interjected, her brow furrowing in thought. "It was kind of more beat up. Like it was older.".

Wayne's expression shifted as he furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation. "I gotta ask, do you have alibis for earlier tonight?"

"Iris and I were at a party with our friends," Tara answered, her voice more assertive now, eager to distance themselves from any suspicion.

"I was at my therapist's," Sam muttered, a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. "I can give you his information. You can call to check if you want."

Wayne nodded in acknowledgement as Sam continued talking.

"And then I met Tara at that party, where I tased someone," Sam said, glancing at the police officer. "Unrelated," she added with a roll of her eyes.

Wayne turned his attention to Iris, his eyes narrowing as he noticed her busted lip. "What happened to you?" he asked, gesturing towards her injury.

"I might have punched someone," Iris admitted, her tone surprisingly casual. She caught Wayne's surprised expression and quickly added, "Completely unrelated too."

Wayne blinked at her, a flicker of skepticism crossing his face. "A lot of unrelated things happened tonight," he observed, his tone probing.

"I know, crazy right?".

Wayne didn't respond directly to Iris. Instead, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through videos, his expression shifting to one of focus. "Was this before or after this happened?" he asked, turning the screen toward them.

The video played, revealing the moment where a woman dumped her soda over Sam's clothes, followed by the sound of both Iris and Sam shouting in indignation.

"Before," Sam confirmed, her voice steady as she watched the footage.

"The point is, we were with people all night," Tara interjected firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. She leaned forward, intent on conveying their innocence.

"So, our roommate's dad just happened to pull your case?" Sam inquired, her voice tinged with suspicion.

"That'd be a crazy coincidence, right?" Bailey replied sarcastically, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"Completely unrelated, isn't it?" Iris added, furrowing her eyebrows in an attempt to mask her unease.

"Yeah," Sam echoed, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension.

Wayne leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he continued. "The detective who had the case offered it to me because it involves Quinn. But I can totally give it back if you're uncomfortable. It's up to you."

"It's fine," Sam said, rolling her eyes after exchanging a quick, silent look with Tara and Iris.

Wayne shifted his focus back to the case. "So, if the man who attacked you did steal your license and planted them next to the body," he stated matter-of-factly, "it's probably someone close to you. How long have you known your friends?"

"We moved here about two years ago with Mindy and Chad," Tara explained, her voice steady. "That's when we first met Quinn, Ethan, and Anika."

"I think I can vouch for Quinn," Wayne said, offering a small, reassuring smile, trying to bring comfort to the girls. "So that's one less person we have to worry about."

Iris felt a flicker of doubt at his words. Just because Quinn was his daughter didn't mean she could trust her completely. She could still be the killer, no one was innocent in her mind.

"Do any of you have anyone that might want to target you?" Wayne continued, his tone shifting to one of serious inquiry.

"I would love to say no but we both know I would be lying".

"Not anyone who's still alive," Tara answered coldly as Bailey stared at her in shock.

"Yikes,"

The door swung open, revealing yet another police officer who strode in with an air of urgency. "FBI's here, claiming jurisdiction," he announced, his tone leaving little room for doubt.

"Where are they?" Wayne asked, rising from his seat.

"We should probably follow him," Iris suggested, her instincts kicking in. After exchanging glances, Tara and Sam nodded in agreement, and they all stood up, following Bailey out of the interrogation room. As they stepped into the bustling hallway, they spotted a blonde woman  talking to the man in a suit. Sam's eyes widened in recognition.

"Kirby?" she blurted out, shock evident in her voice.

The woman turned at the sound of her name and walked over, a broad smile spreading across her face as she enveloped Sam in a warm hug. "Hey, Sam!"

Tara looked on, surprised, as Kirby shifted her attention to her. "Tara," she acknowledged with a nod before her gaze landed on Iris. There was a brief pause as Kirby took a deep breath, preparing to greet her as well.

"Hi, Iris."

Iris felt a wave of confusion wash over her. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. "Hey, do we know each other?"

Kirby smiled softly, her eyes reflecting a hint of nostalgia. "You don't remember me, but I used to babysit you."

"Wait, really? When?" Iris's mind raced, trying to grasp the fragments of her past.

"When you were about six or seven, I helped your sister out a lot," Kirby explained, her tone warm and reminiscent. Suddenly, memories began to resurface in Iris's mind. "Olivia was my friend."

Iris's eyes lit up with recognition, she was Kirby Reed one of the survivors of the Ghostface attacks in 2011. "I remember you now" she exclaimed, a soft smile breaking across her face.

"You're with the FBI?" Sam asked, Kirby nodded, her expression shifting to one of seriousness.

Wayne, who had been observing the exchange with growing curiosity, interjected, "You guys know each other?"

"Yeah, we went to Woodsboro High together," Sam said, shaking her head in the slightest. "She was a senior when I was a freshman."

"We share a certain history, yeah," Kirby murmured, then she turned to Wayne."I'm not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help. I'll show you mine... etc".

Kirby handed Wayne the information she had, one of them being another mask.

"He left this mask at the bodega," she affirmed. "DNA traces of two individuals, Charlie Walker, Jill Roberts, both deceased."

"The Ghostface killers of 2011," Iris said. Kirby looked at her with sadness. She lifted up her shirt, revealing the scar on her stomach. "Charlie Walker gave me this."

"Like I said, I take a special interest". Kirby stated, turning her attention to the three women standing in front of her. "Is this the mask he was wearing when he attacked you?"

"No," Tara replied, shaking her head firmly, the memory of the attack still vivid in her mind.

Wayne furrowed his brow, processing the implications of their exchange. "So he's leaving them on purpose," he voiced aloud, the realization dawning on him.

