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izadi234 · 19 hours ago

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Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 (You're here)

Chapter 6

Meanwhile Duke and you spent the afternoon playing at an arcade and while you were playing, Duke checked the family group. Dick had sent a message calling for a meeting but he ignored it and decided to focus on spending time with you.

Alfred's plan must have already started

After playing for a while you both decided to go to dinner at Duke's favorite restaurant so you could talk in a more relaxed way. These moments with you made Duke feel like he was a little kid again, forgetting about school, his parents' tragedy and even that he was a vigilante. Once you got to the restaurant and sat at your table, you talked a little about some series and video games that you both liked until Duke asked something that he had never dared to ask before.

"Can I ask you a question, (Name)?"

"Sure!" you nodded

"Why are you studying journalism?" the younger one asked

Duke was not stupid, he was also a detective like the rest of the family, he knew that your career decision had been made because of the death of your parents, but he wanted to know about your life before the mansion.

And so maybe he'll know how to make your next stay more comfortable

"Well umm..." you said a little thoughtfully but still smiling

"I don't think I've told you about my mom and... and my dad, right? Before I went to live at Wayne Manor" you specified

Duke just shook his head as he waited for you to continue talking.

"Well, I chose my career because of them"

"And why?" Duke asked a little more insistently "And Bruce wasn't your father?"

"I mean, if Bruce is my father biologically speaking but..." you sighed and looked at him with a sad smile

"I think it won't hurt to tell you. I trust you" you took his hand in yours and squeezed gently making Duke smile at you

"Before living in Wayne Manor, I lived with my mom and another man, his name was (F/N) (father's name) and he met my mother when she had found out that she was pregnant with me. They met by chance, my mother was a great scientist and he was a journalist and the day they met, he came to interview Bruce for a new project they were doing. He was lost in the big building of Wayne Enterprices and that's where he found mom. She kindly helped him and from what he once told me he was immediately smitten by her. They started dating and ended up falling in love but before that my mom found out that she was pregnant with me and it was clearly not (F/N)'s, but when she told him about her pregnancy and who I was child of, he didn't care and he was with her throughout her pregnancy. Mom quit Wayne Enterprises and moved in with my father. Then I was born and everything was perfect until... one day it wasn't anymore..." you started to tell him, but at the end of your story you had a more somber face

"I..." Duke wanted to talk but he didn't know what to say "And... what happened next?"

You hesitated to talk but he was Duke, he was YOUR brother, of course you could trust him

"Dad was covering an event in downtown Gotham when there was an explosion near the place. I remember it like it was yesterday" you smiled sadly "I was always excited to see him on television and that day was no exception. My mother and I were in the TV room, she was sitting on the couch while laughing at my excitement and I was sitting on the floor in front of the TV. And it was when he was announcing the capture of the Joker in a building when an explosion happened causing the signal to cut out. My mother immediately took me away from the TV and we both went to my room where she tried to calm me down, making sure he was okay but I knew she was scared too. Hours later I fell asleep but I woke up to my mom crying and that was when I knew dad hadn't made it. The funeral was the next day and even though she tried to look strong I knew she was just as bad or worse off than me. Months later, my mom started getting sick, I thought it was because of her low mood but she soon had to be admitted to the hospital. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer and had at most a few months left, in the meantime I stayed with a neighbor, she was an old lady but I saw her as a grandmother. She took me to see my mom every day and one of those days I heard them talking about my real father. Mom tried to convince my nanny to adopt me when she was gone but my nanny refused, she said I would live a better life with my biological father. Weeks later she died too and immediately child services contacted Bruce and well you know the rest"

You looked at Duke still with a small smile

"Does anyone else know all this?" Duke asked after a few seconds of silence

"Nope" you shook your head "Well, Alfred but in a very general way, just what child services told him when he picked me up from that place"

"And yes, I chose to study journalism because of my father. He inspired me a lot when I was little and to this day my dad and mom do it. So, have you finished that project you told me about the other day?"

"Let me walk you home" you said to Duke as you walked through the almost dark streets of Gotham

"Oh no, really! I don't want to cause you any trouble" Duke said a little embarrassed

"Of course not Duke!" you put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him a little "You're my brother, I'm not going to leave you alone in these dangerous streets"

"I'm a vigilante" he reminded you

"And?" you hugged him

"You're always going to be my little brother"

"You're embarrassing me!" the boy exclaimed as he tried to separate himself from the hug although to be honest, he would never reject a hug from you

"Oh no, they just grow up and they don't even want a hug from their sibling anymore" you said dramatically making both of them laugh

"But seriously, I'll give you a ride to Wayne Manor" you said

"Do you have a car?!" He asked surprised

"No... but a motorcycle, I left it in a parking lot near here. Let's go."

They walked until they reached a parking lot where you had your motorcycle at the back. You handed him your helmet so he could put it on.

"What about you?" Duke asked when he noticed that you only had one helmet

"Don't worry, I'm more worried about you" you said as you got on your motorcycle, followed by him

"Ready?" you turned to look at him

"Ready!" he nodded

"Okay, hold on!" you said before starting the motorcycle

The more Jason looked through the box, the more he felt like he knew you. You liked taking pictures, that was a fact and on the last pages of the album you had some notes next to the photo, describing the situation of the photo.

"Jason?" a voice called from the door of the living room, it was Dick

Realizing that Jason hadn't heard him, the acrobat approached and touched his shoulder making Jason jump a little because he wasn't expecting it.

"What do you want, Dickhead?" he asked irritated

"I was..." Dick interrupted his words when he saw that his brother had several things around him

"What is that?" Jason turned to look at your things again, his expression less hard.

"They're (Name)'s"

"And who gave them to you?" Dick asked as he sat next to him

"Alfred"

"Alfred? Why would he have (Name)'s things?" Dick asked as he grabbed a small purple blanket

"It's some stuff that they probably threw away over time or forgot to take" Jason said as he looked back at the photo album Dick noticed Jason's gaze that was resting on the book and decided to take it but before he could do so Jason grabbed Dick's wrist preventing him from doing so which caused the older man to look at him strangely.

"Jason..?" His voice brought him back to reality.

"Yeah I'm sorry" he let go of his wrist

"It's a photo album. It's (Name)'s" Jason let Dick take the album and he started to flip through it in silence while Jason looked at other things in the box.

"Who is this man?" Dick asked referring to your father

"I have no idea" Jason admitted

"Maybe Babs can recognize him" he said to continue looking at the photos

"Wait... Do you have photos with them?!" Dick exclaimed in surprise

"Yeah..." Jason smiled proudly

"And why don't I have a picture with them?!" Dick said dramatically "I'm their older brother!"

"But I'm their favorite brother" Jason stressed

That couldn't be possible! Dick was EVERYONE'S favorite brother! How could Jason be YOURS?!

"You damn...!" Dick was going to throw himself at Jason if it wasn't for a presence behind them

"What the hell is going on?" asked Bruce who looked at them confused

"And who is all this from?"

"It's from (Name)" said his sons at the same time

"Have you found anything?" asked Jason to Bruce

"No" sighed Bruce as he sat on the couch

"The day of their departure they turned off the cameras for several hours and cleaned their room excellently well"

Jason sighed a little desperate.

"Well... We haven't found anything either but, Jason found this" Dick gave Bruce the album

"Maybe it won't help in finding them but maybe it will help... get to know them better" Dick spat out those last words as if he was ashamed of not knowing his brother/sister for 15 years Bruce started looking at the album like his two sons had done before

"And this man?" he asked when he saw your father of course he remembered your mother, she was very beautiful but equally intelligent.

Yes, it was a very serious loss in his company when she left but this man, he had already seen him before but... where?

"We don't know" Jason said

"I'm going to tell Tim, Stephanie and Barbara to identify him" Bruce said taking the photo of your first birthday. You looked so happy despite being only one year old and what a beautiful smile, it was just like your mother's but... he had never seen him up close

"And what are the others doing?" Jason asked, snapping him out of his thoughts

"Tim, Stephanie, and Barbara are in the Batcave looking through the cameras, and if they have social media, Damian and Cass are still in their room looking for a clue, although to be honest, I'm starting to doubt it," Bruce sighed again

"And Duke?" Jason asked

"Duke..?" Bruce's eyes suddenly opened as he remembered the newest member of the Wayne Family

"He didn't answer or see the messages I sent to the group either," Dick said as he checked his cell phone

"That's it! Duke!" Bruce exclaimed with a smile on his face, causing Dick and Jason to look at each other in confusion

"Okay...?”

“In the morning Duke had told me that he was going out with (Name) so he should know where they are" he explained to them

"Duke and (Name) get along?" Jason asked surprised and a little jealous

"That's right, Master Jason" said Alfred who was standing at the entrance of the room

"Young Master Duke and Master (Name) have maintained a friendly relationship since he arrived at the mansion" explained the older name

"Ha!" laughed Dick while patting him on the back "It seems that you are no longer his favorite"

That made Jason feel a pressure in his chest.

He had to be YOUR FAVORITE again

"Alfred could you give this to Tim, Steph and Barbara, please?" Bruce gave Alfred the photo of your first birthday "Have them identify the man in the picture"

"Of course, Master Bruce" nodded the butler and then left

"So what? Are we going to wait for Duke to arrive?" Jason asked a little gruffly, still angry

"I think we shouldn't wait for him to arrive, Master Jason," Alfred commented as he looked out the window

"Why do you say that?" Dick asked as the three men stood up

"Because he is already here.”

"Well bro, this is where I'm at" you said as you stood on your motorcycle in front of the large doors that gave access to the great Wayne mansion

"Are you sure you don't want to go in and say hello to Alfred?" Duke asked as he took off his helmet and gave it to you

"No thanks. I love Alfred but I wouldn't go in that place again for the life of me" you said as you covered the license plates of your motorcycle with your jacket now that Duke got off. You were a little paranoid like your father but could you be blamed? This place gave you the creeps.

"Okay then I think this is where we say goodbye" Duke said a little sad and you could notice it. You chuckled and hugged him without getting off your motorcycle.

"It's not a final goodbye, besides you have my number" you smiled at him

"I know, but the fact that you don't even live here now is very strange to me. I really miss you"

"And I miss you, little brother" you hugged him one last time

"Text me when you get home" he said once you put on your helmet

"Sure" you nodded as you started your bike

"See you later Duke! I love you"

"I love you too, (Name)" that was the last thing you said to each other before you left for your house

Duke sighed as he watched you leave, not looking back. He walked towards the entrance where the doors opened upon recognition and then walked a flight further until he reached the double doors of the large mansion.

Before he could knock on the door Alfred opened it and greeted him with his usual neutral tone of voice and a small smile which indicated to him that everything was going according to his plan.

"Good evening, young master" Alfred let him in

"Good evening Alfred"

"Master Bruce is waiting for you in the living room with young masters Dick and Jason" Alfred told him as Duke hung his jacket on the coat rack in the entrance

"And why are you looking for me?"

"To ask you about (Name)”

"You were looking for me Bruce?" asked Duke as he peeked through the door to the living room to see the three men sitting in the living room

"That's right Duke" nodded Bruce as he motioned for the younger man to sit

"Okay" he nodded as he took a seat next to Dick "What happened?"

"I need you to tell me everything you know about (Name)" Bruce told him

"And for what?" Duke acted confused

Bruce sighed. No matter how many times he repeated it, it always embarrassed him.

"I want to apologize to them"

"We ALL want to apologize to them" Dick corrected knowing that Bruce was not the only one to blame for this situation

"I have not been a good father to them, I didn't even try and now I see the consequences. My firstborn is away from this family because of me. I should have been more aware of them but I thought that since they weren't a vigilante, they would need less of my attention and now I see how wrong I was" he explained to Duke and then looked him in the eyes

"But you have been able to make a connection with them, and now I need all the information I can get from them so I can find them and tell them all that and more"

Duke sighed but inside he felt satisfaction seeing Bruce in that state, for all the harm he had caused his sibling.

A little punishment never hurt anyone, right?

But if he wanted you to come home then he had to help them, besides he still didn't know where you lived.

"Okay, but I don't have much information," Duke told him.

"We'll judge that," Jason said now, looking at him with a somewhat hard look.

Had he already discovered that he was now (Name)'s favorite?

That only filled him with more satisfaction.

"Okay," he nodded.

Before Bruce could say anything else, Tim arrived in the room, interrupting their conversation.

"Bruce, we've already identified the man."

They all went down to the Batcave and down there were Barbara and Stephanie talking and in the background, on the screen, they saw several pictures and information.

"What did you find?" asked Bruce as everyone approached the Batcomputer

"Well, the man in the picture with (Name) and their mother is (F/N) (L/N)" Barbara began to say "He studied journalism at Gotham University and he was married for 2 years to (M/N) (L/N) and gave his last name to (Name)"

"He died in an explosion caused by the Joker when (Name) was 4 years old, the same age they were when they came to the mansion" finished explaining Steph

Bruce already knew where he knew that man from. He had interviewed him several years ago. He was a very intelligent man and clever with words at that time which bothered him a little. From that interview onwards, the only one allowed to interview him was Clark or Lois, no one else could interview him.

But maybe if he had allowed (F/N) to keep interviewing him, maybe he would have known about his child's existence much sooner and maybe he wouldn't have made so many mistakes with you.

Just MAYBE…

"But isn't (Name) your child?" Dick asked Bruce confused

"Yes, they are" Duke said and everyone turned to look at him so he could continue talking

"They told me, today in fact. They told me about their life before the mansion. They told me that their mother met their father- I mean, (F/N) one day when he came to interview you Bruce" the young man turned to look at them

"And that in fact they're studying journalism like him because they were always inspired by what he did. They have a great memory" he said at the end with a tone of pride knowing that his brother/sister had many gifts even if they didn't realize it

"And how do you know all that?" Damian asked

"I spent the day with them today and they told me about it" Duke said as if it was no big deal

"You... You talk to them?" Tim asked as if he was trying to understand

"Yeah. They helped me a lot when I moved here" he explained

"You said he was studying journalism?" Bruce interrupted

"Yes" Duke nodded

"So if we don't know where he lives we can find out where he studies. Barbara, look up the records of Gotham University on all the journalism students" Bruce asked

"I'm already on it" Barbara nodded and then started typing on the batcomputer

"So... you two are close?" Tim asked Duke surprisingly

"I'd like to think so" Duke laughed a little nervously

"And what do you normally do with them?" With that question everyone started to pay attention even if they didn't look at him

"Well... It depends..." he said "Now that they don't live here anymore we go out to eat and to the arcade and even to the park. We mostly talk but before they left we spent a lot of time in the library, that place was their favorite of the whole mansion because it's more illuminated there. We used to read or they would tell me about some book and even gossip about their friends. From time to time, when you were busy they would train with me or we would also play video games. They are very good with technology and science"

"Did they train with you? Are they also vigilantes like us?" Damian asked for the first time curious about you

"No they are not vigilantes like us" that calmed Bruce down "But they are good at self-defense. They know how to fight"

"But how? I never taught them" Bruce asked

"They are your children Bruce, they are just as good at analysis and observation" then he walked to another monitor and looked for something on the computer. It was a video of both of you training.

In the video you had a sly smile that no one else besides Duke and Alfred had seen on you. While you were dressed in sportswear and some bandages on your knuckles. Duke was just like you, both looking defiant but not intimidating.

"Ready to lose?" Duke told you

"You wish" you smiled with a sly smile

Then you both started to fight, Duke being the first to throw the first blow which you managed to dodge. You both fought for a long time, neither of you giving up easily. After several minutes you both ended up on the ground tired and sweaty.

"Tie?" You suggested, stretching your fist out towards him

"Tie" he nodded, bumping his fist into yours

"You're getting better" you congratulated him

"It's not that bad" Duke said, a little embarrassed with the compliment you gave him

"Of course it is" you patted him on the back "You're getting better pretty fast, I know you'll be able to face Grayson and Todd soon, and maybe one day you'll even be able to match or be better than Bruce"

"Thanks, (Name)" Duke smiled at you

"Don't mention it" you smiled back and stood up

"Shall we take a break?" you offered him a hand to get him up

"Sure" Duke took your hand and stood up

And that was the end of the video Duke was showing them.

"Yeah, they're good training partners," Duke said with a smile.

"I found something," Barbara said, cutting off the tense moment.

Everyone focused on the screen Barbara was working on, looking at a picture of you on the screen and next to it your college information.

"(Name) (L/N), third semester journalism student at Gotham University," Barbara read.

"(L/N)?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, apparently when they turned 18 they changed their last name," Barbara nodded.

He didn't know anything about you, but he was sure of one thing and that was that he had given you his last name.

You weren't a (L/N)

You were a WAYNE

But don't worry, that would soon be fixed.

"But that's not the important thing," Jason said. "Where do they live?"

"They live in an apartment complex near the university" Barbara said

"Send me the address alone" Bruce ordered

"Bruce! / Father! / B!" everyone started to complain but Bruce silenced them with a look

"Don't even start" he warned them "I'm more than sure that if any of you have this information, they will immediately go looking for you but, we must avoid howling at them because they will most likely be furious with all of us"

Everyone looked at the ground at his words, all of them feeling a little bad.

"So let's wait a bit to face them. Now, everyone goes to rest, it's been a tiring day"

Reluctantly, everyone went to rest while the only ones left downstairs were Bruce and Barbara.

"Don't give them the information. It's an order" Bruce told Barbara

"Understood" she nodded

"Okay, now go rest" he said so the girl could go rest too

Then he turned to look at the big screen where your picture was.

You looked so much like your mother and seeing it from that point of view, he was happy, he already had enough with having Damian, who was already very similar to him. He couldn't wait to meet you again after 15 years.

Well as they say, better late than never, right?

Helloooo!

How are you all? I hope everyone liked this chapter! I'll try to post more frecuently. Anyway if you liked this chapter I will invite you leave a heart, reblog or interact in any other way as leaving asks or comments as I would love to heart your opinions and any sugestiones you may have for the story or even theories.

Thank you for reading! See you in the next one!

PD: I have put everyone that has told me to add them in the TAG LIST so please check it out to see If I have make a mistake or something hahahaha.

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1@ch1cky-093 @leiiasurez @bluemidnightmelodies @lilyalone @plsfckmedxddy @lovebug-apple @jisnothere @akanegotlost @stormz369 @sugarpiehoe @mddbsf @shhhhhhhhhhtellnobody @i-adorehannah @darktrashpoetry @fantasyhopperhea @d3sperate-enuf @expctron @horror-lover-69 @caffeinatedhearts12 @niggrroo @v3llev3t3 @cynniee @imhere2dosomething @verypersonadazzel @asillysimp @type-ink @wisefuncherryblossom @haruskrd @angelicbear @zoeyburton @twismare @bad4amficideas @casspen-starlight @gwyneveire @ferchu0406 @erinhan08 @yoopsity @aki-anikk @24-7aroundtheclockanxious @ferntv @hunter-hears-all @gwyneveire @yuyuzi-ling @shirp-collector-of-fixations @welpthisisboring @jellyedkazoo @mellowcloudland @rainwaterxx @lunaetiicsaystuff @ryuushou @butratherbutrather @tiredhealer5 @nemesis-writer @jjsmeowthie @a4g3lstarfire @chibikochannumberone @hayley1234 @thestarry-nightfox @kittzu @sillyheartmoonnyx

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pretty-little-mind33 · 3 days ago

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Dad!James Potter x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Telling James you're pregnant again is scary.

Genre: pure fluff

Warnings: reader is pregnant, vomiting

~ set after Santa Baby and before Snow On The Beach ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Date nights were extremely important to James. Since Henry's birth, he was adamant that his alone time with you was something he didn't want to neglect, even if there was a child in the picture.

Now that Henry was nine, convincing Sirius and Remus to babysit wasn't hard. Especially since they would bring their four year old, Cassiopeia, with them and Henry would graciously play her while you and James went out.

Tonight's date isn't any different than the others, except that you're a bundle of jumping nerves. It certainly doesn't help that James looks positively stunning with his dark hair slicked back, a few loose curls arrayed across his forehead, and his dark suit, which conveniently matches the velvet navy dress you're wearing.

The restaurant is fancy. It's James's favorite and you secretly think one of the reasons is he likes showing you how much he can spoil you, as if he hadn't been doing just that for the past thirteen years. He'd ordered this fancy appetizer, along with some wine you haven't touched and was currently talking about work. Taking over his father's company was putting some stress on him, which you understood.

"You know, I can't wait till Harry starts school, not that I won't miss the little bugger," James chuckles behind his wine glass, his mind wandering, "but because we'll have more time. Just us."

His words cause your stomach to sink. How are you supposed to tell him now, you think. James, always observant to your emotions, frowns when he sees your expression.

"You okay, you look like you're going to be sick—"

As he speaks, the nausea hits you hard and you stand, holding a hand over your mouth as you rush to the nearest bathroom without any warning. You clumsily throw yourself on the ground, vomiting into the toilet and you choke on an embarrassed sob.

James is hot on your heels the moment you leave dinner so abruptly, running into the women's bathroom without a care in the world. The older women, who'd been mildly appalled by your vomiting, send him some dirty looks but he doesn't pay them any mind as he opens the stall. He kneels next to you, gently gathering your hair in his hand as he uses the other one to rub soothing circles on your back.

"Hey, my love, what happened?" He asks between soothing words, his hand strokes your hair as you slump against him, tears glistening in your waterline.

Your husband isn't stupid and he knows you. He looks into your eyes and he understands instantly. His breath hitches as he remembers just how bad your 'morning' sickness was when you were pregnant with Henry, lasting and becoming even worse in the evenings. His gaze softens instantly and clicks his tongue. "Why didn't you tell me?" he scolds half-heartedly, still rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You sniffle, wiping your mouth with an enormous amount of toilet-paper as you whimper, "I felt like I was going to disappoint you, you seemed so happy for time alone and—"

"And now we are going to have another baby," James finishes for you, kissing your temple as he helps you up and brings you to the sink. He pushes hair behind your face as he gently takes some paper-towel, wets it, and gently runs it under your chin and around your mouth. You look miserable and his heart breaks.

He doesn't say anything for a moment as he washes your hands, washing his in the process as well. Your mind races. You don't know what to think, what to feel about this new life growing inside you.

He places his large palm on your stomach. You're not showing, yet. You flinch, sniffing. "Why so sad, love?" he whispers as he tries to comfort you.

"You're upset," you whisper, looking at your appearance in the mirror. You look like a mess.

James grins. "Says who?" He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead again.

You look on the verge of tears again and your husband's smile falters. He leans down, catching your gaze so you're looking at him properly. "Hey, love, please don't cry okay? I'm not upset, I promise. I'm happy. So so happy, really," James reassures you, a familiar glint of sincerity in his eyes. "We are having another baby. This is the best news, okay?"

Tension eases in your shoulders and you finally relax. The warm feeling of happiness seeps back into you. You sniff again, looking into his eyes. "Promise?"

He straightens himself and holds out his pinky for you to take. "I pinky promise." You hook your pinky with his and he leans down, kissing his closed fist. You hesitate, finally cracking a small smile as you do the same.

"Excuse me? This is the ladies room," a snark voice calls from behind you both and you look towards the voice. A woman is standing tensely in the doorway, gripping the hand of her young daughter, and she's glaring daggers at James.

The little girl looks confused and she's clearly feeling the fear her mother is and you can tell from James's expression he feels bad.

"Sorry." He waves his hands in the air, his cheeks dusted pink, as he points to you, "My wife was sick—I was just leaving—" James looks your way and mouths, "You coming?"

You nod, taking his hand, as he leads you out the door. You mumble a small apology to the woman and James sends a small reading smile to the girl, hoping not to scare her.

Once your back at your table, James gulps down his wine and looks at you sheepishly. "Oops," he mutters. You smile and cover your giggles. James's smile widens when you laugh and he reaches over, resting his hand over yours.

"Seriously, baby," he says, seriously now, "I'm really happy. And Henry will be happy too."

You rub your temples, taming some of the wisps of hair that fall in front of your eyes. "Yeah? You think so?"

James laughs, "No. He's gonna be furious," he pauses when he sees that his joke isn't landing and he squeezes your hand. "I'm joking. He'll be the best big brother. He's already so good with Cassi, he's practically an older brother already."

You smile. "He is, isn't he?"

James hums, that giddy smile of his returning. "Pregnant. Again," he muses, "I can't believe how lucky I am," he says and looks at you like you're the brightest star in the universe. You feel your cheeks warm. "I love you."

"I love you more," you say back, bringing his knuckles to your lips.

James grins and when he catches glimpse of your untouched wine glass, a smirk curls his lips and shake his head, clicking his tongue. "Can't drink this, baby," he teases you and slides it over to his side. You roll your eyes.

"I wasn't," you argue playfully.

"Hmm?"

You swat his hand, knowing he's teasing you on purpose to lighten the mood. Still, your nerves have calmed and you aren't feeling as nauseous anymore. In fact, you can finally truly feel excited now. Another baby. You smile.

Once the food arrives and the topic of conversation had changed to James excitedly coming up with new baby names, you feel at ease again and warmth spreads in your stomach.

You move your foot under the table, gently touching James's ankle—just to let him know you love him. James doesn't mention it but his smile widens as he speaks, a look of adoration and love sparkling in his eyes.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagines #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #dad!james #dad!james potter #dad!james potter x reader #dad!james potter x fem!reader #dad!james potter x wife!reader #james potter x wife!reader #aaron taylor johnson

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murderofravens · 2 days ago

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BLACKEST DAY

pairing: cho sangwoo x fem reader

summary: old feelings are rekindled when you encounter your father's old friend at the games.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, sangwoo is 46) badly written smut, face slapping, slightly toxic dynamics, a smidge of some age-gap kink. lots of angst. body worship. this is a oneshot.

word count: around 5k

[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]

MASTERLIST

life has a funny way of reuniting people.

when you woke up in the hall, surrounded by strangers wearing those ugly green clothes much like yourself, your first thought was— 'i should have brought someone with me.'

you were always rather wary of doing things by yourself. things seem much easier when you have a helping hand to give you advice, or to make bad decisions together.

your first shock came upon the mention of his name, taken by one of the guards.

player 218, cho sangwoo.

your eyes snapped up to the screen where you could see a clip of him getting slapped after repeatedly losing the game.

"former supervisor of team two at joy investments, embezzled money from his clients, invested it in derivatives and figures and failed. current loss, 650 million won."

you looked around frantically before you caught sight of him— handsome as ever, although visibly distraught. his shocked eyes were looking at the guards with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

you had known sangwoo since you were rather young. idolized him at one point, even. he and your father used to be some sort of business partners— which you can guess was another word for friends who gambled and hung out occasionally. most of your years went by with him acknowledging you politely, getting you chocolate everytime he came to visit, and patting your head with a proud smile whenever your parents told him about one of your achievements at school. you wanted to be like him— smart, ambitious and a hard worker.

you'd moved off for college when you were of age, and according to his mother, he had moved to the US for business purposes.

which, as you can see, didn't work out.

you don't really try to make conversation with him, don't even look at his side of the room. mainly because you're embarrassed. there are two reasons— the first being that you don't want to see the man you idolized at a place like this. and the second is personal. your last memory of him isn't something you're fond of. it still fills you with resentment and a sense of sadness— you had asked to meet up with him before you were going off to college, hoping to express your feelings. you'd developed a childish crush on him when you were growing up, and it had expanded into genuine feelings over time.

but he never showed up, and you were left sitting in the expensive restaurant all by yourself. you never revealed that to anyone, deciding to take that moment of humiliation to the grave.

the first game was terrifying, to say the least. while you could tell there was something inherently shady about the whole organization, what left you in genuine shock was the first shot that rang out through the field, killing the person who moved. you were careful about your steps then, walking forward rather meticulously, ensuring you were not a victim in whatever hellhole you've found yourself in.

splatters of blood covered your face as you almost reached the line, hiding behind another taller man. there were a mere 10 seconds left. your heart was quite literally trying to beat out of your chest, and sweat dripped down your forehead. and that's when you first made eye contact with him.

sangwoo, who was bent in half, was panting as he looked at the finish line. his gaze rose, and connected with yours— eyes immediately widening with recognition. you were frozen as you looked at him, jaw clenched and panic stricken. he looked at the timer, and the doll turned away. you quickly began running, and you saw him straighten up as the timer began nearing zero. you jumped across the finish line, and his hand grabbed you to help. you stumbled into him and the both of you fell onto the dusty ground— a mess of sweaty limbs.

you don't say a word to him as the guards guide you back to the hall. he is just as silent behind you, and you wonder if it's because he's embarrassed about being there, or if he remembered what he did to you and is reluctant to acknowledge you after.

"i didn't expect to see you here." he remarks quietly, voice grim. his head is lowered, and there's an almost disappointed look in his eyes.

the audacity.

"i could say the same about you," you shoot back dryly, sitting cross legged on the floor. he looks at you then, and your gaze challenged his.

"you've grown since i last saw you." he adds, and you scoff in response. so what? you were still bitter.

"it's just two years."

he clenches his jaw and looks away, his ears feeling hot. you've always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, and apparently it still applies. you look up at him, eyes accusatory.

"i thought you went to the states." there's a taunting edge to your voice— rather shallow and childish on your end, but you can't help yourself. you're playing with life and death, but still you're angrier about your history with him than anything else.

"all those degrees just to scam people? i'd expect more from someone like you, mr. sangwoo—"

"you don't know what you're talking about," he shuts your words down quickly, voice firm. he's quick to change the topic, visibly agitated. "i thought you went to college. what happened to your—"

"father?" you interrupt, sitting straighter. "he got scammed."

you look at him pointedly as you say the last word, and his eye twitches.

"he gambled away his money on some non existent race. i dont live with him anymore and i need money to continue college and pay rent. my mom doesn't know and i don't wanna worry her." you take a sharp breath, voice getting lower, "my landlady threw me out before i found the ddakji guy."

his face softens with every sentence, an expression close to pity taking over. you hate pity, so you shut it down with a glare.

"don't give me that look," you sigh with exhaustion, running a hand down your face.

"i'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. he blinks a few times, adjusts his glasses. he doesn't know what else to say, and he's almost glad for the interruption when the staff walks in and announces the results of the first game.

it's so sudden how people begin to beg for their lives— kneeling before the guards, pleading to be spared. it makes you feel sorry and disgusted at the same time— you can understand why they'd do so, but you can't imagine kneeling before an organisation like this in any way. you value your dignity.

when the gunshot rings out to silence the begging crowd, the guard announces the second clause of the contract: a player who refuses to play will be terminated.

your head snaps up at the sound of sangwoo's confident voice.

"clause three of the consent form—" he steps forward, "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

the guard nods, "that is correct."

"then," he looks around, and his eyes fall on you. he looks away, and cocks his head to the side, "let us take a vote."

you almost feel that sense of admiration for him once again— he was always smart, that you can admit. more attentive than others, better at remembering little details. he's stepping forward to directly challenge these guards while people are begging for their lives. he's brave, like he's always been.

you fall in line beside him, and he looks down at you. you give him a slight nod, before your attention is diverted to the next announcement. the staff then show the money accumulated by the deaths of the previous player— 100 million won for each. as the massive piggy bank hanging from the ceiling glows, you can feel him stiffen at the mere sight of the money.

and the voting starts. your number comes soon enough— player 420.

you don't hesitate.

this money is not more important than your life. you need to consider all your options— you're not confident that you would make it till the end. and you don't want to fucking die yet.

you press the cross, and fall into the crowd.

sangwoo's number comes a while after— and you watch him like a hawk. you know he's a smart guy who knows better than to put himself in a compromising situation. you hope he'll help you go home.

until he presses the 'O.'

you feel utterly betrayed once again and he goes to his side of the crowd, not looking at you even once. you scoff to yourself, baffled by his audacity, before redirecting your focus to the voting counter. you start hoping your side wins purely out of spite.

player 001 presses X. your side erupts into cheers and you let out a breath of relief, glancing at sangwoo who stands frozen with his head lowered.

you don't remember much after.

the car ride feels suffocating— everything is dark. there's shuffling before you feel yourself being shoved, and you let out a yelp as your bare skin hits the gravel. "ouch— fuck!"

you hear your name— and recognise the voice.

"mister sangwoo?" you gasp, and hear a pained 'yes'. you can feel a cloth wrapped around your eyes, and your hands and legs are tied. you groan, shifting and writhing on the ground, impatiently trying to free yourself. you feel teeth on the front of your wrists before your hands are released.

you sit up quickly and snatch the cloth off your eyes. you turn to sangwoo then, and quickly untie his wrists. he grunts before sitting up, and the two of you untie your legs.

"shit, it's cold—" you hiss, quickly standing up. those bastards had only left you in a plain white sports bra and underwear. he was naked as well save for a pair of white boxers. the sight makes your skin feel hot, and you take a greedy but discreet glance at his chest before rushing towards your jeans and hoodie that are tossed to the side of the road, quickly getting dressed.

you clear your throat and turn around, only to see him quickly looking away from you, his clothes still in his hands. your eyes narrow knowingly and he wordlessly gets dressed, buttoning up his white shirt.

"are we still in seoul?" you ask, and he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before looking up towards the buildings. he nods, and you shiver slightly.

he turns to you and hesitates before moving forward to put his grey blazer over you. you raise your eyebrows in question, and he doesn't respond before checking his pockets.

"are you hungry?" he asks, and almost comically in that same moment your stomach growls. he holds back a smile, and you wrap his blazer tighter around yourself.

you rest your head against the table while you wait. you can feel it pounding, but the smell of hot ramen tempts you to raise it. he takes a seat beside you and places the steaming bowl in front of you.

"do you have the money for this?" you cant help but ask.

"dont worry about it," he says with a wave of his hand, bringing out his chopsticks to eat. you decide to leave the job of worrying to him and get to eating.

you're a rather slow eater, and he doesn't complain. he steps out of the store, and you can see his back as he takes out a cigarette. you slurp up the rest of your food and follow him out.