"Exactly," Kirby added, her expression serious. "Which means whoever's doing this is a student of the killers who came before. Maybe he believes that Sam is the latest in a long line"

"Which means he's insane," Iris interjected, her frustration evident. "That's nothing new."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Sam replied sarcastically, crossing her arms as she glanced at the mask. She felt an overwhelming urge to escape the suffocating environment. "We're getting out of town."

As the three friends tried to walk away from the investigators, Wayne suddenly halted their steps with one firm statement. "I'm sorry, that's not possible."

"Why not?" Iris asked, anger bubbling beneath the surface as she turned to face him. "We are allowed to leave at any moment. This is absurd."

"All three of you are person's of interest in a double homicide, so you're not allowed to leave town, sorry."

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but Tara quickly jumped in, her voice steady. "Are you serious?"

"He's right," Kirby confirmed. "But if we work together-"

"Yeah no thanks, we rather escape".

"We're going" Sam interrupted Kirby as she tried to talk once again.

The three of them burst out of the police station, squinting against the bright afternoon sun that bathed the street in a harsh light. As they stepped into the open air, they were immediately met with reporters shouting and cameras recording.

Microphones were thrust toward them, questions shouted in rapid succession, Iris felt her heart race, a mixture of anxiety and frustration coursing through her. "We need to get out of here," she muttered, glancing at Tara and Sam, who looked equally disoriented.

Tara shielded her eyes from the sun and tried to push through the throng. "Just ignore them! Let's keep moving!"

Sam nodded, her jaw set in a grim line as she tried to maintain her composure amid the frenzy. The last thing they needed was to become the center of a media circus. They started walking faster, trying to navigate through the crowd, but the reporters closed in, creating a wall of intrusive questions and flashing lights.

"Samantha, do you have an alibi for last night's murders?"

"Tara, do you feel safe around your sister?"

None of them bothered to answer any of the questions they were thrown.

"Gale Weathers, Channel 4." Sam, Iris and Tara turned around to glare at the older woman. Just when they thought things couldn't get worse. "Do you ladies think you're the reason the Ghostface killer has come to the Big Apple?"

Sam didn't even bother to answer as she tried to punch Gale in the face though the woman was quick to dodge it. "Nice try, sweetie, but I've done this dance before,".

Then Tara, without anyone expecting it, punched the woman right in the face, making Gale place her hand in her cheek in surprise and pain.

"Good punch" Iris whispered as she stared at Tara.

"Don't take one more step Gale, we want nothing to do with you" Iris snapped at the older woman.

"Are you guys still mad at me?" Gale exclaimed in shock as if she couldn't believe someone wouldn't want to talk to her.

"You said you wouldn't write a book about what happened," Sam shot back at her. "And then you wrote a book about what happened."

"Oh, come on! Somebody was going to write about it. It's what I do!"

"I heard you couldn't sell the movie rights," Tara taunted her.

"It's all about true-crime limited series these days," Gale sighed in despair.

"After everything we went through together," Sam said coldly, she couldn't believe the audacity . "What would Dewey think?"

"That was a low blow."

"Good, I hope it hurts to know that Dewey would be disappointed in you" Iris spoke.

"So was your book," Sam was quick to speak once again. "You called me unstable and a born killer."

"That's taken out of context-"

"That's literally a quote."

"You don't think what you wrote has something to do with what's happening to us?" Tara questioned the woman.

"Come on," Sam muttered to the other two as she turned to leave.

"Hey, I talked to Sidney," Gale added, as she followed them.

"Please tell me she's not coming" said Iris.

"No. She sends her love," The woman answered. "But she's taking Mark and the kids somewhere safe. She deserves to have her happy ending.

"On that much we agree," Sam sighed in relief for the Sidney.

"At least someone should have a normal life".

Then they stopped a taxi and they all got in.

"Hey, I want to catch this fucker as much as you three do!"

"Maybe," Tara shouted back. "Or maybe you're just afraid that without Ghostface in your life, you're gonna fade away."

A few hours later, the group found themselves gathered on a set of benches in the sun-drenched university campus, the air buzzing with anxiety. Mindy had orchestrated this reunion with a singular purpose: to dissect the events surrounding Ghostface. It was one of those beautiful days that seemed ill-suited for discussing such horrific topics, yet here they were.

"Okay, nerds! Listen up!" Mindy clapped her hands, her enthusiasm a stark contrast to the matter. "As terrifying as this all is, I'm actually glad I have the chance to redeem myself for not calling out the killer last time."

"Not this again," Iris muttered under her breath, her eyes rolling in exasperation.

Mindy waved her off with a playful grin. "Okay, hear me out! The way I see it, someone is clearly trying to create a sequel to the requel."

"Uhm, what's a requel?" Anika piped up, raising her hand as if she were in class, her curiosity shining through.

Mindy beamed at her girlfriend, momentarily distracted. "You're beautiful, sweetie," she said, her smile warm and genuine. "But let's hold all questions until the end, alright?."

"Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro". Sam interjected, her voice steady. "And Stab 2 took place in college."

Tara's eyes widened as she connected the dots. "So, we think the killer is trying to copy the movies?" Chad, leaning back with a weary expression, sighed deeply, as if the weight of their predicament was already exhausting him.

"That is one possibility," Mindy agreed with the girl. "Heroes now in college, check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and body count check." She pointed at Ethan, Anika and Quinn. Anika tensed up at Mindy's declaration while Ethan looked nervously at the group and Quinn just looked confused.

"I don't like this," Ethan blurted out, a hint of panic in his voice. "It sounds like you're accusing us".

Iris raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as she studied him. "That depends. Have you done anything weird lately?" She tried to mask her words with a teasing tone, but the weight of her question hung in the air, making it clear she was serious.