"i don't feel that cold anymore," you hand him his blazer, and he turns to look at you. you're thankful about your self control, because he is a sight. so devilishly handsome even after witnessing such horrors— his cigarette teasingly hanging off his lips, the smoke wafting up and making his eyes squint just a little. his glasses make him look so much more sophisticated, or perhaps you have a thing for nerdy looking men. you're not a smoker, but he makes it look so good. if you were a weaker woman, you would've gasped. no wonder half of your childhood went by with that barely disguised crush on him— no wonder no guy your age back in college seemed good enough.

you clear your throat, bring yourself back to earth and continue. "you can have it. thank you."

he takes the blazer with a nod and puts it on. takes another puff of the cigarette, and watches you look around.

"i thought you'd come back with an american wife." you almost cringe at your own words. but conversation is conversation, you don't know how else to start. it's a discreet way to find out his relationship status, if any.

"marriage is the last thing on my mind." he responds quietly, taking a puff. you look at the side of his face, and his eyes stare at the road in front of him— thoughtful. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"where will you go?" he asks without looking at you.

you shrug, "i don't know."

"do you have any money?"

you pause, suddenly feeling a sense of dread. you have no money, and what little you got from the ddakji guy, you spent on your rent. which got you thrown out anyway.

your silence speaks volumes. he tosses the cigarette to the floor and stomps on it. you sigh.

"i don't have any money."

"come with me," he looks at you, gaze intense and serious. "i have enough for the both of us. atleast for a few days till we can figure things out."

"why?" you cross your arms over your chest almost defensively, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

he grits his teeth as he glares at you, mouth twitching. he looks away then, tonguing the inside of his cheek before returning your gaze. "you have nowhere else to go. it wouldn't be responsible to leave you alone like this."

you almost scoff— the words on the tip of your tongue. but you were okay with leaving me alone back then? but you don't say it, not yet, because you could use his financial help right now. you sigh, before nodding, and gesturing forward.

"fine, lead the way."

the motel he takes you to looks respectable enough. you look around, eyeing the plain decor. the man behind the counter looks at the two of you, and then gives sangwoo a toothy grin, which immediately alerts you.

"only one room available."

sangwoo doesn't protest. he doesn't have the finances to get two separate rooms either. he opens the room and you go in first, looking around. there's a single bed and some flashy lights, and it makes you roll your eyes. you turn around to settle him with a pointed look.

"it's better than i thought," he grunts, taking his blazer off as he takes in the scene. he steps forward and drags a finger down the side table, examines the dust it leaves on his skin with mild disgust.

you bite your lower lip as you watch him— his shirt stretching across his chest, his hair falling messily across his forehead. his glasses resting delicately on the bridge of his nose.

fucking nerd.

his gaze snaps up to you and that's when you realize you'd said that out loud. you wince, looking away and he straightens up, blinking innocently.

"you're still upset with me."

you cross your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. you quirk an eyebrow, and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from a respectable distance.

you decide to play dumb.

"about what?"

he's not amused. he stares at you, expression serious and intense, "i didn't plan to stand you up that day."

so we're going straight to it, you think.

"then why did you?" you snap, unable to hold back the hurt from your voice, "i waited for an hour. you never came. i wanted to talk to you."

"i know." he nods. he walks up to you then, stands at the foot of the bed. "i know what you wanted to talk to me about. i was scared."

you freeze, looking at him cautiously, your heartbeat rising. "scared?"

"i knew you had feelings for me." he sighs, sitting down beside you. his voice is hushed, making the moment feel more intimate than you'd like. "i could tell that's what you wanted to talk to me about. it terrified me."

your breath feels like it's knocked out of your lungs. you swallow the lump in your throat, holding back the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. "did anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?"

he grunts, takes out another cigarette. he lights it up and takes a long drag— taking his time to respond.

"many people," he says, blowing some smoke through his nostrils. the sight almost makes your mouth water, but you ignore it.

"you're a dick," you shoot back dryly.

"what i am—" he points his cigarette at you, "— is too old for you. surely you didn't think it was a good idea?"

"you could've rejected me instead," you chuckle bitterly, "but you decided to leave me there to look stupid."

"you were too young." his voice is low, and his response almost makes you want to strangle him. he dusts some ash off his cigarette, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your skin feel hot. "i couldn't keep you happy even if i wanted to."

you frown, gritting your teeth. he looks away.

"you looked at me like i hung the moon and the stars." he continues, looking ahead at the wall, gaze distant. "i couldn't maintain those expectations. we were in two completely different stages. you were meant to go to college, study well, get a good job, a boy your age—"

"stop talking like you're my father," you snap before he can finish, standing up. there's heat behind your glare and you almost laugh at his expression, "i had no expectations from you. so stop with your- your little— excuses. what's done is done, right? you've stood me up once, no need to reject me by wording it smartly. i don't wanna be with you anymore anyway."

that was a lie. you just hoped he couldn't see through your act. you're riled up because you're still affected by him, and his polite behaviour is driving you insane— you want to tear away at his walls, expose the passion he hides behind his smart guy facade. you know it because you've seen it in the way his eyes light up when he talks about his ambitions— how willing he is to cross any line to achieve what he wants. you want to butcher his self control and unleash the animal underneath, the one he's so desperate to hide. it's what made you fall for him in the first place.

he merely looks at you boredly, taking another drag of his cigarette. you snatch it off him, bring it to your own lips. he looks at you with mild shock as you take a drag, and you blow the smoke out on his face.

it all goes smoothly until you cough, and he's snatching the cigarette away again, watching you almost amusedly.

"you can't even handle a cigarette," he remarks dryly, putting it out on the bedframe. and that one line finally ticks you off. almost as if on instinct, your hand pulls back and delivers a sharp slap to his face— making it turn to the side. he snorts, adjusts his glasses again before he looks at you, unimpressed.

"you've been waiting to do that, haven't you?" he asks. your nostrils flare with anger. you can't hurt him physically— but your tongue is sharp. you'll use it.

"you're one to talk about different stages in life," you add, leaning towards him. a smirk curls upon your face, "look at you. all that ambition and experience only to end up scamming people."

out of the need to provoke him, your hand shoots out, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"how would your mother feel if she found out?"

it's a low blow, and you would be ashamed if it hadn't worked. it does its work to finally get to him. he grabs your wrist, and harshly pulls you down towards him, knocking your breath out. he shoves you on the bed and hovers over you, panting slightly. you chuckle.

"my life is hard enough," he hisses sharply, body trembling with concealed rage. his gaze drifts down to your lips before settling upon your eyes again. "do you really want to keep testing me?"

you can't help but smile smugly as you stare at him. there he is— almost on the verge of losing his composure. a few more quips and you're sure he'll crumble. it makes your skin feel tingly. your face leans up slightly, your hungry gaze drifting down to his lips. your hand reaches up, pries his glasses off his face. and then you flick his nose.

"fuck you."

the way his mouth comes crashing onto yours is animalistic. he desperately kisses you with the passion of a madman— his tongue entering your mouth and messily colliding with your own. as if to tease him, you bite his bottom lip sharply and he pulls back, eyes widening as a small trickle of blood falls down the corner of his mouth. his hand pulls back and strikes you across the face, and you can't help but laugh. your cheek stings and feels like it's burning— and you're addicted. you hope he'll do it again. you look back at him with an almost crazed look in your eyes, and you can see it finally dawn upon him that he's finally giving you exactly what you wanted.

"you're enjoying this too much, you little minx—" he hisses, grabbing your neck and kissing you again. your hands immediately reach up to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as you try to keep up with his pace. he pulls away and tosses his shirt to the side, and you take that opportunity to use all your strength to flip the two of you around so he's the one on his back. it makes him gasp, and you look down at him with darkened eyes— a finger teasingly running down his chest, making him let out a shudder.

he's the object of all your desires for as long as you've ever known. the man of your dreams, the man that you kept comparing every single one of your college boys to. no wonder they never seemed good enough. how could they? they were no match for this beautiful man laying under you.

with a newfound vigour your head drops to his neck, licking and kissing every inch of his skin. your hungry mouth trails down his chest, breathing in the smell of him, leaving greedy bites in its wake. the sounds your actions evoke out of him are downright pornographic— soft, breathless groans that make you want to consume him entirely. his hand comes down to your head, holding you in place as you worship his body— and you moan when his fingers dig into your scalp.

your lips leave a wet trail and cherry red bites down his torso, until you reach the waistband of his pants. teasingly, you mouth at his bulge, making him hiss in return. his hips buck up slightly and you place a soft kiss to the material before leaning up to his face. his hands wrap around your waist and he flips the two of you over again, desperately tearing away at your clothes.

"i shouldn't be doing this," he mutters under his breath, talking more so to himself than you. you raise your hips and he pulls your jeans down, a throaty groan escaping him at the sight of your panties. they're almost transparent from how wet you are. he frees himself from the confines of his underwear and you watch with fascination as he holds you down with a hand on your stomach. you're panting when he's pushing them to the side and entering you immediately— making you scream from the stretch.

he clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut as he buries himself to the hilt with a grunt. you choke on a pained sob, your fingers digging into his back as he grabs the side of your face.

"it hurts—" you hiss through gritted teeth, a tear running down your cheek. it burns, and he waits a second before wordlessly pulling back and thrusting again. the pain morphs into pleasure soon enough, and you whine as he falls into an easy rhythm, wrapping your legs around his waist. you whine in return, and he gives your cheek a light slap, prompting you to open your eyes. your breath hitches as he looks at you intensely— his own eyes glassy.

"not that young now am i?" you grit out with a glare, crying out as he retaliates with a harsh, pointed thrust. "y-you're my first—"

"fuck," he moans, his head dropping down to your chest. his thrusts get quicker, voice raspy and low, "don't— don't say that—"

"i always wanted you to take my virginity," you moan, throwing your head back, dragging your nails down his back. it makes him hiss, "ever since i was a—"

he slams his hand on your mouth, refusing to allow you to finish your sentence. "shut the fuck up."

he doesn't want to be reminded of the age difference between you two, even though you can tell it gets him hot. the moment his hand clasps over your mouth, you cum with a loud moan. your body trembles but he keeps going— not allowing you a moment to breathe. his eyes are full of rage as he bares his teeth in anger. you chuckle breathlessly against his hand, your eyes fluttering. he looks like an angry cat— you want to kiss him all over his face. his thrusts eventually get sloppy— he's close.

you lock your legs tightly around his waist, and he smacks you again. it surprises you this time, and he takes that opportunity to pull out, jerking himself off quickly.

"i can't afford taking risks," he grunts, clenching his jaw. you whine in response, pouting slightly, and he gives you an exasperated glare before he's cumming all over your stomach with a shaky groan.

you pant heavily as you come down from your high, and almost as if on fire— he quickly dresses himself. he pulls out a handkerchief from his blazer pocket, gently wipes off the fluids on your stomach. he just watches you on the bed— his eyes examining his handiwork. you notice his gaze lingers on your cheek. after a few minutes, he wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. you roll your eyes as you pull up your jeans too. a few moments pass, and you breathe a puff of air through your nostrils.

"are we going to talk about this?" you call out. there's no answer. you get up and rush to the bathroom door, except he's locked it. you can hear light splashing of water. you scoff in disbelief, going back to the bed. you lay on your side and grab a pillow, your lips wobbling as you go over everything that happened.

this was not how it was supposed to go. he was not supposed to seem this detached. you'd expected atleast a cuddle after sex.

you don't realize when you fall asleep. it's morning when you wake up— sunlight streaming in through the window and directly onto your face, making you wince. you stretch, look over your shoulder.

sangwoo isn't there.

you immediately go to the bathroom. it's empty, though the tub is full. you frown in confusion before turning back to the bed. there, a note on the side table has you stopping.

'i'm sorry,' it said, in his handwriting. placed along with it were a few won bills.

you sniffle as you stare at the note— the writing on it almost mocking you. you crumple it up, your fist shaking as you resist the urge to cry. suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and it makes your entire body stiffen.

a card slides from the little space under the door. the same one you remember the ddakji guy giving you. the shapes on it just look sinister now. the number on it is different this time.

your breathing gets heavy as you stare at it— your head beginning to hurt. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing.

you're alone. you wonder if leaving in the first place was a mistake. your feelings are conflicted— and worst of all, you feel used and betrayed. you're not sure if you should go back to the games. you're not sure if you could survive without any money.

sangwoo had left. you don't know where he is and you have nowhere else to go. no home, and you don't know how you would face your mother. you don't know how long the money he left you could go on.

you don't want to die. but you can't keep living like this either. you bite your bottom lip as you contemplate your options, the hurt from sangwoo's departure still lingering in your chest like a stab wound.

you pick up the card and place the call.

tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby @sky-forts-and-burning-citadels @flow33didontsmoke

#cho sangwoo #cho sangwoo x reader #park haesoo #squid game x reader smut #squid game fanfic #salesman x reader #frontman x reader #squid game x you #player 218 x reader #raven writes

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silkenwinger · 2 days ago

Text

what about being a little outcast in middle and high school, never quite fitting in your classes. a group project in which you're the last unpaired standing forces you to work with simon riley. you're friendless, so it's not like you can cast great judgement, but you're scared of him. he has no qualms replying to teachers when needed, telling people to fuck off, and just generally doing as he pleases in his brooding teenage angst. he also has the saddest eyes you've ever seen.

as you work together you find out he's cooperative. sometimes he will show up a bit late, hair ruffled, but he does his part. it's the first time a boy has willingly spoken to you without appearing disgusted or making fun of you. he tells you to tell everyone who bothers you to fuck off, but also helps you concretely by intimidating the worst that gangs on you.

obviously, you develop the biggest crush ever known to man on him. you try to pry, to understand what is going on with him, but he's inscrutable. when you're done with the group project, you remain distant friends, greeting each other in the corridor and eating together sometimes, but you never quite become as close as you wish you could be. confessing is unimaginable.

you graduate. you change cities for uni, willing to go as far as possible. you make friends, finally. you go out with men, although they never reach the level of idolization you hold for simon in your heart. he becomes a precious memory, and pretty much only that. you don't know anyone else back home well enough to tell you what he's been up to. you get a good job. marry, even. until you find him in your own bed with another woman, of course.

your fresh start in this new part of town is tepid. you haven't become a social butterfly or anything of the sort, but you've grown used to people around you, and now you're back to square one. you think you shall do as they do in movies and knock at your neighbor's door. introduce yourself. but the buff man answering the door listens to you talk and doesn't introduce himself back. you feel the sting of rejection burn you from inside.

meanwhile, simon's freaking the fuck out. what the hell is going on and why you of all people are there? last he checked, you were married and away, and now you're living right next to him??

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #yours truly #ooops i projected again

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 3 days ago

Note

the reader has each time that a member of her family tries to create a bond with her:I am not your pet, I never liked you, I don't care about you I won't wait for you. I hate you.

Yum, good soup!

They'll do anything to spend time with him. Bruce has never watched anime in his life, but you love *Ouran High School Host Club* and *Soul Eater*. With no choice, you watch with him, only for him to ask fifty or more questions. And you always end up leaving him behind in the dust. But he's trying; you're still his baby, even if you side with him like that.

Dick always wanted to help you out with your like a big brother should, showing you the way, but you growl like a wild animal if he gets close to curls. Sure, you let him put growth oil in your cornrows, but that's all he'll ever do. You avoid that man like he has cheese touch.

Jason hasn't been a teen in forever, maybe reading a comic or two and bonding with you about how stupid comics draw women or how ugly the super-realistic style is, just for readers to roll their eyes every time he speaks. Why is he talking to me? Come on, laugh at his jokes; he knows you, he's funny. Come in and giggle!

Tim, you both are nerds. Why don’t you guys play some D&D? "Nah, I have my own party." Tekken 8? Nah, you prefer MK. Come on, just hang out with him! Geeks stick together, but for some reason, you’d rather play with random online players. He’s literally the superior player, and he’s way cooler and funnier, so don’t ditch him for your friends—he's a better rival!

Damian, please, oh, please let him hang out with you. Let him be a little brother; let him ride on your back. Let him play video games with you. Let him come to your room when you have a night in, but you refuse; you blow him off like the plague. Don’t tell him you’re not free—he tracked your schedule!

Stephanie, let's go shopping, paint each other's nails, talk about our crazy crushes, go shopping, and max out Bruce's cards. Oh, you're busy? That's cool. Wait, all your friends are hanging out together, and you're going to Chuck E. Cheese? Why don't you let her join? Oh, you guys were planning this and you don't have an extra space? Maybe next time you'll spend time with your favorite gal pal.

Cass will psychoanalyze all the shonen you've ever watched. Even if it's unrealistic and people don't scream for 15 minutes and suddenly get powerful in the show. Oh, Kengan Ashura! Tell her about the lore and all the fighters; please talk to her about it. She'll pose like the fighters and recreate the moves for you. Come on, just hang out with her. She won't talk, or she'll talk your ear off, but your face of indifference tells her you really don't care; you'd rather watch something else. Fine, Cass will watch it with you.

Duke, come chill with him. Sure, you guys have only had two conversations, and so what? You can't have more? Listen to Kendrick with him; why don't you both bond over not liking and hating on Drake? Schoolboy Q shit. He'll even play Doechii's Chromakopia is out. Let's rap to Sticky. You don't fuck with that? Oh, it's cool; he'll listen to whatever you like. He'll do whatever you like! You guys can watch Boondocks together and make random references that only you two understand. Let him give you a retwist. Let him be your brother, but you'd rather hang out with some loser from your school? What's that about?

#batfamily x neglected reader #x black reader #yandere batboys #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown #yandere cassandra cain #yandere duke thomas #weird!reader #black!reader #x neglected reader

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 days ago

Note

Have you noticed any patterns with when you receive asks saying you're too mean? I'm wondering if they happen periodically, such as every three weeks or something, or if perhaps they're linked in frequency to people misunderstanding your posts? Now that I think about it, based on your usual sentiments, you probably don't give a rat's ass about them and thus wouldn't have noticed a pattern. Anyway, here's hoping your week isn't terrible.

no I absolutely have, and it's that I pretty invariably get someone telling me I'm too mean whenever I react unfavorably to people (mostly anonymous people) being overly familiar.

by far the worst pile-on I've ever received on here wasn't over Taylor Swift or astrology or sex education or even harassment by transphobes, it was a couple of years ago when someone sent me an anon telling me they liked how I'd been posting about Cats and I responded that I wasn't doing it for them, which I thought was a pretty mild statement on top of being objectively true. that got me a solid day of being called a psychotic bully who was obviously working out my frustration with being ostracized in school by abusing people online.

so that was. you know. normal.

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 2 days ago

Text

Irreversible.

Gif credits

Pairing: Professor Reed Richards x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 430 Summary: You get fucked against the blackboard by your hottest professor. Tags/Warning: implied legal but unspecified age gap, reader is a menace, cheating (Mr Richards is married), POV second person, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v, a dash of oral sex and nipples play, slurs, panties ripping, swearing, a reference to physics. (Look, I had terrible grades in physics in high school, I tried lol), it obviously has no connection to the plot of the film, in this one Reed Richards is a professor with a chair at Harvard and chalk is definitely more “poetic” than markers. I’m not a Marvel fan, I’m just trying to have some pwp, please don't come @ me 💀 A/N: We've all seen the pics and teasers and gifs, right? This is totally self indulgent, I wrote it because I couldn't get the image of him writing on the board out of my head. No proofreading, no beta, English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Masterlist

You loved the way you broke him. Lured him into your web to do exactly what you wanted.

You loved it.

The way he yanked at your bra, exposing your boobs, the way his hands were still chalky and leaving white marks all over you, his scruffy beard pinching your skin, his voice vibrating over your tits as he swirled his tongue over your nipples.

“You wanted this huh?” “Yes.” you cried.

You wanted exactly that when you pretended you didn't understand anything about physics.

Your skirt rolled up over your hips, his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping incessantly between your folds, up to your clit.

He stood up, his forearms muscularly sticking out of the rolled-up sleeves, wrapping around your waist, pushing you against the blackboard.

He stopped to undo his pants and kick them off.

Back on you, he squeezed your ass, coming down on your thigh, pulling up your leg to get a better grip.

"You know I'm married" "Yes" you whined, looking at him honeyed. "And you still flirted like a bitch in heat" he angrily muttered.

Of course you did. You did it every day since you started his class, battling your eyelashes, biting your lower lips, asking for tutoring about everything like you were admitted at Harvard by a fortuitous twist of fate, wearing the sluttiest tops and skirts you owned, marveling at the grey in his hair, telling him it suited him so well, while he tried to explain physics to you maintaining a professional tone.

"You couldn't wait to drag me into this mess, could you?" he snarled on your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

He clutched your panties in his fist and teared them like paper tissues.

"I want you so bad" you purred, burying your fingers in his curls at the base of his neck, encircling his waist with your leg, rocking your naked pussy against his still-clothed cock.

"Fuck me, Mr Richards"

He pulled down his boxers just enough to free his cock, and entered you with one thrust.

"Fuck" he cursed "you're soaked, you hungry slut."

You didn't respond; your pussy clutched tightly on his cock, you moaned as he began to thrust deeper and deeper into you, in a frantic rhythm, making your whole body and the blackboard just on the wall behind you vibrate. Small drops of sweat beaded his forehead, his hair now completely disheveled under the work of your hands, the fabric of his pristine white shirt crumpled as it repeatedly banged against your hard nipples.

You came right there, whimpering and quivering in an empty university classroom where every day he lectured you.

Your lust for him was irreversible, as in the second law of thermodynamics that you had pretended not to understand that day.

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed

If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thanks for reading!

#reed richards #mr fantastic #pedro pascal #fantastic 4 #fantastic four au #pwp fic #reed richards x f!reader #reed richards x female reader #pedro pascal characters #Pedro pascal characters fanfiction #ppcu

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 3 days ago

Text

Cold Rain

Swamped with school work and pain, sorry for the lack of updates.

Summary: It's raining outside so you and Bucky snuggle in bed.

You really don't like the rain.

It causes the floor to feel like ice, your skin prickling from the chill that sets into your house, and not to mention the howling winds out there make the night seem alive. Your hair stands on end, trying its best to protect you from the cold but it's not enough. You suppose it's partly due to your inability to tolerate the cold for some reason, a mystery you have yet to solve, but that has led to some funny incidents like the time you wore a hoodie out in the hot humid sun because you'd forgotten to take it off, causing Bucky to fret about heatstroke.

"Doll?" Said person appears in the doorway, holding two cups of steaming hot chocolate, the sweet scent wafting through the room. "Would you like one?"

"If I said no? What are you going to do with that other cup?" You peek out from beneath the pile of blankets.

"Drink it, obviously." He smiles, walking over to you and sits on the bed. "I suppose I get to drink both?"

You pout at him, reaching out with a hand and he chuckles, setting both cups on the bedside table. He gently tugs the blanket downwards and props your pillow up, causing you to slide off said pillow and pout further.

"I'm not risking you spilling any hot chocolate on the sheets, doll. Sit up or you're not getting any." He chides you, flicking your forehead with a look of amusement on his face. You huff, annoyed, but sit up anyways, clutching the blanket tightly. Bucky tucks himself in too before retrieving the cups, handing one to you, his hand lingering on yours.

"Wait. Let me sit on the other side." Bucky shifts, taking care to purposely hit you in the leg as he crosses over. You hit him back in the leg once he's settled on your left and he smirks, pressing his cold toes on your bare skin.

"Buck!" You shriek, causing him to burst out laughing. His retribution comes swiftly when you press your own cold toes against his bare skin, causing him to yelp in surprise. You grin, revenge gotten and begin to drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold. Bucky, the ever drama queen, scowls and sinks beneath the blanket, taking care to set his cup of hot chocolate down on the table before doing so.

He presses against you, resting his head on your stomach and you chuckle, knowing exactly what he wants you to do.

"You can always just ask, you know?" You run your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

"But then we wouldn't have the telepathic connection couples have." He pouts, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes you've learnt to become immune to.

"I'm pretty sure we'd have the telepathic connection even if you asked," you snort, rolling your eyes.

"It wouldn't be the same," he huffs, rolling over to bury his face into your shirt. You're warm, and he likes the smell of your detergent.

"I think otherwise." You continue stroking his hair, smiling softly when you know he can't see it. He hums in response, curling up against you. It's days like these where you fully appreciate the fact that Bucky is just like a personal heater, the amount of body heat he emits has never bothered you, even on a hot day, but sometimes it can get a little too much, not that you've ever told him that. You like it when he cuddles with you, his vulnerable side on full display only for you. It makes your heart flutter, knowing that he trusts you with everything and you don't want him to stop.

Having finished your hot chocolate, you slide downwards, finally allowed to lie down on your bed. He grunts, feeling you shift underneath him and moves into a more comfortable position, taking care not to let his metal arm touch you. He knows how vulnerable you are to the cold, and likes being able to keep you warm. His heart soars whenever you tell him how much he's done for you, albeit in a drunk state but he'll take whatever praise he can when you rarely dish them out.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to the other source of warmth in the room and press a kiss to the top of his head, making him smile. You drive away all forms of chill, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth, forming a protective barrier that keeps the memories of Hydra out of his head, even if it's just for that short while.

"You're so warm," he murmurs, closing his eyes. "Everyone else is so cold."

You blink, then your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Buck? Is it that group of agents again? Do I need to beat them up or would throwing them out of the twentieth storey be better?"

"Doubt you could throw them any further than an inch, doll." His lips quirk up, one ice blue eye cracking open.

"I'll find a way to throw them out of the window," you growl.

"Fury will be pissed at you."

"Let him. Nothing's going to stand in my way of beating up people who talk behind my sugar plum's back.," you growl.

"Your sugar plum," he chuckles. "Never dropping that pet name, are you?"

"James, I'm serious. Do I need to do something about that group of agents?" You give his cheek a poke, ignoring his attempt to change the subject. "Because I really will throw them out of the twentieth storey window if I have to."

"Please don't do something that drastic. You already got into so much trouble when you beat them up." He pushes himself up so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. "I don't want you to get into more trouble because of me."

"You know that I'll do anything for you."

"I know, doll, and I'm grateful for that. But I'd still rather you not get into trouble if you don't have to." He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "I don't like seeing you in trouble."

"Then next time I'll just not get caught."

"Doll!" He huffs, exasperated and amused. He pulls back, ice blue eyes clouding with sorrow. "I mean it. You shouldn't go too far for me, I'm not worth that much."

Your heart breaks at the sad smile he gives you and suddenly there's an urge to punt everyone who's ever hurt him out of the twentieth storey window, even if they're nothing but corpses now. You'll punt their corpses, bones, whatever is left of them.

"Yeah, that's because you're worth more than that. You're worth more than I can ever give you but that won't stop me from trying." You wonder if you can get your hands on his former handlers and beat them until their skulls cave in, get your hands on the scientists who experimented on him and shove their syringes up their asses, get your hands on the higher ups and watch as they choke to death on paper.

His bottom lip trembles, gaze dropping to stare at the spot of bed between the two of you and you catch a glimpse of tears rolling down his cheeks. You reach out hesitantly, wondering if it's alright for you to hold him when he leans in, pressing against you and sobs, his tears staining your shirt. You take that as your cue to wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly as he cries, your own heart aching with each wail that spill from his lips.

He clutches at you, desperately burrowing into your warmth as you run your fingers through his hair, giving him all the time he needs to let everything out.

"I've got you," you murmur. "I've got you."

He doesn't let go, not even after his cries have dwindled to the occasional sob. He continues to soak in your embrace, trying his hardest not to let you see his tear-stained face and puffy eyes but he can't help but look up at you, desperate to know if there's a look of disgust on your face you're disguising with your actions, if you want no more weakness out of him.

All he sees is the infinite, boundless and unconditional love you have for him.

He presses his face back into your chest, swallowing the lump in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut. He's safe, free from the tendrils of Hydra, free from the freezing snow that chilled him to the bone, free from the cryostasis whose icy touch still haunts him to this day. Even if the nightmares try to convince him otherwise, he knows that when he wakes up, if you're lying there next to him, the cold will never touch him.

The love you have for him wreathes him in a warmth like no other. It's not the same kind of warmth that fire or heaters provide, it feels different in a way he can't quite describe. It's both gentle and ferocious, it curls around him protectively like a shield but is a sword that cuts through all who try to hurt him. You're his special personal heater, providing a different kind of warmth from the one he provides.

You don't stop your ministrations, the rhythmic pattern lulling what remains of his defenses to sleep. You're the only one who can lay him bare like this, the only one he willingly shows his scars to because you're the only one he trusts to this extent.

The rain patters on outside, the wind whistling as it ushers the cold into your room and you press closer against Bucky, tugging the blanket around the both of you tightly. Bucky shifts, letting out a breath and presses a kiss to your collarbone.

"You're so warm." The words slip out before he can stop them and he blushes, the tips of his ears turning red.

"You're warm too," you chuckle, playing with his soft brown locks. "My warm safe haven."

Safe? Haven? Him?

"I'm not a safe haven," he mumbles, face still pressed against your shoulder.

"Says my devoted protector." You flick him in the head. "I distinctly recall a certain someone chiding me over and over again that the only reason I'm still alive is because of you?"

"I'm also the reason you're being targeted," he mumbles sadly. "Being with me makes you a target too, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"Well, good thing I have you as my knight in shining armour then." You smile softly, slipping a hand into his metal hand. "There's no one else I'd rather have."

Bucky's eyes widen but his metal hand gently curls around your flesh hand, fingers intertwined with yours. He looks up at you, searching for permission to close the distance and you give him a small nod. His eyes light up as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. He kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're about to disappear at any moment, and his love crashes into you — wild, fierce, endless.

Maybe the rain isn't so bad after all.

#marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu bucky #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #bucky fluff #slight angst but mostly fluff #bucky cuddles

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weiszklee · 9 hours ago

Text

School interpretations really did a number on some people.

If your context is radically different from the one of the typical audience, then your experience will also be radically different, and consequently your interpretation will also be radically different. And that's fine, because you don't read/watch/play things for the purpose of finding the correct interpretation. You're not in school anymore.

In the Funny Games example, you might have an experience of being roped into something you can't stop, maybe the experience of what it's like when someone presumes your expectations wrong. This is exciting! It's not a mistake on your end, nor on the side of the movie. There are no junk experiences, don't discard them, take them seriously! What do you learn from it about yourself, the human condition, the medium of film?

And yeah, maybe your experience is that someone is telling you a lesson you don't need. You might well feel offended. So, what is that like? Is that not a valuable experience to explore in the safety of media reception?

But also, the experience of being taught a lesson you don't need is not, like, objectively true. Just like the film makers don't know your mind, you don't know theirs. You are a participant in shaping your own experience. If you have had that specific experience often enough and don't feel like exploring it anymore, you are free to focus on something else entirely.

I can't stand any work, or an interpretation of any work, which presents the act of viewing/playing/reading the work as a morally bad thing. Like. Those are fictional characters. I'm down to play meta fictional games with you here, but I'm not gonna treat them as moral patients. That's a nonsense position!

If I'm a bastard for watching Funny Games or killing an enemy in Undetale, well you're a double bastard for making the fucking thing! Why did you publish it, if the morally correct thing to do is stop?

#additions

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cozmowrites · 3 days ago

Text

Wonderwall: One

one

11:38 AM

you: hi ☺️

bkg: Who the fuck are you?

you: oh im (y/n)! mei is a bit busy with other students so ill help her and fix up what you need on your costume

bkg: I don't need your help.

you: oh okay

2:20 PM

you: you're looking directly at me but you're not talking

you: what is it you need? use your words

bkg: I'm looking for the crazy one.

you: mei is busy with the green haired kid and the robot looking guy. it's me or whoever else with their hands free so pick

bkg: I need my gauntlets fixed.

you: what about them needs fixed?

bkg: Can't you just figure it out? I don't have all evening.

you: feisty

you: im trying to help but i can't because you're not helping

bkg: The crazy one knows.

you: news flash, i am not mei

you: so are you going to tell me or not?

you: i can just hand over the project to someone else that mei trusts less or i can do it and you can tell me.

You looked away from your phone briefly as you watched his eyes avert from your form, annoyed at him for acting so childish. Especially for a third year. You looked back down to your phone to send him a quick text.

you: oh, so you're just not gonna look at me now, ok. have fun with someone else

bkg: Something inside keeps malfunctioning.

like what? mei told me you use that to store your quirk's sweat.

bkg: I don't know. Something isn't pushing the sweat out like it used to.

you: ill look at the problem overnight, but you won't see them until at least tomorrow after school

you: just set them on my desk and ill text you updates if i got them

You looked away from your phone briefly as he set his gauntlets down on your desk with a grumble. You rolled you eyes and added to your text.

you: don't grumble at me

(bakugou disliked your text)

Later that night, you worked in the workshop on his gauntlets, finding the problem after several hours. Before you could dive into it, you heard a text come from your phone. The bright light blinding you momentarily.

7:53 PM

bkg: Update?

you: some of your things in there are rusting, did you know that?

you: i can't fix it from the inside, i have to take it all apart and fix it like that

bkg: No way in hell.

you: bakugou, right?

you: the rust is all inside. you have to replace that every few months because of the moisture from your sweat.

bkg: The crazy one would be able to fix it.

you: im. not. mei.

you: get that through your thick skull.

you: mei gave me your information so that i could help you, and i could help her take off some of the slack.

you: she trusts me the most. do you fucking understand that?

you: i would be GLAD to hand you off to another student in the class.

you: mei didn't tell me you'd be a complete asshole but i should've known when i had seen you in the sports festival win for both first year's and second year's.

you: you're still so full of yourself, even after that big war

you: call me insensitive, but you can let someone else work on your gear and your costume just fine.

you: it's NOT that big of a deal.

bkg: Fine.

bkg: Do whatever you can to fix them.

bkg: Don't fucking break them.

you: why would i do that?