Ethan chuckled awkwardly, his eyes darting away. "If you count weird as going to classes, then yeah, I guess so," he replied, forcing a laugh that fell flat among his friends.

Iris tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You said you haven't watched Stab, right?"

"Yeah, what about it?" he asked, the confusion in his voice deepening.

"I just think it's curious, that's all," Iris said, adopting a nonchalant tone that didn't quite match the intensity of the moment.

Ethan frowned, trying to decipher her meaning. "I'm not the biggest fan of horror movies, you know that,".

"Sure, but it's not just that," Iris pressed on, her tone shifting to something more serious. "In a situation like this, it's almost suspicious not to be familiar with those movies. Especially with what's going on."

Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "So you think I'm acting suspicious because I don't watch slasher films? That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"I just think it's worth discussing," Iris insisted, her eyes never leaving his. "The last time someone told me he hadn't watched those movies was also the last time we got stabbed so...".

"He's also dead now".

"Jesus Iris". Ethan whispered in horror.

The group fell silent for a moment, the tension thickening as they all considered the implications of Iris's words. Mindy exchanged glances with Tara, and Chad shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

Iris would have continued pressing Ethan for answers, but suddenly she felt a hand gripping her thigh. Glancing up, she realized the hand belonged to Tara, who was silently signaling her to back off. Understanding the cue, Iris fell silent and placed her own hand gently over Tara's.

"Thank you, Iris, for your wonderful comments. I'm sure everyone appreciated them," Mindy said, clapping her hands together in a conciliatory gesture. "But we can't just focus on Stab 2."

"Why not?" Tara asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we're not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore. Were in a franchise!" Mindy's excitement was palpable as she delved into her theory. "And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise"

"I'm shocked" Iris sarcastically said. "This is shocking news"

"Rule one: Everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count. Longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings. You got to top what came before to keep people coming back"

"Beheadings?" Chad questioned fearfully. He was taking notes of everything his sister was saying.

"Beheadings." Mindy repeated back to her brother. "Rule two: Whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations. If the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with letterbox accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here"

"And rule three: No one is safe. Legacy characters? Cannon fodder at this point.

Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. It's not looking to good for Gale and Kirby" Mindy said, glancing at her friends. "Oh, and that's not even the worst part!"

"This is the part where she tells us the worst part" Chad muttered not looking up from his notebook.

"The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic installments designed to boost an IP. Which means main characters are completely expendable now, too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley..."

"What the fuck is she talking about?" Iris whispered to Tara.

"Just say yes and nod".

"I mean, even Luke Skywalker, they all died so their franchises could live on. That means it's not just the friend group. Any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara" Mindy finished her rant. "Well so do you Ris".

"Thanks Mindy, I especially liked the part you told me I was going to die".

"Wait, any of us?" Ethan asked, glancing nervously around at his friends. Mindy nodded, her expression serious.

"Am I even in the friend group? Am I, like, one of the targets here?" He questioned, his voice rising with a hint of panic.

"Mm-hmm," Mindy replied again, her tone unwavering.

"Am I gonna die a virgin?" he blurted out, causing everyone to exchange bewildered looks.

"Definitely," Iris shot back, her tone matter-of-fact, which made Tara and Chad snort quietly in amusement.

"That was a weird overshare," Mindy cringed, shaking her head. "But it does lead us to our current suspects: Ethan, the shy, dorky guy that no one would ever suspect, precisely because he's so shy and dorky."

"Why am I on the suspect list?" Ethan asked, trying to keep his tone serious. "Just because I happen to be Chad's roommate?"

"Roommate lotteries can be juked," Mindy scoffed at him. "You could've fixed it to get next to us".  Ethan's expression darkened, clearly offended by the insinuation. "Also Iris had a point."

Mindy shifted her focus, turning toward Quinn with an expectant look. "Let's not forget Quinn, the 'slutty' roommate," she continued. "A horror movie. classic".

"Sex positive, but...thank you?" Quinn told her not knowing if she should be offended or not.

"So, how did you end up living with Sam, Tara, and Iris?" Mindy asked Quinn, her curiosity piqued.

"I answered their ad online," Quinn replied like it was obvious.

"Okay, say no more," Mindy said, a sly grin spreading across her face. "You've already implicated yourself enough."

"It was an anonymous ad, Mindy," Tara defended her, a trace of irritation in her voice. "And you know we vetted her. Plus, her dad is a cop,"

"And that makes it more likely that she's the killer, because having a cop dad is a great cover. Mindy shot back, her tone accusatory. "Do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?". Iris shrugged in agreement, a thoughtful look on her face, while Quinn shot them both an offended glance, clearly not pleased with their insinuations. Iris mouthed a quick "sorry" to her.

"Is she always like this?" Quinn whispered to Iris, her voice low enough to avoid being overheard.

"Yep, you get used to it," Iris replied with a smile. "It's part of her charm, really."

Mindy, not missing a beat, continued her theatrics. "And finally... Anika!" She blew kisses in Anika's direction. "Never trust the love interest." Anika's smile faltered at that remark. "Last attack proved that point, didn't it?" Mindy pointed a finger at Sam and Iris, the latter grimacing in response.

"Okay! So, we have our rules and we have our suspects," Sam said thoughtfully, leaning forward on the bench, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"But wait. What about you guys?" Ethan muttered, motioning towards the rest of the group.

"I think it's pretty safe to rule out the five of us who went through this two years ago in Woodsboro," Mindy declared confidently, though Iris shot Ethan a wary look.

"Agreed," Chad chimed in, nodding his head.

"Um, not so fast," Quinn interjected. "What if the trauma you all experienced caused one or more of you to snap?"