You took a moment to breath from the frustrated typing you just spent. Your breathing raged.

you: put more trust in me third year

(bakugou disliked your message)

You worked tirelessly all night. That's what you did, on all your projects, even student ones. You got no sleep what-so-ever and eventually, you watched the sun rise. It made your eyes and head hurt, but you were quite used to it.

6:04 AM

you: good morning 🌅

you: i completely tore everything apart last night and found more issues so it'll be longer until you get your gauntlets back.

you: on the bright side, i fixed a bunch of stuff mei did in a rush and made it more stable.

7:11 AM

you: your gauntlets are really heavy, do you really carry them around?

you: i thought you had bad wrists or something

you: there's a way to double the sweat storage without making it any heavier for your wrist you know

you: they just won't look so classic to your grenades or whatever

You decided to step away from your desk and head to the student's dorms to change and freshen up. Just since it'll be another day of school and you spent all night in at your desk in the classroom.

A little over an hour passed, and you were back at the classroom, the rest of the students working hard on their projects and gear for other students. You, however, stopped when you saw breakfast on your desk. You furrowed your brows, it was not from the cafeteria, rather bought from some fast food place. There wasn't a note or anything, but Mei saw you quickly and peered around the corner.

"Bakugou dropped that off for you by the way." She smiled and returned to her work area, busying herself once again. You couldn't ask her further what was up. Or if he had said anything when he dropped it off. You didn't want to bother her further.

8:26 AM

you: yo mei said you stopped by and left this shit on my desk

you: [image of food attached]

you: is this your way of paying for tearing apart your gauntlets?

you: either way, ill eat it ig

You didn't give him the satisfaction of a 'thank you'. He didn't deserve it, he treated you like shit.

12:03 PM

you: i got it mostly done. you can pick them up tomorrow morning.

(bakugou liked your message)

By the time evening rolled around, you fixed the gauntlets earlier than intended. It's evening and you haven't eaten since lunch (which was 6 hours ago). You can't decide whether to eat and just return the gauntlets after eating or to pay Bakugou back for the breakfast and return his gauntlets to him.

You ultimately decided.

5:07 PM

you: by the way, your gauntlets are heavy as fuck.

You switched to your dashdoor app and looked at options for food. No need to try and order food for anyone else, no one else was in here with you except for Yuka. Mei was out doing who knows what.

"Hey Yuka, Do you want anything? I'm ordering takeout." You decided to ultimately speak up. Yuka was a good classmate to you, and often covered for you, so you could pay her back with some food or something.

"If you're offering, sure." She smiled at you, her voice soft and gentle, compared to Mei's or Power Loader's.

"What would you like?" You asked, genuinely curious in her taste in foods. You'd assume soft and sweet, but when she opened to answer, you were a bit surprised.

"Spicy. The spiciest they have." She smiled and turned back to her workspace. You ordered food for the both of you and when it arrived, you ate quietly. She would occasionally ask a question about what you were working on currently, only for her to nod or hum in response.

When you finished eating, you bid goodbye to Yuka and she did the same. You headed down the hall and past the hero course hall, kind of curious as to if Bakugou was still hanging around. You could give him his gauntlets, but that would result on taking a detour and all you wanted to do was get home. You ultimately decided to just go home, shaking off every curiosity you had about Bakugou. He was not worth a thought. You headed home instead.

The next morning was pretty uneventful. You settled in to your workspace and started messing with a project of yours's that you started, some old junk that maybe could be some laser detection or something. You weren't sure. You tore apart other old projects of Mei's because she gave you permission to do so, and want to try your hand at something different. It was just regular free time morning stuff. The door opened and the ash blond walked in, in his school uniform. Hands in pockets and all. You rolled your eyes and pointed to the gauntlets on the other half of your workspace.

"My costume tore." He gruffly spoke up, pulling his bag around from his back and pulling out a folded hero costume.

"Okay?" You replied, not interested in fixing it, or at least fixing it right away. "Not my problem."You don't take bullshit from anyone, especially not Bakugou. He was notorious for that, or so you've heard.

He shook his head and replied with a 'tsk', inviting himself into a chair. "I don't care. Fix it."

"Is saying 'please' so difficult? Maybe saying it will have me care a little more." You replied, going back to messing with this item if yours's. He tapped his foot impatiently.

"I need it by this afternoon."

"Great." You snapped back quickly.

He let out an aggravated sigh. A moment later, a message notification.

8:20 AM

bkg: Why can't you just fucking do it? It'll only take a few minutes.

you: where's the "please"? hm?

you: i only do nice things for people if they're nice back

bkg: You piss me off.

bkg: Fix it.

you: you piss me off too!

you: im glad the feeling is mutual

you: and i won't do shit

you: you said you need it by the afternoon?

you: you'll come get it at lunch

you: you are not my priority today

you: i gave you priority yesterday

"You texted me just to get the same answer." You spoke up making him snap his head up from his phone. You were right, all he did was get the same answer, but in text form. You shook your head and set down the laser sensor. "I'll give it to you at lunch."

He stood from his chair and moved out of the room without another word. You'll work on this other student's thing and then his in time for lunch.

+++

By the time lunch rolled around, you finished the fix. It was a bit more difficult than you had hoped. You're not one to see costumes, that's usually Yuka's thing, but she was not in the classroom usually until afternoon so you had to take what she taught you and remember it the best you could. You were better with hardware over anything else. You got your lunch tray through the line and walked over to where you saw the ash blond poking out from the crowd. He was sitting with 4 others that looked like they invited themselves there.

"Here." You set down the bag in front of him and he looked up at you briefly before a loud voice gasped.

"Oh my gosh, you're so pretty! You know Bakugou? You should totally sit down and eat with us!!" You looked over and it was the pink alien one.

====

read it all here:

wattpad

ao3

wonderwall masterlist ツ

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #writer #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou #dynamight #anime and manga #wonderwall #support course reader #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on tiktok

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dunroamins · 3 days ago

Note

It really fucking sucks as someone who likes both Steve AND Jonathan, but sometimes the fandom lowkey makes me hate Steve - whether it's by demonizing Jonathan/attributing his best tributes solely to Steve, or by wildly mischaracterizing him.

Yes!

Steve has his own, entirely valid, good qualities, many of which he actually shares with Jonathan: being brave, protective and loyal.

He's also practically intelligent and observant (realising the recording was coming from inside the mall), and he's done what a lot of young lads do. He was a bit of an arsehole in high school, and now he's grown up and grown out of that behaviour.

What that means is that he's a fairly ordinary kid. That's the whole point-he's the normal small-town boy who ends up doing battle with interdimensional monsters.

Jonathan, by contrast, gets so much hate because he's not ordinary. He is primed for the Upside Down. He's not ready for what happens to Will...but he's been expecting things to go wrong his whole life because they always have. When the GA calls him weird, or ugly, or boring, what they really mean is 'I can't relate to what he's been through so I don't have any sympathy for him'.

He's intelligent, sharp, witty, spiky, strong and compassionate. He has a moral centre because his father never did. He's a dad before he's a high-school grad; a mother's helper before he gets to be a child. This is the young man who organised his little brother's funeral, and still made sure his mother ate. This is the young man who had his spine cracked wide with a surgical stool, and tried to save his girlfriend through the pain.

This is a man who (probably without fully realising) limits his own choices because he's determined to expand his little brother's.

The constant erasure of Jonathan's complexities-his constant relegation to the background by large swathes of the fandom-hurts, because that's exactly what happens to kids like him. To kids like me.

Jonathan is different by design. The whole Byers family (sans Lonnie) is different by design. They are the ones best equipped to deal with all of this because they know the darkness that lies beneath normal life. It's not a shock or a surprise to them. The whole concept of the show is about a family that's been beaten down by people who don't care to understand, responding to the Upside Down in a way only they can.

Jonathan doesn't get to have the redemption arc Steve does, because (aside from the photo debacle) he doesn't need one. He doesn't need to grow up, because he's already had to. His outlook on life is more mature, more cynical, more responsible, because it's had to be. From the first episode, Joyce is already in the habit of focusing on Will because Jonathan 'can take care of himself', so his needs don't show on her radar. Not only does that mean she doesn't see them: it also means that Jonathan doesn't have a good handle on his own needs either.

When you learn to make yourself small to keep everyone else afloat, you lose the ability to tell when you're sinking.

And a big chunk of the GA seems to see this and go 'Oh, he's sinking, what a loser!' because it's become normal for him to sink. They see his character as the oddball tragic foil to Steve's everyman charm, when they were supposed to see it the other way around. Jonathan was supposed to be one of the central characters for once, and to take that away from him because he is the way he is...misses the point entirely. You're supposed to sympathise with Jonathan. You're supposed to watch the show and think deeply about the harm we do when we exclude people. You're supposed to learn from him.

Yes, Jonathan does struggle to be sociable, and charismatic, and open! He does struggle to express himself! That's the whole point: he is a child who's been through more in 16 years (as of S1) than most people in small-town America have in a lifetime. He is the way he is because he trudges through Hell and keeps going.

Because he'll be damned if anyone he loves ends up there with him.

#jonathan byers #when the general audience has no sympathy for jonathan they are missing the whole point of the show #stranger things critical #general audience critical #steve harrington #jonathan and steve are both valid characters #but only jonathan seems to get mischaracterised on the regular #jonathan byers is an excellent big brother #jonathan byers is an excellent character #jonathan byers is arguably way more interesting than steve #and they are both good men in different ways #stranger things

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owo-writing-man · 53 minutes ago

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Erm you're telling me radical feminist which roots it's values in inherent and binary sex of male and females is the same as conservatism which roots it's values in inherent and binary sex of males and females.

No one could have put this together 😰

(I'm being sarcastic. And no shade at you. love you. Shade at people being dense in the comments like "rad fem has feminist in it. And that's not conservative")

Also let's get into the fact that sex isn't binary. Let's think about that one. Or is that above your grade level of middle school science.

"Oh I support all my friends who struggle with dysphoria" okay then call a trans man a man and a trans woman a woman. But you don't. You want them not to exist. You want them to kill themselves just like every conservative because being trans isn't part of your world views. You want them to die physically or at least mentally. Because you don't want them to step out of the clear lines you decided. "Youre a woman because you are an adult with XX chromosomes" is the same shit my uncle told me when he said he's rather have my KILL MYSELF then be TRANS.

GO SUCK A FUCKING DICK AND DIE.

I got mad there. ☺

I wonder if trans radfems realize that Conservatives hate them as much as any other trans person, and that they're seen as "useful idiots" that exist purely to deflect accusations of transphobia.

"We can't be transphobic, we have Jenner and White", they say, as they pass laws that will be used to remove the rights of queer people, and eventually imprison anyone who isn't a cishet WASP.

Shitting on trans men won't save you, all it'll do is put you 5th in line for the firing squad, instead of 3rd.

#transmasc #trans #anti radical feminism #anti radshit

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goldenseresinretriever · 2 days ago

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False Confidence: Chapter 15

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: It’s Family Day at Hard Deck Arena!

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“Javy, be careful, you don’t want to drop them!” You squawk as you follow Javy into the arena, narrowly dodging the giant duffel that swings behind him, holding his gear. You’d argued that he wouldn’t need it today, given that family day is mostly a free skate, but he said there was nothing wrong with being prepared. He’s got the heavy bag thrown casually over one shoulder, and he’s balancing the brownies, his water bottle, and his keys in his hands. You’re jogging to keep up, carrying your skates in one hand and Roxie in the other behind him. You’re not exactly ecstatic to show off your poor attempt at skating in front of all your new friends, but Javy’s been looking forward to this all week so you’re putting on a brave face for his sake.

Javy leads you to the break room where you’d first been introduced to the team to find it already occupied by a few guys and their families. You see wives, a few babies, and even a few toddlers and small kids running around. Javy sets the trays on some tables set up at the front of the room. You wince slightly as you take in a meticulously crafted charcuterie board and various trays of fancy-looking hors d'oeuvres that look straight out of Pinterest. Suddenly your brownies seem silly, out of place at what’s definitely much more of an adult event than you’d anticipated. They would be a lot more at home at a school bake sale.

“Hey,” you tear your gaze from the table to see Javy giving you a concerned look. “They’re perfect,” he says firmly, like he can read your mind. He reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. “Don’t worry about them,” he reassures you. “You’re not the one that misread the invite.” You're about to tell him that you don’t believe him but don’t get the chance as an arm is thrown around your shoulder, jostling you as a blonde head cranes over your shoulder.

“Oooo, what’d you two bring?” Jake asks as he scans the table. “Oh, fuck yes, brownies!” He whoops, reaching past you to grab a square. “Finally, some real food,” he grumbles around the brownie that made a beeline to his mouth. “Roadie these are the best, I’m so glad you could come!” The arm around your shoulders squeezes you in an awkward hug.

“Jake!” The three of you look up towards the voice to see Bugs frowning at him. She places her own trays down on the table as she shakes her head. “You have no self-control you know,” she chides as the frown dissolves. Jake gives her a chocolatey grin in response and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, I made sure they were healthy. I know you and Penny work really hard on their dietary plans, so I tried to keep them as nutritious as possible.” You pipe up in an attempt to further dissolve the situation.

“Oh!” Bugs looks surprised and you wonder if you’ve made yet another blunder until the expression melts into a huge grin. “I was upset that he ran straight in here without me when I asked him to wait.” She gives Jake a pointed look and he has the good sense to look chagrined. “It wasn’t because of the brownies, I promise! He’s fine to eat brownies, they all are, but I really appreciate your attention to that concern. Anything helps, and I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry, Bunny, but I was just so excited to see my best friend,” Jake pouts at Bugs before giving you another squeeze.

“I thought I was your best friend,” Javy says with a playful scowl.

“Nah, you can’t cook for shit, I’m trading you in for Roadie.” He ruffles your hair gently as your cheeks heat in response.

“Javy helped make the brownies, actually. He did a whole tray himself.” You pipe up in support of your boyfriend and Javy sticks his tongue out at Jake.

“And they didn’t burn? Damn, Roadie, you really are a miracle worker.” He finally releases you from the hug, turning back to his girlfriend.

“Where are the dogs?” He asks and she puts her hands on her hips.

“Where do you think, mister? You ran straight in here without helping, they’re still in the truck. Hopefully, they’re destroying your seats as retribution.”

Jake disappears out the door with a muttered “fuck” under his breath and you swear you can see a tiny cartoon whoosh of smoke in his wake.

“Who’s the Roadrunner, now?” Bugs jokes and Javy chuckles as he heads out the door after his best friend. Roxie squirms in your arms and you set her down as Bugs uncovers a tray of what looks like bacon-wrapped shrimp. She follows your gaze and laughs nervously, “I know I’m supposed to be a better influence, but Jake insisted on them.” You wave her concern off.

“They look great,” you reassure her, glancing around for plates and napkins. “Do we have…” Bugs heaves a sigh, shaking her head as she scans the room.

“Bob and Dragon were supposed to bring that stuff, I expected them to be here by now.”

“I can run to the store,” you offer.

“No need,” a voice interrupts and the two of you turn to where Bradley enters the break room. Zam’s behind him, armed with grocery bags full of serving supplies.

“Rule number one, Bugs? If you want something done on time? Do it yourself. And never, NEVER, put the boys in charge of utensils.” Zam says as she sets the bags on the ground and starts unpacking them at one end of the table.

“Noted.” Bugs nods with a chuckle and barks echo down the hallway, signaling Jake’s return. Roxie perks up and heads out the door. You’re torn over chasing after her, but Javy should be with Jake.

Bradley’s looking towards the door with an uncomfortable expression on his face. “The dogs come to family day?” He mutters under his breath and Zam rolls her eyes, clapping him on the arm.

“What’s wrong, Bear? You afraid of a few dogs?” You can see the humor glinting in her eyes at Bradley’s discomfort.

“No,” he grumbles as the doorway explodes in a mass of fur. You don’t realize you’ve been hit until you’re staring at the ceiling, your face is being covered with slobber, a heavy weight settled on your chest. You let out a soundless gasp of surprise as your lungs heave at the squish on them. You hear some yelling before the weight alleviates and you’re catching your breath, still staring at the ceiling until a familiar wet nose nudges at your cheek, concerned.

“I’m okay, Roxie, it’s okay.” You assure the dachshund as you sit up, your head spinning slightly as you readjust.

“Meep, are you okay?” Javy sounds genuinely worried as he drops down next to you, a hand at your back supporting you. Jake looks guilty as he maintains a hold on the collar of a frankly enormous dog. She’s a gigantic mass of copper fur and her eyes are dancing between the excitement that bowled you over and confusion at being held back.

“She didn’t mean to hurt you, she just gets excited,” Jake apologizes and you wave him off.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. Just a little surprised is all.” You assure him as Javy runs a tentative finger over the back of your head, checking for a bump where you hit it on the ground. You wince as he presses on a particularly sensitive area and he waves Bugs over. She squats down on your other side. Taking over the prodding from Javy. “I’m fine, really. It’s just a little spot, I’m fine I swear.” You feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment from all the attention being brought to you.

“Why don’t you move this to your office, Bugs?” Bradley suggests, brown eyes meeting yours with a look of understanding. He comes over and offers you a hand up, carefully easing you to your feet. You squeeze his hand in thanks as Javy and Bugs lead you out of the room.

“Do you want me to carry you, Meep?” You wave him off.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Bugs you have to check her for a concussion.” Javy insists and Bugs nods, leading you to an examination room.

“I’ll take it from here, Javy, you head back.” He hesitates but Bugs isn’t going to budge so he eventually relents. When you enter the room, you feel a little silly taking a seat on the examination table.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you say as soon as Bugs closes the door. She turns to you with a smirk.

“Oh, I know. Those boys are just a bunch of big babies, so it’s best to indulge them.” She sits down on the stool across the room. “Well just hang out here for a bit and then go back.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a ziplock bag. “You want a gummy bear?” You take one and the two of you sit in silence for a moment. “Do you want some ice for your head? I know it’s nothing, but it could help with potential swelling.”

You shake your head. “It already feels fine. I was more surprised than hurt, honestly.”

Bugs heaves a sigh. “I’m always telling Jake he needs to keep Pudding on a leash, especially when he brings her here. She just gets so excited when she’s around people, especially new ones.” You nod in understanding.

“Thanks again for making the brownies, I really appreciate you putting in the thought to make them more healthy, and for actually making something fun. So many of the other WAGs just make cocktail food and forget that these guys play a game for a living. They have the collective maturity of a five-year-old.” The two of you giggle at that. “Honestly, that’s probably why you’re so good with Javy.” She points out. “You do this for a living.”

“I’d say he’s more like a puppy than anything else.” You admit. “He’s got good intentions, he’s just bad at showing it.”

“Thanks for being patient with him. I know it’s not easy, but you’re right, he’s a good guy at his core, you just have to be willing to spend the time to see it.” You smile at Bug’s words.

“I’m not exactly a cakewalk either,” you admit, thinking about how much of your antics Javy has had to put up with over the past few weeks.

Bugs shrugs and you see a faraway look in her eye. “None of us are, it’s what makes us people. All we have to do is find the right kind of people who're willing to handle all our bumps and bruises.” She’s right, you realize. You’d been so nervous to be yourself around Javy at first, trying your best to hide your fears and anxieties. And while they didn’t make you the easiest person to deal with, Javy had been nothing but patient with you. He literally rode through a panic attack with you on your first date. And by some miracle, he still wanted to be with you. There were plenty of people that would be easier for him to be with, and yet he’d chosen you. “Just because it’s difficult, it doesn't mean you’re not worth loving,” Bugs says, eyes soft. “Jake taught me that. And I’d bet that Zam taught Bradley that too. And if Javy’s not trying to show you that in his own roundabout way, then maybe he’s gone headfirst into the boards one too many times. I, for one, love having you as a part of our little family.” You feel your cheeks heat over Bugs’s sweet and heartfelt words.

“I’ve never really had a group of friends before,” it comes out less of a blurt and more of a quiet admission. “So it’s overwhelming, having so many people express interest in me all of a sudden. But just because I’m having trouble processing it, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. You’ve all been so nice and welcoming and I really am thankful for you all.”

“This world is a lot for anyone,” Bugs says with a tired smile, “it’s hard enough without having to navigate it alone. That’s what draws everyone together, I think. The world of professional athletes can be so far removed, and the minute you get involved with one, whether that’s as a family member, a friend, or a partner, you’re dragged right along into that world whether you like it or not. Zam and I already work in this, but at least we had a choice when we decided to fully step into the spotlight. You didn’t get that choice. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

You remember the horror in your stomach when you found out about the photos of you and Javy first went viral. You’d been sorely tempted to just call in sick for the rest of the day and lock yourself in your apartment for the rest of your days. Even after you’d started dating Javy, you’d found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder expecting photographers to have found you, desperate to pry open your personal life and expose it for the world to see. You were hyper-aware of the way people looked at you, from strangers at the grocery store to your coworkers to your students’ parents. You already went through your daily life fearing the attention and eyes of others, but your overnight exposure to the world had just amplified that. “It was, but all of you made it worth it,” you admit. “It felt like my world was ending for a second there, but having a support system really helped me get back on my feet. And sure, it’s not an ideal situation, but I’m never going to fault Javy for that. He’s doing what he loves and I know how that feels. There’s no better feeling. And this is just a small price to pay to have him, and all of you.”

Bugs’s smile is tender, “you really like him don’t you?”

You feel your cheeks heat in response as well as over the obvious word substitution that does little to diminish its weight in your mind, before nodding shyly. “Believe me, I’m just as surprised as anyone, but yeah, yeah I do.”

Before you Bugs can respond, a knock comes at the door to the office and Nat sticks her head into the room. “Sorry to break up the party, ladies. How’s your ‘concussion’ doing Roadie?” She rolls her eyes as she says this and you giggle waving off her concern.

“Nothing the curative properties of gummy bears and some girl talk can’t cure,” Bugs says as Nat lets herself in. She perches on Bugs’s desk, taking a gummy bear from the bag that Bugs holds out. “What’s up?”

Nat waggles her eyebrows suggestively, “There’s a dark and mysterious man asking for you in the break room.” Bugs’s eyes light up.

“Charlie! He actually came!” Nat’s eyes bug out of her head as she almost drops the gummy bear she has between her teeth.

“That broody hunk is your brother?” She asks, shocked. Bugs rolls her eyes.

“Keep that up, and I’ll tell him you said that,” she says pointedly and Nat’s cheeks pinken slightly, “I better go find him before Jake says something stupid to him,” she hurries back out into the hallway.

“So, Bugs’s brother?” You arch a curious eyebrow at Nat who rolls her eyes and chews her gummy bear loudly. When you don’t give up the look, she shrugs dramatically,

“In my defense, the family resemblance is not there. At least Bugs and Tucker look related!”

“And you think he’s cute?” You push and she barks out a laugh, shaking her head at you.

“Look at you, Little Miss Nosey, where’d she come from?” You shrug, a smile creeping up the corner of your mouth.

“I guess I just hang out with you too much,” you muse and she lets out a faux gasp.

“Roadie, how dare you!” The two of you explode into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m fine, so let’s get back out there, I need to see your broody hunk,” you hold out your hand to Nat who lets out a groan.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Not really.”

“Here I was thinking you’d be able to fix Javy, and he just turned you into him.” She bemoans as you drag her towards the door to the office, rolling your eyes.

***

Nat manages to escape your hold and disappears into the labyrinth that’s the hallways of the arena so you find yourself walking around, enjoying the silence, and trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. Most people are floating between the break room where the food is set up and the rink itself as the first few people have started skating. You know you’ll have to head that way eventually, so you’re about to make your way in that direction when you remember that you wanted to try one of Javy’s brownies before they’re all gone. As you approach the room, you’re surprised to find it’s quiet. You must have lost track of time. You duck in, making a beeline to the snack table, planning to just duck in and grab the brownie before hurrying over to the rink to catch up with the others so you don’t see the figure in the corner until his voice catches you off guard.

“Roadie, thank goodness, help me, please.” You whip around, eyes wide in surprise, and you blink slowly as you take in Bradley’s desperate features where he’s seated in a corner by himself. You arch an eyebrow in question before his frantic eyes glance downward, guiding your gaze to where Jake and Bugs’s pitbull puppy, Taz, is draped over his shoe, looking up at him with blue eyes full of anticipation.

“Bradley you scared me, I didn’t think there was anyone still in here,” you make your way over to where he’s sitting, your brownie forgotten for the moment. “What’s wrong?” His face is pinched in distress but you can’t see what could be causing him discomfort. “Is it a muscle cramp or something? Should I get Bugs?” Your brows furrow in concern as Bradley’s eyes widen in horror at the suggestion.

“No, no you don’t need to get Bugs, I just…” his voice trails off and his gaze shifts again to the puppy lounging on his shoe. The tips of Bradley’s ears and the tops of his cheeks are starting to pinken. “Can you just,” he clears his throat as the pink starts to blossom into an embarrassed red. “Can you get it to move?”

“It?” You frown in confusion before you realize what he’s talking about. “Wait, Taz?” Bradley nods furiously even as his blush deepens. “What’s wrong, are you allergic or something?” You examine the red splotches on Bradley’s as he shakes his head.

“I just, I don’t… It won’t stop following me.” You have to hold in the surprised laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “Ever since it got here, it’s been following me. And then I sat down and now I can’t get up.” You purse your lips together to hide the smile threatening to split across your face. Bradley’s a big guy, one of, if not the biggest guy on the team. You’ve watched him shove other men his size around like they’re nothing, and here he is, glued to his seat by a puppy not much bigger than his hand that’s lying on his foot.

“So you just want me to get him to move?” You ask and Braldey nods furiously. You squat down then, reaching out to scratch the tiny puppy’s head. He rolls over onto his back, still draped over Bradley’s shoe and you scoop him up into your arms effortlessly. As dogs go, the Seresin dogs are some of the sweetest that you’ve met. They wouldn’t hurt a fly. “There you go, big guy,” you coo at Taz. “You want to hang out with me for a little bit? I think Bradley needs a break.” The puppy squirms in your arms, tail wagging as he licks at your cheeks enthusiastically. You turn back to Bradley as Taz gets comfortable, “consider yourself a free man,” you say and he gives you a thankful look. “So you’re not a dog person, huh?”

You think you see him try to suppress a shudder. “Not really, no. I was raised by a single mom so between her job and having to race me around to hockey stuff, we didn’t really have time for pets.”

You nod. “My parents didn’t like pets, either. I had fish a few times growing up, but nothing bigger than that. Puppies are just big softies, though. They just want love,” you pause to kiss Taz on his tiny forehead. “So no dogs, how about other animals?”

Bradley shrugs, “I don’t mind cats. My godmother has one, but I think he’s still warming up to me. He doesn’t really like anyone except her. Bob has a cat too, but she’s terrifying. She’s one of those breeds that’s huge, so she doesn’t really feel like a cat. So, I don’t mind cats, but I’m not sure they like me.”

“Have you tried not frowning at them?” He gives you a look of surprise like hadn’t expected you to crack a joke but you just shrug and give him a small smile.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Animals are extremely aware of our emotions, so if you frown at them, they probably don’t think of you as a friend.” Bradley considers your words for a moment before nodding curtly.

“I’ll try it.” Your smile widens softly.

“Can I ask you another question?” You ask carefully. You haven’t had a whole lot of chances to get to know Javy’s defense partner and something’s been bothering you for a while now. Bradley gives you a wary nod.

“Why don’t you and Javy get along?” Bradley lets out a heavy sigh and you feel nerves twist in your stomach. Maybe you should have just asked Javy, but you wanted to get both sides of the story. “Sorry if I’m putting my nose where it doesn’t belong, but you’re partners, right? I’d think that would be easier if you were friends.” It sounds so childish when you say it out loud but you spend every day helping kids with conflict resolution, so you can’t help but want to help Javy and Bradley with this. You know Javy’s a good guy and you get the feeling that his brooding partner isn’t much different.

“No, you’re right.” Bradley sighs deeply. “We should be closer. I try not to let it affect the way I play, but I don’t think I’m as good at it as I think I am.” You nod, silently encouraging him to continue. “I’ve been in this league a long time, twelve years. And even before that, I’ve been playing hockey as long as I can remember, and I’ve seen a hundred guys like Javy. They let the power the world gives them get to their head. They live life like they’re untouchable like there won’t ever be consequences to their actions, even when they play a game where there always is.” He has a good point. When you’d first been introduced to them, you’d been perplexed by the concept of penalties, power-plays, and penalty kills, but as rough-and-tumble as hockey is, there are consequences to a player’s actions that directly affect the outcome of the game. “And while I’ve seen some guys get off scot-free, I’ve also seen guys who get burned and burned bad. They ruin their lives or worse, ruin someone else’s and walk away unscathed.”

“When I was playing in Philadelphia, we had this rookie join the team. And these rookies, they’re these 18-year-old, fresh-faced kids who get handed a salary that’s more money than they know what to do with and get thrust into a world where they’re essentially celebrities. They have money, they have power, and they run around like a kid in a candy store, testing the limits of those things. Anyway, this kid, he’d been a hotshot in college and it wasn’t a matter of whether he got drafted to the NHL, just a matter of what team. He had an ego the size of a truck and didn’t have a lick of sense in his head.” Bradley chuckles, his voice sounding almost fond.

“My coach knew that, however, and he had this kid move in with me. And I hated him. He was so young and fresh and I didn’t want to have to come home after a long day and play parent. And yet, I did. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to wrangle him and get some sense in his head. It wasn’t easy by any means. There were even nights that I locked him out of the house for staying out too late, and it started affecting the locker room. And of course, he tried tattling to the coaches. I thought it was over for me, honestly. Coach called me into his office one day and I thought I was getting traded or something, but instead, he thanked me. He said ‘he doesn’t appreciate it now, but he has no idea how good he has it.’ He was right of course. We worked things out, eventually.” Bradley pauses, a soft smile on his lips. “And now he’s one of my best friends.” You smile too and you can see the fondness in Bradley’s eyes. “You know, just the other day he called me and he said he asked our coach if he could take in one of the rookies next year.”

“So that’s why you’re tough on Javy?” You ask, softly. He nods, turning to look at you.

“I know he’s a good guy, even if I don’t show it. And he’s a good player, better than me, but he’s not going to change if I tell him that.” You nod in understanding. “Well, that, and he won’t stop flirting with my girlfriend.” Bradley scowls and you laugh at that. “I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still pisses me off.”

“That’s fair. The player you were talking about, what’s his name?”

“Wyatt Eaton, he still plays for Philadelphia. You’ll probably get a chance to meet him the next time the Flyers come to town.”

“I’d love that,” you say and Bradley returns your smile.

“You've been good for him,” Bradley says and you feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. “I still stand by the fact that you deserve someone better than him, but as long as you’re happy, I’m rooting for the two of you.” You smile shyly, bumping your shoulder against his.

“I am. Thanks, Bradley. And thanks for taking care of Javy, I really appreciate it.” He just nods in response. “We should probably get to the rink. Can you grab me a brownie? I want to make sure I get one of Javy’s before they’re gone, and my hands are kind of full.” Bradley goes over to the snack table and you follow still carrying Taz.

“So Javy actually made these?” He sounds suspicious.

“Under my supervision, don’t worry, but yeah he did.” You can’t help the pride in your voice as Bradley cuts off two pieces, wrapping one in a napkin before biting into the other. Your stomach drops as you wait for his reaction. He hums thoughtfully, nodding quietly.

“Not bad, Machado, not bad.” He says and you grin. “Alright, let’s go.”

***

When the two of you make it to the rink, you see that most people are already skating. You see the guys cheering as Zam skates gracefully across the ice, jumping and spinning with the practiced perfection of a figure skater. Bradley’s eyes are on her the moment you enter the rink, a smile on his lips whether he realizes it or not. You deposit Taz where Pudding and Roxie are lying together in the visitors’ bench area before coming back to where Bradley’s pulling on his skates with a practiced ease you’re slightly jealous of. You sit down on the bench next to him, reaching for your skates that Javy already brought over. They still feel clunky as you awkwardly shove your feet into them. You’re sure they’ll be better once you break them in.

Bradley’s voice startles you, “Machado, stop gawking and come help your girl.” Your cheeks heat as Javy’s head whips around and then he’s whizzing towards the bench.

“Meep! You made it!” You’re still shocked by how easily he swings himself over the boards instead of using the tiny door at one end. “Here, let me help!” He drops to his knees in front of you and your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“I can do it, Javy,” you try to protest but he just gives you a sweet grin.

“I know, but I want to.” Well, who are you to stop him, then? You awkwardly wait as he guides your feet into the skates and laces them up like he did last time. “Alright, Meep,” he claps a hand on your ankle, “you ready for this?” His tone is jovial but his eyes are cautious, searching yours for doubts. You swallow hard, trying to banish the butterflies from your stomach.

“You won’t let me fall, right?” You whisper and Javy’s smile softens.

“Never,” you nod, then, holding out your hands to him.

“Okay, I’m ready.” He stands, then, carefully helping you to your feet before guiding you to hold onto the boards while he swings over and then he holds your hands as you clomp over to the tiny door and nudge it open with your hip. Your legs wobble as you step onto the ice. Whoops and cheers explode from the other side of the rink and you look up to see your friends watching you. Nat skates over, face beaming.

“Roadie, you made it! Look at you!” Her excitement is infectious and you find yourself smiling. She holds out her hand you give her one of yours so now you’re anchored between her and Javy. They lead you as you skate over to the others.

“Looking good, Roadie!” Jake calls out as you reach the group where they're waiting for you.

“You’re looking much better than I was the first time I tried,” Josie points out, pride shining in her eyes. “I fell on my face in front of all of Reuben’s friends because I got cocky.” She winces at the memory.

“Yeah, Roadie, you’re a natural!” Zam pipes up. “You’re sure you haven’t skated before?” You shake your head.