"That's literally bullshit," Iris retorted, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Yeah, or maybe the fame you gained from surviving those killings made you thirsty for more," Ethan added, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Let's be honest here, some of the theories online about Sam are..."

"Don't you fucking dare," Tara said, glaring at him, her voice low but fierce. Ethan looked down, wide-eyed.

"Okay, she's right, though," Anika attempted to defuse the tension. "I mean, if we're all suspects, then you're all suspects".

[drdemonprince]

hello, (former) abuser friend anon back again, I just wanted to sort of answer the other anon’s question and thank you for your thoughtful and comforting response.

To answer: I do feel fully relaxed around this person, for better or for worse, and I do trust them to not repeat their behavior because I have had to be in conflict with this person (a huge part of being friends/expressing love, imho) and they have handled it calmly and respectfully and made me feel heard and supported, and I have seen them do that for a lot of people in their current community, and my new one. I don’t expect them to be perfect, and honestly I don’t expect them to never be tempted to reach for the toolset of abuse as you both have described it. But I expect them to react better and better every time they are confronted with something they find triggering, and also to handle the conflict that comes from reaching from those toolsets with the love and care I expect from my friends. I hope that’s the right thing to do and not enabling, but as you noted Dr Price said I’ve never forced their victims to share space with them, and I don’t feel very protective of this person in the sense that I think the other anon is talking about). But it’s all very complicated and if my feelings change in the future I think that’s okay too, and if they revert back to their prior self they know that they’ll lose my relationship to them. But truly from the bottom of my heart thank you both, I feel like I have gained some ease in my reflection of this relationship <3

awww thank you so much for messaging Anon. That upward, cyclical process of working through conflicts and learning new and better strategies is what recovery looks like, I think. And truth be told, as someone who has done plenty of things I regret, I've learned a lot from engaging in productive, healing conflict with people who have done their share of bad things, too. If anything, I feel more accepted when i'm around people who can own their shit and show the capacity to change than when i'm around people who either demand perfection or seem entirely stuck. In my life I've only known a small handful of completely unrepentant abusive people -- and those are the types I never want to be around. The majority, instead, have been simply really traumatized and neglected folks who reached for what limited tools they had for a very long time, and were downright relieved to find something better to do. They've wanted to keep learning new ways of dealing with things. I hope you and your friend continue to have a good time learning from one another, and it's heartening to hear that you're in a pretty secure-sounding place, should that ever change. Sometimes people take big steps backward when they're ill, relapsing, injured, experiencing loss, and so on -- and you always have the right to take your distance if that's how it goes. But there's always a possibility of us learning to work through the roughness better, and together.

[leighsartworks216]

Cinderella

Zayne x gn!Reader

Believe it or not, I started this fic before his cat card came out. And then I saw the card and I simply had to finish this

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, married life, established relationship, food/cooking, kissing, implied sexual content

Word Count: 1, 431

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your body is weighed down by morning as you heave yourself to your feet, shivering all the while as the cold air of the room caresses your bare skin. You hurry to throw on the first thing you can find: Zayne’s shirt abandoned on the floor. As you start to button it up, you turn to look at the man himself, still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

His hair is tousled and unkempt, from your fingers and his pillow. His lips slightly parted with slow, even breaths. The blankets are up to his chest. Reddened marks trail from his exposed neck and down his body. You smile just thinking about his usual efforts to try hiding them when he has to go into work. It’s unlikely he’ll wear his turtleneck today, given he doesn’t have to go anywhere. And you’re going to love pulling down his collar to kiss right over them again.

Quietly, you pad your way to your dresser for some fresh underwear, collecting stray clothes as you go to dump them into the hamper. Then, you creep over to his side and carefully pull the blankets back up to his neck. The clock on his bedside table reads 9am. If you’re very lucky, he’ll sleep in until 10. He needs this rest.

You lean down and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. He shifts slightly, his head turning as if he’s trying to chase your touch. Warmth floods your chest as you sneak out of the bedroom and so, so slowly close the door behind you.

The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way through the house. You make a detour to the entryway to steal Zayne’s own house slippers, left forgotten after you got home from dinner last night. It’s truly a miracle he found the patience to leave his shoes at the door. The slippers don’t fit you, but they protect your feet from the cold as you finally head into the kitchen to enact your devious plan to take care of your husband.

You work as quietly as you can to take down a pan and pull out a spatula. You grab a bowl and lay out all the ingredients you need to make pancakes. You also pull out some blueberries to drop into the batter once it’s all mixed together. With a drizzle of oil in the heated pan, you use a spoon to glob the batter into little piles. They spread out into little discs, almost but not quite touching each other.

You hum to yourself as you grab a couple of plates from the cabinet. You also grab his mug and get the coffee pot started on brewing some fresh, hot coffee. As it brews, you flip the pancakes over, exposing their golden brown deliciousness. They’re thick and fluffy, and you pull out some maple syrup from the fridge to set on the table. Once the pot is brewed, you fill the mug with coffee and top it off with some sugar, just how he likes it.

You lay the first few pancakes onto a plate, setting them in a cute little toppled-domino array, before globbing some more batter into the pan. You cover the bowl and set it in the fridge to finish at a later time. You consider the possibility of giving it to Xavier, but he’d need to use a stove to make them… Best not.

Once the next batch is done, you lay them onto your own plate and crack two eggs into the pan. Their liquid insides meet the heated metal with a pleasant sizzle. You turn down the heat a little, and watch as the eggs begin to cook.

“So that’s where my slippers went.”

You whirl around to the kitchen entrance. “Zayne! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!” you chastise.

He grins as he closes the distance between you. His hair is still a mess, but at least he took the time to pull on his robe. You lean up, and he meets you halfway for a soft kiss. It’s quick, just a little peck - but it’s sweet and tender and makes your heart leap with joy, even after you’ve been together for so long.

“You forgot your slippers in the bedroom.” He holds them up with one hand, where they dangle from two of his fingers.

You glance at the eggs quickly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna risk waking up Sleeping Beauty,” you tease. You reach up to grab at his ear, but he easily ducks away. “You’re not even supposed to be up yet.” You then grab for your slippers, but he also pulls those out of your reach.

“I needed to find my Cinderella,” he teases back. “May I?” He gestures down to your feet, adorned in his slippers. You give him a suspicious look - it’s not often he’s so playful - but you nod, nonetheless. Your cheeks instantly grow warm as you watch him slowly kneel down in front of you, hazel green eyes locked to yours. He looks up at you like you are royalty meant to be worshipped.

You shift away from the stove enough to lean back against the marble countertop. It’s cold chill does nothing to tamp down the heated blood coursing through your veins. Zayne’s eyes slip shut as he pushes the dangling hem of his stolen shirt up to expose the skin of your thigh. His mouth immediately seeks it out, pressing featherlight kisses just below the line of your underwear and down your leg.

His fingers follow a similar pattern. They dance along your skin gracefully, almost tickling you as they travel to the back of your thigh, slowly gliding down all the way to your calf. His mouth stops at your knee. His hot breath fans over your bare skin, reverent and appreciative, exhaled from his nose, or from his mouth just as he goes in to leave another kiss.

His hand trails lower to your ankle. His thumb massages around the jutting bone, coaxing you to shift your weight and lift your foot up. With his other hand, he removes his slipper and sets it aside. His eyes open slightly to ensure he picks up the correct replacement; to watch as he slides the slipper tenderly onto your foot. “A perfect match,” he whispers.

You reach down to comb your fingers through his hair, detangling and smoothing it out so it sits normally on his head again. You can feel his grin. You’re tempted to grab his ear again just to mess with him.

He guides your foot back to solid ground. His lips find your other thigh, his hand finds your other ankle, and he helps you back onto one foot as he trades slippers once more. He meets your eyes again as he stands, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Suddenly reminded of what you were doing before this, you hurriedly flip the eggs over. “You almost made me burn breakfast,” you chide, but your face is so flushed, it doesn’t come across as seriously as you wish it did.

He unceremoniously slides his slippers onto his feet with a self-satisfied grin and a soft chuckle. His arms wrap around your waist, his chest to your back as he hugs you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder with his head tilted to lean against yours. Your free hand finds one of his over your stomach. Fingers move in a familiar dance to tangle together. You trace the cool band on his ring finger. He watches the morning light catch on yours.

“Thank you, my love,” he hums, content.

You kiss his head. “Of course. I wanted to do something nice for your day off.” You have to let him go in order to transfer the eggs (slightly overcooked) to your plates. He automatically turns the stove off, watching to make sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself. “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

He steps away, arms slipping from your body, to move about the kitchen. While you grab the plates and carry them over to the table, he grabs his coffee and takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. It’s just as he likes it. He carries it over with a glass of fruit juice that he sets in front of your plate.

“Anything,” he responds at last. “As long as it’s with you.”

You chuckle. “Alright, then we’ll stay in bed all day.”

He smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[usomads]

Finisher // Roman Reigns x Reader (Pin Me Pt. 2)

Author’s Note -> Hiiii everyone! So many of you requested a part two to Pin Me, which again thank you so much for all the love on the first part. I honestly didn’t think of making it multiple parts when I first wrote this, but here we are and here it is lol! Happy reading!

Plot -> After pinning the Smackdown Women’s Champion in your mixed tag-team match with Roman Reigns, you gained popularity and with that your first singles title opportunity. You’ve never been more nervous for anything in your life, so your Tribal Chief helps ease your nerves before your match…

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Fingering, Gagging, Implied Smut, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

(time skip to the first Smackdown episode after Saturday Night’s Main Event)

“I’ve been your Smackdown Women’s Champion for nearly five months now, and since becoming your champion I have proved that I am the irresistible force and nobody can take this title from me. Not Bayley, not Naomi, not Tiffany, and esp-” Nia’s promo was cut short by your entrance music hitting, the crowd rising to their feet and popping loudly for your theme. Since pinning Nia at Saturday Night’s Main Event, you had taken the WWE Universe by storm; your social media following went up, more and more people were recognizing you in public, you had gotten exactly the recognition you wanted all along- and it was all thanks to Roman Reigns.

Since last Saturday and your “celebration” post-match, you’ve grown closer to Joe. You were getting to know each other better, spending more time together, and what you initially thought was a one-time thing in the heat of the moment was clearly not. Joe got his hands on you every chance he could, it didn’t matter where or when, if he wanted you he was going to have you. And who were you to turn down your Tribal Chief? 

Now, you two hadn’t defined your “relationship” just yet but you both were perfectly fine with the way things were at the moment- taking things slow and really getting to know each other (among other things) before making anything official. You were doing pretty well for yourself; you were gaining more traction than before and you had a fine ass man to go home to- you had zero complaints with how your life and career were going at the moment.

You emerged from backstage, microphone in hand, as the crowd roared at your entrance. You signaled for production to cut your music, walking confidently to the ring as you spoke. “Now, Nia, I know damn well you didn’t come in the ring to talk all this mess about ‘no one can beat me’ after last week… did you hit your head too hard during our match or something because I,” you paused, signaling to the crowd filling the arena, “as well as the entire WWE universe remember very clearly that I pinned you last week at Main Event.” The crowd cheered in response, boosting your already high confidence as you smirked at Nia. “If you’re soooo confident you can beat me one-on-one, then do it. Put your title on the line next week and let’s see how much of a ‘force’ you really are.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Nia mocked you, “it’s so adorable that you think you’re a threat to me and my title. That win you got last week, pinning me? Was pure luck.” Nia stepped to you, with little distance between you too as she glared down at you, “But unlike you, at least I don’t have to sleep with anyone to get my main event spots, I work hard for what I have. Do that first, then come talk to me.” That wasn’t in the fucking script, is she serious right now? Oh, if she wants to improv, best believe I can too. You swung without thinking twice, using the microphone in your hand to hit her on the side of the head. It was time for a fight. 