“Not before last time, no.”

As you chat with the others and catch up as you skate along with them, holding Javy’s hand in yours, you feel your self-consciousness slowly start to melt away with all the kind words and camaraderie. Bugs was right, this community is important. You were right too, as hard as the past month has been for you, it was worth it to have a group of friends like this. They were more than just friends, this felt like a family and you were glad to have it.

A/N: Well now I miss the Philly boys 😭

#false confidence // goldenseresinretriever #fc // goldenseresinretriever #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters hockey au #top gun maverick #top gun maverick hockey au #tgm #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado #no use of y/n

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fuck-customers · 24 hours ago

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We have a new hire at work (relatively new, she's been here about 3 months and is still the newest) and and I think the phrase is she was hired for her "soft skills," she's super friendly, nice, easy to get along with, everyone really liked her at first but the problem is she doesn't do her job. At all. She just uses the equipment herself or sits and plays on her phone while the rest of us are fighting for our lives trying to help customers, answer the phones, and keep up with the paperwork.

She was supposed to help manage the workload, but not only does she not help, she adds to it because we have to take time to train her on tasks she then proceeds to totally ignore unless you specifically say "answer that call" or "register that customer," then she'll do the task exactly once and never again. And none of us are managers so we'll get yelled at for bossing her around if we tell her what to do every time. This has happened in the past, we are literally not allowed to tell anyone else to do tasks, only how to do it or we get reprimanded if a boss hears.

Every single member of our department and some people outside our department have noticed and commented that she's friendly but she doesn't do anything even when calls are going to voicemail and customers are waiting, and I know at least two people in the department have submitted official complaints that she's getting paid for not working and it's tanking our whole department's numbers.

Yesterday she was actually talking to a customer for once (while using the equipment herself) and she said "yeah I'm new but I really like it, everyone is super nice, like really really nice" and now I'm torn between being impressed that no one's been mean to her despite our intense and justified frustration, and feeling awkward that she thinks we're so friendly when actually everyone is furious at her and complaining about her behind her back and wishing she hadn't been hired.

I'd feel better about the whole situation if she was snobby or rude about it, but she's not so I just feel kind of guilty like we're being gossipy high school bullies or something. But we're not! Nobody hates her personally! We're just drowning in work and want her to do what she was hired to do instead of being dead weight!

I heard through the grapevine management's put a trace on her employee account after the most recent complaint was filed and they are going to compare her completed tasks against tasks that went undone during time she has no logged activity for the next week (I feel like they should already have that information though? Every single thing you do including picking up the phone gets logged to your employee ID. She's here 3 months. There should already be plenty of data?) and if they determine she actually isn't working (she's not) they'll "take action," whatever that means.

I'll feel bad for her if she gets fired because she seems genuinely unaware there's a problem, but come on. It's been months. You've been trained. If everyone else is running around like crazy and clearly stressed out, and you're sitting there playing on your phone not doing anything, shouldn't you be at least a LITTLE aware you should be trying to help out with what you were hired to do, and that people will notice and get irritated if you don't?

Posted by admin Rodney

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seitmai · 2 days ago

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Ahh many thoughts

You surreptitiously suck in a breath and school your face to remain completely and utterly professional. But your chest bursts into a triumphant fire at the judge’s verdict.

I could not hold it in like that lmao

Sarah gives you a nod, and then she’s approached by the brother of your client - whose been trying to hold back his clear crush on your paralegal until the case was over, and you’re happy to see him shoot his shot. He’s a sweet kid, just about her age, and she’s had terrible luck in the romance department. This could be a path out of the woods for her of those post-grad men who still desperately tried to cling to their frat boy glory.

Good Luck Sarah 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Now, now. We're professionals here. We don't gloat." "Speak for yourself," Sarah quips, earning a round of laughter from the table.

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

The victory feels sweeter shared with these people who helped you prepare for the case and who understand the long hours and emotional toll of the job.

Oh I 100% agree!

Your eyebrows shoot up. "The Donovan case? Andy, that's not even your case. It's being handled by the DA's office." He nods, pacing the room. "I know, I know. But I've been looking into it, and something's not right. The evidence doesn't add up."

Uhh👀

“Someone with too much money, too much power, and too much influence is somehow pulling strings to pin this the way they want. You can help me identify the right players. But, what’s more, you have the necessary clout and influence in this town to go to the DA and be taken seriously, and I don’t have that yet.” “It’s eating you up to admit that, isn’t it?” you finally say. He puts his hands on his hips and lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, it does. Satisfied?”

Yes absolutely and it feels food to hear it 😌

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He licks his lips. “Do you think it’s possible that the cases I’m losing now are for the defendants that should be put behind bars, the ones I have no guilt taking money from, and that I’m just that good that they never question that I’m making sure they get what they deserve?”

I can respect that

"Okay," you say slowly, "I'll listen. But I need to know everything. No holding back, no surprises later. If we're going to do this, we do it right." Relief washes over Andy's face. He nods vigorously. "Of course. Everything I have, it's all yours."

🤝🏻

Andy appears at your side, and you turn slightly to look at him. “Why are we in a hotel room discussing this? Secrecy? If you’re that worried, it won’t be hard to track you here.” “I…” he laughs. “No, actually. It’s worse than that.” “Oh, Andy,” your voice is wary, “don’t tell me you live here.”

At least it's a nice hotel, could be worse 🤷🏻‍♀️

“I didn’t know this was where you landed,” he says, “but when I got here and heard you were one of the top lawyers in this town, I felt a mix of curiosity and pride and... something else." His voice drops lower, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. "I thought about reaching out, but..." You turn to face him fully, your breath catching slightly at his proximity. "But what?"Andy's eyes search yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "But I was ashamed. Of how things ended between us in law school. Of how my life had fallen apart. I didn't want you to see me like that, but I didn’t want to run away and start my new chapter making a cowardly choice by picking some place else."

🥺🥺🥺

"I know this isn’t the right time," Andy starts, his voice low and husky, "but I can't ignore this anymore." Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. For a moment, you're too stunned to react. But then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor, years of unresolved tension pouring out.

"We were too busy hating each other back at law school, but I've thought about this for years," he murmurs. "About you." “You hated me?” you ask. “No,” he admits. “Me either,” you say truthfully.

Well glad that that finally got resolved 😅

Gently, he turns you back to face him, and then in one fluid motion, Andy lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you to the bed, laying you down gently on the soft mattress. Andy kneels above you for a moment, pausing, his eyes roaming your body with undisguised desire. He’s already taken you once, so it’s no surprise, but his gaze is overwhelmingly intense, almost reverent, as if he's committing every curve and freckle to memory. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

😮‍💨🥰😮‍💨🥰

You run your fingers through his hair, down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. There's an intimacy to this moment that surprises you - it's not just about physical pleasure, but a connection that feels deeper, more meaningful. Unexplored potential from years before spilling into reality now.

It waited all these years together be explored

Andy's hands knead the muscles of your shoulders, working out knots you didn't even realize were there. His touch is firm but gentle, alternating between deep pressure and feather-light caresses. You feel yourself melting into the mattress, tension draining from your body.

I need a massage like that too💆🏻‍♀️

You nod, acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "The case..." "Is still our priority," Andy finishes for you. "We can't let this distract us from what's at stake."

Let's keep our heads in the game

You sit up slowly, the sheet pooling around your waist. Andy's eyes roam your body appreciatively before meeting your gaze again. "But I don't regret it," he says firmly. "Do you?" You consider for a moment, then shake your head. "No, I don't. But we need to be careful." You nod, leaning into his touch. "And when we're not working?" A slow smile spreads across Andy's face. "When we're not working, we can explore... this." He gestures between you two.

I can work with that 😌

You hesitate, knowing you should probably leave, maintain some distance. But the thought of curling up in Andy's arms is too appealing when he’s so willing.

No way I would say no to a cuddle invitation like that

Happy Friday, Aspen!

Legal Temptations

Characters/Pairings: Andy Barber x curvy Millennial female!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After battling with Andy Barber in the courtroom, your relationship takes a turn when you receive an unexpected message from your rival requesting a secretive meeting to discuss a high-profile murder case. Intrigued but cautious, you can't turn down the invitation from Newton's former Assistant District Attorney and your former law school rival.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), ; mild exhibitionism (sex in front of a window), first time anal play/rimming; dirty talk; a lot of plot BEFORE we get to the smut

Notes: Sorry it's not Friday, Jen, and sorry this has also sat in my inbox for months! I kept on wanting to do something new with Andy and wanting to post it on a Friday, but things kept on getting away from me. Now I'm just posting and to hell with previous intentions, hahaha. But kicking off my series of Valentine Storygrams seemed like a good time to trot him out!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“I find the defendant guilty as charged.”

You surreptitiously suck in a breath and school your face to remain completely and utterly professional.

But your chest bursts into a triumphant fire at the judge’s verdict.

You’ve won, yet again, against Andy Barber. And rightly so. Your client was the victim, plain and simple. But it’s the third time in three months.

And it feels damn good to know you did.

As the courtroom erupts into a flurry of murmurs and movement, you gather your papers with practiced efficiency, sliding them into your briefcase. You avoid looking at the defense table.

The judge's gavel cracks through the air. "Court is adjourned."

You rise, buttoning your blazer with one smooth motion. Only then do you allow yourself a brief glance at your opponent. Andy's jaw is clenched, his shoulders tense as he leans in to whisper something to his client. A twinge of sympathy flickers through you - you know all too well the sting of defeat. But you still can't help savoring this moment, this victory. It's not just about winning – it's about justice served, about protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty.

As you stride towards the exit, your heels clicking authoritatively on the polished floor, a hand catches your elbow. You turn to find Sarah, your paralegal, grinning widely.

"Drinks to celebrate?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with shared victory.

You nod, allowing a small smile to curve your lips. "Absolutely. The usual place in an hour?"

You make your way out of the courtroom, nodding politely to colleagues and spectators. In the hallway, a reporter approaches, microphone extended.

"Counselor, another impressive win. Any comments on the verdict?"

You pause, choosing your words carefully. "We’re obviously pleased with the verdict. That's all I'll say for now. Any further comments will come through official channels." You offer a polite but firm smile, sidestepping the reporter with practiced ease.

As you’re about to get into your car, you look back at the courthouse and spot Andy Barber exiting the building, his face masking frustration and defeat. For a moment, your eyes lock. There's a flash of something—respect, perhaps, or resignation—before he turns away, striding purposefully towards the parking lot.

You shake off the encounter and settle into your car. Between the drive home to change into something more casual and then the drive to your usual celebratory spot, you’re able to decompress, shed the courtroom persona, and remember who you are outside of the high-stakes world of criminal law.

By the time you push open the door of O'Malley's, your favorite low-key bar, you're feeling more like yourself. Sarah is already there. She’s landed you a good corner booth, and two of the other paralegals from your office and your assistant are there, too.

As you slide into the booth, Sarah pushes a glass of your favorite scotch towards you. "To justice," she says, raising her own glass in a toast.

"To justice," you echo, clinking glasses with the group. The warm burn of the liquor is a welcome sensation after the tension of the day in court.

Your assistant, Mark, leans in eagerly. "So, boss, give us the details. How did Barber's face look when the verdict came down?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Now, now. We're professionals here. We don't gloat."

"Speak for yourself," Sarah quips, earning a round of laughter from the table.

As the conversation flows, the weight of the case finally lifting from your shoulders. Sarah’s receiving and responding to a few texts, apparently having agreed to give her number to the client’s brother. The victory feels sweeter shared with these people who helped you prepare for the case and who understand the long hours and emotional toll of the job.

Sarah leans in, her voice lowered conspiratorially. "So, what's next? Rumor has it the DA's office is eyeing you for a big case."

You take a sip of your drink, considering. "Nothing's confirmed yet, but there have been some interesting conversations. We'll see."

Just then, it’s your phone that buzzes. Glancing down, you see a text from an unknown number:

Congratulations on the win. We need to talk. Meet me at hotel bar at Clark’s, 10 PM tonight. Come alone. -AB

Your brow furrows. AB. Andy Barber. What could he possibly want? And why the secrecy?

You don’t respond right away. It’s only just past eight. You have time to consider the situation.

But ultimately, your curiosity wins out, and around nine, you make your excuses and leave your staff at O’Malley’s.

On your way to Clark’s, your wheels turn over the enigma that is Andy Barber.

He showed up in town almost six months ago, relocated from Massachusetts where he’d been the assistant district attorney before his son had been accused of murder. You had followed the tragic unfolding of events - the family ostracized from their community, brief reprieve when Jacob had been cleared, and then the tragic accident where his son and his wife ended up in critical condition. Jacob passed away, never coming out of his coma, and though Laurie recovered, a year later, their marriage never did, and they divorced in a fairly civil proceeding.

You had really felt for him initially.

But once you started coming up against him in the court room, you were reminded why you had hated him all through law school. He was always good at what he did, and he was smug about it. The two of you had competed for everything. Top spot of each class, the most competitive internships, nearly coming out even, but he edged you out for valedictorian of your graduating class, leaving you as salutatorian.

He’d gone public defender, and you’d moved back to your home state and gone into private practice, and you really hadn’t thought of him again until he made the news - because the son of an ADA being hit with murder charges made the national news circuit.

But back at law school, he’d gotten under your skin, and as much as you tried to ignore it now, he was doing it again.

You arrive at Clark's Hotel ten minutes before the agreed time, your mind still churning with questions. The hotel bar is dimly lit, all dark wood and leather, exuding an air of discreet luxury. You scan the room, but there's no sign of Andy yet.

Settling at the bar, you order a club soda. You need to keep your wits about you for whatever this meeting might bring. The bartender slides your drink across the polished surface just as you feel a presence at your elbow.

"Thanks for coming," Andy greets you in a low voice.

You turn to face him, taking in his appearance. He looks tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than you remember from the courtroom. His suit is slightly rumpled, as if he's been wearing it all day.

"What's this about, Andy?" you ask, cutting straight to the chase.

He glances around the bar, then back to you. "Not here. I've got a room upstairs. We can talk there."

Your instincts flare with caution, but curiosity wins out. You nod, following him to the elevator.

The ride up is silent, tension thick in the air. As the elevator doors slide open, you follow Andy down the plush carpeted hallway. He stops at room 712, swiping the keycard and holding the door open for you.

You hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is spacious but dimly lit, with a view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. Andy moves to the mini bar, pouring himself a generous measure of whiskey. He offers you one, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"Alright, we're here. What's going on?" you ask, your patience wearing thin.

He takes a long sip of his drink before turning to face you, his expression grave. "I need your help," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow, skepticism clear in your voice. "My help? With what?"

Andy runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration you remember from your law school days. "It's about the Donovan case."

Your mind races. Robert Donovan, a prominent businessman, found brutally murdered in his penthouse apartment. The Donovan case is the high-profile murder trial of the year - possibly of the decade - and set to begin in a few weeks.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "The Donovan case? Andy, that's not even your case. It's being handled by the DA's office."

He nods, pacing the room. "I know, I know. But I've been looking into it, and something's not right. The evidence doesn't add up."

You cross your arms, leaning against the wall. "What do you mean?"

Andy takes a deep breath, then launches into a detailed explanation. He talks about inconsistencies in witness statements, forensic evidence that doesn't quite fit the prosecution's timeline, and a potential alibi for the defendant that wasn't fully investigated. As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in, your legal mind picking apart the details.

"The blood spatter analysis," he says, pulling out a file from his briefcase, "it doesn't match the prosecution's theory of how the murder happened. And look at this," he points to a photo, "the angle of the wound suggests the attacker was left-handed, but Donovan is right-handed."

You lean in, examining the evidence. It's compelling. "Andy, this is... fascinating. But why are you showing me this? Why not take it to the DA? Or the press?”

You take in a deep breath and study his face.

Impatient, he implores you by name - first name, not last name like he always did in law school and like he had these past months.

“It’s eating you up to admit that, isn’t it?” you finally say.

He puts his hands on his hips and lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, it does. Satisfied?”

“Mildly,” you admit, a hint of a smirk on your face. “But Andy, why should I trust you? Word around town is you’re hit or miss on your cases, and I’ve just beat you on all three when we’ve come toe to toe.”

He arches a brow. “You think I’ve lost my edge?”

“You were brilliant Newton - on track to be the DA, you won everything.”

You arch an eyebrow. He doesn’t lose everything, and he certainly didn’t make any rookie mistakes on the cases he is losing.

“I’m willing to entertain that premise.”

“Alright, that’s all I need. Now what about Donovan?”

You mull over everything he’s shared so far. Your gut says he’s not wrong.

He says your name again, prompting you back into the moment.

You lock eyes with Andy, searching for any hint of deception. But all you see is earnestness and a hint of desperation.

"Okay," you say slowly, "I'll listen. But I need to know everything. No holding back, no surprises later. If we're going to do this, we do it right."

Relief washes over Andy's face. He nods vigorously. "Of course. Everything I have, it's all yours."

You move to the small desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a chair. "Alright then, let's get to work. Start from the beginning."