You and Nia took turns trying to go at each other, both of you countering the other until she blindsided you out of nowhere with a hit that made you see double for a second. You knew you were done after that, feeling blood trickle from a cut on your head created by her. She continued to attack you while you were down, the crowd booing with every hit she delivered. After your body had slumped in the center of the ring she grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up, showing your beaten and bloody face to the crowd and cameras. “This isn’t fantasy, Y/N, stop playing pretend with Roman and go back to catering where you fucking belong.” She threw your head back onto the mat and exited the ring as security and medical personnel rushed to the ring. You dragged your fatigued body out of the ring and backstage, refusing treatment from medical despite their protests. You walked into the locker room Joe and you now shared, while Joe was screaming at someone on the phone.

“Nick, are you fucking kidding me? There’s gotta be some form of punish- I don’t give a shit what the higher ups thought about it, she could’ve seriously injured Y/N, I-,” Joe paused, turning around and seeing you enter the locker room, “I gotta go. This conversation isn’t over.” Joe hung up on the GM and rushed over to you. “Baby, are you okay? Did she hurt you? Have you gotten looked at by-”

“No, Joe, and I’m not going to. Just please, drop it. I’m over it.”

“Well, I’m not. Why the fuck would she even say something like that? How would she have known about us?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Joe! Now leave it alone, seriously, I’m not in the goddamn mood.” You went silent, thinking about what you were going to do about Nia. You needed to do something different, something she would never see coming. Your priorities shifted completely after that segment, you now no longer wanted just the title. Your biggest priority, maybe even more than wanting the belt, was to beat the shit outta Nia Jax, no matter what it took.

“Babe, c’mon, you need to sit down. You’re gonna stress yourself into a heart attack if you don’t quit pacing around the room like that,” Joe was currently attempting to calm you down, you had been completely fine this past week you were training and promoting the match, but now that the show had officially started your overwhelming amount of confidence had completely vanished.

“Easy for you to say, title matches are second nature to you. Muscle memory. I  have never competed for a title before, I have every right to be freaking the fuck out right now, Joe,” you sighed. “It feels like everything just did a 180 degree turn, like I have so many eyes on me now and they all want me to beat Nia’s ass, and I just don’t know if I-”

“Hey, none of that. Y/N, look at me,” you slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, the same ones that completely captivated your being just a couple weeks ago. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. That crowd out there knows exactly what you’re capable of, you know what you’re capable of, and I know what you’re capable of. I believe in you, baby, and if you can’t find it in you to believe in yourself then I’ll believe enough for the both of us. You got this, Y/N, I know you do.” Your heart melted at his words, the soothing and reassuring tone in his voice providing you some much needed comfort. 

“You still nervous, baby?” You nodded your head, looking down at your lap as he scooted closer to you on the couch. “I think I have an idea on how we can fix that. Do you trust me?”

“A-always, Joe.”

“Good girl.” He lifts your chin with his finger and passionately presses his lips to yours, resting his palm on the side of your face as you moan into the kiss. Your stomach flutters at his soft demeanor, feeling some of your nerves dissipate as his lips caress yours. He lays you down on the couch, hovering over you as he deepens the kiss. Breathless, he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours and looking lovingly into your eyes. “You still feelin’ nervous, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, “a little less, but still pretty nervous.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep going then, don’t I?” His lips find their way back to yours, resting there for a moment before trailing along your jawbone and down your neck, leaving a few wet kisses at the base of your throat before continuing his path downward. Your breathing had picked up, and you were now looking down at him as his lips left a trail down your abdomen.

“A-are you sure we should… now? I mean, I have my match later and I-”

“Shhh, I promise I’ll be quick. Just wanna take care of you, help my baby out,” he muttered against your hip bone as he teased the lining of your ring gear you had been wearing. You sighed contently, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch and allowing yourself to relax into his touch. His fingers interlock in the lining of your bottoms as he looks up for you, asking for permission to remove them. You lift your hips off the couch, allowing him to slowly drag the material down your legs and throw them to the side. He snakes both hands up your legs, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs before splitting them apart and exposing you to him. Your body was so reactive to him- Joe loved how goosebumps would scatter across your skin at the brush of his lips or how your eyes would flutter closed and your eyebrows would scrunch together with just his touch, but most of all, he loved how how wet he made you without doing a thing to you. 

“Fuck, ma, always so ready for me,” you moaned loudly and bucked your hips, desperate for any sort of friction, “you gon’ have to be quiet for me, don’t want nobody to hear us, right baby?” You nodded and bit your lip, trying to hold in your cries and his fingers danced up the smooth skin of your inner thighs and through your folds, leaning down to make his face level with your core and presses a soft kiss on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, nipping and sucking while he continues to drag his fingers along your slit before pushing a finger inside. His thrusts are slow, putting his focus on his mouth as he eats you with a burning intensity. His tongue works itself in ways that set your body on fire, the scruff of his beard along with it only adding to the sensation he’s giving you. The lip you’re biting to keep quiet is nearly drawing blood. You want to cry out, you want to moan his praises loud enough for the crowd inside the arena to hear, but you know you can’t so you continue to restrain yourself despite wanting to do the complete opposite.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue now, pumping it inside of you and using one to pin your hips down and the other to draw slow circles into your clit. This time you can’t help yourself; your clit is so sensitive that the second his fingers brushed it, you were done for. He pauses for a moment to remove his t-shirt he was wearing and you whine from the loss of contact, watching as he morphs the cotton material into a ball and hands it over to you, bringing his hand back down to your clit. “Bite down on this, since you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll make you.” You hesitate for a moment and look down at him, his features darkening and giving you a sly smirk before nodding his head. You bring the material to your lips before biting down on it, your senses being completely filled by Joe. He goes back to eating you as you moan into the cloth, the material successfully muffling your cries. Joe’s movements become more and more desperate, moving his tongue and fingers faster as he can sense you’re close. You can’t stop your moans now, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer to your release. Your legs begin to shake and Joe, noticing you were close, dives his head deeper into your pussy, trapping you with his mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut as you inhale, breathing in his scent and cologne you were using as a gag, triggering your own orgasm. You came on his tongue hard, shaking and moaning into the fabric of his shirt as he laps up your juices like an animal deprived of water. You even your breathing and throw his shirt back at him, the both of you laughing as he crawls on top of you.

“Oh, you wanna throw things at me do you? I might just have to teach you a le-”

Joe was interrupted by someone knocking on the door to his locker room. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/N? It’s almost time for your match, we need to head to Gorilla to finalize some things real quick.” You both sigh, him getting off of you as you put your bottoms back on in a rush. You make a run for the door to hurry and get to your position, but he grabs your arm to stop you. “You still feeling nervous?” You smiled at him and shook your head, going to thank him but getting cut off. “Good luck out there, baby. I’ll be waiting for you in Gorilla for you to show me that new title,” he kisses your cheek and you blush.

“Thank you, Joe, for everything. I mean it, I wouldn’t be doing this without you.” He gives you a soft smile and ushers you out the door, as you prepare yourself for possibly the biggest match of your entire career.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Nia dragged you from the center of the ring to the corner, preparing to give you an Annihilator and win this match. From the jump Nia had punished you, much to the crowd’s distaste. It seemed like everybody in the arena had been behind you and you felt it, right up until the bell rang and she started throwing heavy combinations your way. You managed to sneak in a couple pieces of offense but none were convincing enough to give you any sort of edge. Nia got on the ropes, and performed the move. She remained seated on you, trying to get the pin. 1… 2… kick out. You pushed her off of you and sat on your heels, gripping your side. Jesus, my fuckin’ ribs. 

Finally to your feet, you unload on Nia as she laid on the ground. Kicks, punches, springboard moves, you threw the whole arsenal but each pin attempt gave a 1 or 2 count, and never close calls. You knew deep down you were going to have to do something completely insane to get this win, so you start stringing things together to get it done. You start by giving her a drop kick to send her to the outside, following her out, then throwing her into the steel steps. You dragged her by the hair to the announce table, laying her on it as you ran to the ring and climbed to the top rope. You made sure everyone near the table had cleared before crossing your heart and doing a senton, landing on Nia as the table and collapsing along with it. You could tell that Nia was nearly to the breaking point, so you mustered all the energy and strength you could to drag her back into the ring and climbed to the top rope once more. You hit your finisher, but wasn’t satisfied. You wanted no doubts, so you climbed up and hit it again, straddling her shoulders and hooking your arms around her legs. The arena was so loud you could barely hear the ref’s count. 1… 2… 3… ‘Here is your winner, and the NEW… WWE Women’s Champion… Y/N!’

You couldn’t even process what had just happened, all you wanted to do was get the hell out of that ring so you snatched the title from the ref and escaped. You slowed down when you made it to the stage, clutching the title in your arms and looking down at it with tears brimming your eyes. Your knees felt weak, and your heart was beating out of your chest. You did it. You triumphantly raised the title in the air, tears starting to fall as you smiled and took the moment in. After the cameras had cut and you had taken a few pictures with fans, you walked backstage only to be greeted with cheers. You made your way to everyone, getting pictures, hugs, and everything else in between before locking eyes with the man you wanted to see ever since your hand was raised. Joe. You practically ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping yours around his neck, hugging him tightly. He spun you around and smiled from ear to ear. 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby. You had a helluva match out there, I knew you had it in you,” he kissed you sweetly right there, not caring who was watching as you grinned widely. “Now, let’s get you home,” he winked at you, setting you down before whispering low in your ear.

“We’ve got some more celebrating to do tonight.”

[arabella0001]

Tóji Fushiguro: Forbidden from the Start (Toji Fushiguro x Reader OneShot)

Pairing: Tóji Fushiguro x Reader

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Synopsis: when you move next to Tóji Fushiguro, one conversation is all it takes to blur the lines.

new to smut, pls be gentle (eng not my first language)

Warnings: praise kink, teasing, rough doggy, all characters are of age/aged up, dirty talk, rough missionary, breeding king

it was an ordinary autumn day, you recently moved into the apartment next door and now you were carrying your things through the shared balcony, Toji come out of his apartment onto the shared balcony to smoke and he just stared at you with an unreadable expression. after watching you for a moment, he turned his gaze back to the city skyline, seemingly lost in thought as he pondered about life and its many mysteries. the silence between you two stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of the bustling metropolis below. finally, Toji spoke up, his deep voice carrying across the short distance separating you.