For the next few hours, you and Andy pour over the evidence, dissecting every detail of the Donovan case. As the night wears on, your skepticism fades, replaced by a growing certainty that something is indeed very wrong with this case.

Around two am, you lean back in your chair, rubbing your eyes. "This is big, Andy. Really big. If what we suspect is true, it could implicate some very powerful people."

Andy nods grimly. "I know. That's why I needed your help. I won’t be able to do this alone."

You sigh and press your fingers to your temples, massaging away what stress you can, though it seems futile. “This has to stay between us for now. If there's even a whisper of this getting out before we're ready..."

"I know," he interrupts. "Believe me, I understand the stakes."

As he gathers the files, you move to the window, gazing out at the city below. The lights twinkle like stars, hiding the secrets and machinations of the powerful. You can't help but wonder what you're getting yourself into.

Andy appears at your side, and you turn slightly to look at him. “Why are we in a hotel room discussing this? Secrecy? If you’re that worried, it won’t be hard to track you here.”

“I…” he laughs. “No, actually. It’s worse than that.”

“Oh, Andy,” your voice is wary, “don’t tell me you live here.”

“I haven’t gotten around to finding a place.”

“Six months, Andy!”

He smirks and cocks his head. “You’ve been keeping track of how long I’ve been in town?”

You look away, feeling your cheeks flood with heat.

He takes a step closer, not touching, but near enough that you can feel the warmth of his body.

You turn to face him fully, your breath catching slightly at his proximity. "But what?"

Andy's eyes search yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "But I was ashamed. Of how things ended between us in law school. Of how my life had fallen apart. I didn't want you to see me like that, but I didn’t want to run away and start my new chapter making a cowardly choice by picking some place else."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken history. You remember the fierce competition, the heated debates, the undercurrent of tension that had always existed between you two. And now, years later, here you are, standing toe to toe once again.

"Andy," you start, unsure of what to say. But before you can continue, he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "That's not why I asked you here. We should focus on the case."

You nod, trying to ignore the sudden pang of disappointment. "Right, the case. We need a plan."

As Andy moves back to the desk, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions - frustration at his deflection, curiosity about what might have been, and an overwhelming sense that you're on the precipice of something monumental with this case.

Leaving the window, you join him at the desk. "We need to be methodical about this. We can't afford to make any mistakes."

Andy nods, his professional demeanor firmly back in place. "Agreed. I think our first step should be to re-interview some of the key witnesses. There are inconsistencies in their statements that we need to explore further."

You tap your finger on the desk, thinking. "That's risky. If word gets back to whoever's pulling the strings, they might move to cover their tracks."

"True," Andy concedes. "But if we're careful, we might be able to gather crucial information without raising suspicions."

You consider this for a moment. "Alright, but we do it discreetly. No official channels. We'll need to come up with a cover story for why we're asking questions."

As you and Andy begin to outline your strategy, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You feel it in every meaty case, that feeling never going away though you’ve been practicing for years.

"We obviously need to be careful about who we to to with this information," Andy says.

"I have a few trusted contacts in the police department who might be able to help us discreetly.”

“I’ve already established a few contacts on the street. And what about your paralegal, Sarah? Could she be brought in on this?"

You consider for a moment. "Sarah's reliable, and she has a knack for research. She could be invaluable. But let's wait before bringing anyone else in. For now, it's just us."

"Just us," Andy echoes, his eyes meeting yours. There's a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

You clear your throat.

"Right," you say, breaking the tension. "Let's focus on our next steps. We need to start gathering concrete evidence to support our theory."

Andy nods, visibly refocusing. "I've been thinking about that. There's a security guard at Donovan's building who was working the night of the murder. His statement seemed off. Like he was holding something back."

"Good catch," you reply, impressed despite yourself. "We should try to talk to him first. Maybe we can convince him to come clean."

"Agreed. I'll set up a meeting, make it look casual. We don't want to spook him."

As you continue planning, the sky outside begins to lighten. You glance at your watch, surprised to find it's nearly five am.

"We should probably call it a night," you say, stifling a yawn. "Or morning, I guess."

Andy looks up from the notes he's been scribbling, seeming equally surprised by the time. "You're right. We've made good progress, and we’ll need to be sharp for this."

You start gathering your things, your mind already racing with the day ahead. As you reach for your coat, Andy's hand brushes against yours. The touch sends an electric current through your body, and you freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity. You turn to face him, and the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

"I know this isn’t the right time," Andy starts, his voice low and husky, "but I can't ignore this anymore."

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. For a moment, you're too stunned to react. But then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor, years of unresolved tension pouring out.

Your hands find their way into his hair as he cups your face in his hands. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

Andy breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath. "We shouldn't," he whispers, but his actions betray his words as his hands roam your body.

"No, we shouldn't," you agree, even as you start unbutton his white shirt. You know you should leave, should maintain professional boundaries. But the pull is magnetic, undeniable.

His hands reach for your hips but slide up your waist, fingers slipping beneath your sweater, and your feel your skin light up at every point of contact.

"We were too busy hating each other back at law school, but I've thought about this for years," he murmurs. "About you."

“You hated me?” you ask.

“No,” he admits.

“Me either,” you say truthfully.

Before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. This second kiss is tentative at first, a question. But when you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck, it quickly becomes heated, desperate. Years of competition, of unspoken attraction, of what-ifs, all pour into this moment.

Your back hits the cool glass of the window, and you gasp at the contrast with Andy's warm body pressing against you. His hands are everywhere, pushing your sweater up and off your shoulders, reaching for the button of your jeans.

Your fingers fumble with more of the buttons of Andy's shirt as he trails hot kisses down your neck. The cool glass against your back contrasts sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours. Your head spins, overwhelmed by sensation and the surreal nature of the moment.

"Wait," you gasp, placing a hand on his chest. Andy freezes immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" you ask, searching his face. "There's no going back."

Andy cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "But I’ll stop if you want to me to stop—"

You silence him with a kiss, pouring all your pent-up desire into it. That's all the confirmation Andy needs.

Clothes are shed hastily, hands roaming newly exposed skin.

Andy spins you around, your bare skin pressing against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The city sprawls out before you, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The sky is a canvas of pastel pinks and oranges, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

His warm body molds against your back as his lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You shiver, partly from the chill of the glass, partly from the heat of his touch. Your breath fogs the window as Andy's hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The city below is beginning to stir, early risers starting their day, unaware of the passionate scene unfolding high above them. There's a thrill in being so exposed, yet so hidden.

Andy's fingers thread through yours, pressing your palm against the glass, his other hand guiding the head of his thick cock to your entrance as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. He’s big, so big.

Andy's hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he starts to move. The slow, steady rhythm is almost agonizing, but you can feel every inch of him stretching and filling you. You moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pleasure builds.

His pace picks up gradually as he leans down to kiss your neck again, his teeth grazing over your skin. Your fingers curl against the glass, your body moving in sync with his.

It's like a symphony of sensations – the warmth of Andy's body against yours, the coolness of the glass on your skin, the sounds of pleasure mingled with the noises from outside. It’s been years since you were intimate with anyone, and you have forgotten how good it feels to have a man inside you instead of a toy.

You lose yourself in it all, chasing after that elusive release that seems just out of reach. But then Andy's hand slides between your body and the glass, his fingers finding their way to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He presses down just right and everything around you fades away as you come undone in his arms.

Andy follows soon after with a low groan, pulling out just before he spills his seed over your lower back and ass, his body shuddering against yours with pleasure. You collapse against the glass, and he presses against you, both breathing heavily and trying to catch your breaths.

As reality starts to creep back in, you realize how exposed you are – a naked couple pressed against a floor-to-ceiling window for anyone below to see. Panic sets in for a brief moment before being chased away by a warm contentment at being wrapped up in Andy's embrace.

"Good thing we’re seven floors up," he whispers into your ear, seeming to read your mind. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before pulling back slightly and reaching for tissues from a nearby table to clean his spend from your back.

You laugh softly as you start to look around for your clothes. "Definitely not something I ever thought I'd do. And never thought it would be with you."

"I'm glad we did though," Andy says with a smile that you feel against your neck as he presses in behind you, not letting you move away just yet.

The rising sun paints your bodies in a golden glow, highlighting the sheen of sweat on your skin. Andy's free hand traces the curve of your breast, and you sigh happily.

Andy kneels above you for a moment, pausing, his eyes roaming your body with undisguised desire. He’s already taken you once, so it’s no surprise, but his gaze is overwhelmingly intense, almost reverent, as if he's committing every curve and freckle to memory.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

There's no rush, no desperate urgency. Andy takes his time, exploring your body with gentle hands and soft lips. He traces the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist. Each touch sends shivers through you, generating a slow, simmering heat.

Andy's lips trail lower, across your stomach, down to the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitches as he settles between your legs, his intent clear. The first swipe of his tongue has you arching off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips.

As Andy’s tongue expertly circles your sensitive clit, you can’t help but lose yourself in the sensation. His skillful fingers tease and caress your folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your moans grow louder as he delves deeper, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive you wild. You lose all sense of time, only focused on the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

With each flick of his tongue, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your body tenses as you reach your peak, crying out in ecstasy as a powerful orgasm rocks through you.

Andy continues to pleasure you until your body finally relaxes, then he crawls back up to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

"Wow," is all you can manage to say, still catching your breath.

"Mmm," Andy hums against your lips. "You taste amazing."

His tongue dances with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth. The intensity builds as he presses his body against yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other caresses your side.

The kiss seems to go on forever, stealing your breath away. Just when you think you might need to come up for air, Andy breaks away, only to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His lips find that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you shiver with pleasure.

"Turn over," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You comply, rolling onto your stomach. Andy's weight shifts on the bed as he positions himself over you. His lips return to your skin, starting at the nape of your neck. He places soft, feather-light kisses down your spine, taking his time to savor every inch.

His hands glide along your sides as he moves lower, kneading the muscles of your back. You feel the tension melting away under his touch. Andy's lips follow the curve of your spine, his stubble lightly scratching your skin and sending tingles through your body.

As he reaches the small of your back, he pauses. You feel his breath, warm and heavy, against your skin. Then his tongue darts out, tracing a sensual line back up your spine. You arch into the touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

As his hands work their magic, Andy's lips continue their exploration. He places open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. Each touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands are firm yet gentle, eliciting soft sighs of pleasure from you. As they move lower, massaging down your back, you feel yourself melting into the mattress.

His lips follow the path of his hands, peppering kisses across your shoulder blades and down your spine. The combination of his strong hands and soft lips has you practically purring with contentment.

Andy doesn’t pause when reaches the curve of your lower back this time. His hands grip your hips, lifting them slightly. You understand his intent and rise up onto your knees, keeping your chest pressed to the bed.

Andy's hands caress your ass, kneading the flesh appreciatively. You feel exposed in this position, but the reverence in his touch chases away any self-consciousness. His thumb traces your folds, finding you still slick with arousal.

"God, you’re already so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Getting wetter and wetter for me.”

Andy's hands caress your thighs as he positions himself behind you. "I want to taste you again," he says, his voice low and husky. "You think you can take more?"

You nod eagerly, anticipation building as you feel his warm breath on your sensitive flesh.

"I dreamt of having you like this in the library our last semester," he confesses and you groan. "Spread your legs a little wider for me."

You comply eagerly, shifting your knees further apart on the soft sheets. Andy's thumbs gently part your folds, exposing your most intimate areas to his hungry gaze.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he coos, leaning in so you can feel his hot breath on your sex for a moment, and you fist the sheets.

Andy starts with gentle kisses along your inner thighs, working his way higher. When his tongue makes contact with your core, you gasp at the sensation.

"You taste so good," Andy murmurs against you. "I could do this for hours."

His tongue explores every fold and crevice, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your most sensitive spots. You moan as he circles your clit, pleasure building with each pass.

"That's it, let me hear you," Andy encourages. "I love the sounds you make."

He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit just the right spot as his tongue continues its ministrations. The dual stimulation has you writhing, pushing back against his face.

"So responsive," Andy says appreciatively. "So wet and ready for me. You're close, aren't you?"

You can only whimper in response as he increases the pressure. Andy's skilled tongue works over your sensitive flesh, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit. His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as you writhe with pleasure.

"More," you gasp, fisting the sheets. "Please, Andy, don't stop."

He obliges, redoubling his efforts. His tongue delves deeper, exploring every fold and crevice of your sex. You feel the familiar tension building, a tingling heat spreading through your core.

"That's it," Andy encourages, briefly pausing his ministrations. "I can feel you getting close. Your pussy's clenching, begging for release."

He slides a second finger inside you, curling them both to hit that perfect spot. Combined with the relentless attention of his tongue on your clit, you reach for the peak of a third release, but then he slows.

You whine and shift against him. He chuckles. “Oh, I want to torture you more while I enjoy your eager body.”

“Andy!”

“You love it,” he says, “and I have a feeling you can take so much more.”

Andy's hands caress your thighs as he shifts his position slightly. "I want to explore every inch of you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

Andy's hands gently part your cheeks, exposing you fully. You feel a moment of vulnerability, but it quickly gives way to arousal as his tongue traces a path higher. When it reaches your puckered entrance, you gasp at the new sensation.

"Is this okay?" Andy murmurs against your sensitive skin.

You nod, words failing you as he begins to explore this uncharted territory. His tongue circles your opening, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention. The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced before - strange at first, but quickly becoming intensely pleasurable.

Andy takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate. His hands knead your ass cheeks as his tongue works its magic, occasionally dipping lower to tease your dripping core before returning to its primary focus.

As you relax into the sensation, Andy becomes bolder. The tip of his tongue presses against your tight ring of muscle, not quite entering but applying delicious pressure. You moan, pushing back against him, silently begging for more.

"You like that, don't you?" Andy says, his voice husky with desire. "Your body's so responsive, so eager for my touch."

He resumes his ministrations.

"Relax," Andy soothes, his hands massaging your lower back. "Just feel."

His tongue circles your entrance, tracing lazy patterns that send tingles of pleasure through your body as he continues.

He alternates between broad strokes and more focused attention, occasionally dipping his tongue inside. The sensation is intense, making you moan and push back against his face.

"That's it," Andy encourages. "You're doing so well. Does it feel good?"

“Yes,” you whimper as he increases the pressure.

Your body trembles with pleasure as Andy continues his intimate exploration. His skilled tongue works you into a frenzy, alternating between your sensitive openings. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two fingers into your dripping core while his tongue focuses on your puckered entrance.

The dual stimulation is overwhelming. You cry out, fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. Andy doesn't let up, working you through your orgasm and beyond it.

When the aftershocks finally subside, Andy places a gentle kiss on your lower back before moving up to lie beside you. He gathers you into his arms, stroking your hair as you catch your breath.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You snuggle closer, basking in the afterglow. For a moment, you forget about the case, about the complications. You're just two people, connected in the most intimate way.

But reality starts to creep back in as your breathing returns to normal. You lift your head to look at Andy, finding his eyes already on you.

"We should talk about this," you say softly.

"Us? Two lawyers? Talk about something?”

You laugh softly at Andy's quip, but the seriousness in his eyes belies his light tone. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and brushes his thumb over your cheek.

"I know," he says, his voice low. "This complicates things."

You nod, acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "The case..."

"Is still our priority," Andy finishes for you. "We can't let this distract us from what's at stake."

You sit up slowly, the sheet pooling around your waist. Andy's eyes roam your body appreciatively before meeting your gaze again.

"But I don't regret it," he says firmly. "Do you?"

You consider for a moment, then shake your head. "No, I don't. But we need to be careful."

"Yes," Andy agrees. He sits up too, running a hand through his tousled hair. He looks at you another moment, and then his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I think we need to keep this separate from our work on the case. When we're working, we're colleagues. Nothing more."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "And when we're not working?"

A slow smile spreads across Andy's face. "When we're not working, we can explore... this." He gestures between you two.

A smile tugs at your lips. "I like the sound of that."

Andy leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. It’s slow, and there’s a sweetness in the depth of it that scares you a little, not expecting that.

But you kiss him back, savoring the moment before reluctantly pulling away. "We should probably get some sleep," you say, glancing at the clock. "It's almost 7 AM."

Andy nods, but his hand trails down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Stay," he says, his voice low and husky. "We can grab a few hours of sleep here, then get started on the case."

You hesitate, knowing you should probably leave, maintain some distance. But the thought of curling up in Andy's arms is too appealing when he’s so willing.

Andy's warm body envelops you as he pulls you down to lie beside him. His arm securely wraps around your waist, offering comfort and warmth. You nestle closer, finding solace in the rise and fall of his chest beneath your head. The rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you into a peaceful state in the early morning hours, your eyelids finally surrendering to the heaviness of sleep. As the world fades away, you know what’s coming next will be one of the most difficult challenges of your life professionally and personally, but at least in this moment you will take solace in the tenuous safety of this connection.

I started this story months ago, was pretty disenchanted with at the time (thanks @biteofcherry for talking me through that), but now that it's had time to age, I went back in, did some rewriting, and I'm happy with where it has finally landed.

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