"new place, huh? hope it treats you better than the last one." his tone was casual.

you chucke while lighting a cigarette, looking him up and down "yeah, seems fine. you? moved long ago? "

he takes another drag of his cigarette, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and skepticism "nah, I've been here for a while now. this building's got character, even if the neighbors can be a handful sometimes. "he glances around the shared balcony, taking in the worn concrete and rusted railings "but that's a part of the charm, right? "turning his attention back to you, Toji leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his broad chest."so, what brings a pretty thing like you to this neck of the woods? looking for excitement or just trying to escape something? "his green eyes gleam with mischief as he waits for your response, the scar on his lip twitching slightly.

his compliment makes you want him already more than before "well, not enterily, just wanted some peace of mind, isolated from others. but i don’t say no to something exciting who catchs my eyes"you smirk to him

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your flirtatious remark, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you with renewed interest. "isolated, huh? sounds like we might have more in common than i thought. " he takes a final puff of his cigarette before flicking it over the balcony, watching it burn out in the street below. stepping closer, Toji crowds you against the railing, his towering frame looming over yours. his warm breath ghosts across your skin as he leans in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "well, I'm always up for a bit of excitement… especially when it comes in such a tempting package. "one calloused hand finds your hip, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

"wait, what’s your name first? " you pull back for a asecond, a hint of surprise flashing in his emerald eyes at your sudden withdrawal. a small, amused smile plays on his lips as he regards you with a newfound respect. "Toji Fushiguro, you?” and you told him faster because the pressure already building "now, where were we? "

the bulge in his pants presses insistently against your stomach, evidence of his growing arousal. breathless from the intensity of the kiss, Toji's other hand slides down to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze "let's take this inside, shall we? I've got a few ideas for how to make you feel really…welcome in your new home. "with a wicked grin, he starts leading you towards your apartment door, his large hand firmly gripping your ass as he guides you.

you lead him to your room, feeling so aroused and wanting him so bad "so what are these ideas you talk about big boy?"once inside your room, Toji kicks the door shut behind him and pins you against it, his body caging you in. his hands roam over your curves, fingers digging into your flesh possessively as he claims your mouth again in a bruising kiss.

"these ideas involve showing you just how good a real man can make you feel, "he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. " i'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name. and when I'm done with you, you're going to be begging for more. " with that promise, Toji starts tearing at your clothes, his impatience evident in the way he rips fabric without care. buttons fly everywhere as he exposes your breasts to his hungry gaze, his thumbs circling your nipples until they pebble under his touch.Toji's eyes darken with primal desire at your moan, his breathing ragged as he continues to strip you bare. Once you're naked, he steps back to admire the view, his gaze roving over your curves appreciatively.

"beautiful, "he praises, his voice low and husky. "now let's see how well you can scream my name. "

without further preamble, Toji yanks his own shirt off and tosses it aside, revealing his chiseled torso and the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. ge unfastens them quickly, freeing his thick cock which juts out proudly, already leaking precum.

"get on the bed, "he commands, his green eyes blazing with intensity. "on your knees, facing away from me. I want to watch that tight little ass of yours while I prepare to split you open. "

Toji moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself. the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, applying pressure in slow, deliberate thrusts.

"gonna give you exactly what you need, "he groans, his grip tightening as he lines himself up. "take it all, baby girl. every inch. " and you moan into his mouth.with a powerful snap of his hips, Toji drives into you, burying his length deep within your heat. a guttural moan escapes him at the feeling of your walls clenching around his shaft. "fuck, you're so tight… "he sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. his balls slap against your clit with each thrust, adding to your pleasure and his hands slide up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten your pleasure while keeping you grounded.

"that’s it, scream for me, "he demands, his voice strained with exertion. "let everyone know who's fucking you senseless. " he pistons in and out of you with ruthless efficiency, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. the bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall as he fucks you with wild abandon.

with a sudden movement, Toji flips you over onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts.

"look at me", he commands, his green eyes burning into yours as he begins to move once more. " want to see the pleasure on your face as I claim this pussy. " he pounds into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you to the limit with each stroke. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce enticingly, drawing his attention. "such perfect tits… " he leans down to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.Toji releases your nipple with a pop, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips for a moment before breaking. he watches your reactions intently, his expression a mix of lust and dark satisfaction.

"you like that, don't you?"he purrs, his voice dripping with confidence. "like having your pretty tits played with while I ruin your tight cunt? "he resumes his relentless rhythm, the head of his cock hitting that magical spot inside you with every thrust. his free hand travels down to rub circles over your clit, providing extra stimulation to push you closer to the edge. "come for me, Y/N, "he urges, his breath hot against your ear. "show me how much you crave this dick."

"fuck Toji…you are so big…you fill me up so good" a triumphant smirk spreads across Toji's face at your words, his chest puffing out with pride.

"that’s right, baby, I'm a big man in every way, "he boasts, punctuating his statement with a particularly deep thrust that makes you gasp. "and you were made to take it, weren't you? "his hand on your clit speeds up, rubbing in firm circles. "your greedy little pussy was just waiting for a real cock to stretch it out and make it sing. "

he leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he fucks you harder, driving you closer to the brink of orgasm. "come on, Y/N, let go, "he growls against your lips. "milk my cock dry with that sweet cunt of yours."

"holy shit, Toji" you were screaming, gasping for air while your vision turned white, squeezing his cock until making you both cum at the same time. Toji collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he catches his breath. after a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, a smug grin still playing on his lips despite the exhaustion etched on his features.

"holy shit indeed, "he chuckles, his voice low and satisfied. "that was one hell of a ride. you took my cock like a champ, baby. " he rolls off you and lies beside you, pulling you into his arms. his hand lazily trails up and down your side as he nuzzles your neck. "so, what did you think of your first time with a real man? ready to ditch those toys for some quality dick whenever you need a release? "

"mhmmm…i might think about it" Toji's eyes light up with amusement at your noncommittal response, a knowing glint in their emerald depths. "oh, I think you will, "he teases, giving your hip a playful squeeze. "once you've had a taste of what a skilled man can do, there's no going back. " he pulls you closer and a amischievous smile plays on his lips.